BB has been so kind helping me to discover what it is I really want. I wish there was something I could do to help her. She sounds so isolated. So alone. And scared too, although she won’t tell me why. That’s no way to live, is it?
Luke agreed. That was no way to live.
He looked at the poster again. His knowledge of herbs was limited to the sort in a bottle on his spice rack. Other than mint, rosemary and basil, he wasn’t even sure if he’d met any real-life herbs. But that didn’t really matter because he wasn’t going there for the talk about plants. Luke had a plan, and he was going to need to get the locals on board with it in order to help him.
When Luke arrived back at the castle, he noticed a small van had pulled up in the driveway and he watched as a man got out, opened the van door and retrieved a large box. He nodded to Luke as he saw him.
‘Delivery for Miss Kendrick.’
‘I’ll take it,’ Luke told him, putting his shopping bag down. ‘Does it need a signature?’
‘No. She never signs for anything. Instructions are to leave it by the back door.’
‘I’ll take it in.’
The man scratched his head. ‘You a friend?’
‘Yes.’
‘What’s she like?’
Luke was a little reluctant to answer as he knew Orla valued her privacy.
‘She’s nice,’ he said, and the delivery man nodded.
‘I’ve been delivering these boxes for two years now and never seen her.’
‘Does that matter?’
The man shrugged. ‘I guess not. Odd, though, ain’t it?’
Luke watched as he got back into his van and drove away, and Luke acknowledged once again that, although Orla might not want anything to do with the outside world, the outside world certainly knew of her presence and felt its absence.
Doing his best to carry both the box and his bag of groceries, Luke negotiated the castle steps and rang the doorbell. As usual, One Ear sounded his arrival and, a moment later, Orla opened the door to him.
‘You have a delivery,’ he told her unnecessarily. ‘Where do you want it?’
‘Follow me,’ she said, taking his bag from him.
Luke followed Orla into a part of the castle he hadn’t seen before. She opened a door and led him into a light and airy room that was full of tables on which sat row upon row of crockery. He’d never seen so many plates, cups, saucers, bowls and jugs in one room before. It was crammed full. There were at least twelve tables in there, of varying heights, and each was smothered in pieces, as were the deep windowsills and a shelving unit against the far wall.
Luke stood in wonder, taking it all in. There was the Victorian jug he recognised from Orla’s Galleria avatar and there was the pretty dish covered in golden pheasants which Helen had recently admired. He dared to reach out and touch it, as if his closeness to a thing Helen had loved would bring him a little closer to her.
‘You have very good taste,’ Orla said, noting his interest.
‘Helen’ – he paused – ‘she liked this piece when you posted a photo.’
‘Yes, she did, didn’t she? I remember we talked about it.’
‘What did she say?’
‘Oh, the usual – where had I found it. And that’s the tricky thing with vintage pieces – it would be hard, if not impossible, for anybody else to find them.’
‘I remember Helen saying something about that,’ Luke told Orla. ‘How that made the pieces all the more special.’
Orla smiled. There was something in that smile and in sharing their memories of Helen in this way that made him feel both happy and sad at the same time.
‘Helen was right,’ Orla went on. ‘That’s why I buy boxes like this.’
Luke watched as she opened the box he’d carried in for her, a huge smile spreading across her face. He’d never seen her smile quite like that before and it charmed him.
‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘What’s in there?’
‘Why don’t you take a look?’
He stepped forward and peered into the depths of the box. ‘More china?’
‘Of course.’
‘But you have so much already.’
‘Yes, but you’re always looking for that extra-special piece.’
‘Do you think you’ll ever find it?’
‘I hope not, because I wouldn’t like to think the search was over. That’s part of the fun, you see. The search. Of course, when you buy online, you often have to wade through a lot of tat. This was a job lot, you see, and I only wanted a couple of pieces so I’m now stuck with this nineteen-eighties rabbit ornament.’ She pulled the heavy lump of rabbit out of the box and grimaced, then reached back in to retrieve a very average-looking teapot.
‘So what was it that was special in this lot?’
Orla’s hands dived back into the box and she pulled out a round object smothered in bubble wrap.
‘This,’ she said as she placed it on a corner of the only free table in the room and began to unwrap it. Luke watched in anticipation as she removed layer upon layer of wrapping. What was inside?
When the final piece of bubble wrap was removed, he found himself staring at a teapot.
‘Oh,’ he said, unable to hide his disappointment.
Orla frowned at him. ‘It’s Coalport. Quite rare. Look!’ She held it up to the light and Luke saw the delicate creamy white of the china and the pretty sprigs of blue flowers. ‘It’s early nineteenth century.’
‘But it’s chipped,’ he pointed out, reaching to touch the chip at the edge of the spout.
‘I know, and there’s a hairline crack here,’ Orla told him, running her finger across it at the base of the handle. ‘And here.’ Her finger journeyed to the other side of the teapot to trace the thin imperfection there.
‘Ah, yes! That’s part of their charm for you, isn’t
