Page 26 of The Path to the Last House Before the Sea

‘What kind of history?’ asked Alyssa, her interest piqued despite the fact she knew she ought to be going.

‘Old lath and plaster on interior walls and ceilings, and we found a couple of craftsmen’s signatures on the plaster beneath old wallpaper.’

‘That sounds amazing.’

‘It was a real link to the past. We found some boarded-up fireplaces as well, and a hidden box in one of them.’

‘Wow! Was it filled with treasure?’

Rosie wrinkled her nose. ‘Sadly not. I’d forgotten all about the box, to be honest, but it’s interesting, and very sweet. Would you like to see it?’

Alyssa hesitated, concerned about taking up more of Rosie’s time. But the chance of handling a mysterious hidden box was hard to turn down, so she nodded. ‘I’d love to, if you don’t mind.’

‘Not at all. Wait here a tick. I won’t be long.’

Rosie hurried upstairs while Alyssa tried to imagine Charity walking through this hallway. The tap of her feet on the floor and the swish of her long skirts against the walls. Could this beautiful place really be the scene of her gruesome murder?

‘Here it is!’ Rosie was coming back down the stairs, a small wooden box in her hand. ‘My renovators found this in a room at the back of the house. That’s the only part of the house that remains from the really old building that once stood here.’

She handed the box to Alyssa, who turned it over in her hands. It must have been beautiful once but now it was scuffed and worn. One corner was black, as if it had been burned. ‘Where exactly did they find it?’

‘There was a covered fireplace and this was behind a loose stone in the chimney breast. You can open it if you like.’

Alyssa opened the lid and peeped inside. A faint smell of mildew rose into the air as she ran her finger across pieces of folded, yellowing paper.

‘No ruby brooches, I’m afraid.’ Rosie laughed. ‘Just paper, and some of it disintegrated when I handled it. But this is what’s left.’

Alyssa pulled her finger away. ‘Is it OK for me to touch it?’

‘Yes. There are two pieces of paper, and you can unfold them if you’re careful.’

Alyssa gingerly took out the papers and unfolded the first one. It was small, only the size of an envelope, and bore faded ink marks. There were faint black lines, small shaded-in boxes and, at the paper’s centre, a cross. Beneath, there was a small circle with an ‘x’ inside it.She squinted at the spidery lines that looked like arteries, trying to make sense of them. ‘Do you know what it is?’ she asked Rosie.

‘No idea. The box was found when this place was in uproar, and I’ve been so busy with getting the guesthouse up and running that I just shoved it in a drawer and have hardly looked at it. I’d love to know more, though. Open the other piece of paper.’

Alyssa carefully unfolded it and her jaw dropped at what lay inside. ‘Oh, my goodness!’

A lock of red hair, the colour of straw bathed in the rays of the setting sun, was curled against the paper. And at the bottom of the page was one word, written in blue ink: Beloved.

‘How romantic is that?’ Rosie grinned.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Alyssa agreed, surprised by the prickle of tears the lock of hair had prompted. It seemed almost unbearably poignant that something so personal, so important to someone now gone, had lain undiscovered in this house for so long.

She carefully put the box down on the key shelf next to the front door and pulled her mobile phone from her bag.

‘Do you mind if I take a couple of photos?’

‘Of course not. I would let you borrow the box, if you’re interested, to see if you can find out any more about it. But it’s been in this house for years and I feel it needs to stay here. Does that sound daft?’

‘Not at all. It’s been a part of Driftwood House, possibly for centuries.’

Alyssa took a couple of pictures, of the spidery markings on the piece of paper, and the lock of hair. Then she carefully returned them to the box and closed the lid.

You’re a part of the village now. Rosie’s words warmed Alyssa’s heart as she walked down the cliff path. The inhabitants of Heaven’s Cove had accepted her for who she was. Or rather, who they thought she was.

Did anyone truly know anyone else? Alyssa mused, before berating herself for navel-gazing. People simply did the best they could in the circumstances, even if that meant keeping some things to themselves. People like Magda, who’d done her best to live with unrequited love. Where was Magda? Alyssa wondered. Had she made up her mind about telling Stan? Or was she still in the pub, drinking her sorrows away? Alyssa hoped not.

She stopped walking and shielded her eyes to look at Heaven’s Cove laid out far below. She could just make out the thatched roof of the Smugglers Haunt and cars navigating the narrow streets nearby. There was the village green, a verdant patch surrounded by white-washed cottages. And close to the church was Gathergill’s Mini Mart, which would be busy with shoppers. Perhaps Magda was there right now, telling Stan that she loved him and waiting for his response.

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