The vicar mumbled in thought, hands steepled together. This could well be a money spinner… and they did need the funds.
‘I say let’s go for it,’ cheered Ned. If anything, he was dying to see Bunty Deville dressed up as a gypsy, in Jim’s shepherd hut, with a goldfish bowl full of fairy lights and a deck of tarot cards. Hell, he’d pay twenty pounds for a reading! He’d also make sure there were photographs of her, when they put snapshots of the charity event on the church website.
‘Let’s take it to a vote,’ advised the vicar. ‘All those in favour, raise your hand.’ He looked round the table. Ned’s arm shot up, in unison with Bunty’s. Trish, after getting a firm nudge from Bunty’s other arm, reluctantly raised hers too. As did Jim, when receiving Bunty’s threatening glare. Hetty, refusing to be intimidated, remained still. The vicar took stock.
‘That’s four votes in favour, one against and I wish to abstain from the vote,’ he said.
‘Motion carried,’ cut in Ned, not even trying to conceal his laughter. ‘Bunty’s going to be gypsy Rosy-Lee,’ he chuckled.
‘All for a good cause,’ countered the vicar, not quite sure how this was all going to pan out. He wiped his perspiring forehead and gulped. ‘Now, item number four, Tea Duties…’
Robin was struggling to move the remaining trunk which had been left in the attic. The first one had contained old pictures, a few books and some bed linen and had been light enough to haul down the stairs. But this one weighed a ton and no matter how hard he tried the trunk refused to budge. He stood back to inspect it. Made of dark wood with elaborate patterned carvings, it had a brass lock, keeping whatever was inside sealed shut.
As far as he knew, the previous occupants of the cottages had been fishermen, all tenants of Bunty. Why would anyone leave a locked trunk behind? Surely they would want to take their possessions with them? Did Bunty even know the trunks were here? Probably not, tucked away in the rafters. He doubted she would have ventured up here. Still, it puzzled him as to what could be inside the trunk and more importantly, how he was going to get the thing out of the room.
It was clearly going to be a two-man job, so he reached for his mobile and rang Jack to see if he was free to give him a hand. It hadn’t taken long before he heard his mate enter the house.
‘Up here Jack!’ called Robin.
Jack climbed the newly installed steps up into the attic.
‘Hi, what’s the problem?’ He frowned.
‘It’s this, I can’t budge it.’ Robin kicked the side of the trunk.
‘Why? What’s in it?’
‘No idea, it’s locked.’
‘That’s odd,’ said Jack moving nearer to inspect the trunk. ‘Why leave something if it needs to be under lock and key?’
‘My thoughts exactly.’ Robin nodded. ‘Do you think we should tell Bunty about it? It must have belonged to one of her tenants.’
Jack knelt down to scrutinise the lock.
‘We own the house now, so technically it belongs to us,’ he replied, eyes narrowing to get a closer look.
‘Should we open it?’ asked Robin. ‘There’s no sign of a key.’
‘We could use a crowbar.’ Jack stood up. ‘I’ve got one in the van.’
They looked at each other, both curious as to the contents of the trunk.
‘Yeah, OK, let’s force it open,’ Robin said decisively.
After a few attempts at pushing down heavily on the crowbar, the lid eventually creaked open. Both eagerly peered inside.
‘An anchor?’ Robin’s voice held slight surprise.
‘Look, it’s got initials engraved on it.’ Jack pointed to the curved bottom where the letters B and P appeared in the steel. More interestingly, the shape of a heart was positioned in between. There was a slight pause as they took stock at their find.
‘This must have belonged to a fisherman who lived here once,’ Robin remarked. Then he noticed a brown envelope lying flat underneath it. He carefully pulled it free and opened it. Inside were photographs, slightly damaged by age and damp. Jack came to stand behind him to take a look.
They were pictures of a couple, taken some years ago judging by the Sixties clothes. A preppy looking young man wearing a double-breasted blazer with straight-legged slacks and loafers, stood next to a girl in a geometric shift dress and kitten heels. Both wore dark shaded glasses and big grins for the camera. Another shot showed the couple on what looked to be a day trip out, with Blackpool Tower in the background, splashing in the seawater. The man had his trouser legs and turtleneck shirtsleeves rolled up, whilst the lady laughed, also barefoot in Capri pants and a button-down blouse. Robin smiled at their sense of style and fun. Each picture depicted how much the couple were openly in love; the way their eyes held, arms wrapped tightly round each other’s body, always touching, connecting. The photos had been taken over a period of time, some in winter with snow-capped hills in the backdrop, or in summer picnicking in meadow fields. One was taken in a fairground, eating candy floss with a brightly lit Waltzer whirling behind them.
Robin and Jack studied each picture with interest.
‘I wonder where they are now?’ Robin’s eyes darted from one image to the next.
