The Little Shop of Hidden Treasures Part Two

by Holly Hepburn

  He asked what she’d been up to and seemed genuinely impressed when she’d described the popularity of the window display. ‘I’ll have to walk past, take a look.’ Reaching across, he wound one of her stray coppery curls around his fingers. ‘Sounds like you’ve been busy as well. Too busy to miss me, at any rate.’

  Hope thought guiltily of Elenor’s journal. ‘I have missed you,’ she said hastily. ‘But I knew you must be snowed under and thought you’d be in touch when things calmed down.’

  ‘You were right,’ Ciaran said, giving her another admiring glance. ‘Brains, beauty and independence. You’re a triple threat, Hope Henderson.’

  He held her gaze and leaned closer to kiss her. But a polite cough from somewhere behind Hope made him pause and draw back. Hope twisted around to see a blonde-haired little girl staring at them in silence, with a tall, brown-haired man standing awkwardly behind her.

  ‘Brodie!’ Hope exclaimed in surprise. ‘How lovely to see you. And you, Will.’

  ‘Hello,’ Will said, with a smile that didn’t come close to hiding his embarrassment. ‘I hope we’re not intruding.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Hope said, with a smile of her own. ‘We’re just enjoying the sunshine. I imagine you are too – have you been playing, Brodie?’

  The girl didn’t smile. Instead, she transferred her gaze to Ciaran. Hope caught her meaning. ‘This is Ciaran. He’s a friend of mine – in fact, he’s helping me to find out all about the lady who owned the ring you found in the puzzle box.’

  Brodie’s eyes widened as she studied Ciaran and she gave Hope another questioning look. ‘He works at the university, teaching people about old things. Why don’t you explain Ciaran?’

  ‘That’s right,’ he said, not missing a beat. ‘I know a lot about Ancient Egypt and the Pyramids. Did you know that the ring probably came from Egypt?’

  For a moment, Hope thought Brodie wouldn’t react but then she gave the merest nod of her head. Glancing up at Will, she saw he was watching too and they shared a smile. ‘Ciaran, this is Will. He’s Brodie’s guardian.’

  Ciaran got to his feet and the two men shook hands. ‘Good to meet you,’ Ciaran said.

  ‘And you,’ Will said politely. He paused. ‘Hope mentioned she’d taken the ring to you but I didn’t realize you were still involved.’

  ‘Sure,’ Ciaran said, and fired a lingering look Hope’s way. ‘Yes, you could call it that, I suppose. We’re pretty involved all right.’

  The obvious double meaning made Hope suddenly hot with embarrassment. She scrambled to her feet, hardly able to meet Will’s gaze. ‘We’re making good progress, actually. I should stop by the shop one afternoon, give you an update.’

  Will nodded. ‘I’d like that. You would too, wouldn’t you, Brodie?’

  This time, the girl’s nod was emphatic.

  Pushing her discomfort aside, Hope smiled at her. ‘Excellent. Maybe we can play with your dolls together.’

  And now Brodie smiled, giving Hope an altogether different warm glow. ‘Drop in anytime,’ Will said. ‘I’ll lock up the guard goose.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Hope replied gravely. ‘The laser too, if you don’t mind.’

  Ciaran was looking back and forth between them, nonplussed. ‘You keep a goose in your shop?’

  Will grinned. ‘Long story. Look, we’ve got to be getting home. Nice to meet you, Ciaran. And we’ll see you soon, Hope.’

  Nodding, Hope reached out to squeeze Brodie’s hand. ‘See you very soon.’

  ‘Cute kid,’ Ciaran said, once Will and Brodie had gone and they’d sat down again. ‘But she doesn’t say much, does she?’

  ‘Nothing at all,’ Hope said with a sigh and explained about the terrible loss of both the little girl’s parents earlier in the year.

  When she’d finished, Ciaran shook his head in sympathy. ‘God love her, that’s an awful thing for anyone to go through, let alone a child. And Will has adopted her, has he?’

  ‘There was no other close family,’ Hope said. ‘It’s been hard for him too, losing his brother and sister-in-law. But I’m glad he and Brodie have each other.’

  ‘Of course.’ Ciaran eyed her thoughtfully. ‘You can’t have known him long. Unless you were friends before you moved back to York?’

  Something in his tone made Hope frown, a hint of something she couldn’t quite get a hold on. ‘No, we didn’t know each other before. But we’ve got a lot in common, what with—’

  She broke off, remembering just in time that she hadn’t told him about Rob, hadn’t wanted to scare him off with the W word too early on. And now didn’t feel like the right time or place to lay the story of her dead husband on the table – on the picnic blanket, in fact. It wasn’t the kind of thing to be blurted out – she needed to build up to it carefully, both to do justice to Rob’s memory and make it clear she was ready to meet someone new. ‘—with the ring and everything,’ she finished, hoping the words didn’t sound as lame to him as they did to her.

  ‘I can see that,’ Ciaran said, and took a long sip of champagne. ‘Well, it’s good that you’re making friends, putting down roots in York. It means you’ll still be here when I come back in September.’

  She wanted to point out that her whole family lived in York but the observation was eclipsed by the clear indication that she wouldn’t see him over the summer. ‘We don’t have to wait until September,’ she said, carefully picking her way through the minefield of appearing too keen. ‘I could always come over to Scarborough.’

  He shook his head, looking regretful. ‘I doubt I’ll be there much. I’ve got a dig lined up in Sussex – a Roman villa. Not my thing but they’re short of staff so I agreed to help out.’

  ‘Oh,’ Hope said, as leaden disappointment settled in her stomach. ‘I see.’

  ‘Believe me, I’d like nothing better than to spend the summer with you. But we’ve got a week or two until I go,’ he said. ‘Plenty of time to get to know each other better.’

  The look he gave her chased away Hope’s disappointment and replaced it with a delicious shiver. He reached out and took the champagne flute from her fingers and rested it on the grass. ‘And on that note, I believe I was just about to kiss you,’ he murmured.

  Before she could reply, he pulled her close and kissed her in a way that sent the breath whooshing from her lungs. When he’d finished, he let her go and smiled. ‘How about finishing this bottle of champagne in bed?’

  Lips tingling, Hope had to stop herself from instantly agreeing. When exactly had she become the kind of woman who shamelessly snogged in parks and considered skipping the traditional drinks/dinner dating ritual to get to what came next faster? It wasn’t even seven o’clock – maybe she should play a little harder to get. But then she remembered that evenings like this were going to be impossible once Ciaran had left for Sussex, and she threw caution to the wind.

  ‘Sounds like an excellent plan,’ she said. ‘Let’s go.’

  * * *

  It wasn’t until much later in the evening that Ciaran discovered Elenor’s diary.

  The champagne had been finished and Hope was serving up a takeaway in the kitchen. She came through to the living room, plates in hand, to find him studying her jumbled notes, scrawled across a rainbow of Post-its and stuck to the pages of a notebook that lay open on the coffee table.

  ‘What’s this?’ he asked.

  Hope gave herself a mental kick; why hadn’t she thought to clear the notes away? The journal itself was safely in its box but she’d been working on a timeline of events, complete with tell-tale initials and locations, details Ciaran would recognize instantly.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about Elenor’s part in the excavations,’ she said slowly, trying to find the right words. ‘I thought if we could establish when she was there, we might be able to cross-reference the Carter journal entries.’

  It wasn’t a lie – that was exactly what she had done – but Ciaran frowned. ‘How did you know where she was, and when?’ He tapped a
Post-it. ‘This one has the exact date she returned to England in nineteen twenty two. Did you take a guess, based on when the winter season finished?’

  And now Hope had a choice. She could say yes, which was a lie but might also be enough to prevent Ciaran from finding out about the box that sat on the shelf underneath the coffee table, or she could come clean and admit she had an amazing new source of information. The trouble was that a lie now would mean she couldn’t share the journal with him at a later date – he would know she hadn’t been honest with him and there might come a time when she did want his input. So, really, there was no choice. She had to tell him the truth.

  ‘I had a bit of insider knowledge,’ she admitted, laying the plates on the small dining table. ‘I’ll show you after we’ve eaten.’

  Clearly intrigued, Ciaran tried to draw more information from her as they ate but Hope refused to say more until the table was cleared. Then she handed him the box and the white cotton gloves. ‘I haven’t finished reading yet but I think you’re going to find it fascinating.’

  She left him on the sofa and went to make coffee. When she returned, he was so engrossed in the journal that she wasn’t even sure he’d noticed her come back. Wryly, Hope took a seat; she didn’t mind that Ciaran’s head had been turned by another woman, but she definitely felt an irrational flicker of something that it was Elenor – her Elenor. From the very first line, Hope had connected with the story unfolding inside the pages of the journal. It wasn’t simply a mystery that she was curious about unravelling, as it had been when she’d first seen the ring and read the letter breaking off the engagement. Now she felt as though she had come to know Elenor and wanted to understand what had driven her to that final act of despair on the cliffs at Whitby. And she longed to discover what had happened to Khalid too, although she suspected his fate might be beyond her reach. Almost without Hope realizing it, the events of almost a century ago had crept into her heart, causing her to feel oddly protective. Which was crazy, because it was quite likely Ciaran would be able to help piece things together…

  Ten minutes later, Ciaran raised his head to stare at Hope. ‘This is incredible,’ he said. ‘I know people who’d give up a kidney for a first-hand account like this. Where on earth did you find it?’

  ‘From Isobel,’ Hope replied. ‘She dropped it off at the shop. But it’s only a loan – I don’t think she’d be interested in swapping it for a kidney, or any other major organ.’

  Ciaran laughed. ‘No, I don’t suppose she would. Good on her for sharing it with you, though. I’ve only skimmed the surface but I can tell it’s an amazing piece of work.’

  Hope leaned forwards. ‘Isn’t it? It’s kept me up late a few evenings, turning the pages.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘The maps are much better than any I’ve seen before and the descriptions of the tombs are meticulously detailed – in fact, there are artefacts mentioned here that I’ve never seen listed in the Tutankhamun excavation reports, or anywhere else. I wonder what happened to them.’

  Of course he would see the diary from a field journal perspective, Hope thought. He was an archaeologist, after all. ‘I found the descriptions started to blur after a while – there are only so many times I can picture a gold statue, no matter how well it’s described.’

  ‘That’s because you’re not an Egyptologist,’ he said and raised a self-deprecating eyebrow. ‘We’re all secretly obsessed with gold. Haven’t you seen The Mummy?’

  Hope laughed. ‘I didn’t realize it was a documentary. But isn’t that the one where they accidentally unleash the spirit of an evil priest?’

  ‘That is a constant danger,’ Ciaran replied gravely. ‘And some people still believe there was a curse on Tutankhamun’s tomb. Lord Carnarvon died a few months after entering and there were rumours of other sudden deaths.’

  Hope’s gaze travelled to the open journal resting in his white-gloved hands and she fought the urge to shiver. ‘Things certainly went badly for Elenor and Khalid.’

  He nodded. ‘But most of the people associated with the excavations went on to have long lives. I can’t claim to know if they were always happy but I don’t think we can blame the mummies’ curse for the tragedy of Elenor Lovelace.’

  ‘No,’ Hope said. ‘We can lay the blame for that squarely at the feet of the living.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Ciaran agreed. ‘People can be unimaginably cruel, especially in the name of love.’

  Hope wasn’t sure who he meant – Elenor and her behaviour towards Khalid, or the way her family had behaved towards them both – but his attention had been drawn back to the journal. He turned a few more pages, poring over them with an intense concentration that once again made Hope feel invisible. And then he sat back and stretched, checking the time as he did so. ‘Damn it, I have to go,’ he said, with genuine regret. ‘I’ve a ton of work to do.’

  ‘I understand,’ Hope said, suddenly wishing he could stay, that they could explore the dusty tomb of Tutankhamun together.

  He smiled. ‘It’s been good to see you, though. Really good.’

  ‘You too,’ Hope said. ‘Thanks for suggesting it, and for the picnic too.’

  Ciaran tilted his head. ‘The plan was to spend a romantic evening there, watching the stars come out over the river before making our way back here for a night of passion. But you were just too irresistibly sexy, with the sun turning your hair to burnished gold. I couldn’t wait.’

  It was exactly the kind of comment that earned him his reputation as a charmer, Hope thought, but she couldn’t deny the flutter of pleasure the compliment gave her. ‘It’s probably a good thing,’ she said, raising her eyebrows. ‘At least this way you’ll get some work done too.’

  ‘That’s true,’ he said. ‘Although I’d obviously rather stay with you.’

  The look that accompanied the words left Hope in no doubt that he meant it. ‘Next time,’ she promised.

  He glanced at the journal and placed it back into its box. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’d let me take this, is there? Just overnight, so I can cross-reference with some artefact reports, confirm my suspicions that a few things went astray.’

  The question wasn’t a surprise but Hope still felt her stomach sink. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said carefully. ‘I haven’t finished reading it myself and I’d have to check with Isobel first.’

  Ciaran nodded, as though he’d been expecting as much. ‘I totally appreciate that. But maybe when you have finished – I could pop back, whisk you out for dinner and have a sneaky read myself.’

  ‘It’s hardly popping back if you’re coming from Sussex,’ Hope pointed out.

  He winked. ‘There’s always the chance they might give me some time off, for good behaviour. But I don’t want to put you in an awkward position.’

  Hope bit her lip, wondering if she was being ridiculous. This was Ciaran – a well-respected specialist in the field of Egyptology, not some disreputable thief who’d make off with Elenor’s journal. And hadn’t she always intended to share it with him? ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Let me finish reading it and I’ll see what Isobel says.’

  ‘You’re a doll,’ he said, with a dazzling smile. Leaving the box open on the table, he got to his feet, looking around. ‘Now, where’s my phone?’

  She frowned. ‘Not in your jacket?’

  His coat was strewn across the back of the sofa. He checked the pockets. ‘No. I think I last had it in the bedroom.’

  ‘I’ll go and look,’ Hope said, standing up and heading to the hall. But there was no sign of the missing phone there – not on the bedside table and not on the floor. She lifted the rumpled sheets and checked underneath the bed but eventually had to concede defeat.

  When she walked back into the living room, Ciaran had removed the cotton gloves and was holding the missing phone in his hands. ‘Down the side of the sofa,’ he explained. ‘I’d lose my head if it wasn’t screwed on.’

  He kissed her goodbye at the f
ront door, promising another date soon. She wasn’t sure whether it was the knowledge that they only had a few weeks left or the impact of his charm but Hope suddenly felt the desire to move things forwards. ‘It’s my parents’ anniversary in a couple of weeks,’ she said impulsively. ‘They’re having a party. Would you like to come?’

  If he was surprised, it didn’t show. ‘When is it?’ he asked, a thoughtful frown crinkling the corners of his eyes.

  Hope made a conscious effort to sound casual. ‘Saturday, third of July.’

  His gaze narrowed, as though he was mentally flipping through dates. ‘Dammit. I’ll be in Sussex then.’

  No mention of popping back for that, Hope noted, but shrugged the observation away. ‘Never mind,’ she said, forcing herself to smile. ‘It was just an idea.’

  He kissed her again, a swift apologetic peck. ‘Sorry. But I’ll make it up to you, I promise.’

  ‘Really, don’t worry. Good luck with the work tonight.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he said and took a step back. ‘See you soon.’

  She nodded and did her best to ignore the flat disappointment in her stomach. ‘Sure, Ciaran. See you soon.’

  Chapter Six

  The first message from Joe gave Hope a moment’s panic, before she saw his follow up text and realized her younger brother was just being his usual melodramatic self:

  SOS. HELP!

  What do you get the parents who have everything? Asking for a sibling.

  Smiling, she tapped out a reply:

  Of course they have everything – they have us! Are you stuck for an anniversary present? Because I’m sure seeing you will be more than enough X

  Nineteen-year-old Joe was just finishing his first year at Edinburgh University and should have been back at home by the date of their parents’ anniversary. But he’d concocted an excuse about needing to stay on for another few weeks so that he could surprise them at the party, although Charlotte had firmly vetoed his idea to jump out of an enormous cake.

  Obviously but I want to get them something. Any ideas?