The Keeper of Lost Things

“Because you’re a good few years younger than me, and you’ve led a purer life.”


Eunice snorted her contention, but Bomber continued.

“And because you’re my faithful assistant and you must do as I command.”

Eunice laughed.

“‘Somewhere fabulous’” isn’t a very specific command.”

“When I think of somewhere specific, I’ll let you know.”

Just before they reached the lych-gate, Bomber had stopped and squeezed her arm.

“And one more thing.”

He had held her in his gaze with eyes that shone with unspilled tears.

“Promise me that if I ever end up like Pa, mad as a box of frogs and stuck away in a home, you’ll find a way to . . . you know what. Get. Me. Out.”

Eunice had forced a smile, though at that moment someone walked across her grave.

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Bomber showed his present to Baby Jane, but once she had ascertained that it was inedible and didn’t squeak or bounce, she lost what little interest she had mustered.

“So, what do you want to do for your birthday?” Eunice asked, twirling the pink ribbon around her fingers.

“Well,” said Bomber, “how about combining my birthday with our usual annual outing?”

Eunice grinned. “Brighton it is!”





CHAPTER 39


“It’s not the ring.”

Laura kicked one of Carrot’s many tennis balls across the lawn in frustration. Freddy stopped digging and leaned on his spade, ready to commiserate as required. Laura had come out into the garden, where Freddy was digging compost into the rose garden, with little purpose other than to vent her frustration. Freddy grinned at her.

“Never mind. We’ll sort it out eventually.”

Laura was in no mood for platitudes. Therese and Sunshine were both sulking; no doubt for very different, but for the moment equally unfathomable reasons; she was running behind with the data input for the website, and Carrot had got completely overexcited when the new postwoman had called to deliver a parcel, and had weed on the Chinese rug in the hall. She took another petulant swing at a tennis ball, missed, and nearly fell over. Freddy resumed his digging in order to disguise his laughter. Laura had had high hopes that the sapphire ring might be the perfect panacea. She had replaced the broken glass in Therese’s photograph, placed the picture of Anthony and his parents beside it, and the ring in its box in front of her. She had even tried to play the Al Bowlly song for her.

“How do you know that Therese is sulking?”

Freddy had recovered himself sufficiently by now to try to be helpful.

“Because the bedroom door’s still locked and because of that damn record!”

Freddy frowned.

“But I can’t remember hearing it for days now.”

Laura raised her eyebrows in exasperation.

“For God’s sake, Freddy! Do try and keep up. That’s what I’ve been saying.”

Freddy ditched the spade and came and gave her a hug.

“Well, not very clearly, I’m afraid. I’m not very good at clues. You’ll have to make it ‘clear and simple,’” he said, bracketing the phrase in the air with his fingers.

“Touché.” Laura grinned in spite of herself.

“Right,” said Freddy, “how does Therese not playing dear old Al signify that she’s sulking?”

“Because now, instead of playing it morning, noon, and night, she won’t allow it to be played at all.”

Freddy looked skeptical.

“I’m not sure I understand.”

Laura sighed. “I’ve tried to play it over and over, but it simply won’t. At first, I did it to be nice. I set up the photographs and the ring, and then, as a finishing touch, I thought I’d play the music; their song. But it won’t play. She won’t let it.”

Freddy chose his next words very carefully.

“Well, it is an old record and an old player. Maybe the needle needs changing or the record has been scratched . . .”

One look at Laura’s face was enough to derail his argument.

“Okay, okay. You’ve checked. Of course you have. They’re both fine.”

Laura picked up yet another tennis ball and threw it at him. But this time with a laugh.

“Oh God, I’m sorry. I’m such a grumpy cow, but I’m doing my best to help her and now she’s just being bloody awkward. Come on, I’ll make you a cup of tea. There might even be a chocolate biscuit if Sunshine hasn’t finished them.”

Freddy took her hand.

“I shan’t raise my hopes.”

In the kitchen, Sunshine had just put the kettle on.

“Perfect timing!” said Freddy. “We just came in for the lovely cup of tea.”

Sunshine set out two more cups and saucers in ominous silence as Freddy washed his hands at the sink.

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