The Keeper of Lost Things(23)
CHAPTER 16
The paper knife was solid silver with a handle in the form of an Egyptian pharaoh. Laura slid the blade between the folds of thick white paper. As the envelope split open she imagined Anthony’s secrets escaping like a cloud of whispers into the air. She had waited until Sunshine had gone home before bringing the letter into the study. The garden room was more comfortable, but it felt more fitting to read it surrounded by the things it concerned. The mild summer evenings had slipstreamed imperceptibly into crisp autumn twilights and Laura was half tempted to light the fire in the grate, but instead she pulled the sleeves of her cardigan down to cover her knuckles and slid the letter out of the envelope. She unfolded the stiff sheets of paper and spread them on the table in front of her.
“My dear Laura.”
Anthony’s deep and gentle voice sounded in her ears and the black writing disappeared into a blur, washed away by the tears which filled Laura’s eyes. She sniffed loudly and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.
“For God’s sake, Laura, get a bloody grip!” she admonished herself, and was surprised by the smile that hijacked her lips.
My dear Laura,
By now you will know that Padua and everything in it is yours. I hope that you will be very happy living here and will forgive my foolish sentimentality about the rose garden. You see, I planted it for Therese, who was named after St. Therese of the Roses. When she died, I scattered her ashes among the roses so that I could always be near to her, and if you could possibly bring yourself to do it, I should like mine to be scattered there too. If you find it too gruesome, perhaps you could ask Freddy to do it. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind; he has the constitution of a concrete cockroach, dear boy.
And now I must tell you about the things in the study. Once again, it starts with the rose garden. On the day I planted it, Therese gave me a gift. It was her first Holy Communion medal. She told me that it was to say thank you for the rose garden, and to remind me that she would love me forever, no matter what. She made me promise to keep it with me always. It was the most precious thing that I have ever owned. And I lost it. On the day that Therese died. I had it in my pocket that morning when I left Padua, but by the time I returned it was gone. It felt as though the last remaining thread that bound us together had been broken. Like a clock, unwound, I stopped. I stopped living and began existing. I breathed, ate, drank, and slept. But only as much as I had to, and that was all.
It was Robert who eventually brought me to my senses. “What would Therese think?” he said. And he was right. She had been so full of life and it had been stolen from her. I still had life, but was choosing a living death. She would have been furious. “And heartbroken,” said Robert. I began walking; visiting the world again. One day I found a glove; ladies, navy blue leather, right hand. I took it home and labeled it; what it was, and when and where I found it. And so it began; my collection of lost things. Perhaps I thought that if I rescued every lost thing I found, someone would rescue the one thing left in the world that I really cared about and one day I might get it back and so restore my broken promise. It never happened, but I never gave up hope; never stopped gathering in the things that other people lost. And those tiny scraps of other people’s lives gave me inspiration for my stories and helped me to write again.
I know it is likely that most of the things are worthless, and no one will want them back. But if you can make just one person happy, mend one broken heart by restoring to them what they have lost, then it will have all been worthwhile. You may wonder why I kept all this secret; kept the study door locked for all those years. I hardly know myself except perhaps that I was afraid of being thought foolish or even a little insane. And so this is the task I leave you with, Laura. All I ask is that you try.
I hope that your new life is everything that you wish for and that you find others to share it with. Remember, Laura, there is a world outside of Padua and it is well worth a visit now and then.
One final thing—there is a girl who often sits on the bench across the green from the house. She seems to be somewhat of a lost soul. I have often wished that I could do more for her than a few kindly words, but unfortunately it is difficult for an old man to help a young lady nowadays without being sadly misconstrued. Perhaps you could “gather her in” and offer a little friendship? Do what you think is best.
With fondest love and grateful thanks.
God bless.
Anthony
By the time Laura stirred from her chair in the study, her limbs were stiffened by cold. Outside, in a black sky, hung a perfect pearlescent moon. Laura sought warmth in the kitchen, and set the kettle to boil as she pondered Anthony’s requests. The scattering of his ashes she would do gladly. Returning the lost things was not so simple. Once again she felt those stones in her pocket, reminding her of who she really was. Laura’s parents had been dead for some years now, but she had never been able to shake the feeling that she had let them down. They had never said as much, but in all honesty what had she ever done to repay their unfailing love and loyalty and make them proud? She had dodged university, her marriage had been a disaster, and she had failed to give them a single grandchild. And she had been eating fish and chips in Cornwall when her mother died. The fact that it had been her first holiday since she had left Vince wasn’t any kind of excuse. When her father had died just six months later, Anthony filled some of the void that had remained, and perhaps now the task that he had left her would be her chance to make some sort of amends? Perhaps this was her opportunity to finally succeed at something.