Chapter 20 #3
As she hung up the phone, she realised the rain had somehow got louder.
She didn’t think that was meteorologically possible, but the island apparently disagreed, because the downpour had intensified to the point where it sounded like someone was emptying buckets across the entire cottage roof. Continuous and relentless.
She walked back into the living room. ‘At this rate, Noah is going to turn up with his ark.’
‘Everything all right?’ Theo asked, looking up from the TV just as the news came on.
‘You aren’t going to believe what my dad’s just told me. Apparently, the Vale Brothers’ first workshop has gone up for sale. It’s now a luxury barn conversion, and I think we should go and take a look.’
Theo raised his eyebrows. ‘Are you suggesting we buy a house together already, Bell? That’s a little quick.’
She swiped him. ‘Behave! But let’s arrange a viewing. I mean, how cool would it be for us clock freaks to go and take a look at where history was made? And what else are we going to do in this rain?’
‘I think that’s a plan.’
‘I’ll take a look online and find out which estate agents…’ But she didn’t finish the sentence because the TV had caught Theo’s eye and he’d sat forward on the settee. He wasn’t smiling anymore.
‘What the… That’s my grandfather’s home.’ He turned up the volume.
The headline scrolling across the bottom of the screen made Pippa’s stomach drop.
brEAKING: PRESS OUTSIDE FORMER VALE brOTHERS’ APPRENTICE’S HOME
A crowd of reporters clustered at the foot of a narrow stone path, camera crews pushing forward, microphones held high.
The house behind them was neat, with whitewashed walls and a small front garden.
Reporters shouted questions over each other, their voices blending into a chaotic storm of accusations and speculation.
‘Is there any truth in Sebastian Worthington-Frost’s allegations?’
‘Was Andrew Wetherby set up?’
‘Was there a stolen commission?’
‘Why do you think it was never recovered?’
‘Mr Blake, do you have any comment on Wetherby’s involvement?’
Pippa gaped at the scene and Theo just stared at the screen, the look on his face a mix of disbelief and dread.
The cameras zoomed in on Arthur Blake’s closed curtains, which were twitching.
‘What are they doing? He’s an old man. Sebastian has a lot to answer for.’ After a few more moments of watching, Theo muted the sound.
‘I’m going to have to phone my grandfather,’ he said, ‘but most of the time he never picks up his phone.’ He pressed his grandfather’s number, and within three rings he heard a familiar voice on the other end of the line.
‘Theo, is that you?’
‘Grandfather, I’ve just seen the news. Are you okay?’
‘I am.’ Arthur Blake’s voice sounded shaky as Theo put him on speakerphone.
‘Grandfather, please forgive me for asking, but I’ve just read Andrew Wetherby’s book and—’
‘Please don’t go there,’ Arthur Blake cut in. ‘I can’t talk about this.’
Theo looked at Pippa, who mouthed, ‘So there is something to talk about.’
‘Grandfather, did Andrew Wetherby steal a secret commission? Can you at least tell me that?’
‘I can’t talk about any of this. It was a long time ago, though I warned them that these kinds of things never stay buried.’
‘Grandfather, what do you mean? Has this got anything to do with the Vale Brothers’ feud?’
‘I have to go. I’m sorry, Theo.’ He hung up.
Theo raked a hand through his hair. ‘What do you make of that?’
‘Honestly? It sounds like something’s definitely kicked off, but God knows what, and with reporters banging on his door… I mean, who wouldn’t panic?’
Pippa stood up and began to tidy up the plates and the cracker box from the carpet picnic, stacking everything in a wobbly pile. The cracker box slipped and hit her knee, and when she tried to catch it, the Pringles tube fell from under her arm and rolled dramatically under the desk.
‘Oh, for!’ she huffed and crouched down, reaching an arm beneath the desk.
As she leaned further, trying to grab the traitorous crisp tube, something else caught her eye.
A tiny glint. Just the faintest flash of gold beneath the gap in the floorboard.
She peered closer and… There. A tiny metallic sparkle wedged in the dark. Pippa hooked her nail into a gap in the floorboards and pried up the object. Dust puffed up.
‘It’s a key!’ She held it out in the palm of her hand towards Theo. It was small, a little tarnished, and had the initial ‘A’ engraved on it.
Theo picked it up and rubbed at the key with his thumb.
He stood. ‘Where would this fit…’ he murmured, scanning the room.
Pippa followed his gaze. There weren’t many options. There was the sideboard, but that took a larger key; there was a pantry, but again that was a bigger key. Her eyes landed on the one thing in the room that did look like it needed a key: Agatha Vale’s desk.
‘A for Agatha. It’s for the desk.’
Theo looked at the desk, then at the key. ‘I think you’re right.’
‘Try it,’ she said.
‘You have no patience.’
‘I have loads of patience. Put the key in the hole. Come on!’
Theo inserted the key into the keyhole in the drawer and it slid in with a perfect click. They both stared at the desk, then at each other. ‘Okay, what now?’
‘Turn it,’ she whispered.
He did. There was another click and he pulled at the desk drawer, which creaked open slightly.
Pippa gave a tiny gasp. ‘Oh my God. We are inside Agatha Vale’s desk.’
Theo hesitated, just for a second, and Pippa gave him a startled look. Then he pulled the drawer fully open.
Inside was chaos. Papers. Receipts. Pens. Envelopes. Old wrappers. Pippa felt a little thrill of nerves.
‘We shouldn’t…’ Theo said. ‘I’m not sure we should pry through Agatha’s private stuff.’
‘Who is going to know? There might be something in here that either supports Sebastian’s take on things or disproves it, and there might be some evidence revealing what the secret commission was. It won’t hurt to have a quick peek, surely?’
Theo didn’t look convinced. ‘I suppose…’
She nodded and pulled over a chair from the kitchen table and sat down. Theo sat on another chair near the desk and sifted through the top layer of papers, sorting old postcards, broken hairpins, and tattered theatre programmes into piles.
Pippa lifted a folded sheet of paper with a little water stain on one corner.
It was blank.
She put it aside.
Theo shifted aside a stack of receipts and paused.
‘What’s that?’ Pippa asked, leaning in.
He lifted out an envelope. The flap was still sealed with a blob of cracked red wax and on the front was written the name ‘Horace’. The handwriting was elegant, slanted, and unmistakably old-fashioned.
Pippa’s pulse quickened. ‘Shall we open it?’
‘What do you think?’
‘We’ve come this far.’ Pippa opened the envelope.
The letter inside was fragile, thin paper that had yellowed around the edges. Theo unfolded it carefully, laying it flat across the desk.
He began to read aloud.
15th July 1965
My Dearest Horace,
We have a problem.
The boy is not happy. He is beginning to cause waves, asking why he’s been taken off the project. We all know why, and I fear he will talk. I fear he will ruin our reputation.
We cannot involve W.
Once it is removed from the premises, no one will question us. There will be no proof. I will take care of that.
We must protect the Vale name at all costs.
A.V.
Theo looked at Pippa. ‘What the…’
Pippa was quiet. All she could hear was her heart thumping against her ribcage and the rain hammering outside. ‘Look at the date. St Swithin’s Day.’
‘That’s also the last time the island was cut off, as the rain flooded the causeway just like now.’
‘Removed from the premises… Do you think that’s something to do with the secret commission?’
‘The boy … that must be Wetherby. “We all know why, and I fear he will talk. I fear he will ruin our reputation,”’ Theo repeated. His fingers trembled slightly as he picked up the letter.
‘There may be some substance in what Sebastian has been implying. Was Wetherby framed? If so, why? What did he actually know?’
‘I’m not entirely sure, but my gut is telling me that my grandfather knows something. We need to dig deeper,’ he admitted.
‘Let’s have a look through the rest of the desk.’
Together, they pulled out the remaining papers, but it was just old shopping lists, recipes, postcards, and small sketches – nothing of consequence.
That is, until Theo opened the desk cupboard and reached for a thick leather-bound ledger that had been shoved to the very back.
He pulled it out. Its dark brown cover was cracked and scuffed, with faint embossed letters spelling out, ‘INVENTORY – VALE brOTHERS, 1960–1970’.
Theo’s eyes widened. ‘This is their workshop inventory,’ he said. ‘Everything that was made by the Vale Brothers during this time.’
‘It’s huge,’ Pippa murmured. ‘Like… It’s giving giant bible energy.’
‘It basically is, in workshop terms.’
He carried it carefully to the coffee table, brushing dust off the cover with the sleeve of his jumper.
Pippa knelt on the floor beside him as they opened the ledger together.
Lines of neat handwriting stared back at them. Inventory lists, dates, quantities of materials, prices, notes about damaged tools, all written in old-fashioned ink.
Pippa leaned forward, squinting. ‘Whose handwriting is that?’
Theo didn’t hesitate. ‘Horace. It’s initialled with a tiny H.V. at the end of the line.’
They turned the first page. More supplies. More stock checks. Nothing interesting.
Theo flipped again. More pages of nothing but barrel screws and melted gold filings and faulty hinge pins.
‘There’s nothing remotely interesting,’ observed Pippa. ‘How about we skip to when we think everything kicked off? According to Wetherby’s book, it was around July 1965.’
Theo began turning the pages. ‘Here we go.’ His finger traced the lines. ‘Gold leaf … screws … orders for the lighthouse clock…’ he murmured. ‘The commissions are listed separately. There.’ He pointed.
At the bottom of the left-hand page, a heading read: COMMISSIONS – SPRING 1965.
‘They’re numbered.’
His finger pressed a line halfway down the page.
‘Here. Look at this.’
Commission #47 – Stolen watch component – classified. Lost value: ￡12,000 / check A.V.
Pippa felt the hair on her arms stand up. ‘Twelve thousand pounds? Woah! That probably amounts to around ￡120,000 in today’s currency. I know because of the valuations and restored pieces I’ve done over the years. Jeez!’
‘Stolen… That’s got to be the one, so … it was a watch. That seems a hell of a lot of money for a watch back then.’
‘Classified… What exactly does that mean? Was it for a pop star, a member of the Royal Family?’
‘A political figure, maybe? It’s all very cloak and dagger, especially as there is no proof it was stolen, if it’s never been recovered.’
‘So do you think this entry is a cover-up?’
‘It’s got to be a cover-up. Look at the letter Agatha wrote to Horace…’
‘It may be that Wetherby was guilty of taking some things from the workshop, but maybe not this.’
‘That’s exactly what I’m thinking. My grandfather must know something about this. Why else would he be so wary of talking about it?’
‘Your grandfather might not have been able to do anything about it,’ Pippa said quietly.
‘He could have come forward. If he did know … he helped frame Wetherby.’
Pippa nodded. ‘You’re right. But if it was only removed in the short term … where the hell is this watch now?’ Her mind was spinning. ‘What if it’s hidden somewhere in The Clock House? The barn that’s just gone up for sale?’
Theo shook his head. ‘I doubt it. The place would’ve been gutted and rebuilt. Anything left behind would be long gone.’
Pippa pulled out her phone anyway. She opened the Rightmove app, scrolling with quick, determined taps. ‘This has got to tie into the feud somehow. It’s a hell of a lot of money to just vanish. With stakes that high, it could explain why the brothers fell out. Money does strange things to people.’
Theo didn’t disagree.
‘One thing we do know,’ Pippa continued, ‘if this is anything to go by, is that Wetherby didn’t steal that watch. So why was he made the scapegoat? What exactly were they trying to cover up?’
‘Who are you calling?’ Theo asked as she started dialling.
Before she could answer, a voice came through.
‘Hello, how can I help?’
‘Hi,’ Pippa said brightly. ‘I’d like to arrange a viewing of one of your properties – The Clock House, the barn conversion on Puffin Island.’
‘I’m afraid we can’t offer viewings at the moment,’ the agent replied. ‘The causeway’s flooded and there’s no way onto the island.’
‘We’re already on the island,’ Pippa said.
A brief pause. ‘Oh! Well, in that case…’
Two minutes later, they had a viewing booked for the following morning.