Chapter Fourteen
Some interesting looking emails too – @Della
Let’s meet up re the exhibition – @Alison
Evelyn scanned the day’s group messages with a mixture of pleasure and horror.
This rise in visitors to the website was a good thing and the sooner the site had done its job, the sooner she could ask for it to be taken down.
Because since her unsettling chat with George, she wasn’t sure that showing off the museum’s collections was such a good idea.
She’d assured George that it was unlikely anyone outside Cornwall would find the website, but it was becoming clear that had been wishful thinking – it was called the World Wide Web for a reason.
And now everyone was getting increasingly excited about the exhibition idea.
In fact, the messages between these young people never stopped – her phone was pinging more than it ever had in its small plastic-cased life.
Hereby convening a Save Our Museum committee meeting, Friday 5pm? Pub afterwards? – @Jacob
Within minutes, there were four thumbs up. Evelyn’s finger hovered over her screen and then, with resignation, she added a fifth.
Given that Alison had been so keen, Evelyn was surprised that she wasn’t the first to arrive on Friday.
Instead, it was Jacob, who assumed his usual job of putting out the chairs, followed by Della with Sariah, who had popped into her ice cream shed on the way.
‘I brought coffee. And Anzac biscuits!’ Della announced.
‘We’re her taste-testers,’ Sariah added swiftly, which served as a coded warning to those in the know.
Although the chairs were set facing Evelyn’s desk, it was clear that Sariah intended to take charge. Alison didn’t arrive until 5.15 p.m., when she steered the baby buggy in. ‘Sorry, last-minute change of plan. I’ve brought Will, but he’ll soon be asleep.’
‘No worries,’ said Sariah. ‘I’ll start, shall I? While you get sorted.’
Alison kept her head bowed as she wrestled her way out of her bulky jacket and went through her bag for her phone, which she promptly dropped on the floor. ‘Sorry,’ she said again, embarrassed. ‘I’m all fingers and thumbs.’
‘Alison?’ Sariah had her eyebrows raised. ‘You must be getting better weather than the rest of us.’
Evelyn frowned, then saw what she meant: Alison was wearing a pair of sunglasses.
‘Oh.’ Alison reached up to take them off but then seemed to change her mind. ‘Yeah, right. Conjunctivitis. Not a pretty sight.’ She waved at them to continue. ‘Go ahead, ignore me.’
‘Right, to business,’ Sariah said decisively.
‘I’ve done a spreadsheet of the objects that are on the website.
Where people have been in touch, their details are listed in the next column.
I suggest we follow up and interview these people, making sure they are happy to have their words included in articles and an exhibition.
As you do so, please mark the item with an asterisk so we don’t double up.
It’s a shared document online, but here’s a hard copy. ’
She passed around sets of stapled papers. Evelyn ran her eye down the left-hand column, which listed each item. It continued onto a second page, with some less familiar items.
‘Yes, I added a few more bits to the website,’ Sariah explained smoothly. ‘I had the extra photos so it seemed a shame to waste them.’
Evelyn scanned the additions and saw things like pendant, captain’s cap, stone sculpture and Roberts radio.
‘Well, I suppose that’s OK,’ she said, a little huffily.
They discussed exhibition dates and Della suggested the 19th of March. ‘It’s a couple of weeks before the council’s decision day and it’s a Thursday – always a good day for a schmooze.’ Then Sariah asked, ‘Any suggestions for what we call the exhibition?’
Jacob raised his hand, like an overeager schoolboy. ‘Portheast Rediscovered?’
Sariah shook her head. ‘Too boring. Next?’
‘Cornwall Through the Ages?’ Della offered.
‘Even worse.’
‘Well, you think of something then.’ Della crossed her arms.
There was a silence.
‘Let’s move on to publicity,’ Sariah said. ‘Alison, over to you.’
Alison looked uncharacteristically flustered. ‘Ah, OK.’ She started looking in her bag again, fishing out a nappy, then a soft toy in the shape of a banana that let out a squeak. ‘Sorry, forgot my notebook,’ she said.
Sariah gave Alison a sharp look, one probably used on guests who tried to make off with the hotel bathrobes.
‘How about I wait until more stories are in, then pick the best ones for the press release?’ Alison suggested.
‘Biscuit? Anyone?’ Della said, trying to break the tension. ‘Anyone, anyone?’ She put the plate back down. ‘Speaking of publicity,’ she ventured, ‘I might have a few UK contacts.’
Sariah bristled. ‘But Alison is media, Della, you’re . . . hot drinks.’
Della lifted her hands in the air and brought them down on her thighs with a slap so loud it made Alison jump. ‘Fine. I was only offering. I could have called up some TV faces: Lorraine, for example. Or Dermot. But by all means ignore me.’
There was a stunned silence. ‘Really? You have contacts like that?’ Alison asked.
‘Well, I haven’t seen Dermot since his birthday bash, but yeah. It’s a small world, TV.’
They all looked at Della, in her dungarees, Doc Marten boots and box-dyed hair. ‘Really?’ Evelyn repeated.
‘What can I say. I had a career change. Used to run a newsroom in Sydney but got a bad case of burnout. Well, a breakdown, to be more accurate. Then they gave me a daytime chat show, said it would be less pressure, but it wasn’t me, you know?
So I jacked it in, went travelling and ended up here, in the mother country. ’
Jacob, who had been scrolling on his phone, nudged Alison and showed her the screen.
Alison passed the phone on to Evelyn, who saw an image of a woman in full make-up, with a big blond blowout.
She was wearing a low-cut red dress and rested a manicured finger gently on her chin.
Daytime With Della it said underneath. Australia’s TV Darling.
Evelyn looked from the screen to the woman in front of her and back again.
Despite the traveller clothes and the purple hair, the TV star was recognisably their Della.
Della, who had pitched up in Portheast six months ago and opened an ice cream parlour, despite what seemed to be minimal catering skills.
Della leaned over. ‘Cripes, I’ve not seen that press shot in a while. What was I thinking – all that make-up!’
‘You never mentioned you were such a high-flyer,’ Evelyn remarked.
‘Hmm, maybe I didn’t. But that was the point of coming here – to do something completely different.
Really, I was heading for Penzance, but the train terminated early.
So I looked at the map, googled hotels and got a taxi to the Warburn Spa for the night.
I woke up the next morning and the sun was shining.
I came down to the harbour, saw the To Let sign and thought, “Why not?”’
Della’s voice turned more serious. ‘I admit, it’s taking a while to build up the business, but I’m loving this chance to rethink my priorities. Not sure how long I’ll stay, especially with the council’s plans, but I’ll always be grateful that Portheast gave me this second chance.’
‘It’s that kind of place,’ Jacob said softly.
‘That’s it!’ Sariah blurted out.
This time it was Evelyn who jumped in alarm.
Sariah waved her hands around in excitement. ‘The exhibition: we could call it Second Chances. Because Evelyn finds these lost and broken things and gives them a second chance. And then we’re finding people who have a link to them, which gives the objects a whole new meaning.’
She sat back with a big smile, a warm and genuine one that changed her whole face and was nothing like the one she flashed at hotel guests.
‘I like it,’ Alison said and everyone nodded their agreement.
‘Glad to be of service,’ Della said. Then she stood up and offered around the still full plate of biscuits. ‘No takers?’
With Della revealing her past career, she was charged with the job of inviting the council to the exhibition’s opening night.
‘I’ll suggest that, ahead of their discussion on the leases, they might like to see the role the museum plays in the community, etc.
,’ she said. ‘But I might not mention the media will be there too. Keep it as a surprise.’ She gave a long, deliberate wink.
‘Then the journos can put them on the spot about the threatened closure.’
‘Excellent plan,’ said Alison.
‘Good work, guys.’ Sariah stood, stretching her arms up, and for an awful moment Evelyn thought she was about to start high-fiveing everyone.
Then Jacob said, ‘Alison, everyone, quick pint in the pub?’
But Alison was already doing up her coat. ‘What? Oh, no, I’ve got to get straight home.’ She looked away. ‘Actually, it’s good news that we’ve got Della on board for publicity because I’d better scale back my contribution.’
‘What?’ Sariah said.
‘It’s all too much, really. The job, looking after Will. I never should have volunteered, really, it was silly of me.’
She sounded close to tears but, without waiting for a reply, Alison steered the buggy out of the door.
By the time Evelyn and the others stepped out, there was nothing to see but the single lamppost and the gleam it cast onto the damp stone.
For Alison to have reached the corner that quickly, she must have been running.