Chapter 13
13
C ally walked back to the east wing, her mind buzzing with thoughts. The encounter with Alastair had rattled her, to say the least. He’d not even done anything that bad or that wrong even, the problem was mostly, actually all , hers. She tried to keep herself in check as she pondered his comment about her “little job”.
Letting herself in via the code Nina had sent her, she switched on lights and did a walk-through of the rooms. There was more dust than she’d ever seen, piles of crates everywhere, stacks of old paintings, antique furniture left, right, and centre, boxes of forgotten treasures, and loads of old packing cases full of knick-knacks. Ornate chandeliers hung from the ceilings draped in cobwebs, old shutters were locked closed, and curtains were dusty and needed a good air. The smell wasn’t great either. As Cally walked around the wing, it was as if, along with the mustiness and dust, she could feel the weight of history in the air.
‘It's like stepping back in time,’ Cally said to no one at all.
She moved further into one of the rooms off the main corridor, pulled a few dust covers off furniture and peeked into boxes. Flicking through an old photo album, its leather cover cracked and faded, she peered at black-and-white photographs of the manor and its inhabitants from decades past. She found an old journal tucked away in one of the boxes and carefully opened it. The pages were filled with elegant handwriting, detailing the daily life of Lovely Manor from decades before. She read about grand parties, quiet moments, and the lives of the people who had called the manor home.
Opening her phone, she navigated to the job spec Nina had sent her, retraced her steps to the main door, and opened the first door on the left. A lot of junk greeted her. She coughed as she walked across the room and dust blew up into the air. She pulled open the curtains, then unlocked the shutters, flung open the windows, and took her bag off as fresh air blew into the room. Fifteen minutes later, with her jacket hung on the handle of the door and a carton of blackcurrant accompanying her, she’d yanked out most of the boxes in the middle of the room and was starting to get to the nuts and bolts of what was what. She pulled open a door to one of a long row of built-in cupboards lining the entirety of one wall. Her chin dropped to her chest at what looked back at her from the shelves of the cupboard – many, many, many vintage Louis Vuitton handbags, which had clearly been someone’s very expensive collection at some point in time. She proceeded to open more doors and more bags appeared to double in front of her eyes.
‘How the other half lives,’ Cally said to herself as she gingerly picked up one of the handbags and blew off a layer of dust. She chuckled, turning the bag this way and that. Squinting in the cupboard, she counted bag after bag after bag. She couldn’t quite fathom how much the bags in front of her might be worth. After a quick eBay search, she was staggered, floored even. Vintage designer bags were clearly a thing. It was a whole other world she had no idea about, but via the listings on her phone, the collection of bags alone would buy her a flat. Not that it was an option for her, but it was an interesting thought: an old out-of-use room where, just in the contents of its cupboards alone, there was more money than her savings account. As Cally started to pull out the bags and then suitcases, she found it mind-boggling as she came across more and more bags, folios, luggage, and cases.
Sorting methodically through everything and attempting to put it into some sort of order, she thought about how life at Lovely Manor was very different from the world she'd been brought up in. The opulence and the sense of history were overwhelming, and the house itself, of course, was completely different, but it was more the little things that made the contrast just so stark. Things like having staff, rooms full of old bags worth a fortune, and gardens with names of their own. All of it made Cally’s own past, indeed her whole life, seem like a different reality altogether.
Once all the bags were out of the cupboards and she’d added vintage Gucci and Yves Saint Laurent to the humongous pile, Cally assessed her work in the room. She spent ages painstakingly running the vacuum around and dusting until the shelves shone. She then devoted a lot of time curating the bags into styles and shapes and popping them back neatly into the cupboards. Just after she had pressed the button to wind the vacuum cable in, she was stretching her back and pulling her arms over her head when she heard the front door open and Nina appeared in the hallway.
‘Hiya. How are you?’
‘Good. Busy!’
Nina looked around the architrave and raised her eyebrows. ‘Wow, you’ve really cracked on here.’
‘To be honest, it looked a lot worse than it was.’
‘No, you’re a whizz!’
‘Thanks. You’re not going to believe this. Look over here,’ Cally said as she started opening cupboard doors. The designer bags were now curated and sorted on the shelves by size and shape. Now, no longer in a jumble, clean and tidy, they were even more impressive than when Cally had first found them.
Nina’s jaw dropped. She swore and whisper-hissed. ‘Omg. Are they what I think they are?’
‘Yes indeed,’ Cally replied. ‘Can you even?’
Nina walked closer, her eyes wide with astonishment. ‘These must be worth a fortune! Some of these brands...’
Cally nodded, smiling. ‘I was amazed when I started pulling them out. It's like a treasure trove in here.’
Nina reached out and gently touched a vintage Chanel bag. ‘I can’t believe this is hidden away like some discarded junk. And we thought the hat room was something…’
‘I know. I looked them up on eBay…’
‘And?’
‘Put it this way, you’re looking at a flat or a deposit for one.’
‘Wow!’
As they stood there, marvelling at the incredible collection of designer bags, Cally shook her head. Nina reached into the cupboard and carefully pulled out a vintage leather suitcase. Despite its age, the leather was supple and smooth. 'Look at this,' she sighed. 'The craftsmanship, the attention to detail. I wonder if they still make them like this?’
Cally nodded, running her fingers over the locks and clasps. 'You have to wonder about the places it's been and the people who've carried it.’
‘Yeah, a glimpse into a world that's so different from our own. At least, mine anyway.'
‘And mine!’
Cally thought about her own battered, second-hand luggage, the cheap, flimsy bags that had always seemed to be falling apart at the seams. Not that she’d ever used them much. The idea of owning something as luxurious and well-made seemed a bit like a fantasy from another life. 'It's crazy to think about the kind of money these bags must have cost when they were new,' she mused, shaking her head in disbelief. 'I mean, I've never even seen that many zeros on a price tag before.'
Nina chuckled. 'Can you imagine walking into a shop and just casually dropping that kind of cash on a handbag? Like it was nothing?'
Cally snorted, the idea so absurd that it was comical. 'I can barely wrap my head around spending that much on a car, let alone a bag to carry my lipstick in.'
'In a way, it's kind of sad to see them sitting here like this, gathering dust and forgotten about. These bags were meant to be used, to be loved and cherished, and passed down through generations.'
Cally nodded. 'You're right. It's like they're just waiting for someone to come along and give them a new lease on life.'
'Maybe that someone could be you, Cal, once your feet are under the table.’ Nina winked.
‘Hilarious. I don’t think so.’
‘Never a truer word said in jest, my friend.’
Cally chuckled. ‘Let’s hope you’re right. I wouldn’t mind a collection like this.’