“A writing desk. We might find out who spent time here and why.”
“Feels a bit like we’re prying though, doesn’t it?” A frown marred his forehead.
“True, but this is an exceptional circumstance.” Hamish hooked his finger under the small handle and lifted the door. It rolled up with ease.
Notepaper, envelopes and cards all faded and the corners curled with age, filled each partition. Bottles of ink, long dried to coloured dust, lined the top shelf. A tiny drawer slid out easily to show a number of beautifully carved nib pens.
“Diaries. Look.” Alex pointed to a row of small notebooks, the spines stained with age. He slid a finger in to take one out, giving Hamish a quick glance. He opened the cover and read the inscription.
My dearest Gertie, for your most precious secrets.
Much love, Wilz.
“I wonder if they were the girls that lived in the house?”
“It would make sense, wouldn’t it? Perhaps we shouldn’t be reading other people’s things. Maybe leave it where it is and pretend you never saw it.” Hamish smiled as he pushed it back into the slot, a guilty look on his face.
“Yeah, great idea.”
Hamish focused his attention to the photographs on the wall and Alex joined him. “Hey, I wonder if this is the two girls in the diary?” He pointed at a young woman, her arm around a slightly older girl with jet-black hair, curled in smooth waves back from her ears. “She looks familiar.”
“Yes she does. I’d like to know who she is, perhaps a sister or a best friend.” He moved along the wall and smiled. “They seem to be in most of these photos.”
“Who is that man though?” A dapper-looking young gent stood next to one of the girls, looking down on her as she laughed, her gaze on the other girl.
“No idea. I wonder if your mother found out.”
Alex stepped away to look at a shelf of knick-knacks gathering dust. Tiny glass and china animals sat in a row, cobwebs strung from one little creation to the next. In the corner of the shelf, a massive web filled the space. “Yuk, not going to even look at that.”
“No, I wouldn’t either. Likely to bite you and leave a nasty welt.” Hamish moved on and ran his fingers in the dust on top of the cabinet beside the day bed. He pulled open the single drawer. Yellowed tissue paper lay flat and depressed, a misshapen mass buried underneath it.
Hamish lifted a corner of the paper. It crumpled under his fingers. A small card tucked under the tissue caught his eye and he slid it out. My darling. I saved this from my mother’s clutches. Our child will be blessed in the same gown I was christened in. Never doubt my love for you, or the lengths I will go to, to gain your hand in marriage. E.
“What’s that?” Alex had come up behind him.
Hamish tried to lift the paper without it all falling apart, but try as he might, most of it crumbled, revealing a browned parcel of silk. He picked it up. Tiny embroidered stitches crossed over the front of the bodice, the skirt long and full floated down over his arm. He held a family heirloom, one that had been put away in anticipation for the next generation and forgotten.
He picked up the card again, re-reading the message. “Alex, let me have the camera a minute, will you?” Hamish rested the gown on the bed and lay the card on one side of the skirt. Then he positioned the camera to take in everything so he could read the message later when the film was developed.
“What do you want that for?”
“I don’t know. Call me suspicious, but this was hidden away for some reason and I want to find out why. Maybe Billie will be able to tell us more about it when we find her. Knowing how good she is at her job, I’d bet she’s all over it.”
“This isn’t helping us find Mom although it’s pretty interesting stuff. Can we get our skates on and go and see those people in Singleton, see if they’ve seen her or better still, call into the police station and report her missing?”
“Of course we can. I do think we need to ask around before we place a missing person’s report though. You know what she’s like, Alex when she starts digging into things. You told me that yourself, how she forgets everything else around her when she’s on the trail of a juicy story.” The hands on his watch read 4:35. “If we hurry, we might be able to get some relevant information before it gets dark and I promise you the next move will be to call the police.” He picked up the gown and folded it back into the drawer. He walked toward the door but stopped short when a photo on top of a book case caught his eye. “Alex?” The two frames were joined with a hinge and showed close ups of the girls in the other photos.
“Yeah.”
“Look at this.” Hamish stared at the picture. He knew this person.
“No way! It can’t be, can it?”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say that’s your grandmother.” Hamish picked up the photo and read the inscription on the back. Gertrude and Wilhelmina, 1938.
“Guess not then.”
Hamish put it back down. “I wonder…”
Back at the house, Pete was packing up his ute with his work tools. “Any luck?”
“No, nothing, I’m afraid.”
“I did think of something else while I was working. You know I mentioned your mum said something about bringing the old servants back to the house for photos once she’d had a look around. Maybe you should go and have a chat to them, see what they know anything.”
“Thanks, we’ll do that before we head to the police station in case they gave her another lead.”
“I’d let you call the police from here but the phones not connected. The closest public phone box is in
