The Keeper of Lost Things(25)
Eunice had given up trying to keep a straight face by now, and was howling with laughter at Portia’s latest literary larceny. Bomber continued regardless.
“The girls’ cousin Mr. Coffins, a religious education teacher at an extremely expensive and completely incompetent private girls’ school, offers to marry any of the sisters who will have him, but, to their mother’s despair, none of them will on account of his bad breath and protruding belly button, and so he marries their other cousin, Charmaine, on the rebound. Charmaine is happy to have him as she has a slight mustache, and is on the shelf at twenty-one and a half.”
“Poor Charmaine. If she has to settle for bad breath and a protruding belly button at twenty-one and a half, what hope is there for me at almost thirty-one?”
Bomber grinned. “Oh, I’m sure we could find you a nice Mr. Coffins of your own if you really want one.”
Eunice threw a paper clip at him.
Later that evening, she wandered round the garden of Bomber’s rambling flat while he cooked their supper, closely supervised by Douglas. She would never marry. She knew that now. She could never marry Bomber and she didn’t want anybody else, so that was an end to it. In the past there had been the occasional date with some hopeful young man; sometimes several. But for Eunice it always felt dishonest. Every man came second best to Bomber, and no man deserved to be forever runner-up. Every relationship would only ever be friendship and sex, never love, and no friendship would ever be as precious as the one she shared with Bomber. Eventually she gave up dating altogether. She thought back to her birthday trip to Brighton all that time ago. It was almost ten years now. It had been a wonderful day, but by the end of it her heart had been broken. On the train home, sitting next to the man she loved, Eunice had fought back the tears, knowing that she would never be the right girl for Bomber. There would never be a right girl for Bomber. But they were friends; best friends. And for Eunice, that was infinitely better than not having him in her life at all.
As he stirred the Bolognese sauce in the kitchen, Bomber thought back to their earlier conversation. Eunice was a striking young woman with a fierce intelligence, a ready wit, and an astonishing assortment of hats. It was unfathomable that she had never been courted or set one of her rather spectacular caps at any particular deserving young man.
“Does it bother you?” He was thinking aloud, albeit a little carelessly, rather than actually posing the question. It seemed a bit blunt to ask.
“Does what bother me?”
Eunice appeared in the doorway waving a breadstick in the air like a conductor’s baton and sipping a glass of red wine.
“Not having some handsome chap with a red sports car, a Filofax, and a flat in Chelsea?”
Eunice bit the end off the breadstick decisively.
“What on earth would I want with one of those, when I have you and Douglas?”
CHAPTER 18
“The lady doesn’t want it back.”
Sunshine placed the cup and saucer on the table in front of Laura.
“You should keep it for the lovely cup of tea.”
The delicate cream bone china was almost translucent, and hand-painted with deep purple violets speckled with gold. Laura looked up at Sunshine’s serious face; into her treacle-dark eyes. She had brought Sunshine into the study that morning and explained in broad terms the content of Anthony’s letter.
“He said that you and I should take care of each other,” she paraphrased.
It was the first time that she had seen Sunshine smile. Curious and eager, she had handled the things in the study without seeking permission, but with a gentleness and reverence which would have delighted Anthony as much as it reassured Laura. She cradled each object in her soft hands as though it were a baby bird with a broken wing. Laura’s attention returned to the cup and saucer and its cardboard label. It was certainly a strange thing to lose.
“But we don’t know that, Sunshine. We don’t know whom it belonged to.”
Sunshine’s conviction was immutable.
“I do. It was the lady and she doesn’t want it back to her.”
Her words were delivered without a whisper of arrogance or petulance. She was simply stating a fact.
“But how do you know?”
Sunshine picked up the cup and held it close to her chest.
“I can feel it. I don’t think it in my head, I just feel it.” She put the cup back in its saucer. “And the lady had a bird,” she added, for good measure.
Laura sighed. The fate of the lost things hung over her; heavy, like a drowning man’s clothes. Anthony had chosen her as his successor and she was proud and grateful, but also terrified of failing him, and if the cup and saucer were anything to go by, Sunshine’s “feelings” might prove to be more of a hindrance than a help.
BONE CHINA CUP AND SAUCER—
Found, on a bench in Riviera Public Gardens, 31st October . . .
Eulalia finally stirred in her armchair, taking in her surroundings through age-opaqued eyes. Finding them familiar and herself quick rather than dead, a broad smile split her wrinkled brown face, revealing a haphazard assortment of still-white teeth.
Praise Jesus for one more day this side of heaven’s gates, she thought. And curse him too, as arthritis shot shards of pain through her bony legs as she tried to stand up. Alive she might be, but quick she certainly wasn’t. She had taken to sleeping downstairs in her chair more of late. Upstairs was fast becoming unattainable territory. Which was why she was moving. Sheltered accommodation, they called it. She called it surrender. A defeated display of the lily-livered flag. But it couldn’t be helped. One room with en suite; a communal lounge, shared kitchen, and meals prepared if you wanted. Plastic mattress cover in case you wet the bed. Eulalia shuffled through to her kitchen, sliding in her slippers and gripping her sticks like a geriatric cross-country skier. Kettle on and tea bag in the mug, she opened the back door and let the sunshine in. She had once been proud of her garden. She had planned and planted it, nurtured and cherished it for all these years. But now it had outgrown her, like an unruly teenager, and ran wild. The magpie appeared at her feet as soon as the door was opened. He looked as though he was having a bad feather day; a near miss with next door’s cat perhaps. But his eyes were bright and he “chuck chucked” softly to Eulalia as he tipped his head this way and that.