by Alex Brown
‘Well, maybe you should have told her!’ Jamie said, fired up. ‘It might make her realise just how lucky she is to have you …’
I’m going to do my bit for the war effort and give Hitler what for. I can’t sit around in the countryside any longer doing nothing when Jimmy has sacrificed his life. The dark cloud still lingers and I’m really not much use to anyone these days. Certainly not little Lara, who to my shame has been neglected of my love and attention and instead looks to Mother to care for her. I have tried to feed her and bathe her but I feel she senses my sadness and becomes fretful, until Mother lifts her from my arms to soothe her. Mother says I must pull myself together and find something useful to do now that Lara is nearly a year old, so I’m returning to London to work in the factory where Jimmy used to sweep the floors. Only I shan’t be sweeping floors, I’m going to make parachutes and inflatable dinghies, and all sorts of other useful things to help the soldiers who are still fighting. I couldn’t do anything to help my darling Jimmy, so this will go some small way to make up for that. My sweet baby girl, Lara, is to stay with Mother and Father here in Tindledale, as London isn’t safe for her, and I will come here on the train to visit her on my days off. It’s going to be such a wrench to leave her, but it really is for the best. My life would most certainly be over if she were to be taken from me too …
Grace let out a long puff of air and turned the page. She was sitting on the carpet in Connie’s storage unit, reading more of her diary entries and feeling very uneasy about the change in tone. It was as if Connie had hardened and packed her emotions away now that her life was wholly determined by her mother … something Grace could definitely identify with. Connie certainly wasn’t doing what she really wanted to, as Grace had also found a piece of paper tucked inside the pages of one of the Variety magazines in the hatbox with the following heartbreaking words written on it in Connie’s handwriting. Grace was sure that Connie had been crying when she wrote the note, as the faint outline of faded little splatter marks could still be seen down one side.
My heart is broken without you, Jimmy, and to my shame there have been times when I have contemplated joining you, my darling, for I have not an ounce of vim or vigour these days and find myself giving in to Mother’s will. Although I do know that she has Lara’s best interests at heart and that is what matters most. Perhaps the light will return for me when I’m in London doing my bit for the war effort – I truly hope so. I wish with all my being that I could keep Lara with me but Mother will not hear of it. She says Lara looks to her as her mother and I understand that she does because I have not been able to care for her properly. So it is probably for the best this way as nobody in London will know the shame I’ve brought on my family. Mother also says that if I have any love at all for Lara then she must always be kept a secret and that I should refer to her as my young sister so she is not tainted as a child born out of wedlock. I must do that for her and not put my own selfish needs before hers. But our darling Lara will never be a secret for me because she is a part of you, and I will always hold her in my heart for she’s the most beautiful baby I have ever seen, and with the sweetest temperament. Her eyes are emerald green and framed with thick, dark lashes just like yours, my love, and her hair too; ebony curls, so soft and silky. I love to brush her beautiful baby hair but Mother says the curls are too long and must be cut off short if her hair is ever to thicken …
A week had passed since Ellis first arrived, and Grace had managed to go to the café again with him twice more before he had left to travel to Berlin for the next step of his business trip. She had really enjoyed those visits to the café. The normality of them. And his great company too, of course. It was nice to spend time with someone who didn’t know anything about her real life caring for Cora, or how she had broken apart after finding Matthew in bed with the Perky Yoga One. It meant she was free to be whoever she wanted to be, if only for the short slice of time that it took to chat and for her to drink hot chocolate with a tower of whipped cream on top. And Grace was harbouring a secret, in that she had eked out that cream, spooning in really tiny mouthfuls so as to have as long as possible in the café with Ellis, because who knew when she would get to do that again? She’d made an effort to go to the café by herself too, but it really wasn’t the same, with Cheryl, the waitress, pumping her for titbits about Ellis and his fabulous life in New York. And if, by any chance, he had dumped his girlfriend yet?
When Ellis had properly catalogued unit 28, he had been in awe of Connie’s jewels and had carefully photographed a selection of the key pieces before he left, to email on to his contact in the Fine and Antique Jewel department. He had also examined and confirmed that the paintings in Connie’s unit were genuine, and that she was the probable owner of them too. It was a tenuous link, but Grace had stumbled across a packet of old photos in one of the suitcases, and there was a photo of Connie standing in the doorway of a veranda at the powder pink villa, with the wonderful Venice Salute painting visible on the wall behind her. So, after consulting with another art expert at the auction house to double-check the paintings’ veracity, Ellis had notified the legal people in the Bona Vacantia government department, where the proceeds of Connie’s unclaimed estate were held, and organised for the paintings to be securely transported to the vaults of a private bank in London for safekeeping. Because Larry had nearly had a coronary on being told they could be worth upwards of fifty thousand pounds each. And there were ten of them in unit 28!
Grace had read more of Connie’s diaries and notes over the last week and had discovered that she had met an American soldier a year or so after she returned to London to do her bit for the war effort. Connie had volunteered at the American Red Cross, which held dances to boost soldiers’ morale; it was at one of these dances – where she served doughnuts and coffee and offered to sew loose buttons back onto the soldiers’ uniforms – that she had met him. Grace’s heart had soared on finding out Connie had found some happiness in the months after her mother had forced her to part from baby Lara.
And where was baby Lara now?
If she had died, then where was she buried? Was it here in England? Or was Connie allowed to be with her, later, after the war ended? Did Connie’s controlling mother relent and let her take Lara to Italy? It was a possibility … somewhere suitably far away so as not to embarrass her parents in front of their influential friends in London (Grace had read all about Connie’s mother maligning her over this), and it would certainly have been perfectly respectable to pass Lara off as her young sister … so maybe that’s what happened and Lara was buried in Italy. Or, Grace pondered on another scenario; it was one that she had considered already, and it could just be wishful thinking, but what if Lara was still alive? What if she was still living in Italy and simply estranged from her mother, Connie? And just didn’t know that she had died? It was entirely possible.
Grace cast a glance around unit 28. Taking it all in again. The way it was set out. Like a glamorous bedroom presenting the contents in the best possible light. It was as if it had been prepared especially … like a stage, a showcase of a lifetime for someone to discover and, ultimately, inherit. What if Connie had made it look all lovely like this for her daughter, Lara? Grace allowed herself some time to ponder on the possible scenario, her heart lifting at the prospect of finding Lara and chatting to her about Connie. But then her heart sank on remembering that Connie hadn’t left a will. Why wouldn’t she? If all this was for Lara, then it just didn’t make any sense for Connie not to have done so; surely she would have made sure Lara knew all these beautiful things were waiting here for her. Not to mention the valuable artwork, and Connie’s home in Blackheath, for it all added up to an extremely valuable inheritance.
Grace glanced at the screen on her mobile; seeing that it was almost time for an afternoon cuppa, she put Connie’s diary away and closed her unit for another day before heading over to the office. She pushed open the door and almost jumped right out of her skin when she was greeted wit
h a rainbow stream of party poppers. Red, yellow, blue and green confetti shot high up in the air before cascading down onto her head and shoulders.
‘Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Grace, happy birthday to you,’ chorused Betty and Larry, and Betty’s friend, Maggie, from the knit and natter group and who worked in the coroner’s office. A silver and purple hologram banner with ‘Happy Birthday’ on it was pinned to the wall by Grace’s desk, and Betty was holding an enormous triple-layered birthday cake smothered in pastel pink icing and big ‘three’- and ‘five’-shaped candles on top.
‘Remember to make a wish, sweetheart.’ Betty put the cake down on Grace’s desk and clapped her hands together in delight.
‘Wow. Oh my goodness. Thank you,’ Grace said, momentarily dazed. It was her birthday today and – until now – it had been just like any other day. Her mother had forgotten; Grace figured she must have, as she hadn’t mentioned it, not even to say happy birthday. Of course, Grace appreciated that Cora wasn’t mobile and so couldn’t go out herself and buy a card, and she really didn’t expect that, but an acknowledgment would have been nice. Phil hadn’t been at the bus stop either, and she hadn’t liked to arrive at work and announce it herself to Larry and Betty, so this wonderful surprise felt even more special. ‘It’s amazing,’ she beamed, cupping her hands up under her chin and willing herself not to get teary as she looked at Larry and Betty, their kindness emanating from them and making her feel overcome with emotion.
Grace looped her hair up into a quick bun and after closing her eyes and making a wish – Please let Mum win the scratchcard jackpot so we can both be happy – her at the Savoy, and me on a spa break with a cocktail in one hand and my feet firmly up on a lounger – she blew out the candles. Larry, Betty and Maggie all clapped, and after Betty had handed them each an exceedingly generous slice of cake on a pink paper plate with a matching napkin, she fished in her handbag and pulled out an envelope.
‘A present from Larry and me,’ she said, handing the envelope to Grace.
‘Oh, thank you so much,’ Grace said, swallowing her mouthful of cake and then putting the plate on her desk. ‘But you really didn’t need—’
‘Nonsense!’ Larry stepped in to give her a hug. ‘You’re our Girl Friday, a breath of fresh air around here, and we really appreciate all the work that you do.’
‘And we are very fond of you, love,’ Betty added, bustling Larry out of the way so that she could give Grace a hug. ‘Now, open the envelope.’
Grace did as she was told. Inside the envelope was a gorgeous birthday card with a picture on the front of a glistening Mediterranean sea beside a terracotta-coloured brick cottage with pretty pink bougainvillea tumbling all over one side of it.
Grace opened the card and unfolded an A4 piece of paper that was tucked inside. Scanning the words, her pulse quickened as she took it all in.
Italy!
A holiday to Italy.
She stared at the boarding pass and itinerary in her hand.
‘I can’t go to Italy.’
‘Oh yes you can, sweetheart.’ It was Jamie coming through the office door with a smile on his face the size of a slice of watermelon.
‘What are you doing here?’ she beamed, dashing forward to give him a big hug.
‘Larry and Betty invited me,’ he said, pressing a big bunch of bright purple, pink and orange chrysanthemums into her hand before giving her an enormous hug.
‘But how? When? You don’t know Larry and Betty,’ she gasped, barely able to take it all in. She glanced over at her employers to see them both now looking very conspiratorial.
‘Don’t blame the lad,’ Larry stepped forward. ‘Betty and I had been thinking for some time now that a little break would do you good. You’re run off your feet working here and caring for your mother too.’ He paused, and Grace glanced at the floor momentarily. ‘And so when Jamie here,’ he put a hand on Jamie’s back, ‘called in that day to go with you to check out Connie’s address in Blackheath, we got chatting while he was waiting for you and—’
‘Hatched a plan!’ Betty took over explaining. ‘We know you’ve found an affinity with poor Connie, and Larry saw how fascinated you were with the painting of Venice inside her unit, and then reading all about the powder pink villa on the hilltop in her diary, not to mention the other beauty spots she mentions … and so that got us thinking.’ Smiling, she put an arm around Larry and indicated for Jamie to come and stand on the other side of her. ‘You might like to experience it all for yourself first hand. Go and see where Connie lived in Italy, and also see if you can find out a bit more about her … talk to her friends and what have you.’
‘But …’ Grace faltered. She couldn’t go to Italy on her own. Not to the airport. How would she get there? And she certainly couldn’t go on an aeroplane by herself and then navigate her way around a foreign country. Just the thought of it was making her pulse quicken and her top lip glisten with anxiety sweat. Ah, but maybe that’s why Jamie is here: to let me know he’s coming too. ‘It’s a really kind idea,’ she started, not wanting to sound ungrateful, ‘but what about Mum? I can’t leave her on her own.’
‘Yes you can. It’s all sorted. I’ve got loads of annual leave left and if I don’t take it I’ll lose it … so I’m looking after Cora while you’re away,’ Jamie nodded.
‘What? But she wouldn’t have it when I spoke to her about the spa weekend.’
‘And thank God she wouldn’t, because that would have scuppered the whole surprise if you had gone ahead and booked the spa break instead.’ Jamie shook his head. ‘Plus I went to a lot of trouble to find your passport. Why would you keep it at the back of your knicker drawer? And that’s another thing, lady, I’m taking you knicker shopping pronto, as we need to replace those washed-out horrors you have clogging up all the space in your drawers.’ He pulled a face.
‘What? Did you actually rummage through my bedroom?’ Grace asked, flabbergasted. She’d had no idea and felt a tinge of embarrassment on knowing that Jamie had now seen the extent of her apathy over self-care. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had bought new knickers, or indeed anything much for herself apart from food and essential toiletries.
‘Of course!’ Jamie shrugged covertly. ‘How else were we going to book the flights? I know your date of birth and all that, but I wanted to check you in too and get you a nice window seat, so there’s no backing out now.’ And he grinned so hard it made his whole face glow like a lit paper lantern about to soar right up into the air.
‘I can’t believe it. Nobody has ever done anything like this for me before.’
‘I know. And that’s another reason why we wanted to,’ he said, and Betty, Larry and Maggie all nodded their agreement.
‘But …’ Grace started again, and Jamie leant forward on the pretext of giving her a hug so he could whisper in her ear.
‘It’ll be fine. Promise you. One step in front of the other. Golden, remember?’ And he gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze.
‘And you can see for yourself where Connie lived; you never know … some of the neighbours might be able to tell us more about her and may even lead you to find a relative, someone to inherit all the contents in unit 28. You’d be doing me a favour if we can actually shift it all and open up the unit to another customer,’ Larry said. ‘So it’s really a business trip in more ways than one, because Ellis’s friend in the jewellery department at the auction house called me and said the items in Connie’s jewellery box are very valuable – good job I’ve stored them in the safe.’ He paused to chuckle. ‘Yes, he said they are one-offs. Bespoke. They are all of Italian design and made in the 1950s and 60s. And they didn’t have computer records in those days, so he said you’re best off going to the actual jewellery shop yourself to see what you can find out and ask to look at the paper records. He did phone them himself and at first they got a bit worked up at the mention of an auction house and went on about client secrets and stuff, but then
called him back and said that they would be happy to see you when you visited …’
‘And Ellis is going to meet you at the airport, love,’ Betty added. ‘He has to visit some clients in Italy anyway, so it’s easy for him to tie in some time off afterwards to spend with you on this adventure. Did you know he can speak a bit of Italian?’ Grace shook her head, feeling bamboozled, for it was like a whirlwind … she so desperately wanted to fly off to Italy and experience another, more exciting life, if only for a short while, and with Ellis too, so she could be whoever she wanted to be again. But, well … was it really even possible? Jamie might have managed to persuade Cora for the time being but, knowing how her mind worked, Grace knew that could all change in an instance if she felt so inclined, so was it even worth Grace getting her hopes up?
‘I didn’t either, but fancy that,’ Betty carried on. ‘He’s a dark horse, our Ellis.’
‘And I’ve managed to find out some interesting pieces of the puzzle too.’ It was Betty’s friend, Maggie, who spoke next as she fished inside a lovely retro cloth knitting bag with wooden handles and a bold orange flower print.
‘Ooh, really,’ Grace said, trying to calm down. She couldn’t deny the bubble of excitement building inside her, but did she dare take – she glanced again at the boarding pass – six days off from caring for Cora to actually go away to Italy? Could she really do it? And how on earth had Jamie managed to swing it with Cora? Her mother had always absolutely refused to even discuss it whenever Grace had broached the idea of taking time off with her.
‘Yes, I’ve got a copy of Constance’s marriage certificate right here,’ Maggie said, patting her iron-grey bob and lifting a pair of glasses that were hanging on a colourful beaded chain around her neck, up on to her face, before unfolding a long piece of paper. ‘Married in January 1946, so shortly after the end of World War II. She married Giovanni di Donato in Marylebone Register Office in London.’ Maggie showed Grace the marriage certificate with the words written on in old-fashioned swirly cursive handwriting. Grace touched an index finger to it, imagining Connie doing likewise with the original certificate. ‘I wasn’t able to find a death certificate for Giovanni …’
