Page 55 of Lost Luggage
Of course, like Maisie and Maggie, Greta was short for Margaret as well, Greta’s full name that Mum never used. Dolly had almost forgotten about it.
The back door opened and Leroy’s head poked out. ‘The girls want to climb the oak tree.’
Dolly checked with Phoebe and then gave a thumbs-up. Fred and Leroy also came outside, nursing mugs of steaming tea; they brought out two for Dolly and Phoebe as well. Flo and Anushka charged outside but Flo stopped, leaving Anushka to climb the branches first.
‘Everything okay?’
Dolly pointed to the photo frame. Phoebe explained about Maisie. Red patches formed across Flo’s face.
‘Greta must have been really sad to pretend to be someone else. When I was little I used to close my eyes and pretend I was the Hungry Caterpillar, eating all my favourite foods and then turning into a beautiful butterfly. Now I pretend I’m David Attenborough, exploring the Amazon rainforest and discovering new insects. Or I’m a pop star, on stage, with Ed Sheeran. I wish I could have helped Greta.’
Anushka called Flo’s name and she ran off to join her friend. Fred stood by Phoebe and squeezed her shoulder. Leroy did the same to Dolly. Greta so deeply unhappy that she’d live a fictional life in a library, like a character in the books she’d loved discovering? Dolly thought back to her sister’s trips to Stockport and how she always came back glowing. She’d thought that was due to her picking up a new haul of stories.
‘Was Paris a place she claimed she’d visited?’ Dolly muttered.
‘Yes. Also Holland, Italy and Greece – more far-flung destinations too, like India. Maisie…’ Phoebe winced. ‘Greta even said she’d visited Afghanistan before the Soviet Union invaded in 1979.’
Dolly’s brow furrowed. Leroy’s hand fell off her shoulder as she got to her feet and paced up and down the lawn, yesterday’s rain squelching underneath her slippers and seeping through the toes.
Fred caught her eye. ‘You thinking the same as me?’
‘Leroy,’ she said, ‘will you come inside with me a minute? Phoebe, meet me in the dining room.’
The girls came in too and by the time Dolly and Leroy came back everyone was at the dining-room table. The girls moved their notepads and pens. Leroy and Dolly put down the piles of Greta’s notebooks containing the book reviews. Dolly had planned to take them to the tip, but when the moment came couldn’t do it; each review had been so carefully crafted in Greta’s neatest handwriting. Dolly picked one off the top, opened it and leafed through. Disco music from the lounge had stopped.
‘Your granddad and I read these notebooks. Look –The White Tigerreview in this one focuses on India.’ Dolly picked up another. ‘In here is a review about Paris, one for a story based in Vietnam, and another forThe Kite Runnerabout Afghanistan.’
Phoebe scanned the page. ‘Greta’s focused on the Afghan landscape, the mountains, the deserts, instead of Kabul and the tough subjects the novel covers.’
‘So Greta travelled through her books. Why didn’t she in real life?’ asked Anushka.
‘She didn’t like flying,’ said Flo, ‘must have been scared of heights. Me, I love it. Especially if you get a window seat.’
‘But we worked out that probably wasn’t true,’ said Fred, ‘because she loved going in a cable car in Wales.’
‘There must have been another reason,’ said Dolly. ‘This brings us back to the documents that are missing, like her and my birth certificates. Didn’t you say that Maisie kept things like that hidden in… what was it… something that looked happy on the outside but was actually sad?’
Phoebe nodded. ‘Are there any souvenirs in her room? I thought it must be an object from a trip that didn’t work out well.’
‘You two visited lots of places in the UK,’ said Leroy. ‘Did Greta ever buy mementoes of your holidays? The pair of you would always bring me a gift, but it was usually local fudge, chocolate or wine.’
‘Not really. Like you say, food items such as preserves. An item of clothing. She considered photos to provide the most important memories. The only holiday I remember as a child was to the beach. She kept a photo of that.’ A shiver went down her spine.
‘What is it?’ asked Fred. He always did used to notice the detail about Dolly.
‘Greta had a photo, on her wall, from that holiday. We went to Lytham. A cheerful, sunny photo, but the snap was taken at a difficult time. Greta was only eighteen and had had to leave a job; she’d been very sad about that and if you study her face in it you can tell.’
‘What job?’ asked Flo.
‘I don’t know.’ Dolly put her hand to her chest, thinking back to previous comments Phoebe had made about Maisie. A spike of excitement, shock, she wasn’t sure what, sent blood rushing to her face, immediately quashed by the realisation that Greta might have kept another huge secret from her as well.
‘I need to talk to Phoebe alone,’ she stuttered.
‘How about a game of Cluedo, you girls,’ said Leroy in a cheerful tone, ‘before I have to head into work? Steve’s texted and swears the whole of Manchester has turned up at the Rising Sun for Bank Holiday drinks. Fred, fancy making it a four? I’m ready to open that chocolate egg I brought over.’
Flo and Anushka didn’t need telling twice and followed the two men out of the room. Flo closed the door behind her.
Dolly gripped the top of one of the chairs. ‘You said this Maisie had children. How is that possible? Am I an aunt?’
