Page 39 of The Granddaughter's Irish Secret
‘Okay. That’s terrific. Thanks. See you tomorrow.’ Rose hung up.
The text came a few minutes later and Rose left the walled garden to go home and look it up on her laptop. A message from Vicky told her that there were a lot of responses to the modelling search, and they had to pick the best ones the following morning.We’d better close the page soon or we’ll be in trouble, Vicky said in her text message, which made Rose laugh. They needed around ten models, but over fifty women had volunteered, so it would take a lot of diplomacy to pick the right ones and turn the rest away. But that was something Vicky could easily deal with, Rose decided. She was good at dealing with people.
It didn’t take long to find a phone number that went with the name and address Noel had given Rose. Her heart beating like a hammer, she dialled the number.
A woman’s pleasant voice answered after a few minutes. ‘Hello?’
‘Is this Melanie Blennerhassett?’ Rose asked.
‘Yes, that’s me,’ the woman replied. ‘Who is this?’
‘Oh, eh… My name is Rose Fleury and I’m an antiques expert,’ Rose lied. ‘I specialise in vintage jewellery.’
‘Really?’ Melanie Blennerhassett said, sounding mystified. ‘What does that have to do with me?’
‘Well, the thing is, I saw a photo of you inOK! Magazine. You were at birthday party for…’
‘Ben McWilliams, the golf champion?’ Melanie filled in. ‘That was a while back. So…’
‘You were wearing a necklace that looked very old. Topazes and pearls, I think…’
‘Oh yes, of course I was.’ Melanie laughed. ‘It looked lovely in the photo, I thought. The light made the stones shine, don’t you think?’
‘Oh yes,’ Rose agreed. ‘The necklace really suited you.’
‘Thank you. That’s nice to hear.’
‘So I was wondering,’ Rose continued. ‘If you could tell me where you got this beautiful necklace? Is it a family piece or…’
‘Not at all,’ Melanie said, laughing. ‘My family has nothing like that. Or anything at all, really. I borrowed it from a friend. Had to give it back the next day, more’s the pity. She inheritedit from a great-aunt or something. Been in the family for generations.’
‘Oh.’ Rose frowned, feeling awkward. This was harder than she had thought. ‘And who is this friend, if you don’t mind my asking?’ she finally managed. ‘Sorry if I seem nosey, but that necklace caught my interest.’
‘Of course it would, if you’re into vintage stuff,’ Melanie said. ‘Her name is Penny Lincoln. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind showing you the necklace or sending you a photo or something. I don’t want to give out her number without permission, but I’ll get her to call you if you like.’
‘That would be great,’ Rose said, her spirits rising. ‘Please do.’
‘Okay, then,’ Melanie said, sounding as if she wanted to hang up. ‘I’ll ask Penny to call you as soon as she can. Your number is displayed on my phone.’
‘Oh great. Thank you so much,’ Rose said.
‘You’re very welcome. But I’m afraid I have to go now.’
‘Of course. Thanks for helping out,’ Rose said. ‘Bye, Melanie.’
‘Bye,’ Melanie said and hung up.
Rose sat on the tree stump thinking about what she had just learned. Someone called Penny Lincoln owned the real necklace. But who was she and, more importantly, from whom had she inherited the necklace? It was making her dizzy to think about it. Rose got up, deciding to get back to her many tasks, the fashion show, the website and the sorting of memorabilia to include in the visitors’ centre. She had finally agreed on the website design – it would be up and running the following week – so at least that was not on her agenda. It meant she could spend the weekend going through the family archives. As if pulled by an invisible force, Rose walked to the big house, through the entrance door and up the two flights of stairs to the attic room that held so much history. And so many secrets.
18
By Saturday afternoon, Rose, sitting on a rickety chair, had managed to go through a huge number of old photos, postcards, railway tickets, theatre programmes, political pamphlets, address books and other paraphernalia in the attic. A lot of what she found didn’t help with her search for the truth about the necklace. But she knew the photos needed to be put in chronological order, if she had any chance of figuring out which ones might tell her more about Iseult. And help her choose what would go in the fashion show.
‘It’s a nightmare,’ she complained to Noel, who had turned up after lunch. ‘Just look at all the photos all the way from the eighteen eighties. How on earth can I date everything?’
Noel took a box full of photos from a shelf and sat down on a stool beside her. ‘I know it’s hard, but why not look at the clothes and the cars and the horses and the background? You don’t have to be precise, just make a stab at it.’ Noel took a photo of a family group from the stack in the box. ‘Look at this one, for example. It was taken at the front of the house. There is no ivy on the walls, and the magnolia tree is quite small. Also, look at the ladies.They are wearing dresses with bustles at the back. So it has to have been taken in the early eighteen eighties.’
Rose took the photo from Noel and studied it in the light from the window. ‘You’re right. And I know the magnolia tree was replanted sometime then, so it has to be that period.’
