‘I’ll call you later,’ said Tabitha and hung up as the scriptorium door opened.
‘May I join you?’
Tabitha jumped guiltily. She had hoped her conversation with Tamar would have quelled her suspicions, but instead, it had added to her growing anxiety. Gulliver’s uninvited appearance did not help, but she pushed her discussion with her sister to one side and smiled.
‘Of course,’ she said.
It was a week since she had found the final clue. Edith had wanted to search for it immediately, but a relapse of her illness had halted this plan. During lucid moments, Edith had spoken to Tabitha about the most recent entry in Wilbur’s diary concerning Helena and Eglantine.
‘Helena died,’ she had said, ‘and Wilbur left no details of Eglantine’s aunt who adopted her. Could you search one of those genealogy websites to see if you could trace her, please? You might be able to discover the truth about this lost chapter of Swanne history. If it helps, please use the family tree, it’s in the scriptorium. Gulliver will show you.’
However, due to the pressure of work, Gulliver had proved unavailable to spend time in the scriptorium to allow her to see the Swanne family tree. Instead, using the information she had from the diaries, Tabitha had begun her own search online, trying to piece together a genealogy for the mysterious Helena Last. Her research had been frustrating, leading to endless dead ends, and Tabitha had wondered if this had even been the woman’s real name.
Finally, she had discovered a newspaper cutting dated from a week before Wilbur’s diary entry, giving details of a woman called Helena Last who had been killed in an accident in London. She was hit by an omnibus as she crossed the road. When Tabitha had reported the cause of Helena’s death back to Edith, the older woman had suffered another relapse.
Tabitha had continued searching for clues about the Last family, hoping to discover good news about the missing child,but she was unsure how she felt about Wilbur’s double life. Edith found it amusing, but Tabitha thought Wilbur sounded weak, an entitled man who abandoned his wife at the point of her deepest despair. She struggled to like him, but she did feel compassion at the loss of his daughter, taken into a family who barely knew of his existence.
Now, Gulliver hovered in the middle of the room, his moss-green jumper with its half zip showing a grey T-shirt below, his hands were buried in the pockets of his jeans. He often referred to the outfit as his ‘uniform’ as it was a look he stuck with each day, altering only the colours of the jumpers and T-shirts.
‘Auntie Edie wanted me to check on you,’ he said.
‘Why?’ Tabitha asked in surprise.
‘She says you’ve been very quiet and is worried you might feel you’re being pushed out since Lucia’s return.’
The statement was bald. Gulliver was staring into the middle distance as he spoke and his voice was flat, with no hint of emotion. Tabitha felt a spurt of anger: was he testing her? If so, how dare he? His marital mess was his problem; it was nothing to do with her.
‘Not at all,’ she replied and there was a sharpness to her voice.
Gulliver gave a terse nod.
‘Auntie Edie also said she’d suggested you consult the family tree, but there hasn’t yet been an opportunity. Are you busy now or would you like to look?’
A curious thought occurred to Tabitha concerning Edith’s suggestion she spend the afternoon in the scriptorium. Was this a situation the older woman had deliberately engineered? She suppressed a smile, Edith was incorrigible.
Tabitha put her sketchbook aside and stood up. ‘I’d love to see the family tree,’ she said, ‘but on the condition you tell me truthfully whether Edith has forced you into coming up here.’
Gulliver pulled his hands from his pockets, a small keyring hanging from the index finger of his right hand, as a reluctant smile spread across his face. ‘Of course she has,’ he said. ‘Edith is a very determined woman.’
‘What do you mean?’
He held her gaze before replying.
‘Nothing will stop her discovering the truth about the Chaucer,’ he said and the faint blush on his cheeks made Tabitha wonder if he was being entirely honest. ‘She wonders if there’s a link between this missing child who is mentioned in the diaries and the manuscript. It’s why she’s so keen for you to see our family tree, in case it helps you unravel the story.’
Gulliver walked towards the wall-mounted drawers and unlocked the two in the centre, while Tabitha wandered over to the long wooden table in the centre of the room. Gulliver had proudly explained he and Oliver had made it from left-over floorboards.
‘It would have been a shame to waste them,’ he had said. ‘It’s Pippy Oak or Cat’s Paw, the markings look as though a cat has walked across them and left paw prints.’
Tabitha had traced her finger around the delicate patterns set in the wood. ‘I thought the wood had been painted,’ she had admitted.
‘No, it’s natural,’ Gulliver had said, ‘a tiny piece of magic.’
Now, as she looked down at the cluster of dots, resembling a trail of feline paws, Gulliver appeared at her side. She could smell the faint trace of his aftershave, it made her think of the sea or petrichor – the scent of the rain – and goosebumps shivered up her arms.
‘Here,’ he said and placed two large leather-bound scrolls on the table. ‘Edith commissioned these from the Royal College of Arms. It’s a family tradition to update them whenever there’s a marriage.’
‘How lovely,’ Tabitha managed to choke out.
