The Keeper of Lost Things(62)

Laura was in no mood for platitudes. Therese and Sunshine were both sulking; no doubt for very different, but for the moment equally unfathomable reasons; she was running behind with the data input for the website, and Carrot had got completely overexcited when the new postwoman had called to deliver a parcel, and had weed on the Chinese rug in the hall. She took another petulant swing at a tennis ball, missed, and nearly fell over. Freddy resumed his digging in order to disguise his laughter. Laura had had high hopes that the sapphire ring might be the perfect panacea. She had replaced the broken glass in Therese’s photograph, placed the picture of Anthony and his parents beside it, and the ring in its box in front of her. She had even tried to play the Al Bowlly song for her.

“How do you know that Therese is sulking?”

Freddy had recovered himself sufficiently by now to try to be helpful.

“Because the bedroom door’s still locked and because of that damn record!”

Freddy frowned.

“But I can’t remember hearing it for days now.”

Laura raised her eyebrows in exasperation.

“For God’s sake, Freddy! Do try and keep up. That’s what I’ve been saying.”

Freddy ditched the spade and came and gave her a hug.

“Well, not very clearly, I’m afraid. I’m not very good at clues. You’ll have to make it ‘clear and simple,’” he said, bracketing the phrase in the air with his fingers.

“Touché.” Laura grinned in spite of herself.

“Right,” said Freddy, “how does Therese not playing dear old Al signify that she’s sulking?”

“Because now, instead of playing it morning, noon, and night, she won’t allow it to be played at all.”

Freddy looked skeptical.

“I’m not sure I understand.”

Laura sighed. “I’ve tried to play it over and over, but it simply won’t. At first, I did it to be nice. I set up the photographs and the ring, and then, as a finishing touch, I thought I’d play the music; their song. But it won’t play. She won’t let it.”

Freddy chose his next words very carefully.

“Well, it is an old record and an old player. Maybe the needle needs changing or the record has been scratched . . .”

One look at Laura’s face was enough to derail his argument.

“Okay, okay. You’ve checked. Of course you have. They’re both fine.”

Laura picked up yet another tennis ball and threw it at him. But this time with a laugh.

“Oh God, I’m sorry. I’m such a grumpy cow, but I’m doing my best to help her and now she’s just being bloody awkward. Come on, I’ll make you a cup of tea. There might even be a chocolate biscuit if Sunshine hasn’t finished them.”

Freddy took her hand.

“I shan’t raise my hopes.”

In the kitchen, Sunshine had just put the kettle on.

“Perfect timing!” said Freddy. “We just came in for the lovely cup of tea.”

Sunshine set out two more cups and saucers in ominous silence as Freddy washed his hands at the sink.

“Are there any chocolate biscuits left?” he asked her with a wink.

An unsmiling Sunshine placed the biscuit tin in front of him without a word, and then turned away to watch the kettle boil. Freddy and Laura exchanged puzzled glances and then began discussing the progress of the website. They had decided that in order to create more interest, people who claimed back their lost possessions could post their stories on the website if they wanted to. Freddy had come up with an online form people had to complete, giving very specific details of where and when they lost whatever it was that they were claiming. The website simply displayed a photograph of each item, the month and year, and the general location where it was found. The specific details on Anthony’s labels were withheld in order that they could be sure that the people who came forward were the legitimate owners. Laura still had hundreds more items to photograph and post on the website, but enough had been completed to justify the site going live. It was, in any case, always going to be a “work in progress,” if they continued to gather things that other people had lost. There was going to be an item in the local newspaper that week, and Laura had already given an interview to the local radio station. There were now only days to go before the website went live.

“What if no one comes forward to claim anything?” worried Laura, chewing nervously on her fingernail. Freddy playfully slapped her hand away from her mouth.

“Of course they will!” he said. “Won’t they, Sunshine?”

Sunshine shrugged her shoulders dramatically, her bottom lip pouting like a ship’s prow. She poured the tea and plonked the cups and saucers down in front of them hard. Freddy raised his hands in surrender.

“Okay, okay. I give up. What’s up, kid?”

Sunshine put her hands on her hips and treated them both to her sternest look.

“No one ever listens to me,” she said quietly.

They were now. Her words dropped into the air and hung there, expectantly, waiting for a response. Neither Freddy nor Laura knew what to say. Each felt a prickle of guilt that Sunshine might actually have a point. With her diminutive stature and ingenuous features, it was easy to slip into the habit of treating her like a child and weighting her opinions and ideas accordingly. But Sunshine was a young woman—albeit a “dancing drome”—and perhaps it was about time that they started treating her as such.