Page 5 of A Snowy Seaside Christmas
FOUR
Though Lark had been itching to find out what was inside the suitcases, her unease about Nate had taken the edge off her enthusiasm. She couldn’t seem to shake him from her mind. It wasn’t like her to allow negative thoughts to take over, her naturally positive disposition meant she could usually contain them or beat them back. She’d tried telling herself that she was overreacting, that some obvious explanation would eventually reveal itself, but there was no denying her disquiet had knocked her off kilter.
Given her current state of mind, she reluctantly decided it would be best to save the suitcases for later, when her thoughts and worries about Nate would, hopefully, be more settled and her usual sense of calm restored. That way, she’d be able to get a better sense of the items, get a properfeelfor the energy they’d clung onto. Instead, she decided to make a start on making Christmas decorations from what was left of the bolt of ticking fabric she’d picked up at a market in Carcassonne when she and Nate had ventured there on a sourcing trip earlier that year. She’d already sketched out a few ideas, namely stars, Christmas stockings and Christmas trees, to which she’d add little tinkly bells and shiny buttons and beads and finish with a loop of twineto hang them from the tree. The idea was to sell them in her shop as well as give some as gifts to her friends. Lark always found absorbing herself in a small, creative task helped soothe her mind, which was something she was in need of right now.
Unfortunately, she’d only got as far as cutting out a few shapes at the kitchen table when she was forced to admit defeat and accept that her mind just couldn’t settle to it. Her concern about Nate wasn’t showing any signs of going away. If anything, it had been building. It was stifling her creativity and, worse, she wasn’t enjoying making the decorations, which was something she usually looked forward to with relish. Moreover, the last thing Lark wanted was to imbue her creations with negative energy, especially when the items were intended for other people’s homes at such a happy, family time of year. It went against everything she believed in and aimed for in her business.
She glanced across at Luna who’d been observing her progress from the doorway. From the expression in the cat’s knowing, green eyes, it was as if she could read her owner’s thoughts.
‘Oh, Luna, why can’t I shake this feeling? Please tell me I’ve got it wrong.’
Luna continued to gaze at her.
‘Looking at me like that really isn’t helping, you know.’ With a defeated sigh, Lark finished snipping out the star shape she was halfway through and set her dress-making shears down. She’d pack everything away and hope she’d wake up with a clear mind so she could pick up where she left off tomorrow. But now, all she was good for was a soothing soak in the bath. Hopefully, she’d get some clarity there.
Lark padded upstairs and headed into the tiny bathroom where she lit a cluster of lavender scented tea lights, setting them on the small windowsill amongst an arrangement of amethyst and rose quartz crystals, where they flickered in thedraught. The old brass taps squeaked as she twisted them open, water gushing into the original cast iron slipper bath. She added a generous dash of homemade aromatherapy oil and it wasn’t long before clouds of lavender-scented steam filled the air. That done, she searched the playlist on her phone and selected the latest sent by her yogi mum. A moment later, calming zen music with background waterfall sounds poured from the speaker on the shelf above the sink, adding to the already soothing ambience. That done, she placed her pyjamas on the little wooden seat by the heated towel rail, piled her hair on top of her head, then shrugged off her dressing gown and climbed into the bath, allowing the soothing warmth of the water to envelop her. Resting her head back, Lark closed her eyes and slipped into a session of meditation as the aromatherapy oil began to work its magic. By the time she was done, she hoped her worries had been sent packing.
Even with her reluctance to engage in aura reading or be drawn into any psychic messages, she was still sensitive to the energy generated by people or places. For Lark, at times, it could mean that her mind was always buzzing, especially when she ventured somewhere new, with the energy of so many individuals and experiences absorbed into the walls or space. It was the reason she practiced the ritual of meditation on a regular basis, allowing herself to “zone out” when things got too frenetic.
An hour later, Lark heaved herself from the now-lukewarm bath, her fingers and toes wrinkly after their long soak. She was beyond relieved to find her anxiety had eased and she was feeling so much lighter. Meditation always helped soothe her mind, especially if it was combined with a calming aromatherapy oil and one of her mum’s zen playlists.
During her soak, she’d analysed the various explanations that had been circulating around her thoughts that could offer an explanation for her discomfort about Nate. She’d slowly turned them over, examining each one from every angle and scrutinising them closely, when realisation struck her unexpectedly. It had made her sit up straight, sending soapy water sloshing over the edge of the bath.
‘Of course! It makes perfect sense!’ she’d said, bumping her forehead with the heel of her hand. It was a real light-bulb moment, and such a logical explanation she couldn’t believe it hadn’t crossed her mind years ago when she’d first met Nate. The reason he generated these inexplicable feelings was very probably linked to one of two things – or even both. The first explanation was the clothes he wore. Being a keen recycler like Lark, he regularly bought second-hand or vintage clothing, the heavy wool coat and Arran jumper he’d been wearing earlier being a perfect example; he’d told her he’d bought them from the charity shop in Middleton-le-Moors on a recent visit. And knowing him as she did, she very much doubted he’d given them a wash before he’d worn them! Another equally valid explanation could be the vibes he’d picked up from the furniture he restored. That had just as much of a chance of absorbing negative energy as the clothing had.
The more she’d thought about it, the more it had made sense. There was a definite chance that he’d picked up some of the energy from close contact with these items which was skewing the vibes she got from him.
The realisation had come as a massive relief.
Adding weight to her theory, was her earlier conversation with Nate about Crayke’s Cottage. If old Mr Thurston was so convinced there was something negative about the property, then it wasn’t surprising that something was lingering on Nate – herself, too, no doubt. After all, he’d spent the whole daythere, way longer than she had, and he’d been lugging items of furniture around. It was a valid explanation as far as she was concerned. She only wished this understanding had come to her sooner.
Another wave of relief swept through her as she towelled herself dry and pulled on her pyjamas. Unable to stop the smile that was tugging at her mouth, she brushed out her hair and re-tied her plait, her sense of calm restored once more. Now that she’d got herself grounded, she had a clear mind to tackle the suitcases; a blank slate ready to give their contents her full attention. The prospect sent a shimmer of anticipation rushing over her skin.
FIVE
It was just gone seven o’clock by the time Lark hauled the largest of the old suitcases in front of the wood burner. She knelt before it, her insides dancing with anticipation as she ran her fingers over the battered leather. It was decorated with a variety of faded liner labels, all haphazardly plastered over it: a log of the owner’s travels. Unfastening the leather buckles, she pushed on the age-dulled brass clasps beneath. It took a few moments’ coaxing but they eventually opened with a satisfying click. Slowly, she eased the lid up, her pulse rate gathering speed as the treasures within were revealed in a waft of fusty air.
‘Oh, wow!’ She gasped as her breath was whipped from her mouth, every fibre of her body fizzing.
Sitting back on her haunches, Lark took a moment to steady herself. She pushed her plait over her shoulder as her gaze swept over the neatly folded contents looking back at her. If the vibrations that were emanating from the clothing were anything to go by, the previous owner of these clothes had enjoyed a happy and fulfilled life.
A thrill scurried up her spine as she reached for the garment that was begging for her attention. It was made of rose-pink fabric dotted with ditsy white flowers. As soon as her fingersmade contact with it, she sensed its positive energy just as she hoped she would. With great care, she lifted it out of the case, the fine cotton unfurling as she held up what revealed itself to be a tea dress in classic nineteen-forties style.
‘So beautiful,’ Lark said in a whisper.
Closer inspection revealed the dress was exquisitely made, with a run of fabric-covered buttons that stretched from the dainty, round collar, down to the waistband that was edged in pale-green ribbon.
‘Oh!’ A vivid image flashed through her mind like a bolt of lightning, leaving behind it the imprint of a vibrant young woman with a happy face and dancing eyes, her hair set in victory rolls. Music from the nineteen forties floated at the back of Lark’s consciousness, an intense feeling of happiness flooding her chest. The young woman was smiling, her full lips painted with a matt lipstick in a deep shade of red and her eyes were sparkling with vivacity. On her feet were mid-heeled sandals in braided leather. They had an almond-shaped toe and fastened at the ankle, the seam of her stockings running up the back of her legs. The skirt of the tea dress swished as she was swept around the room in the arms of a man wearing a soldier’s uniform and slicked back hair. He was saying something that was making the young woman laugh. From their body language and the way they were gazing at one another, there was no mistaking the young couple were head over heels in love.
Slowly, the image faded, leaving Lark filled with a warm sensation and wishing she could’ve had longer to enjoy such a joy-filled moment.
‘Wow!’ she gasped, thrilled to have got off to such a good start. She’d had her doubts after what Nate had mentioned about Crayke’s Cottage being cursed. She gave the fabric of the dress a quick appraisal, checking for marks and evidence ofmoth damage. All but for a few dots of mildew, it was in excellent condition.
‘That’s perfect for the shop, don’t you think, Luna?’ She beamed across at the cat who had joined her on the mat in front of the fire and was watching her with interest. Lark had just the customer in mind, one who had a particular interest in tea dresses from that time. She carefully folded the garment and set it down on the floor before reaching in and lifting out a square of scarlet silk, covered in white polka dots and trimmed with a striped border. It triggered the same reaction as the dress which suggested to Lark it had been owned by the same young woman. More happy, positive vibes! Oh, boy! She was in her element right now!
Her luck continued as she sorted through the rest of the items, including several cotton skirts in a mix of floral fabrics, a couple of shirtwaister dresses and what she recognised as a jitterbug dress, with its full skirt and soft fabric designed to allow maximum freedom to the wearer while she danced the jitterbug – what else?How wonderful!There was also a cardigan with a small hole near the cuff which Lark felt could be fixed easily. All of the items were bouncing with the young woman’s energy, and Lark was delighted when a lemon-coloured blouse with a dainty collar evoked an image of the same young couple. They were smiling as they walked along, a blaze of sunshine around them, the sound of the sea in the distance. The young woman – the name Betty slipped into Lark’s mind, though the young man’s was proving elusive – had her arm linked through his, her gaze drawn to the engagement ring that was glinting on her finger. A wave of happiness rushed through Lark, and she was overcome with the feeling she’d just been treated to a glimpse of the moments immediately after the young soldier had proposed. It was times like this she felt glad to be sensitive to moments from the past. She only wished that was all she was able to pick up.
The last item remaining in the case appeared to be an old, cotton bedsheet with stripes in vintage shades. From the thin feel of it, it had been laundered many, many times. She wondered why it had been included with the items of clothing. But as Lark lifted it out, she noticed an edge of white, silk-like fabric peering from within the folds. Carefully, she opened the bedsheet out and was thrilled to reveal what could only be a wedding dress.
