Chapter 21
The following morning, Robyn stood outside the basement door. She’d explored the rest of the house, including the bedrooms upstairs, apart from Gayle’s bedroom, and her mum’s bedroom too – her mum was still sleeping. The house was double-fronted, which meant it had rooms off both sides of the central hallway downstairs. Robyn liked the layout. Across from the lounge were two rooms. One was the dining room, which was at the back of the house. She had discovered that it was a rather lovely room with a large dining table and a bookcase full of old novels next to another old standard lamp, like the one in the lounge, with a huge shade. There were old, framed photos, and potted plants in the deep recessed windows either side of the fireplace. Two leather chairs with cushions and throws were positioned either side of the fireplace. French doors led out on to the rear gardens, and through the French doors, Robyn could see the kitchen extension.
The door next to the dining room led into a smaller room which overlooked the front lawn. Robyn had realised it was the study; it had bookshelves lining one wall and a large oak desk by the long Georgian window, where faded heavy, red curtains hung. Robyn had tried to pull the curtains further open to let more light into the room, but they were too heavy.
Robyn had seen the various medical books, some still open on the oak desk, and had felt sad for Gayle that her father had passed away. Robyn knew Gayle’s father had been a local doctor. They’d come to the UK from the Caribbean in the fifties, and although Gayle had been born in the UK, there was a gap between her and her three older siblings – two boys and a girl – who had not.
Gayle had mentioned that the previous night when they had been flicking through the photo albums. Gayle had told her about her family’s background; it had made Robyn wonder whether Gayle, the baby of the family, was perhaps not as close to her three older siblings, who had a shared history; they had been born and had spent their early years in Trinidad before moving with their parents as part of the Windrush Generation.
There were two more rooms downstairs. One had a single bed, which Robyn imagined Gayle’s father had perhaps used when he had become too frail to get upstairs. The other room, a snug, had small sofas, old bean bags, lots of boxed games, and old toys. It looked like a playroom. She imagined Gayle and her brothers and sister playing in that room years earlier. Gayle had mentioned she has grown-up nieces and nephews. Robyn imagined this had been their playroom too when they’d come as young children to visit their grandparents.
The basement was the last place Robyn planned to see that morning. Then she would have finished exploring the entire house. She imagined it would be dark, dusty and cobwebby, so she’d slipped on an old pair of denim dungarees she’d found in the trunk full of old clothes in the attic the previous day. Gayle had said she could have whatever she wanted out of that trunk. Robyn had thanked her. She really didn’t like the clothes in her suitcase. She wanted to buy some new clothes or pop into a charity shop for some second-hand ones, but there was a problem – she’d need some money. She couldn’t access her savings just yet, but she remembered that she still had a cheque to cash. She’d forgotten about the cheque the previous day when they’d popped into Aviemore to buy some wine and nibbles. Perhaps the bank there would let her cash a cheque – then she’d be able to give Gayle some money and buy some new clothes.
Robyn smiled as she looked down at the cosy blue jumper she’d also found. The dungarees were a bit big, so she’d worn them over the jumper. ‘At least I’ll be warm when I venture down here.’
She could just imagine the chaos and clutter that was going to confront her at the bottom of those basement stairs, if the attic was anything to go by. But if she could find any more photos then it would be worth it. This was all part and parcel of her plan to repay Gayle for letting her stay there.
Gayle, her hair wrapped in a towel, passed her in the hallway and wished her luck going down into the basement.
‘Thanks,’ Robyn replied. She could tell that Gayle didn’t envy her task. Gayle paused. ‘Why you are taking such an interest in my old family photos is anyone’s guess,’ she muttered.
Robyn heard her. ‘Like I said, I’m interested in what the house used to look like in its heyday, when your parents first moved here.’
Gayle just nodded. ‘I’m surprised you were up with the lark this morning after the late night last night. I heard you wandering around.’
‘Oh, sorry about that.’ Robyn silently cursed the creaky floorboards. ‘Did I wake you?’
‘Only for a moment. I thought it might be my mother, so I went to check on her. Then I drifted off to sleep again. Did you enjoy having a look around the house?’
‘Oh, yes. I love it. All those nooks and crannies. The house is fascinating.’
‘In an old way.’
‘In a good way. It just needs some TLC, that’s all.’
‘Yeah, right,’ Gayle scoffed. ‘And some redecorating, refurnishing …’ she trailed off as she wandered down the hall towards the kitchen.
Robyn smiled after her. It was true. She watched Gayle step into the kitchen.
Robyn was about to head down into the basement when Gayle called out, ‘I’m making some eggs on toast. Why don’t you join me?’
Robyn turned around. Gayle was standing in the kitchen doorway. ‘That’s really kind of you, Gayle, but I already helped myself to a bowl of cereal this morning.’ She winced, and added sheepishly, ‘Hope you don’t mind.’
‘Oh, goodness, Robyn – why would I mind? Although as I said before, you’re my guest, so I should have made you breakfast.’
Robyn shook her head. On the contrary, she wanted to do something for Gayle, which is exactly what she’d be doing very soon. She smiled.
Gayle caught her smiling to herself. She did a double-take, and wagged a finger at Robyn. ‘I still think you’re up to something.’
Robyn grinned as she opened the basement door.
Gayle said, ‘At least let me make you a cup of tea.’
‘All right.’ Robyn peered down the gloomy basement stairs, having second thoughts about exploring that part of the house.
Gayle said, ‘I’ll pop your cuppa down to you.’
‘You don’t have to do that.’
‘No, it’s fine.’
Robyn imagined she was interested to see what was down there herself, after all.
She heard Gayle in the kitchen, putting on the kettle. She flailed her hand around for a light switch. Her hand brushed a thin chord. She caught it and pulled hard. The top of the stairs was now bathed in a harsh, bright light.
‘Found any more photos yet?’ Gayle called out from the kitchen.
Robyn rolled her eyes at Gayle’s humorous tone. Of course she hadn’t. She’d barely had time to venture down the stairs. Adjusting to the bright glare of the naked bulb swinging only inches from her face, Robyn descended the stairs to the darkness below. She guessed there must be another light switch. She cursed herself silently for not asking Gayle for a torch. What if the bulb needed replacing?
Standing at the bottom of the stairs, she couldn’t make out anything in the darkness. She brushed her hand against the right-hand wall, praying she didn’t disturb any leggy, hairy creature. She hated spiders; the thought of them sent her spine tingling. Her fingers caught a switch. She flicked the switch and found herself utterly surprised. The basement was massive, and it was empty, save for some neatly stacked packing boxes in the centre of the room. It was not how she had pictured it at all.
Robyn took a few hesitant steps, hoping there weren’t rats or mice down there. But the floor was swept, with not a cobweb in sight, and nothing untoward scampered past. She tutted at her own silliness and walked over to the boxes, then stood with her hands on her hips, wondering if Gayle had been having some fun with her.
The way Gayle had described the basement, and her insistence on at least lending Robyn some old clothes, had made it sound as though she’d be climbing over old furniture, bric-a-brac, and a lot of clutter that had been collected over the years and then left forgotten and untouched in the basement of the house.
Robyn lifted a box off the pile. There was no indication of what was inside, which Robyn thought a little odd. If someone had gone to the trouble of sorting out the mess that Gayle had intimated was down there the last time she’d looked, which sounded like it must have been years earlier, then surely they’d also have gone to the trouble of labelling the box with its contents. The box felt too light to contain photos. This box was labelled with a name – Xavier.
There were several more boxes labelled Xavier and several with the name Jerome in thick black marker pen. The writing wasn’t faded. And the packing boxes looked new, as though they had been bought in the recent past, packed and labelled. Robyn thought of Gayle’s two brothers. She imagined the boxes contained all the embarrassing childhood mementos that parents insist on keeping. The boxes suggested that they had packed up their own stuff. She couldn’t imagine Gayle’s father had done it, nor her mum; neither would have been capable. Perhaps Gayle wasn’t aware that the basement had been sorted out at some point; maybe her siblings had visited before she’d arrived to take care of her parents.
Staring at the boxes, Robyn wondered if somewhere in some attic, or perhaps even in a basement just like this one, there were mementos of her childhood just waiting to be discovered again.
The next tier of boxes had another name – Dinah . That was Gayle’s older sister. These boxes were larger, and one was open. Robyn couldn’t resist lifting the cardboard flaps to have a peek inside. She pulled out the protruding object from between the flaps, grabbing on with the other hand, as it was heavier than she had expected. Taking it out of the box, she carefully lowered it to the floor and stood back, pressing the palms of her hands into her lower back. ‘Wow – that was heavy.’
It was an antique. Robyn didn’t know why she was so sure; perhaps she’d seen one in a museum somewhere, or a magazine. All she knew for sure was that such a vase was not from a second-grade pottery class. Robyn chewed her fingernail. Now she was worried that she wouldn’t be able to get it back it the box. If she called for Gayle’s help, then she would know she had been opening boxes that clearly were not full of photos.