In the Blood (12 page)

Laity laughed as he distributed the contents.
 
“There you go,” he said.
 
“See what you can do with that little lot!”
 
He chinked the last tea cup and saucer down, barely finding room for it on the crowded table and laughed again.
 
“That’s a proper job, that is!”

He was still laughing as he struggled to fit his size eleven boots through the gap between Amy’s table and the seat.
 
“Mad!” he said as he sat down.
 
“It’s been like this all day.”
 
He shuffled along the seat and sat on his hands.
 
“Keeps me on me toes though.”
 
Another chuckle squirted out then he fixed on Amy and his eyes grew serious in a way that only those who knew him could tell.
 
“So how are you holding up?” he asked.

Amy sighed.
 
“Oh, I’m okay.”
 
Her tone was unconvincing.
 
She pointed to the smoke box.
 
“I see you’ve been out,” she said, changing the subject.

“Yesterday afternoon,” Laity replied.
 
“Caught some lovely sea bass too.”
 
He fidgeted and brought his hands up onto the table.
 
“D’you fancy it?” he asked.
 
“Pop out about half three, four o’clock one afternoon?”

“We’ll see - maybe not just yet.”

“Course not,” Laity said.
 
“Well you just say when.”

Amy gave him a kind smile and placed a hand on the gingham parcel.
 
“I’ve brought something to show you,” she said in brighter tones.

Laity chuckled.
 
“I was hoping you had.”
 
He shifted forward and leaned in across the table.
 
“I was wondering what you had there.”

Chapter Fourteen

S
itting with Amy outside his delicatessen, Laity’s eyes were fixed and smiling.
 
“Go on then,” he said.
 
“Let’s have a look.”

Amy draped one half of the tea-towel aside to reveal another layer of blue-and-white checks.
 
“It was at the house,” she said, lifting away the final layer to reveal something the size and shape of a shoe-box.
 
She knew she’d found something special, although it was marred by time and a degree of water damage that had left discolouring scars.

Laity edged closer and ran a finger over a proud oval of carved ivory set into the lid of an ornate wooden box, tracing the outline of a woman wearing a flowing gown, reclined on a chaise.
 
He read aloud the pearlescent letters, ‘D’ and ‘F’ in the left hand corner.

“The decorators found some steps leading down from the dining room,” Amy continued.
 
“Beneath the floorboards.”

Laity’s eyes widened.
 
“A hidden room, eh?”
 
His features twisted, feigning an air of mystery.
 

Amy smiled at his childish exaggeration.
 
“There wasn’t much else,” she said.
 
“A few small barrels and several crates of tea.”
 
She tapped a finger on the lid.
 
“This box was in a trunk, wrapped in an old cloth bag.”

Laity picked up the box and checked it over.
 
He rubbed a thumb across a dull and tacky film and the lustre of red mahogany and tortoiseshell blushed through as intricate patterns of whale-tooth detail became bright again, flowing seamlessly between box and lid.
 
“Anything else in the trunk?” he asked.

“Nothing.
 
Just the bag with this box inside.”

“What’s the bag like?”

“Plain,” Amy said.
 
“Coarse material, biscuit coloured.
 
Looks like sacking, and it’s got a shoulder strap.”

Laity flashed his eyebrows.
 
“Sounds to me like you’ve found an old smugglers’ den.
 
Cornwall’s supposed to be riddled with them.”
 
He tipped the box and looked underneath.
 
“Ideal where you live, right there on the water.”

Amy had figured as much, but the box seemed out of place.
 
It was clearly not smuggled contraband hidden away from the watchful eyes of the Revenue Men.

“The barrels are most likely tubs of old brandy or some other liquor.”
 
Laity said.
 
He smacked his lips.
 
“Shouldn’t think it’s any good now, mind.”

Amy watched as Laity continued to study the box.
 
He seemed fascinated by the patterns.
 
“I was hoping you could give me a few pointers,” she said.
 
“Someone hid this box down there and I’d like to know why.”

“Probably stolen,” Laity offered.

Amy agreed.
 
She turned to face the creek and the gulls that were gathering to feast on the ebbing tide.
 
“There’s something else,” she said.
 
She paused and began to chew her bottom lip.
 
She found it difficult to translate her instinctive voices into words that didn’t sound absurd.
 
All she had were a few lines from Gabriel telling her that he had a secret to share, and from that, the possibility that Gabriel may have found the room the night before he disappeared.
 
She knew it wasn’t much.
 
She rushed the next line out like she hoped no one would hear it.
 
“I think it’s got something to do with Gabriel,” she said.

Laity looked up from the box.
 
He looked straight at Amy and she could see his eyes already questioning her reason.
 
She understood why.
 
She knew exactly what he was thinking; that she tried to connect just about everything unusual with Gabriel and why should this time be any different.
 
But this
was
different.
 
It
felt
different.
 
She knew Laity wanted to ask why, but he didn’t.

Laity set the box down and opened the lid.
 
Inside, he found two things.
 
One was a sewn cloth heart, sitting in an oblong compartment to the rear.
 
It had a separator to the right, forming another compartment which was empty.
 
The other item was a slip of discoloured paper folded in two.
 
He was reaching for them when a deliberate cough from inside the shop drew his attention.
 
Someone was waiting at the cash register.

Laity looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
 
Then he laughed.
 
He shut the box, twisted his boots free from bench table as he rose and said, “Don’t go away.”

Thursday, July 18th, 1792 was a special day.
 
James Fairborne had anticipated its arrival all year and now that it was upon him, even as he stood outside the door to his daughter’s bedroom, deliberating, he was still unsure.
 
Finally he shook away the last of his reservations and went inside.

Lowenna was a picture in her new saffron-yellow party dress.
 
White lace fringed the edges and matching silk ribbons tied her straw-blond hair.
 
She was kneeling by a tall bay-window that was alight with the glow of a hot summer’s afternoon, diffusing her features - though her smile was as sharp as ever when she saw her father appear in the doorway.

“Look what Nana gave me,” Lowenna said.
 
She offered up a china doll that was midway through being re-dressed in one of the alternative gowns it came with.

“You’ve been very fortunate,” James said.
 
His smile lacked warmth; a trace of doubt still, even now.
 
He continued into the room and sat at the end of a tester bed that was several times larger than Lowenna yet required.
 
The bed covering, like the décor and Lowenna’s new dress, was yellow and white.

Lowenna rose, discarding the doll amidst a scattering of other presents that were in various states of unwrap.
 
Her eyes focused on the object her father had set down on the bed: a parcel of shiny red silk tied with a pink bow.

“Sit with me, Lowenna.
 
I have something for you.”

“More presents?”
 
Lowenna’s eyes were fixed on the parcel.
 
“I like presents!”

“This is something very special,” her father said.
 
“It once belonged to another girl.
 
Someone like you perhaps.”
 
James was suddenly distracted by his words.
 
He thought about Katherine and compared her to Lowenna until his hands began to shake.
 
“Maybe it was given to her on
her
fifth birthday?” he added.
 
Then the images of Katherine became too vivid for him to bear; a reminder that those dark days were all too real.
 
He fought to shut them out.

“Where is mother?” Lowenna asked.
 
“Is it a present from her, too?”

“No, child,” James replied.
 
“This is from me alone.”
 
He stroked his daughter’s hair and left his hand on her shoulder.
 
“It is something you give to someone you love very much.”

“Is that why you’re giving it to me and not to mother?”

James was surprised at how intuitive his daughter had already become, but then his bitterness towards Susan of late was perhaps not as covert as he imagined.

“It is a different kind of love,” he said.
 
“Your mother...”
 
He faltered.
 
“Look, aren’t you going to open it?”
 
He grabbed the ribbon.
 
“Here,” he said.
 
“Pull hard!”

Lowenna’s tiny hand took the ribbon from her father’s and she pulled, smiling a toothy and excited smile.
 
The bow seemed to liquefy as the ribbon ran off the parcel and the silk wrapping opened out to reveal the gift inside.
 
It seemed that she didn’t know quite what to make of the box at first, but the raised carving of the lady reclined on a chaise renewed her smile as she traced the outline with a single milk-white finger.

James flicked the wrapping aside.
 
He lifted the box and admired the patterns in the tortoiseshell inlay and the bright whale-tooth tracery.
 
“A special box for a special little girl,” he said, opening the lid.
 
Inside, the box was empty and Lowenna looked disappointed.

“You must keep this box,” James said.
 
“It is to stay here in your room where you can admire it.”
 
His tone changed then and his features became heavier than he intended.
 
“Keep it to yourself!” he said.
 
Then he saw Lowenna’s face reflect his own anxiety and he softened.
 
“Perhaps you could put some of your favourite things inside to keep them safe,” he added.
 
“If you’re good, maybe I’ll find you a jewel to keep in there.”

Lowenna’s eyes lit up.
 
She was smiling again as she took the box and thanked her father, though James could not be sure that her gesture was not on account of the half-promised jewel.
 
Slowly, he stepped away, lost in her innocence as he watched her return to her presents.
 
It was done.
 
And James Fairborne knew it was the right thing to do.
 
He was letting go of the one thing he’d kept so very close to him these past ten years.
 
And although he felt a weight lift from him, he remained anxious over his decision to do so.

Chapter Fifteen

B
y the time Laity came out from the deli again, Amy had convinced herself that it was best not to talk about Gabriel and her latest suspicions.
 
Just find out what you need to know,
she told herself.
 
It was just another hunch after all.
 
A faltering instinct that was easily misguided.
 
She heard the cash register jangle and watched Laity follow two girls out of the shop, passing an elderly man who was very slowly on his way in.

“Afternoon, Mr Trenwith,” Laity said, almost shouting.
 
“Be with you shortly.”
 
He perched himself on the edge of the bench table opposite Amy.
 
“Now then,” he added.
 
“Where were we?”

Amy opened the box again.
 
“I’d like to know more about this,” she said.
 
“I suppose whoever hid it must have lived at the house, and if that’s true they must have owned the ferry business.”

“Or been tenants who worked on the ferry,” Laity said.
 
The covenant that tied the ferry business to the cottage was common knowledge locally.
 
“You could find out who lived at the cottage before.
 
Might be a start.”