You should know that your brother spoke of this pencil-case specifically before he died. He said that it had been identified as your own by Aunt Louisa, who had recognised it instantly when the police showed it to her. And Aunt Louisa had always vowed that it should be returned to you, because you were always so attached to it, and would never have sold it or freely given it away. But no one knew where you were living at that time, and so the pencil-case was kept in trust.
I took it when I last left Oldbury, knowing that Aunt Sarah would not bother to restore it to you. I do think that my uncle felt very strongly that he had a duty to return the case, or why mention it to me at all? He actually called me into his study, and said: ‘If you should ever come across your Aunt Charlotte, then you must tell her about this little silver case. Because she ought to know when it was found, and where. She ought to know that your Aunt and I realised how sorely she must have grieved to have been parted from it. But at least the thief has received his just desserts, however much we may pray for his unredeemed soul.’ I remember his exact words, because I recorded them directly afterwards in my journal. (I kept a journal in those days, though not any longer—I have far too much else to do!)
It therefore gives me great pleasure to return this precious article, which I hope will not be unwelcome. I think I can say, without exaggeration, that it comes to you with the loving regards of your brother and sister—and of myself, naturally! If you would like a copy of the memoir as well, please send me word, and I will take up my pen at once.
Until then I remain, most respectfully yours,
(Mrs) Louise S.A. Cosh
Extract
from the Conservation Report on Oldbury, Berrima
Written by Kim Johnston of Bennet Fox Designs, 2003
‘. . . In the centre bedroom, the name Atkinson is scratched in the softwood. Roughly done, its direction bumped by the late growth/ early growth ridges, the “o” clumsily like an “a”. Beneath it, there appears “James”. This room was probably the children’s bedroom. James’s son, also a James, with his three sisters, endured a childhood of a mad stepfather, corrupt or incompetent executors of his father’s estate, and repeated attempts to remove the children from the custody of their mother. It may not be carved by James but still the house bears the name of Atkinson . . .’
The Dark Mountain Page 45
