Chapter 36 #2
‘But Alistair stayed by Nathaniel’s side. If he was friends with both of them, wouldn’t he have chosen Matilda’s side?’ Fern queried.
Dorothy’s smile faltered, just a little.
‘Alistair had just started working for Nathaniel when everything went wrong that Christmas Eve, and it was soon after that that Nathaniel became an overnight success. Alistair knew that taking Matilda’s side was never going to pay his wage; he took care of everything, contracts, deals, appearances, tours. ’
‘We saw in the newspaper that Alistair will inherit Nathaniel’s wealth,’ said Daniel.
‘Yes. Nathaniel’s health has been declining for some time now. He’s actually just been moved from the private clinic back home so he can be taken care of by a team of nurses in his final weeks … possibly days.’
‘You were such a huge help caring for Matilda at the end,’ cut in Daniel. ‘I will be forever grateful for that.’
‘You’re very welcome. She was getting a little muddled but one thing she never got muddled about was how much she loved her shop.’
‘Had she always lived on the island?’ asked Fern, wanting to know everything about her great-aunt.
‘No, Matilda grew up in London, but holidayed here as a child and a teenager, as her grandmother was a resident. Matilda’s account of things was that they grew up in a home where music wasn’t just encouraged, it was the heartbeat of their world.
Her mother was a classically trained violinist, her father an amateur jazz pianist, and from the moment she could reach the keys, Matilda’s world was wrapped in sound.
As you know, she trained in London, with dreams of becoming a composer and concert pianist. Her future was bright until… ’
‘Until?’
‘He came along.’
‘Who? Nathaniel?’
Dorothy nodded.
‘When the wedding was called off, her family disowned her.’
‘Why would they do that?’ asked Fern, noticing that Dorothy looked torn.
‘Alistair described her as fragile.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘I’m not exactly sure, but on that Christmas Eve he claimed she was delusional, unstable, and her family agreed, which was why they disowned her.’
‘Did you think that?’ asked Daniel. ‘Because I have to say, to me, she was one of the most down-to-earth, rational and yet interesting people I’ve ever met.’
‘No, I didn’t think that, but Nathaniel had become close to her parents and they chose to believe him for whatever reason.
On that Christmas Eve, Matilda stayed on the island with her grandmother while her parents and her sister travelled back to London.
I believe that was the last time she ever saw them. ’
‘That is terrible,’ said Fern. ‘It seems Matilda lost everything that day.’
‘She also stepped away from her music career that day. Her grandmother, Florence, owned a rundown holiday cottage, and in her school and college holidays, Matilda had helped to clean in between guests. When Florence passed away, the cottage was left to Matilda. At first, the junk shop wasn’t part of the plan.
Matilda started helping an elderly islander clear out a lifetime of possessions, and in doing so, found solace in the clutter, every forgotten object telling a story, and every chipped teacup and worn record sleeve carrying a past that was uniquely its own.
Slowly, she began to collect, to mend and then to sell.
She turned the holiday cottage into No. 17 Curiosity Lane, which gave her two things she desperately needed: a living and a sanctuary. ’
‘And now she’s gone, and we’ve been left with the mystery of what really happened back then on that Christmas Eve. I’d give anything to have a few minutes to ask her some questions,’ Fern mused.
Dorothy looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘You know, there was something she was muttering just before she passed away. It was something about how the truth lies in the old music box.’
‘What truth?’
‘I have no clue,’ admitted Dorothy. ‘I asked her the same thing, but she just said the same words over and over again.’
* * *
Ten minutes later they were opening the door to No. 17 Curiosity Lane.
‘What do you make of all that?’ asked Daniel.
‘“The truth lies in the music box”,’ murmured Fern. ‘It seems a strange thing to say, but it definitely meant something, especially as Alistair Montgomery came into the shop and specifically asked about an old music box.’
Daniel stood still and stared at her. ‘You’re right. Like I said before, I don’t ever remember seeing a music box, but let’s double-check. The inventory is on your laptop.’
Fern opened up her laptop. There were hundreds of items now logged but thankfully they’d managed to put everything in a sort of order. ‘M for Music.’ He ran his finger down all the items but there was no music box. ‘Nothing,’ he said, looking over his shoulder at Fern.
‘Well, maybe Matilda stashed it somewhere. Or maybe it was never in here in the first place and she meant something else. A figurative truth, perhaps? Or maybe it has something to do with the vinyl?’
He shrugged.
‘Let’s have another look around.’
They set to work. Fern rechecked the back shelves while Daniel crouched to peer beneath cabinets and lifted up antique tea cosies.
They combed through jewellery boxes, decorative tins and old chests.
Daniel even opened a Victorian sewing table, only to find nothing more than a lonely thimble and a faded thread spool.
‘Maybe it’s hidden inside something?’ Fern asked, rummaging through a trunk of faded velvet hats. ‘Like … disguised.’
‘Like a Trojan music box,’ Daniel mused, poking at the bottom of a carved wooden owl. ‘Anything’s possible.’
Two hours passed with the only interruptions being the occasional clatter of a dropped knick-knack or a sneeze because of the dust. They worked in tandem, Fern’s brows furrowed in concentration, Daniel’s hair dusted with cobwebs, both too stubborn to give up.
‘No music box,’ Fern said finally, collapsing onto the chair. ‘We’re missing something. We must be.’ She glanced at the piano and immediately lifted the lid. ‘Throw me that torch.’
Shining a light inside, she said, ‘No, nothing, just another spider minding its own business.’
Daniel perched on the edge of the desk. ‘It’s not here.’
‘It’s got to be. Matilda brought it up to Dorothy, and Alistair was asking after it.
That’s not a coincidence. Where could it be hidden?
’ Fern’s mid was working overtime. ‘I’ve got it!
’ She flapped her hand at Daniel. ‘Come on!’ She bounded up the stairs, skipping the fourth step, straight into the bedroom, and stood looking up at the moose’s head. She pointed.
‘Are you trying to tell me that Maurice is hiding a music box?’
‘Who would ever look inside the moose’s head?’
‘No one,’ replied Daniel, taking off his shoes before stepping onto the bed. He unhooked the moose’s head from the wall as Fern screamed and ran to the doorway, pointing at the huge spider that had dropped onto the duvet.
‘One spider, no music box,’ stated Daniel, hooking it back on the wall.
‘I really thought I had it then,’ admitted Fern, sounding a little defeated as they walked back down the stairs.
‘Not that this is helpful to the music box situation, but the antique vinyl expert is coming in tomorrow to take a look at Nathaniel Loring’s record, to give a true valuation.’
‘At least then we’ll know what we’re dealing with. What if we’re thinking too literally?’ Fern said. ‘Maybe the truth isn’t about the box itself, but something inside it, a letter or a key. Maybe even a confession. Oh, I don’t know, I’m feeling muddled myself now!’
‘I think there’s definitely something here, and whoever the anonymous buyer is they know exactly what they’re looking for.’
‘Someone could have already taken the music box, for all we know. Have you ever sold one?’
Daniel shook his head. ‘Not to my knowledge.’
‘The thought of someone knowing something we don’t, makes me uncomfortable.’
‘Let’s see what the vinyl guy says tomorrow and who knows? Maybe we’ll find the music box when we least expect it. Maybe it’s hiding in plain sight.’
‘Maybe it is,’ Fern said as she sat behind the desk and pulled out her phone and began to scroll. Tap. Swipe. Notifications. Then she froze.
Daniel caught the change in her face. ‘What is it?’
She didn’t speak, just turned the phone towards him.
ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY EXCLUSIVE: Rock Star Jax Devlin OFF THE MARKET. Confirmed Relationship with Socialite and Music Journalist Ella Byrne
Beneath the headline was a photo of Jax, impossibly smug, and Ella, beaming like she’d won the lottery.
Fern couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.
Ella had admitted to sleeping with him, but this was public, something he’d never wanted when he was dating her, when it was all about secrecy and not letting the paparazzi get wind of any type of relationship.
‘Ella,’ she said quietly. ‘My best friend and my ex.’
Daniel raised his eyebrow. ‘That’s a little bit awkward.’
Fern swallowed. ‘Isn’t it just.’
In that second Fern had forgotten all about the mystery of the music box.
Ella hadn’t bothered to call to let her know the story was coming out or even tried to have a conversation with her since the text.
She wasn’t sure what to do but she knew she had been betrayed.
Ella was meant to be her best friend, but it seemed she had no consideration for Fern’s feelings whatsoever, and that hurt.