by Ali McNamara
Malachi, Ralph and I sit amiably in the morning sun together while I tell Malachi all about what happened yesterday with Noah and the postcard fair.
‘Sounds promising, doesn’t it?’ I ask, at the end of my tale.
Malachi shrugs. ‘Let’s just hope this Oliver hasn’t plastered them all over his screen yet.’
‘Well, yes, I think we’re all hoping that.’ I was surprised Malachi didn’t seem as excited about our discovery as I was.
‘Sounds like you and this Noah had a good time yesterday.’ Malachi looks down into his mug and swirls the remains of his coffee around.
‘Yes, Noah is a nice man. He’s been very helpful.’
‘Nice… that’s a very interesting word. It can have so many meanings.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, is Noah nice in that he’s pleasing, agreeable, amiably pleasant and kind? Or is he nice because you can’t find a more exciting adjective to describe him?’
‘The first, obviously.’
‘Really? Because in my experience using the word nice is a very dull way to describe someone. Perhaps he is quite dull, though?’
‘Noah is far from dull actually. He may seem quiet and calm on the outside, but on the inside I think he’s quite a deep and complex man.’
‘Oh, really?’
Malachi sounds surprised by my statement, but he’s much less surprised than I am to hear myself saying it. ‘Yes, really.’
‘Sounds like you got to know him very well on your day out together.’
‘We talked about things, yes, if that’s what you mean? We were in the car for quite some time travelling. Like I said, he’s a nice, kind man.’
Malachi smiles knowingly.
‘What now?’
‘Nothing, just thinking.’
‘About?’
‘About Daisy-Rose,’ Malachi says, jumping up. ‘And how much work I have to do on her before she’s ready for you to drive away. Assuming, that is, you’re still wanting to drive away as soon as possible?’ He looks at me with a questioning expression.
‘Why wouldn’t I?’
Malachi shrugs. ‘I don’t know – you tell me?’
‘I have no clue what you’re talking about, but then I often have no idea about what’s going on in your head, Malachi.’
‘That’s probably for the best! Now, if there’s nothing else? I’d best be getting on. Time is money as everyone here is so keen on saying.’ He jumps up, picks up a screwdriver and heads towards Daisy-Rose’s door. Ralph lifts his head from where he’s been dozing in the sun in case anything interesting like a walk is about to take place, then when he realises it’s not, he immediately drops it down again and goes back to sleep.
I stand up and collect Malachi’s coffee mug with the intention of taking it back to the office with my own, when something occurs to me and I hesitate.
‘Something up?’ Malachi asks, turning around just as he’s about to climb into Daisy-Rose.
How did he know I’d hesitated? He’d had his back to me just now.
‘No, it’s nothing – it can wait.’
‘Sure?’
I nod. ‘Yeah, everything is just fine. I’ll wash these mugs for you, then I’ll leave you be.’
‘Okie dokie!’ Malachi calls cheerfully. ‘You know where I am if you want to talk about anything, though.’
It’s only as I walk back towards the office that I realise what a strange contradiction this is. Not Malachi’s words – his offer had been genuine, of that I had no doubt. What’s strange when I think about it now is how reassuring the thought of unburdening myself to Malachi is. While in reality the prospect should feel odd, given that I hardly know him, it actually feels very comforting indeed to know he is there.
Twenty-One
‘Do you want the good news or the bad news first?’ Noah says, when I answer my ringing phone later that day. I’m just settling down to do some work in my favourite spot beside the French windows. I would have liked to be sitting outside in the sunshine that’s currently pouring down on to the balcony but my laptop just won’t play ball. As hard as I try I can never see the screen properly when I’m outside in the sun.
‘Er… good?’ I suggest, hoping this is the right way around.
‘Right, Oliver phoned me back and he did have the postcards like Alistair said. And the way he’s described them, it sounds like they’re definitely our cards.’
‘Yes! Go on. Wait, is the bad news he used them for découpage on his screen?’
‘Nope, that’s not the bad news – that news is he’s since got rid of them.’
‘Noo! Where?’
‘To an auction house in Penzance. He gave them the cards to sell with a job lot of other stuff.’
‘But… please tell me there’s a but?’
‘But the second bit of good news is the auction is this Saturday. So we can still bid on them!’
‘Yay!’ I fist-pump the air. ‘This is wonderful. We shouldn’t have any problem buying a few old postcards, should we?’
‘I doubt it, unless the cards are in a lot with something that’s very desirable. Oliver said it was just a load of old bits and pieces that he hadn’t used in past jobs.’
‘Great. Are you free to come to an auction this Saturday, though? Won’t it be one of your busiest days?’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll sort it. I haven’t come this far to bail on you now.’
‘Thank you, Noah.’
‘It’s my pleasure, Ana.’
It seems like for ever until Saturday comes.
I pass the time by working feverishly to get my latest project done before its deadline, popping up to see how Malachi is doing with Daisy-Rose, and generally enjoying the delights of seaside living – including morning and evening walks along the cliffs breathing in the sea air.
On one of those walks I bump into a tired and pale-looking Jake. He’s pushing a small blue pram as far as he can before the path becomes inaccessible to wheels, and walking next to him is a dog that looks like it might be some sort of basset-hound cross.
‘Hello!’ I wave cheerfully as they approach.
‘Hey, how’s it going?’ he whispers, nodding at the pram.
‘Whoops, sorry,’ I apologise, whispering now too. I bend down and stroke the dog.
‘It’s fine. I’m just being extra careful, that’s all. This one’s a terror for not sleeping. We find taking her out for long walks in the sea air the best way to get her to nod off and stay like that for a while! And Bill doesn’t mind, do you, boy?’
The dog looks up at Jake and pants his agreement. I stand up again and take a peek over the side of the pram. ‘She looks like butter wouldn’t melt,’ I say, seeing a fast asleep rosy-cheeked baby wrapped up in a pale yellow blanket.
‘Tell me about it. Poppy is exhausted, though – she’s barely getting any sleep at night. I try my best but I don’t quite have the right equipment for feeding Daisy-Rose, if you know what I mean.’
‘Has she tried expressing?’ I ask. ‘My friend had a baby that wouldn’t sleep too. She was like a walking zombie for months.’
That had been Daisy’s first son, Jacob. I’d tried to help her as best I could at the time, but I’d felt utterly useless.
‘Yeah, but madam here won’t take milk from a bottle! I never had this with my other two – they were angels compared to this – but maybe I’ve forgotten. Time does funny things to the mind. I have two older children,’ he explains, ‘from my first marriage. All grown up now, thank god. I don’t think I could have handled this and two young children!’
‘It is tough,’ I say, still thinking about Daisy.
‘Thank goodness we have Lou around – my aunt. She’s been a godsend to us both helping out. Anyway, enough of my woes. How’s your stay? Is the cottage behaving itself?’
‘The cottage is fab, thanks. Yes, everything is going very well. I’m really enjoying being here in St Felix.’
‘St Felix is gorgeous. I sometimes
think I don’t appreciate the town anywhere near enough. But that happens, doesn’t it, when you live somewhere, whereas you as a visitor see all its glory.’
‘I do indeed,’ I agree, looking at the view.
There’s a shuffling sound from inside the pram and Jake’s face turns even paler. ‘Got to go!’ he hisses. ‘I can’t have her waking yet. I need to let Poppy get some sleep!’
‘Go! Go!’ I say, laughing.
‘See you around!’ he whispers, and I watch him head back down the hill with Bill, furiously rocking the pram as he goes.
As I walk back down the same way at a more relaxed pace, my mind turns again to Daisy and her children.
Queen Charlotte’s Maternity Hospital, March 2011
‘He’s beautiful,’ I say to Daisy, as I stand by her bed in the maternity unit.
‘Would you like to hold him?’ Daisy asks. She looks weary, and there are dark blue-grey smudges under her eyes.
‘Sure.’ I hold out my arms, and Daisy places a heavy bundle in them.
‘He hardly stopped crying last night. The nurse had to come and take him off me for a bit so I could get some rest.’
‘He looks like a little angel right now.’ I stare at the baby in my arms, and for the first time ever when faced with a newborn baby I feel a swell of love.
‘Looks being the appropriate word! I’m kidding – I’m sure we’ll get along just fine when we get home, won’t we, Jacob?’
‘Ooh, is that what you’re calling him? Good name – solid.’
‘It’s after Peter’s grandfather but I quite like it too.’
‘Hello, little Jacob,’ I say softly, as the baby in my arms opens his eyes. He squints up at me and wiggles his tiny fingers. ‘I’m going to be your Aunt Ana.’
‘You’re going to be more than that, I hope,’ Daisy says, looking up at me. ‘You’re going to be his godmother too.’
So just when I was afraid we were going to grow even further apart now Daisy was married and had a child, instead I was pulled in even closer. And when Daisy had a second son two years later, I was asked to be godmother to little Harry too.
Even though Daisy was no longer with us, I would for ever be a part of her family, and for that I was truly grateful.
Twenty-Two
‘Ready?’ Noah asks on Saturday as we set off for the auction.
‘Yep. You?’
Noah nods. ‘Sure am!’
He sounds quite excited and I’m pleased. I loved Noah’s enthusiasm for this project. It made a change from Malachi’s unusually reserved comments about it all, but I couldn’t complain; his enthusiasm went into Daisy-Rose and for that I was very thankful.
‘Have you been to an auction before?’ Noah asks.
I look over at him in the driver’s seat. Today he’s wearing dark navy chinos, smart shoes and a white shirt with a tiny blue check running through it. It could only be described as smart casual, but it was very Noah.
‘Nope, never. I’m assuming you have, though.’
‘Yes, many times, it’s good fun. So what’s your budget for the cards?’
‘Er…’ I hadn’t really thought about it. I just desperately wanted to come away with the missing postcards. ‘I’m not sure really?’
‘We’ll need to agree a limit before our lot comes up, otherwise it’s quite easy to get carried away once you begin bidding.’
‘I just really want those cards, and I don’t mind if we have to pay over the odds to get them.’
Noah glances at me.
‘It won’t come to that, though, will it?’ I ask anxiously. ‘I mean who else is going to want some old postcards?’
‘You’d be surprised. The thing is we don’t know what else Oliver put in the auction with them. From what he said I don’t think it will be anything particularly sought after, just a few bits and pieces that he had cluttering up his office.’
‘Good.’
‘But auctions can be funny things,’ Noah continues. ‘The lots you think will sell for a good profit quite often don’t, and then things you have little hope for can go for a lot more than they’re worth if there are two or more people after them.’
‘Well, I’m prepared to bid higher than anyone else,’ I say with confidence. ‘We must get those cards, Noah. I’m absolutely certain they will fill in the missing gaps about Lou and Frankie. In fact, I know they will.’
We arrive in Penzance at the auction house, and pull up in the only free space available in the large car park.
‘Busy, isn’t it?’ I say, as we lock up the Land Rover and make our way towards the entrance.
‘I thought it would be. This is one of Cornwall’s biggest auction houses. I’ve bought and sold things here before and they usually get a good turnout.’
That thought doesn’t fill me with joy. The more people that were here, the more likely someone else would want to bid on my cards.
I smile to myself as we queue up at the reception desk to register. I was calling them ‘my cards’ now. I’d taken this project very much to heart, and I was determined to return these unique and special things to their rightful home.
‘Hello, Noah,’ the lady behind the desk says in a broad Cornish accent. ‘We haven’t seen you in a while, my love.’
‘Hello, Moira,’ Noah says, looking pleased she’d remember him. ‘No, it’s been some time since I was last here.’
‘After something special, are you?’
Noah shrugs. ‘We’ll see how it goes.’
Moira taps the side of her nose and winks. ‘You do that, my love.’ She checks Noah’s name off against a long list on her computer, then she scribbles a number on a card and passes it to him. ‘Here you go, my lovely, best of luck. But maybe you won’t be needing it – I see you’ve brought your own Lady Luck with you today.’ She smiles with curiosity at me.
‘Ana is just one of my customers,’ Noah insists, his neck reddening above his collar. ‘She’s looking for a few bits and pieces today too.’
‘Hi,’ I say, feeling a little awkward. I didn’t mind Noah referring to me as a customer, but I would have preferred it if he’d called me his friend instead.
‘Well, good luck to you as well, my dear. I hope you find something here you like today.’
Noah hurriedly pulls me away from the counter before I have a chance to reply to Moira.
‘Why did you do that?’ I ask, pulling my arm away from his hand.
‘Sorry, I didn’t want to seem rude, but it’s not a good idea to show too much enthusiasm for anything while you’re in here – if someone overhears you it might affect the bidding and I thought you might mention the cards.’
‘I might be a novice at this but I’m not that silly,’ I insist, even though he was right – I was about to tell Moira exactly what my interest was in today.
‘Sorry, my mistake.’
‘You don’t need to keep apologising. It’s fine, honestly. Should we take a look around and find our lot?’ I whisper the last part.
Noah nods.
We walk slowly around the various tables in the centre of the room, rifling through cardboard boxes filled with anything from vintage records and old books to china and costume jewellery. Each one is labelled with a small white sticker dictating its lot number.
‘Let’s try the rest of the room,’ Noah says, when we don’t find Oliver’s lot on the tables. ‘I wish Oliver had known what his number was going to be, then this would have been a lot easier.’
‘Nice pun,’ I say, tearing my eyes away from an old box of records.
‘What?’
‘A lot easier – I assumed you meant to say that.’
‘Oh… no, not really,’ Noah says, sounding distracted. ‘But I get it now, very good.’
We continue now around the edges of the room, where most of the furniture in today’s auction is located. We walk past cabinets, mirrors, chairs and even wardrobes, all with the same little white stickers on, but we don’t see any postcards. Just when I’m starting t
o wonder if the cards are actually here, we stumble upon an old wooden trunk tucked away in a corner. The lid of the trunk is open and as we both peer inside, we see a Tiffany-style lamp with a brightly coloured glass shade, a few small metal sculptures of people and some pieces of flowery china. Noah moves a few of the things aside so we can see what else is in there, and we find a bundle of garish-looking fabrics, an old battered teddy bear and a large ornate box covered in découpage that might once have been used for jewellery. ‘Bingo!’ Noah whispers, lifting the box from the trunk. ‘This must be it.’ He glances quickly at me before opening the lid.