Page 7 of Mirrors of the Past

‘There’s never been anything that jumped out at me, I must confess,’ said Tammy today, ‘But I have a mind like a machine and a very good memory so I’m pretty good at knowing where things are. Problem is, if I ever leave, nobody will know that. Hence Bryony coming and now you taking over.’ She leaned over and punched him lightly on the arm. ‘Thanks, by the way. There’re not many people I’d trust up here. It’s my treasure trove.’

‘You’ll be too important to come up here before long,’ Ryan said, teasing his friend. ‘I’ll have to book an appointment to see you in the boss’s office.’

‘Hmmm.’ Tammy laughed. ‘I’ll let you in any time if you bring biscuits.’

‘Done.’

‘Great. So, where are you working at the minute?’ Tammy looked around curiously.

‘Here.’ Ryan indicated a box of paperwork. ‘I’m not getting far. I keep getting distracted and reading the papers.’

‘Hazard of the job. What are they?’

‘Letters between Elsie and her brother, Laurie.’

‘Oh! Yes, I think he was the one that fought in World War One.’

‘Did he?’ Ryan didn’t know much about Elsie and her family. He’d worked at Wheal Mount a long time and knew a lot about Elsie’s Uncle Jago and Aunt Alys, the Duke and Duchess of Trecarrow. He knew about Lady Elsie’s professional status of course — the fact that she was a brilliant artist, photographer and all the rest. But he didn’t know much about her private life. ‘These letters were from well before the war, though.’ Ryan pulled one out of the trunk at random and read out the date. ‘1911. November.’

‘Ah, I think if you keep looking we’ve got some Halloween artefacts from that year too,’ said Tammy. ‘Dated not too long before that letter. 1911 definitely rings a bell with me. I’m sure there’s something between Elsie and her friend Pearl.’

‘That’s cool,’ said Ryan. He liked Halloween. ‘You’ll have to let me see the letter.’ He grinned at Tammy, read a bit more of the 1911 letter to himself, then spoke. ‘So here, they’re talking about getting together before the wedding. She wants him to come to London, she’s got a dress fitting and bizarrely wants him there.’ Ryan looked at Tammy. ‘Damn sure I wouldn’t want to get involved in dress fittings with my sister. Talk about a bridezilla. But Elsie’s very kindly sketched her frock out as well to help. Look.’ He showed Tammy the back of the letter and she nodded.

‘Lovely sketch. But that is curious.’ Tammy raised her eyebrows. ‘Not sure my brother would be that interested in my wedding dress.’

‘I can’t actually imagine you in a dress, anyway, Tammy. But I don’t suppose we’ll ever find out why Elsie wanted her brother there. I heard Sybill say Elsie had been “capricious” once. Maybe that’s just the way she was. Or maybe her brother could offer her good styling advice.’ He looked at the box and its many layers of jumbled secrets, yet to be discovered.

Maybe the answer lay in there somewhere.

Or maybe he was the one being capricious and there was no secret there whatsoever, and no logical answer to his question.

Ah, well. He wasn’t that bothered really.

It was just kind of . . . interesting. That was all.

But part of him held back from becoming too invested in Tammy’s archives. Working in these musty attics, despite how absorbing the contents were, was a “for-now” job, and he was still pinning his hopes on Glasgow and the chance to handle Rennie Mackintosh artefacts instead of Pencradoc ones.