‘I’m fine. I’ve iced it.’
‘Well, I don’t know what this could be. I thought we’d got all of the personal items from the house when we started renting it out,’ Mara mused.
‘Just open it, Ma,’ Franny called from the sofa, where she had her feet up and was tapping away furiously at her phone. ‘End the suspense.’
‘Okay, okay.’ Mara smiled and unfastened a little brass lock that looked like it had once held a key: fortunately, it didn’t seem to be locked.
The box, a dark varnished wood that looked as though it could be either hundreds of years old or twenty, was inscribed with ornate initials on the top.
‘IVH.’ Mara looked thoughtful. ‘The “H” would stand for Hughes, if it’s Mum’s family. The “I” might by Ivy. I think that was my grandmother’s name. I don’t know if she had a middle name beginning with “V”, but it’s entirely possible.’
‘How can you not know your grandparents’ names?’ Franny called out. ‘Ancestry.com, Ma.’
‘I know they were called Ivy and William, but I don’t know much about Mum’s family at all. She never let me see them,’ Mara replied. ‘A few people around the village have told me things. My grandfather was quite an influential person here, once. But the scandal around my mum having a baby out of wedlock, as a teenager – that was really difficult for them. That I do know.’
Mara opened the box. Curious, Franny put her phone down and came to stand next to her mother.
‘What is it?’ she asked, tracing her fingers over the inscribed initials. ‘What’s inside?’
‘Letters, I think.’ Mara brought out a few envelopes, foxed with age. ‘A locket. Look, Fran. It opens.’ She placed the oval locket on a silver chain in her daughter’s hand. The front was an ornate silver frame around a black jewel, and when it opened, a faded photograph was inside.
‘Who’s that?’ Franny held it up to the light. Mara narrowed her eyes at it. ‘I don’t know, darling. But she looks like you, don’t you think?’
‘It might be her. Ivy.’ Franny stared intensely at the photo.
‘There’s definitely a likeness.’ Ellie looked at Franny’s dark hair, plaited and pinned to her head, her high cheekbones and wide eyes, and then back at the photograph. ‘When would this have been taken?’
‘I don’t know exactly. My mum was born in the 60s so I guess her mother would have been born in the 40s, maybe? Whoever it is looks young in this. Maybe the late 40s, early 50s, if it is her?’
‘What else’s in there?’ Franny reached into the box. ‘What’s this?’ She pulled out an ornate black card and read it aloud.
William “Billy” Hughes
Grieve not for me, my life is past
I dearly loved you to the last;
Grieve not for me but pity take
On my poor children for my sake.
Farewell, dear wife, my life is past
May you and I unite at last.
Mourn not for me, nor sorrow take
But love each other for my sake.
Death did to me short warning give
Therefore be careful how you live
Prepare in time, make no delay
For I was quickly called away
“Not my will, but Thine be done.”
