Chapter 5
FIVE
It was just gone seven o’clock by the time Lark hauled the largest of the old suitcases in front of the wood burner.
She knelt before it, her insides dancing with anticipation as she ran her fingers over the battered leather.
It was decorated with a variety of faded liner labels, all haphazardly plastered over it: a log of the owner’s travels.
Unfastening the leather buckles, she pushed on the age-dulled brass clasps beneath.
It took a few moments’ coaxing but they eventually opened with a satisfying click.
Slowly, she eased the lid up, her pulse rate gathering speed as the treasures within were revealed in a waft of fusty air.
‘Oh, wow!’ She gasped as her breath was whipped from her mouth, every fibre of her body fizzing.
Sitting back on her haunches, Lark took a moment to steady herself.
She pushed her plait over her shoulder as her gaze swept over the neatly folded contents looking back at her.
If the vibrations that were emanating from the clothing were anything to go by, the previous owner of these clothes had enjoyed a happy and fulfilled life.
A thrill scurried up her spine as she reached for the garment that was begging for her attention.
It was made of rose-pink fabric dotted with ditsy white flowers.
As soon as her fingers made contact with it, she sensed its positive energy just as she hoped she would.
With great care, she lifted it out of the case, the fine cotton unfurling as she held up what revealed itself to be a tea dress in classic nineteen-forties style.
‘So beautiful,’ Lark said in a whisper.
Closer inspection revealed the dress was exquisitely made, with a run of fabric-covered buttons that stretched from the dainty, round collar, down to the waistband that was edged in pale-green ribbon.
‘Oh!’ A vivid image flashed through her mind like a bolt of lightning, leaving behind it the imprint of a vibrant young woman with a happy face and dancing eyes, her hair set in victory rolls.
Music from the nineteen forties floated at the back of Lark’s consciousness, an intense feeling of happiness flooding her chest. The young woman was smiling, her full lips painted with a matt lipstick in a deep shade of red and her eyes were sparkling with vivacity.
On her feet were mid-heeled sandals in braided leather.
They had an almond-shaped toe and fastened at the ankle, the seam of her stockings running up the back of her legs.
The skirt of the tea dress swished as she was swept around the room in the arms of a man wearing a soldier’s uniform and slicked back hair.
He was saying something that was making the young woman laugh.
From their body language and the way they were gazing at one another, there was no mistaking the young couple were head over heels in love.
Slowly, the image faded, leaving Lark filled with a warm sensation and wishing she could’ve had longer to enjoy such a joy-filled moment.
‘Wow!’ she gasped, thrilled to have got off to such a good start.
She’d had her doubts after what Nate had mentioned about Crayke’s Cottage being cursed.
She gave the fabric of the dress a quick appraisal, checking for marks and evidence of moth damage.
All but for a few dots of mildew, it was in excellent condition.
‘That’s perfect for the shop, don’t you think, Luna?
’ She beamed across at the cat who had joined her on the mat in front of the fire and was watching her with interest. Lark had just the customer in mind, one who had a particular interest in tea dresses from that time.
She carefully folded the garment and set it down on the floor before reaching in and lifting out a square of scarlet silk, covered in white polka dots and trimmed with a striped border.
It triggered the same reaction as the dress which suggested to Lark it had been owned by the same young woman.
More happy, positive vibes! Oh, boy! She was in her element right now!
Her luck continued as she sorted through the rest of the items, including several cotton skirts in a mix of floral fabrics, a couple of shirtwaister dresses and what she recognised as a jitterbug dress, with its full skirt and soft fabric designed to allow maximum freedom to the wearer while she danced the jitterbug – what else?
How wonderful! There was also a cardigan with a small hole near the cuff which Lark felt could be fixed easily.
All of the items were bouncing with the young woman’s energy, and Lark was delighted when a lemon-coloured blouse with a dainty collar evoked an image of the same young couple.
They were smiling as they walked along, a blaze of sunshine around them, the sound of the sea in the distance.
The young woman – the name Betty slipped into Lark’s mind, though the young man’s was proving elusive – had her arm linked through his, her gaze drawn to the engagement ring that was glinting on her finger.
A wave of happiness rushed through Lark, and she was overcome with the feeling she’d just been treated to a glimpse of the moments immediately after the young soldier had proposed.
It was times like this she felt glad to be sensitive to moments from the past. She only wished that was all she was able to pick up.
The last item remaining in the case appeared to be an old, cotton bedsheet with stripes in vintage shades.
From the thin feel of it, it had been laundered many, many times.
She wondered why it had been included with the items of clothing.
But as Lark lifted it out, she noticed an edge of white, silk-like fabric peering from within the folds.
Carefully, she opened the bedsheet out and was thrilled to reveal what could only be a wedding dress.
‘Oh, how exquisite!’ Lark gently took the fine fabric between her fingers, her gaze running over the round neckline edged with shimmering mother-of-pearl beads.
She was instantly struck by a feeling of pure joy as images of the day filled her mind.
She closed her eyes, keeping hold of the fabric.
She could sense the warmth of sunshine on her face, hear the birds twittering merrily in the background as Betty, with her hair set in soft waves and wearing what appeared to be the gown from the suitcase, walked to the local church on the arm of a man Lark assumed was Betty’s father.
Her cut-glass, drop earrings glinted in the sunlight – something told Lark they’d been borrowed.
The pair were chatting and laughing, the bride’s short veil – not yet over her face for fear of getting it marked with lipstick stains – catching in the summer breeze, as she clutched a bouquet billowing with carnations in a joyful shade of yellow and trimmed with white gypsophila.
The young woman exuded an air of pure happiness as she stepped through the great oak door of the church, the light fabric of her dress fluttering around her ankles.
She paused, taking a deep breath as she awaited her cue from the organ.
A moment later, the organ wheezed into life as the opening notes of “The Wedding March” bounced off the walls, reaching all the way up to the rafters.
Lark’s heart began to beat faster as the image showed Betty making her way down the aisle, the eyes of the congregation on the radiant young bride.
And even though Betty’s veil was now covering her face, Lark could sense her smile widening as she approached her groom.
He was looking smart in his army uniform as he fidgeted nervously at the altar.
Lark could feel the anticipation in the air as it mingled with the joy of the occasion.
A pocket of happiness in such a worrying time.
The image quickly moved to the young couple sharing their first dance at their wedding reception held in the local community centre – it had barely changed!
– Betty’s new husband holding her close as the band played “At Last”, a song made popular at the time by Glenn Miller and his Orchestra.
Her heart swelled as the groom gazed deeply into his new bride’s eyes and said, ‘Have I told you how much I love you, Mrs Roberts?’
Lark was disappointed when the image started fading, scrabbling to hang on to it just a little bit longer.
Once it had completely disappeared, she opened her eyes, blinking before her gaze landed back on the beautiful wedding gown.
‘Wow!’ she whispered. Holding it up before her, she could see it was a simple design, with the skirt part being made up of panels of silk skilfully stitched together, allowing it to hang in elegant, fluid lines.
There were more mother-of-pearl buttons around the cuffs, and fabric-covered buttons ran down the back to the waist.
As her eyes roved over the bodice, taking in the carefully placed darts, she was taken aback by the briefest flash of an image, so fleeting, it was barely enough to make sense of.
She hurriedly tried to grapple with it before it disappeared, but all she got was an image of a blue sky punctuated by clouds and the sound of what she assumed was an aeroplane engine.
A pulse of adrenalin raced through her. What was that all about?
Lark couldn’t begin to fathom why Betty’s dress was giving out this kind of vibration.
It made no sense. No sense at all. She waited, the dress in her hands, to see if anything else came to her.
Disappointingly, her mind remained clear.
‘Hmm. Curious.’ Telling herself she’d probably picked up on energy left behind from something else that had been in the suitcase at one time, she carefully folded the dress and packed it away in the sheet, noting the specks of mildew that peppered the hem and part of a sleeve.
Other than that, the garment was in perfect condition.
It had been a joy getting a sense of Betty from her suitcase of beautiful clothes, though Lark couldn’t help but wonder what the connection to Crayke’s Cottage could possibly be.
Had it been Betty’s home? If so, Lark hoped she hadn’t been affected by the curse or bad luck Mr Thurston had referred to, that she’d had a happy and fulfilled life within its walls.
She told herself that if the vibes of the young woman’s clothes were anything to go by, it seems she hadn’t been tainted or troubled by any of the negativity at Crayke’s Cottage, which she found hugely reassuring.
There was joy and positivity woven into every fibre.
Lark couldn’t wait to share what she’d found with Nate – her dad, too; he was as much of a fan of local history and all things vintage as they were.
She knew they’d both be fascinated by it all.
A thought flittered through her mind, wondering how her dad was doing; she hadn’t heard from him in a while and she hoped he was okay.
She glanced over at the clock; she’d give him a call once she’d looked through the smaller case.
News of what she’d found in the suitcase was bound to give him a boost, start the cogs of his mind whirring.
Something new to occupy his thoughts and stop him from dwelling on the past would do him good, Lark thought.