Chapter 15 #2
‘Now, where would Elsie have put those letters?’ he mused.
‘Hmm, there’ll only be a few old Christmas decorations left in the loft, as far as I know.
Me and Sarah left them up there. No use for them here.
You might want to get rid of them. But maybe if you could double-check?
If you didn’t mind, that is? Don’t know why those letters would be up there, though.
Maybe when Elsie was tidying up or something?
Neither of us had been able to use the loft for years.
Couldn’t get up the ladder anymore.’ He scrunched his face, whilst thinking.
‘Anyhow, you’re welcome to have those decorations.
Might be a bit old-fashioned, I suppose.
No need of them here. Last Christmas when I first moved in, this place was teeming with tinsel and baubles.
They had a big tree all decorated for us and everything. ’
‘That sounds lovely and festive. Thank you about the decorations. And yes, of course I’ll check on those letters for you, Reggie.’
‘Might be a long shot.’ Reggie shrugged, but there was a fresh glimmer of hope in his eyes.
‘It’s no problem. I’m more than happy to look,’ reassured Cath. It sounded really important to him, and it was the least she could do as the new custodian of Cheviot Cottage.
*
Just as Cath was pondering if she should risk going up the set of tall stepladders, having positioned them below the loft hatch on the upstairs landing, the doorbell went.
She’d been back from the care home for half an hour, and felt driven to find out if the letters were up there.
Poor old Reggie had seemed so upset to have lost them.
She was curious about them too, not that she intended on reading them, of course; they were private.
But just to discover if they were in fact there, and if so, then to have the satisfaction of delivering them back ‘home’ to their rightful owner.
Down the stairs she trotted, wondering if it might be some sales call that had interrupted her. The latest seemed to be rugs, just passing, with a heap-load of rugs in the van, spare stock. Really? Out here in Tilldale in the middle of nowhere?
She opened the door. No salesman there, but one very attractive man: Will. Now that was unexpected. Her heart skipped a beat, firstly with longing and then another missed beat of fear … might he be here to really call things off this time?
‘Hi.’ Pushing her concerns aside, she realised this was in fact timely. Help with the ladders, and from the man … well boy, who’d sent her several love letters himself, back in the day.
‘Hi, you okay?’ Will gave her a warm smile, which after their last discussion was reassuring at least.
‘Hey, yeah, good to see you. Coming in?’ She wondered what might be behind it. Was he missing her company since they’d spoken so openly the other night? In need of some friendly advice, someone to offload to after a busy day at work?
‘Yep, if that’s all right. I was just at a loose end and thought I’d call by.’ He sounded casual, but it seemed like he’d been thinking of her.
‘Of course. Yeah, this is a nice surprise.’ She found herself wanting to hug him, but held back. Had Reggie and Elsie’s story stirred the old memories of hers and Will’s young romance, too?
‘Sorry, are you busy?’ he asked.
‘Well, I was actually just about to venture up into the loft for the first time.’
‘Okay. So, what’s up there, then?’
‘That’s what I’m hoping to find out.’
‘It might just be cobwebs, and a resident mouse or two,’ he teased.
‘Hah, don’t. I’ll never get through the hatch if I think like that.’
‘So why now? What’s made you so curious?’
‘I had my first visit at the care home today, and I met Reggie in person finally.’
‘Ah, yes, I remember him, nice old chap.’
‘Yeah, he was really lovely. He mentioned some lost letters, as well as some old Christmas decorations. And well, the letters sounded very special to him. They seemed to have been lost in the move to the home, so I promised I’d check the loft space, just in case.’
‘Right, well, that sounds like a mission. No time like the present. If you’re going to be up scaling heights, then I’d better stay around to secure the ladder.’
‘Ah, thanks, that does make me feel a bit better. I was wary of getting stuck up there on my own.’ Living a solo life wasn’t at all easy, at times.
*
‘Anything there?’ Will’s voice echoed from the landing a few minutes later.
‘Not sure yet.’
There was no light connection up in the loft, so she switched on the torch of her phone.
Eek, there were indeed masses of dusty cobwebs.
Looking beneath her, she found she was stood on a boarded-out floor area of around four metres squared.
The rest of the loft space then reverted to wooden beams, filled in between with rolled-out creamy-yellow lagging.
A pitched roof, up above, revealed trusses of wood and the insides of the black roof felt that lay beneath the slate tiles.
She scanned the boarded area and was pleased to find some boxes.
A stack, in fact, of sealed cardboard boxes.
She’d been savvy, and had Will at the ready to pass her up a pair of kitchen scissors.
Top box first. Someone had neatly written ‘Christmas’ on it in felt-tip pen.
No prizes for guessing what might be in that one, then.
She’d open that shortly, but moved on to the three other stacked boxes.
Whoever had stored them, Reggie most likely when he was still in his prime, was evidently organised, as she then found ‘Baubles/Tinsel’ followed by ‘Tree Lights’ and ‘Strands’.
Opening ‘Strands’ first, which seemed the more mysterious of the selection, she discovered reams and reams of old-fashioned festive paper chains, far too many for a single household. And then many flattened colourful tissue-paper and foil streamers. Hmm, perhaps enough to decorate a village hall …
She carefully sifted through them. But with no sign of any letters.
‘Any luck?’ a voice drifted up.
She’d momentarily forgotten Will was still stood at the base of the ladder.
‘No, not yet. Bear with me. There are a few boxes here, all seemingly Christmas stuff, but I’d better open them up and check.’
‘Okay. I’ll wait here.’
‘Yes please, I shouldn’t be long. Actually, I could pass a couple of the boxes down, and you can look there, whilst I’ll do the others?’
‘May as well. It’ll be quicker that way.’
With the stirring of decades of dust making her throat tight, she gave a cough as she shifted ‘Tree Lights’ down to him. As she carefully passed the taped box through the loft hatch gap, Will part-mounted the stepladder to receive it.
Cath removed some more of the contents of ‘Strands’, to make a further check.
It’d be easy to miss something in there.
It felt like she was taking part in a festive lucky dip.
But it was soon apparent there was nothing but paper streamers, not the kind of paperwork they were looking for at all.
Those decorations would be rather handy for dressing the village hall, however, so she gave Will a further shout, and got him to take this box down to the landing, too.
‘Baubles/Tinsel’ contained exactly what it said on the box.
Cath worked delicately through those, spotting a large rectangular old-fashioned biscuit tin (which she’d hoped might hold the letters at last!).
She opened it to find the most gorgeous Victorian-style baubles all wrapped individually in tissue.
They were hand-painted with scenes of little girls dressed in dark-red cloaks with holly to hand, and featuring fir trees and robins.
The baubles were beautiful with white lace tops hung on a red ribbon.
Oh, if Reggie was still happy to pass his decorations on, then she was most certainly hanging these beauties on her tree.
Along with Andreas’s silvery glass globes, they’d look stunning.
She carefully wrapped them back up, returning them to their tin box, before checking the rest of the cardboard container.
No letters, but lots of pretty tree decorations, which she’d look through when she got chance another day.
One did catch her attention, however, a hanging Christmas tree with gaudy green paint that was plastered in glitter and stick-on jewels.
It looked to be handmade by a child, and as she turned it over, the name S-A-R-A-H was written on the back in childish script.
Ah, that was Reggie’s daughter’s name, she remembered.
She kept that out, to go with her to the home next visit, thinking he might like to keep it.
‘All okay up there?’ Will was checking in again.
‘Yep, just one box to go. I’ll stay a while longer to look through it. Do you fancy popping the kettle on while I finish here? I’m parched.’ The air was dry and dusty in the loft.
‘Yeah, of course, but don’t use the ladder ’til I’m back up,’ he added cautiously.
His warning made her see that he did really care, aw. Sometimes it was the simplest of things that gave your true emotions away.
‘Okay. Promise.’
She rescanned the rest of the loft area but the festive-labelled boxes were all that had been there.
Sarah must have checked up here at some point, or perhaps even Reggie back in the day, leaving it orderly.
The ‘Christmas’ box was the last to be opened and their final hope. Cath slid her scissors along the tape.
First out were some children’s paintings from primary school age, perhaps.
Thick splodgy paints, on curling-up paper, mostly in bold greens and reds.
One picture was a big circle of red with another smaller circle of pink above it, with lots of white swirls roughly positioned as hair and a beard perhaps.
Two black spots for eyes, a red hat with yes, a white blob at the end.
Father Christmas. Cath gave a smile. That one was going to the care home, too.
There was a gorgeous small wooden nativity set, all hand-carved, with animals and a crib, a Mary and Joseph.
And a rather shabby, well-used and loved angel that looked like a child’s doll with white-lace wings.
Cath realised poignantly that she was looking at their family history, and a host of past magical moments.
And then she dug down and saw a red-and-green-striped hat box.
Feeling a glimmer of excitement, she unravelled the white bow that fastened it, and there was a bundle of letters.
Just as Reggie had described, tied with the navy ribbon.
Cath pulled them out carefully, filled with awe and anticipation.
The first in her hands, a faded blue airmail envelope in the same neat writing as on the Christmas boxes, addressed to a Miss Elsie Davis.
This was it, surely! She wouldn’t read the letters – they were far too personal – but she flapped the delicate thin paper open just to check the start and the sign-off, to see if it was from dear Reggie.
She didn’t want to give him that rainbow of hope to then discover they were some other letters.
Though that was unlikely given his description.
And there it was, starting with ‘My Dearest Elsie’, and she swiftly scanned to the bottom, ending with, ‘Fondest love, Reginald. x’
A tear misted her eye, as a lump tightened in her throat. It felt like she had their love story, their youthful lives in her hands. Oh, Reggie.
‘You okay up there?’ She was still holding the letter, and Will’s voice stirred up a whole heap of emotions for Cath.
She remembered their holiday romance, the letters he’d sent her, including the one she had kept for over forty years.
How life had moved on in separate ways for them both.
And then, meeting again six months ago. How very strange that was, or perhaps it was fate.
There was more to their story yet; she was sure of it.
But for Reggie and Elsie their story had been told, had played out its precious course.
And Cath couldn’t wait to reunite the cherished letters with their rightful owner.
Her voice was croaky with emotion as she called down, ‘I-I’ve found them.’
‘Ah, that’s brilliant. Come on then, I’ll help you down.’
And his hand was there to guide her, as she made her way back to him.