Restoring Grace (57 page)

Ellie didn't
telephone Grace until the following day. She
just
ate most of the supper that Ran had cooked for her,
had a bath and fell
into bed. When she awoke the next morning, she tried to put Ran's kiss behind
her. Don't
read anything into it, she told
herself firmly. It was just
a response to the baby moving. It didn't
mean anything.

Grace answered the telephone nervously,
expecting it to be her sister. She had spent all yesterday on tenterhooks, but
Allegra, astonishingly, had not rung. Flynn had gone out somewhere and she was
very tempted just
to let it ring. On the
other hand, if it was her sister, about
to give her hell, she was a grown-up, she could cope.
Since she'd met Flynn, confrontation did seem less
terrible; not pleasant, but sometimes necessary.

It was a pleasure to hear Ellie's enthusiastic
voice.

‘I think I've found him! Our artist! I went to
London yesterday and did research. It's Richard Coatbridge!'

‘Um ...'

‘
I hadn't
heard of him either, but according to Ran he's
really important and famous! Those panels could be
worth
millions!’

Grace was more cautious. 'I'm not sure that's a
good
thing! Think how much trouble it's going
to cause
everyone!'

‘Now don't be silly, Grace. If they're worth
millions, it
means you can pay for the dry
rot and give loads to your sister and brother. And put in some central
heating,' she
added.

‘
Hmm. I
must say, central heating is rather wonderful,
when you're used to it.
And ad lib hot water.' In fact, as she looked around Flynn's comfortable,
well-appointed house, the advantages of money did present themselves to her
quite forcibly.

‘
But . . .'
Ellie paused for dramatic effect, and Grace felt
her rising spirits
descend a notch.

‘There's always a but.'

‘There is, isn't there? And this is quite a big
one. One you may not have.'

‘What are you talking about?'

‘Have you got provenance for the panels? I
mean, are there any old letters or papers or anything which might
refer to them? Oh, I know you didn't know anything
about them,' Ellie hurried on, 'but are there any papers, of any kind,
in your house?'

‘Apart from those waiting to be recycled?'

‘
Grace!
It's not like you to make jokes! Now think. What
about in your attic,
anything up there?'

‘
I don't
think so. I had the roof done and I don't
remember finding a treasure
chest up there.'

‘
But are you
sure? In that television programme where
they go up into people's attics
they always find valuable antiques and things.'

‘I have no idea what you're talking about.'

‘
Sorry, I
forgot you didn't have television for years.
Well, the people are trying
to make money, the antiques people come and find broken pots and things and
they sell them for a fortune at auction.'

‘
I think you
might have mentioned this before. How
do the antiques get there? Do the
television people put them in the attic first?'

‘Now you come to mention it, perhaps that is
what happens. Anyway, I'm coming up. We're going to have a look.'

‘
The
dry-rot people are still there. But on the other hand,'
– Grace became more enthusiastic – 'if I'm out,
my sister
can't ring me.’

Ellie didn't
try to make sense of this and arranged to see Grace in just over an hour.

*

Grace wrote
Flynn a note:
I am going home to search in the
attics for valuable papers I know are not there,
but Ellie thinks
might be. I think that girl watches too much television.

Then came the hard bit. If she wrote 'love,
Grace' like she would at the end of any other note she might write,
except perhaps to the milkman (whom she no longer
had,
and so hadn't written to for years), would Flynn read anything into
it?
She put 'love, Grace' anyway. It didn't
matter if he read
anything into it;
she was beginning to think it was
possibly true.

The two women met outside Luckenham House.
Ellie was full of enthusiasm and bounce, and Grace was full
of amused scepticism, but glad to get out of
Flynn's house
and away from his telephone.

‘I'm sure there's nothing there, because I
cleared it all out when I had the roof repaired,' said Grace, as they climbed
the stairs having had a scary look at the devastation caused by the dry-rot
people.

‘
So did you
throw everything away?' asked Ellie,
following Grace up the final
flight.

‘It was mostly rubbish. There were a couple of
boxes I put in one of the stables.’

Ellie hesitated. 'You mean, the attics really are empty?
Anything
we might find will be in one of the stables?' Grace nodded. 'The one with the
table-tennis table, remember?'

‘
Spiders?'

‘That's the
one. It's the driest.'

‘Let's go
back down and look there then.'

‘
But, Ellie, it's raining! It's cold and dark and I really
don't think we're going to find anything.'

‘Maybe,' said Ellie, leading the way back
downstairs,
'but we are going to look! We
can take the boxes into the
kitchen, and look through them in the warm.'

‘Except it's not warm. The Rayburn isn't lit.
Although it is plumbed in,' she added. 'Flynn had it done for me. Isn't that
kind?’

Ellie shook her head in
despair. 'And you're still
doubtful that he has feelings for
you?’

Grace blushed, remembering their recent
argument when he'd made his feelings quite clear. 'No.’

Ellie paused, her hand on the back door. 'So
are you and he . . . you know?'

‘
An item?'

‘I meant
sleeping together, but the item thing will do.’

Grace stopped. 'I rather
blew the other bit. He said he's
not going to come near me until my
life is in order and I'm not so stressed.'

‘But that's very considerate! He's lovely,
Grace, really he is!'

‘
I know! But
I want to go to bed with him now, not
wait until this is all sorted out!’

Ellie giggled. 'I'd offer to give you some tips
except I'm so crap at seduction.’

Both women smiled vapidly at the man in the
boiler
suit who walked by at that
particular moment, and then
shrugged.

‘
Come on. Let's face the spiders,' said Ellie.

*

Eventually they found the two boxes Grace was fairly
sure she had
put in the stable, but then Ellie spotted some
thing else.

‘
Look! That box is
wooden and says Ulster Apples on
it. Did you put it there?’

While Grace contemplated
the box in question, a large
spider
clambered out of it. 'No, I don't think so. That
must
have been here before.'

‘It looks like it's got some old files in it.
Let's take that inside as well.’

Grace
regarded Ellie. 'Do you fancy picking it up?’

Ellie sighed. 'Where are the gardening gloves?'
She found them, gave them a good shake, and put them on. 'And at least the
spider got out!'

‘But he left his wife and children behind.'

‘
Grace! It's really important we leave no stone—’

‘It's not stones,
it's spiders.'

‘
Spiders then. It's really important we leave no spider
unturned, looking for provenance. You're not
taking this
seriously!'

‘I am, really I am,' Grace insisted.

‘
OK, you
take those nice clean cardboard boxes, which
you put here.'

‘And have nothing useful in them.'

‘
They must
have, or you'd have thrown them away.
And I'll take the Den of the
Killer Spider family.’

They retreated to the house, gingerly carrying
their
separate burdens, equally anxious to
dump them on the
kitchen table.

‘You go first,' said Grace, indicating the
Ulster Apples box. 'There are cobwebs there you could make dog beds with.'

‘Why me?'

‘Because you're the one who wants the
provenance. I just want the money.'

‘
Ah, but how much money? Here goes.' Still
wearing
the gloves, Ellie got out the first manila
file. It had an
illegible label on it, and
the corners had all been eaten by
something. 'Have you no idea what any
of these papers are?'

‘Nope. Let's see.’

They were love letters,
probably dating from the war,
all bound up with blue ribbons. 'Oh,
it's so sad!' said Grace as she looked at them. 'They're to my aunt! Her lover
must have been killed!'

‘Now don't get all sentimental. We're not
looking for love letters. What else is in there?'

‘Nothing in that file. Let's have a look at
another.’

They found an awful lot of
ancient household bills
which were fascinating, but, Ellie
insisted, not relevant,
and therefore not
to be pored over. There were also some
dress patterns and a sheet of
paper which told you how to make knickers out of parachute silk. They searched
through every file, and Ellie even went through the love letters, just in case.

‘Oh. That's a bit disappointing,' said Ellie.

‘
Sorry.'
Grace felt disappointed for Ellie, but hadn't
been expecting anything else. 'Do you mind if I just have
a look through this stuff?' she said, referring to
a pile they
hadn't bothered with. 'I know it's probably just bills but
there's no point in taking it all back to the stables if I
really should have thrown it away. I was in a bit
of a state
when I stuffed it all in here.'

‘
No, go
ahead. Shall I help you? Quicker if we both
do it.’

At first they amused themselves by trying to
decipher
the disintegrating scraps of paper
which described
strange items of
haberdashery; ribbons and trimmings for
giving old hats a new look, but
soon they just gave each
one a quick glance.
Near the bottom of the box Ellie found
some letters, tucked into the
same bundle as a bill for rebuilding the stable wall, and another, very ancient
bill for repairing the panelling in the dining room. It caught
Ellie's attention because unlike the others, it
didn't have
'paid' written on it.

‘
Grace,'
she said, holding a scrap of paper. 'Could that
be anything, do you
think? It looks very old.’

Carefully, Grace took the paper. It was brittle
and yellow with age and covered in elegant sloping writing, which was pale and
almost illegible. 'I don't know. It's very ancient, but it could say almost
anything.'

‘
And it's in
with all those old bills - it's probably
nothing.'

‘Let's take it to the drawing room and look at
it under a lamp.’

Both women flew down the
passage and across the hall,
trying not to
get too excited, knowing disappointment
was
bound to follow.

Grace switched on one of the table lamps.

‘I feel sick,' said Ellie.

‘You often do. You're pregnant.'

‘Read it then.’

Grace put the paper under the light. 'I can't.
I need a magnifying glass.'