by SD Saunders
“Wait, you forgot something”, Christina sighed placing her hand on Melody’s arm. “The journal, you left it in the conservatory”.
Turning to go and retrieve it, Melody reached out to stop her. “It’s okay, Christina. I meant to say earlier, I’m leaving it with you, it is after all rightfully yours”.
Turning back with tears in her eyes, she took hold of Melody’s hands. “Bless you dear, that really is kind”.
Watching them drive away, her mind wandering over all that had happened, she felt a glimmer of hope. Could they really solve this mystery of who set Jack up, and if they did, would she finally be able to meet again with her beloved Jack?
Chapter 7
Melody sat at her shop counter, the morning’s paper spread before her, the picture of the Emerald necklace staring back at her. The headline, ‘MISSING HEIRLOOM MYSTERIOUSLY RETURNS’, catching her eye, sipping her coffee, she read on.
‘The Trafford Emerald necklace has mysteriously returned! After many years of speculation of its unconfirmed disappearance, we have now been informed of its reappearance. Having been in the Trafford’s possession since 1853 and passed down for generations, this heirloom is purported to hold mystical properties bestowing on the owner power and wealth. Sources say it is being held under tight security at an undisclosed location. It has been confirmed that permission has been granted for it to be worn by Melody Croft, the lady responsible for finding it, for all to see for the first time in years at the Crafton hotel on the evening of the Hopes & Dreams charity gala, these highly sort after tickets are selling fast so…’
Melody stopped reading, her heart pounding fast. So it was done, she would wear the necklace for all to see. The plan was in motion, now what to wear, she mused, worrying her bottom lip, her mind turning to the rose-pink gown at home as a plan started to take root.
“Susie, I’m just stepping out for a few minutes”, she called out, grabbing her bag and heading to the door. “No, you stay, boy”, she commanded Toby, rubbing his head and pointing him back to his bed, as Rick sidled up to her.
“Where to, Mel”, he inquired, opening the door for her.
“Just popping to the material shop, you don’t have to come, I’m sure I’ll be fine”.
Shaking his head, he stepped outside the shop with her. “Best if I come. Alex would skin me alive if anything happened to you”. Smiling, he fell into step beside her.
The day had been a busy one between customers coming in and asking all about the newspaper article, and Melody’s phone ringing all day with inquisitive friends not to mention several calls from Sarah checking up on her. It’s a wonder she’d managed to get any work done.
The relief of stepping into her quiet cottage felt like a balm to her frayed nerves. Pouring some kibble into Toby’s bowl and then flicking on the coffee machine, Melody sat at the kitchen table, the paper bag from the material shop propped up on the chair beside her. Reaching over to it, she pulled the material out, lovingly fingering the yards of black Venetian lace, a quiet evening designing and sewing was just what she needed. Scooping up the lace, she headed across the kitchen to her craft room, placing the material on her cutting table. She spun round to look at the rose-pink gown, the sleeveless fitted satin bodice and drop waist flaring to a full tulle skirt would be perfect, she mused. Detaching the old fashioned rosebuds from around the neckline and the few scattered at the front hem shouldn’t be too problematic. Tilting her head, she envisioned the black Venetian lace fitted over the bodice and dropped waist, the pink peeking through the swirls in the lace would look stunning.
Placing the dress on the mannequin, she started the laborious task of unpicking the rosebuds. Much later, as she kneeled in front of the dress, Melody unpicked the last rosebud. Sitting back on her heels, she stretched her aching back, dropping the last one onto the small pile of rosebuds beside her on the floor. She looked at the dress, pleased with its progress. Toby prowling in caught her eye; he sniffed at the pile inquisitively then half climbed on her knees, pushing his nose into her hands. “Have I been neglecting you, boy”, she soothed, obediently rubbing his head, as his soulful eyes looked reproachfully at her, his tail thumping happily, sending the rosebuds scattering across the floor. “Okay, I get it, boy, time for your walk, huh”. Shifting him off her lap, she stood, bending down to scoop up the rosebuds. “How about we see if Alex’s home and fancies a walk with us”, she crooned as Toby skipped and circled excitedly around her.
As soon as they stepped out of the SUV and into the park, Toby was off running ahead of them, looking excitedly back at Alex, readying himself for his ball to be thrown. She loved coming here to walk Toby, the winding pathway secluded away from the road by large trees to one side with bluebells clustered beneath them, open fields sprawled on the other side, the long grass no obstacle for Toby as he hunted for his ball.
Melody glanced at Alex, the evening sun picking out the planes and grooves of his face, the breeze catching at his dark brown hair styled in a slick back undercut, ruffling it against his forehead as he absentmindedly raked his fingers through it pushing it back off his face, his strong jaw shadowed with stubble, the cleft in his chin barely visible, long legs encased in black denim, a black t-shirt tucked into his jeans. Watching as he bent to retrieve Toby’s ball and throw it again for him, she admired his taut muscles flexing in his arms, a contented sigh escaping her.
“Penny for them”, Alex laughed, reaching for her hand. He always loved the way she blushed whenever he caught her staring.
“I um, was just wondering what Christina will do with the necklace when she finally gets it back”, she answered linking her fingers into Alex’s.
“I guess she will pass it onto one of her children, eventually”, he mused stopping to throw the ball again.
“I wouldn’t want it if I was her with all that has happened to her because of it”, she sighed, a look of worry in her eyes.
“It will be fine, Mel”. Looking at her puzzled frown, he continued. “The gala, you will be safe. You know, we’ll have our best men working security, and I’ll be right by your side”.
“Have you had any luck tracing Jack yet”?
“We have a couple of promising leads, hopefully we’ll have something concrete soon”. Cupping her face in his hands, he looked into her eyes. The sun catching at the flecks of gold turning them to pools of amber, a scattering of freckles across her nose making her look younger, vulnerable almost. “What’d you say to picking up a takeaway on the way home”, his voice sounding gruff to his own ears as he tucked a wayward curl behind her ear.
“Sounds great, and I have some ice-cream left over in the freezer from last time, which I know you’re rather partial to”, she teased.
“Okay minx, let’s head back to the SUV. I’m starving”, he grinned.
Timothy slammed the newspaper down on the small table, glaring at the article on the emerald necklace. It was so close, he could almost taste his victory. So the third journal must have held the key to the missing heirloom and now for the time being, it was out of his reach, and some common girl would be wearing it at the gala, his mouth sneering at the distasteful thought. Now all he needed was a ticket to the event, scanning the article for the date and location. His eyes narrowed in displeasure as he saw the price of a ticket. There was no way his meagre budget would stretch to this, let alone the tux he would have to hire.
Leaning back in his chair, he looked around his bedsit; the peeling wallpaper and shabby carpet seemed to mock him, the single bed and wardrobe the only other furniture in the small room, a far cry from Trafford Manor. It should have been his father’s and then his, he fumed slamming his fist against the table. Memories of his father’s tales flooded him, tales of how his great grandmother having always favourited her younger son, Edward, had cut her firstborn son James, from his inheritance of Trafford Manor, placing the title and all its spoils to Edward. “Just because of a few gambling debts”, his father would bellow. Never letting him forget that even
as far as favouring Edwards’s wife over his own grandmother and giving her the heirloom, when that too should have gone to his grandmother, his grandfather demoted to working for one of his father’s smaller holdings, a position just above a servant, he sneered at the thought.
Picking up his mobile phone, he checked the remaining credit on it. Just enough, he thought, selecting a contact and hitting dial. “It’s me”, he barked into the phone.
“Timothy, what do you want? I said not to call me unless it was urgent”.
“It is. I need access to the charity gala to continue our mission, can you help”? Explaining the newspaper article and price of the ticket, he waited for what seemed like forever.
“Well, well, looks like you’ll have to attend in some other capacity”, the harsh voice informed him.
“What other capacity”? He snarled impatiently.
“Temper, temper”, the voice mocked him continuing, “I think, even you should be able to secure a position as a waiter at the event”. A shocked hiss escaping his lips, his next cutting retort dying on his lips as the mocking voice continued. “So how’s your dear father doing, I must call in to see him sometime”?
Cutting the call abruptly, he grabbed the paper screwing it up in his fist. Damn, he swore, throwing the crumpled newspaper at the wastepaper basket. So that’s how you want to play it, he grimaced. Walking over to the wardrobe, he pulled out his one pair of smart black trousers and selected a white shirt, laying them over the chair in readiness for Monday. “Time to get an interview at the agency, one waiter coming up”, he muttered, a strange smile on his face.
Charlotte sat in her car, looking out at Melody’s cottage, the lights blazing, giving it a warm cosy postcard look. The black satin high heeled Jimmy Choo’s she had promised to lend to Melody, sitting in a bag on the passenger seat. Grabbing them and her handbag, she headed down the path to the cottage. As she raised her hand to knock, the door flew open. Towering before her stood the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on, his army style short jet black hair softly gelled back and startling blue eyes with long black lashes that any woman would kill for, and what a body she mused, flicking a look down his lean well-muscled frame. A sand-coloured t-shirt moulded to the contours of his broad chest, a tattoo of wings and a laurel wreath in between them on his well-defined bicep peeking out from his sleeve, tight faded blue denim jeans hugged his hips and thighs.
“Can I help you”? His deep gravelly voice snapped her attention back to his face.
“Umm, who are you? I’m here to see Melody, I’ve got the shoes she wanted”, she gushed, waving the bag and trying to peer around his large frame.
“I’m Joel, a friend of Alex and Melody’s and who may I ask are you”? He spoke, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at her. Standing, looking at her, he felt her bristle as she lifted her chin in defiance. Smoky grey almond shaped eyes stared back at him from a small oval face.
His eyes were drawn to her kissable cupid’s bow lips, painted a rich pink as her tongue darted out to wet them, her small five-foot three petite frame and pink tipped spiky blonde hair making him think of an angry pixie. “My name’s Charlotte. I’m Melody’s best friend”, she announced tightly. He almost imagined that she wanted to stamp her foot.
“Welcome, Charlotte”, he gave a mock bow. “You’ll find her in the kitchen”, he answered, stifling a grin and waving her into the house as he stepped outside. Shaking his head as wayward thoughts of kissing that angry pixie, turning her fiery temper into passion running rampant in his head, he made his way to his van.
“Hi Mel, it’s just me”, she called out as she made her way down the hallway. “I just met your overbearing guard dog”, she pouted, entering the kitchen, stopping mid-rant as Alex and Melody turned to look at her from their seats at the kitchen table.
“Oh no! What’s Joel done now”, Alex groaned, shooting Melody a quizzical look.
“Well, apart from seeming like he wanted to frisk me and take fingerprints, he’s just a darling”, Charlotte replied sarcastically, a smile tugging at her mouth.
“Oh Lottie, you’re too much”, Melody laughed as she walked over to her friend.
“He’s just being overly cautious, you know, with this break-in and everything that’s going on”. Flinging her arms around Charlotte, she hugged her friend.
“Well I guess, but seriously, what danger would I be”, she laughed, hugging Melody back and trying to make light of the situation.
“I brought you the shoes”, she stepped back motioning to the bag.
“Fancy a coffee”, Melody asked, taking the bag from Lottie.
“Geez, no way, I’ll be up all night”, she laughed, taking a seat next to Alex. “So how’s the spy business going”, she teased.
“The security business”, he cheerfully corrected her, winking at Melody, who was well used to this game. “It’s going well, why, you want a job”? He laughed.
“Uh, no thanks! So, is this Joel guy one of your security men”? Charlotte asked, her eyes darting to the hallway.
“No, he’s my business partner, and don’t worry, he’s not coming back tonight”.
Blushing at being caught out looking for him, Charlotte turned to Melody. “So what do you think of the shoes, will they go with your gown”?
Placing a mug of hot chocolate down in front of Charlotte, Melody lifted a shoe out of the bag, looking at the black satin four-inch heeled shoe, the diamantes on the heel and mini platform sparkling in the kitchen light. “Oh, they’re perfect, Lottie”, Melody sighed, holding it up to the light. “Come and see the gown”, she gestured towards her craft room.
“Ah, so Cinderella will go to the ball”, Charlotte teased, as they headed back to into the kitchen. Grabbing her hot chocolate, she looked at Alex. “So, have you seen it”?
“No, Melody wants to surprise me”, he pulled a hard done by face.
“Well, she’ll be the most beautiful girl at the gala”, she enthused, smiling at Melody over her mug. “Will you wear a wrap with it, Mel”?
“I’m thinking of making a matching lace one, what do you think”?
“Ladies”, Alex interrupted them, “I’ll leave you to your girly chat, I need to pop home and make a few calls. Nice to see you again Charlotte, I’ll tell Joel, you said hello”, he teased, giving her his most dazzling smile as she blushed. Turning back again to Melody, he brushed a kiss on her lips. “See you in a little while”, his gruff whisper giving her goosebumps, as the heat of his mouth warmed her neck.
“Well, he’s a keeper”, Charlotte exploded as soon as Alex had left.
Melody sat smiling at her friend’s enthusiasm. “He sure is”, she sighed, a dreamy look on her face.
“And you got it bad”, Charlotte laughed reaching down to rub Toby’s head.
“His business partner isn’t bad either”, Melody grinned at her friend’s shocked face. “I know you too well Lottie, until Alex told you he wasn’t coming back, I’m sure I caught you looking longingly at the hallway”.
“Melody Croft, don’t you dare start match-making”, she feigned disapproval, throwing her hands in the air in surrender.
Melody laughed. “Okay Lottie, you got me, so how about I pour you a glass of wine and show you my designs for a Venetian lace wrap”?
“Wine, now you’re talking Mel”.
Later, after waving goodbye to Lottie and rinsing the mugs and wine glasses, Melody sat on her sofa, her feet curled under her, Toby laying tight against her silk pyjamaed legs. Every now and again, his legs twitching as if he was running after bunnies in his dreams, she smiled rubbing his head to soothe him. Glancing around the room, Melody felt content. The time spent catching up with Lottie, always left her feeling happy. The glow from the lamps casting shadows all around, the familiar figurines on the mantel piece, the old walnut clock, its scrolled feet and patina displaying the clock face perfectly, its gentle tick reminding her of evenings spent here with her grandmother.
Uncurling her legs, Melody care
fully eased Toby over and stretched her legs. Looking at the bookcase, standing slightly behind the overstuffed chair, she quickly decided that a little light reading while she awaited Alex’s return was just what she needed. Making her way over, she lovingly ran her fingers over the old spines. Pushing the chair over a little to reach the lower shelf and selecting a romance novel, she turned to make her way back to the sofa. Jutting out from under the chair, she noticed a little white piece of card. Stooping down, she retrieved it. Turning it over in her hand, she noted the worn business card, the corners bent and scuffed, ‘A1 Employment Agency’ emblazoned across the card in block letters, a green logo of a hand holding a plate with a tool belt and tools above it in the corner, phone and fax numbers inserted beneath in italics. Strange, she thought, placing it beside the clock on the mantle, “Joel or Alex must have dropped it there”, she mused aloud, inching her way back on the sofa next to Toby. “It’s okay boy, go back to sleep”, she hushed as she rubbed his head. Flipping her book open, she soon lost herself in the story.
As Alex let himself into Melody’s cottage, silence greeted him. Entering the kitchen, he found it empty; he walked into the front room. Toby lifted his head excitedly and jumped down to greet him. “Shh boy”, Alex whispered as he spotted Melody curled up, fast asleep on the sofa. Taking the book from her limp hands and placing it on the coffee table, he smiled to himself noticing the title, “The Italian Rake”. Turning back, he gently brushed a kiss on her forehead. She murmured something undiscernible and snuggled her face against his. Gently lifting her, he carried her upstairs to her bed, pulling the duvet over her. He glanced at her flushed face, her sweeping lashes flickering in dreams, her full mouth slightly open. Unable to resist, he placed a kiss on them. “Sweet dreams, my pretty angel”, he whispered, flicking the lamp off and stopping at the door to check she was still asleep.