Page 6 of A Snowy Seaside Christmas
‘Oh, how exquisite!’ Lark gently took the fine fabric between her fingers, her gaze running over the round neckline edged with shimmering mother-of-pearl beads. She was instantly struck by a feeling of pure joy as images of the day filled her mind. She closed her eyes, keeping hold of the fabric. She could sense the warmth of sunshine on her face, hear the birds twittering merrily in the background as Betty, with her hair set in soft waves and wearing what appeared to be the gown from the suitcase, walked to the local church on the arm of a man Lark assumed was Betty’s father. Her cut-glass, drop earrings glinted in the sunlight – something told Lark they’d been borrowed. The pair were chatting and laughing, the bride’s short veil – not yet over her face for fear of getting it marked with lipstick stains – catching in the summer breeze, as she clutched a bouquet billowing with carnations in a joyful shade of yellow and trimmed with white gypsophila. The young woman exuded an air of pure happiness as she stepped through the great oak door of the church, the light fabric of her dress fluttering around her ankles. She paused, taking a deep breath as she awaited her cue from the organ. A moment later, the organ wheezed into life as the opening notes of “The Wedding March” bounced off the walls, reaching all the way up to the rafters.
Lark’s heart began to beat faster as the image showed Betty making her way down the aisle, the eyes of the congregation on the radiant young bride. And even though Betty’s veil wasnow covering her face, Lark could sense her smile widening as she approached her groom. He was looking smart in his army uniform as he fidgeted nervously at the altar. Lark could feel the anticipation in the air as it mingled with the joy of the occasion. A pocket of happiness in such a worrying time.
The image quickly moved to the young couple sharing their first dance at their wedding reception held in the local community centre – it had barely changed! – Betty’s new husband holding her close as the band played “At Last”, a song made popular at the time by Glenn Miller and his Orchestra. Her heart swelled as the groom gazed deeply into his new bride’s eyes and said, ‘Have I told you how much I love you, Mrs Roberts?’
Lark was disappointed when the image started fading, scrabbling to hang on to it just a little bit longer. Once it had completely disappeared, she opened her eyes, blinking before her gaze landed back on the beautiful wedding gown. ‘Wow!’ she whispered. Holding it up before her, she could see it was a simple design, with the skirt part being made up of panels of silk skilfully stitched together, allowing it to hang in elegant, fluid lines. There were more mother-of-pearl buttons around the cuffs, and fabric-covered buttons ran down the back to the waist.
As her eyes roved over the bodice, taking in the carefully placed darts, she was taken aback by the briefest flash of an image, so fleeting, it was barely enough to make sense of. She hurriedly tried to grapple with it before it disappeared, but all she got was an image of a blue sky punctuated by clouds and the sound of what she assumed was an aeroplane engine. A pulse of adrenalin raced through her.What was that all about?Lark couldn’t begin to fathom why Betty’s dress was giving out this kind of vibration. It made no sense. No sense at all. She waited, the dress in her hands, to see if anything else came to her. Disappointingly, her mind remained clear.
‘Hmm. Curious.’ Telling herself she’d probably picked up on energy left behind from something else that had been in the suitcase at one time, she carefully folded the dress and packed it away in the sheet, noting the specks of mildew that peppered the hem and part of a sleeve. Other than that, the garment was in perfect condition.
It had been a joy getting a sense of Betty from her suitcase of beautiful clothes, though Lark couldn’t help but wonder what the connection to Crayke’s Cottage could possibly be. Had it been Betty’s home? If so, Lark hoped she hadn’t been affected by the curse or bad luck Mr Thurston had referred to, that she’d had a happy and fulfilled life within its walls. She told herself that if the vibes of the young woman’s clothes were anything to go by, it seems she hadn’t been tainted or troubled by any of the negativity at Crayke’s Cottage, which she found hugely reassuring. There was joy and positivity woven into every fibre.
Lark couldn’t wait to share what she’d found with Nate – her dad, too; he was as much of a fan of local history and all things vintage as they were. She knew they’d both be fascinated by it all. A thought flittered through her mind, wondering how her dad was doing; she hadn’t heard from him in a while and she hoped he was okay. She glanced over at the clock; she’d give him a call once she’d looked through the smaller case. News of what she’d found in the suitcase was bound to give him a boost, start the cogs of his mind whirring. Something new to occupy his thoughts and stop him from dwelling on the past would do him good, Lark thought.
SIX
With all of Betty’s garments examined, Lark placed them back in the suitcase. She set it to one side before reaching over to retrieve the smaller one, wondering how it could possibly be filled with anything as exciting.
By comparison, this one was plain in appearance, with no luggage labels adorning it. It had suffered a few nasty bumps and knocks along the way, too. A bitter, acrid smell clung to the leather, and there was something about it that didn’t generate the same sense of excitement or anticipation as the first one. On closer inspection, Lark spotted a couple of embossed initials that she hadn’t noticed when she’d first found it at Crayke’s Cottage. She ran her fingers over them. Though they were somewhat scuffed, she managed to make out the letters: “AC”. Could the “C” stand for Crayke? she wondered, as a ripple of intrigue ran over her. Or was it just wishful thinking and nothing more than a simple coincidence?
‘Let’s see what secrets you’re keeping inside,’ she murmured.
Luna started mewing and Lark looked up to see she’d jumped onto the armchair opposite. She assumed the cat had become too warm sitting in front of the wood burner. She had to concede, it was pretty toasty, but after how cold she’d beenearlier, unlike Luna, Lark wasn’t in a hurry to relinquish the heat just yet.
The clasps on this case were more reluctant to open and, after several attempts, she was forced to admit defeat and dig out a flat-headed screwdriver and a can of WD-40 from the cupboard under the sink in the kitchen. It took a few minutes of careful jiggling around before the first clasp popped open, but the other was stuck fast. After struggling with it for over half an hour, Lark sat back, her face flushed pink from bending forward for so long – not to mention the heat from the wood burner. ‘Crikey me, Luna, it doesn’t want to budge.’
Luna mewed loudly in response.
Maybe there’s a reason it doesn’t want to open. Maybe I should leave it,Lark thought fleetingly. She huffed out a sigh and sat back, wondering whether to push on or leave it for now, to-ing and fro-ing between her reasons for and against. She was surprised to find she was veering in favour of leaving it; she didn’t want to cause any permanent damage to the suitcase, it being a vintage item, especially when she’d planned on selling it in her shop. But it wasn’t just that. A peculiar feeling had gradually crept over her as she’d been working on the clasps. Something that told her the contents were best left undisturbed.
She rubbed her chin, looking at it thoughtfully. She could hardly offer it for sale if she didn’t know what was inside – it could be chockablock with spiders, and no one would want that! Not only did the case look shabbier than the one that contained Betty’s clothes, but from what Lark could detect, it wasn’t emanating the same warm and friendly vibes. It made her wonder if it was an item she’d want to have in her shop anyway, never mind sell on to someone else.
She took a moment while her mind did battle, but in the end her curiosity got the better of her and she told herself if the items inside didn’t feel right, she could get rid of them and the case.Decision made, she added another squirt of WD-40 and went to make a cup of tea, hoping the time would give the oil a chance to work its way into the nooks and crannies of the clasp and loosen it.
Back in the living room, Lark placed her mug on the coffee table, picked up the screwdriver and set about tackling the stubborn clasps. To her surprise, it only took a few wiggles and pushes before the first opened with a begrudging “clunk”. It would seem the oil had worked a treat.
‘Oh!’
With the second clasp opened, it took a couple of attempts, but she eventually managed to slacken the lid – she was beginning to think the suitcase was determined she wouldn’t find out what it had been keeping hidden inside for so many years.
As she went to ease the top back Luna started yowling loudly in a way she’d never done before.
‘What a racket, Luna! What’s it all about? Anyone would think you don’t want me to open it.’ But there was something about the suitcase that made her understand why Luna was suddenly behaving in such an agitated way. The moment the last clasp had clicked open Lark had felt something indefinable shiver through her. It bore no resemblance to the feelings the first suitcase had stirred, and she wasn’t at all sure it was good.
Luna continued to yowl.
Lark took a deep, slow breath and braced herself before carefully easing the lid back, trepidation making her heart thump hard in her chest, the acrid smell of the case intensifying.
She sat back on her haunches, taking a moment as her eyes ran over the clutter of contents, tension prickling its way up her spine as she tried to make sense of what she’d just unearthed. She had the overwhelming feeling that this suitcase hadn’t beenopened for decades. That it had been the keeper of intrigue and secrets, all biding their time, just waiting to be found.
A clutch of nerves jangled in her stomach. She only hoped she wouldn’t regret being the person to find them.
Pushing back her concern, and trying to ignore Luna’s growing protestations, Lark peered into the case, looking more closely at the contents. She was reluctant to handle them just yet. The suitcase being compact meant everything was packed tightly together. Her first glance told her there was a leather-bound book, tied around the middle with a leather thong. Placed on top of it was an ancient-looking wrought-iron padlock, and a handful of waxy stumps that she assumed were candles. Beside the book lay a battered pewter tankard, a small wodge of blue cloth separating it from a stoneware bottle that had a cork stopper and a small chip in its neck. Beside that was a bulky item wrapped in what appeared to be a piece of old eiderdown. Lark got the feeling that there was nothing haphazard or random about the items’ inclusion in the case. Though they were strange – almost sinister – it was as if each one served a specific purpose.
Lark found herself being drawn to the bulky item first, wondering what was hidden beneath the piece of eiderdown. She lifted it out, half aware of Luna’s objections increasing in volume, noting it was heavy, and judging by the rattling sound, it and several of the items inside were made of metal.
Her suspicions were confirmed when she unwrapped the eiderdown, revealing a rusty tin battle-scarred with dents. ‘Ooh, what have we here?’ It evidently had quite a story to tell.
