The Little Flower Shop by the Sea (34 page)

‘I have a board, just don’t use it very often.’

‘Then we’ll have to get her waxed up!’

Ash and Charlie begin to talk enthusiastically to each other about surfing, and after a few minutes I decide this might be a good time to slip away. I have something important to do.

After Stan had told me the story of the Victorian pictures, we’d talked some more about his collection:

‘Stan, would these pictures be worth anything, do you think?’ I ask, an idea springing into my mind. Ever since he’d confided in me about his financial situation, I’d been trying desperately to think how I might help him remain at Camberley.

‘Oh yes, without a doubt. Especially if they could be sold as a set with the letter from Queen Victoria. If we knew where they all were, it would be a very valuable collection indeed.’

I nod, still thinking. ‘Well, we know where the purple rose is – I have that back at the cottage. The sweet pea is definitely at Lou’s – I’ve seen it myself.’ Although the last time I’d been in Lou’s cottage, the hall walls were bare because she was decorating. But I was pretty sure she wouldn’t get rid of the picture if Stan had given it to her. ‘But what about the other two?’

‘I left one at the castle,’ Stan says, looking shame-faced. ‘A forget-me-not.’

‘Why did you leave it there? You must have known it was worth something.’

‘I was in a bad way when I had to leave Trecarlan, Poppy. I barely remembered to pack my toothbrush, let alone a picture of a flower I’d long forgotten the importance of. And the picture is worthless on its own, the value comes from it being part of a set.’

‘Of course.’ Not wanting to dwell on the subject of him losing his home, I ask, ‘But what about the picture of a pink carnation, the one you gave to this Isabelle? That can’t be in St Felix. How on earth are we going to find that one?’

‘Oh, what does it matter, Poppy?’ Stan sighs. ‘That was all a long time ago. You need to concentrate on the present, on your flower shop and your beaux.’

‘No, Stan, I won’t rest until I know you’re secure here at Camberley. I owe it to you.’

‘Poppy, love, you don’t owe me anything.’

‘I do, Stan. I abandoned you for over fifteen years while I wallowed in my own misery. Now I’m going to make it right.’

I take a quick look around the ballroom; everyone seems to be busy dancing, drinking or chatting.

‘I’ll be back in a bit,’ I murmur to Ash.

‘Yeah, babe,’ he says, immediately turning back to Charlie. Finding a fellow surfer seems to have cheered Ash up no end.

I take another quick look around the room. Jake is still dancing with Belle, the tempo has slowed, and they are swaying to the music together. Belle’s arms are draped provocatively over Jake’s shoulders, but Jake’s hands, I’m relieved to see, are resting formally on Belle’s waist. As I watch them I notice he’s looking around as if he’s wondering how to get away. Amber has asked Woody to dance – it must have been that way around; I’m sure Woody wouldn’t have had the nerve to ask Amber. Lou, surprisingly, is dancing with Ant, and Rita and Richie are busy serving drinks to Dec at the bar. Great, everyone that might notice is otherwise occupied, there’s no one else that will miss me if I slip away for a while.

Unnoticed by Charlie and Ash, I make my way towards the door. Then, taking one quick look to check I haven’t been seen, I slip out into the hall.

Stan had told me that he’d hidden the last picture, along with the original letter from Queen Victoria, in the cellar of Trecarlan.

So that is where I’m heading.

This was my first opportunity since Stan had told me the story to be at Trecarlan without someone else present. On my previous visits I’d either been with Bronte and Charlie, overseeing the arrangements for tonight, or Amber, setting out the beautiful pedestal arrangements full of flowers from Jake’s nursery. Even when I had tried to come up here with Basil on the pretence of a walk, Ash had intercepted us along the way, saying he was heading up to the castle to trim the lawns.

Tonight, even though the castle is full of people, everyone’s busy having fun in the ballroom. There’s not a soul in sight as I head through the main hall, then down some stone steps into the original servants’ quarters, flicking on lights as I go. Although we’d used this area of the castle during the wedding, it was freaking me out a bit, being down here on my own. The castle was hundreds of years old, what if it had ghosts?

‘Stop it, Poppy,’ I tell myself. ‘There’s no such thing. You’ve been spending too much time with Amber.’

The cellar entrance, as I recall, is not far away from the kitchen. I’d noticed it the other day when I’d been down here. But as I rattle on the handle of the wooden door, I realise it’s locked.

Damn!

Where would the key have been kept?

The kitchen, perhaps? I remember Babs keeping a collection of keys pegged up on some black iron hooks inside her pantry. Could they possibly still be there?

To my delight and amazement not only the black hooks but the keys are still there – and they’re all labelled too! I grab the one that says ‘Cellar’ and head back out into the corridor.

For a moment I think I hear footsteps, but when I stop and listen all I can hear is the distant sound of music from the ballroom. ‘Stop imagining things!’ I tell myself. ‘Otherwise you’ll never do this for Stan.’

And that really is my driving force in all this – Stan. I genuinely feel I let him down by not being around when he had to leave Trecarlan. Maybe, if I’d known, I could have helped him, possibly even prevented it from happening. But I was too caught up in my own trauma back then to even think about St Felix, let alone return here.

I approach the wooden door, slip the key into the lock, and as if by magic it creaks open to reveal stone steps leading down into the darkness of the cellar.

Luckily in this modern age I don’t need to carry a lantern. I’m able to flick a light switch to illuminate my way.

When I get to the bottom of the steps I find myself in a large cellar lined with wine racks, each holding vast quantities of bottles; there’s wine, champagne, whisky… It’s like being in the cellar of a pub, except the bottles are all dusty and forlorn, like they’ve been waiting a long time for someone to return to select them to help celebrate a birthday or complement a dinner party.

Stan had instructed me to head to the far right of the cellar and find a narrow passageway. Unlike the rest of the cellar, the passageway isn’t lit so I flick on the torch on the back of my iPhone and feel my way along even more racks till I come to the very end. I notice that in this part of the cellar most of the racks are empty. I count three shelves up, five spaces across, and reach my hand up to feel in that space where a wine bottle should be.

But there’s nothing there. It’s empty. I shine my phone up on to the shelf, in case I’ve made a mistake with the counting, but there’s nothing, just empty spaces where bottles once lay waiting to be drunk.

How odd. Stan had been adamant that’s where he’d hidden the picture and the letter, inside a tin box to protect it.

I’ll have to speak to him again. There’s obviously nothing here, so maybe Stan had made a mistake, or remembered it wrongly. I sigh and turn to make my way back. I’ve only taken a few steps towards the light of the main cellar when suddenly everything goes black. Thank God I have my iPhone, I think, lifting it up higher to guide me out of the cellar.

It’s then I hear a sound that strikes fear into my heart.

The sound of the cellar door being shut above me, and then locked.

I’m frozen to the spot for about ten seconds, then, realising that’s not going to help matters, I use the tiny beam of my phone to run towards the stairs and cautiously make my way back up them.

When I get to the top I push gently on the doors just in case I’d heard wrongly and they weren’t locked after all. But they don’t budge an inch.

I’m about to call out for help, when I remember I’m not supposed to be down here, and if someone did hear me I’d have to explain why I was here instead of at the party. Stan had told me to say nothing about the pictures to anyone unless we found them all. He didn’t want everyone – especially, Lou – knowing about his other ladies if it could possibly be avoided.

Damn! What was I going to do?

I sit down on one of the steps to think.

After a few seconds I light up the screen on my phone hoping to find a signal, but there’s none. So my plan to call Amber and get her to come and unlock the door for me is immediately down the pan.

OK
…
I think again.

Stan used to say that Trecarlan was filled with secret passages constructed back in the days it had stood as a fortress overlooking the sea, protecting St Felix. But Stan told us so many tales about Trecarlan when we were children that we gave up believing him in the end. If Stan was to be believed it had been used as a refuge by King Arthur when he was resting from battle, by Cavaliers hiding from the Roundheads, and by British spies during the Second World War.

But what if Stan was right about the secret passages? And what if one of them led out from here?

It’s a long shot. But what choice do I have?

I climb down the steps again, and use my phone to guide me for a few minutes while I look for alternative exits. Then the thin beam of light falls on some packing crates stacked in a corner.

I wonder
…
 

I manage to prop up my phone on one of the wine racks, giving me just enough light to see what I’m doing. I grab hold of one of the crates, expecting it’s going to be heavy, but surprisingly I find it’s quite light.

I lift that crate down, and then another, until I’ve moved about six crates, and it’s then in the dim light that I see it: another door…

I pull the rest of the crates aside, and pray as I grab the rusty wrought-iron handle that it won’t be locked.

Hallelujah, I silently cry as it turns easily in my hand.

I go back to the shelves and grab my phone. Then I take a deep breath and step into the tunnel, closing the wooden door behind me.

The tunnel is actually more like a corridor; the floor feels smooth and dry under my feet, as though it’s been well worn by people passing through over the years. Luckily I hadn’t worn the high heels that Amber had tried to make me order off the Internet when we were choosing our outfits; I’d opted instead for a pair of sparkly silver pumps that we’d spotted in the charity shop in St Felix. But flimsy pumps to me were still silly shoes, I’d have been much more confident walking along in my sturdy old Doc Martens on this floor, especially when I can’t see where I’m putting my feet half the time. I can only hope this tunnel isn’t adjacent to any sewers; I love animals, but rats I could really do without.

The floor might feel dry, but the walls are damp beneath my hand as I feel my way along the corridor, worrying as I go just where this tunnel is going to come out.

Finally, when I feel like I’ve been walking for ages, I see tiny specks of light up ahead – hurrah!

I pick up speed, hurrying towards the light, and as I get closer I realise the reason I’m seeing tiny specks of light is because I’m looking at the stars.

The tunnel must lead outside!

As I arrive at the tunnel’s mouth there’s a very fine opening for me to squeeze through, before I find myself in a small cave. As I step towards the opening of the cave, a great waft of salty sea air hits my lungs, a welcome relief from the musty air I’ve been breathing for the last few minutes. Another step and I realise the stone floor has given way to wet sand: I’m on a beach.

But which beach?

St Felix is situated on a curved peninsula jutting out into the sea, so when you look out to sea from various points on its coastline you can often see parts of the town from where you stand.

But tonight I can’t see any lights in front of me, just an endless sea, lit only by an almost full moon.

There’s only one place on the St Felix coastline that has a beach where that happens, I realise. The steep cliffs where I often walk Basil, and where Charlie had showed me the lookout point where he liked to sit when he wanted some peace.

I look up above me, and thanks to the moon I can just make out the ledge where Charlie and I had sat that day, looking down on the jagged rocks.

So that’s where this tunnel comes out, just below Trecarlan Castle. I go out on to the tiny beach as far as I can without the waves reaching my feet, and I can just make out the windows of the house dimly lit from inside.

Hearing movement above me, I instinctively duck back into the cave.

‘Poppy?’ I hear my name being called. ‘Is that you down there?’

Cautiously I make my way back on to the sand.

‘It is you!’ the voice says.

I look up and see Jake leaning over the ledge.

‘What on earth are you doing down there?’

‘I could say the same to you!’ I call back. ‘Shouldn’t you be at your birthday party?’

‘There must be easier ways of having this conversation,’ Jake shouts. ‘I’ll come down, shall I?’

‘No!’ I cry out, having visions of Jake scaling the sharp rocks in the dim light. ‘It’s dangerous. You might hurt yourself!’