‘Well, the day is over now.’
‘I wish it was. I’ve just been home and packed for the conference. I thought you were still at work, so I left you a note.’
She stifled a moan. The conference had slipped her mind. ‘But it’s your birthday. I was going to cook us a meal. I left you a message.’
‘My birthday is no big deal, I have one every year.’
‘You could have reminded me about the conference. You knew I was cooking tonight. Can’t you leave in the morning?’
‘No, it’s a pain in the arse driving through morning traffic, hoping I don’t get held up. Birmingham is a nightmare for traffic. My presentation is at ten o’clock. I booked the hotel room for tonight so I can go over my notes and then get a good sleep.’
She nodded and stepped back, heartsick at the thought of another lonely night. ‘So, you’re going right now? You can’t wait until later?’
‘Sorry, Lex. We’ll do something on Sunday night.’
‘What about tomorrow?’
‘I’ll be knackered after the conference and there’s a dinner on afterwards so I’ll stay the night so I can have a drink, relax a little.’
Blinking back more stupid tears, she forced a smile. ‘Of course. I hope it all goes well for you.’
‘Thanks. I’ll ring you tomorrow, okay? I’d better go.’ He kissed her quickly and climbed back into his car. ‘Don’t get caught for trespassing. That’s all I need.’
Lexi lowered her gaze. Was she only a hindrance to him now in his busy life? She watched him reverse the car and turn around. The low purr of the Jaguar’s engine disappeared behind the trees hugging the drive.
Letting out a deep breath, Lexi tried not to feel lonely. Dylan’s job was stressful, she knew that. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t have time to ask about her day or give her a proper kiss hello or goodbye. She swallowed the tears that clogged her throat. God, she never cried usually, but it’s all she did now. What was the matter with her lately?
The late sunshine enveloped the house in a golden glow. Again, it seemed to call to her, begging for attention. A path on the left of the drive looked inviting as it meandered through a small strand of poplars. Lexi grabbed her keys, locked the car and took off to explore again. She had nothing to rush home to now, and if she got caught for trespassing, then so be it.
The overgrown pathway brought her out on the far side of the grounds near the end of a small lake. She gazed over the water towards the back of the house and noticed a paved terrace area. From there the lawn then sloped down to the water. She’d not been around the back before and fell even more in love with the property. She could imagine the serenity of sipping a cool drink on a hot summer’s day and looking out over the lake.
Lexi stepped out along the bank. A lone duck swam by, its movement serene on the glassy, dark surface. This side of the lake was in shadow from large pine trees, and she stumbled on fallen pinecones hidden in the long grass. On the opposite side of the water were some small buildings, a garage, fruit trees in early blossom, and an overgrown vegetable patch, complete with a broken, rejected-looking scarecrow.
She wandered over to a narrow shed on her left and peered through its sole, dirty window. Unable to make out much in the dimness, she walked around to the front and was surprised when she was able to pull the bolt back on the door. Why didn’t people lock things?
A covered rowboat took up most of the space inside. She smiled, seeing herself rowing it on the lake. Growing more excited, Lexi edged around it to peer at the workbenches and the odd assortment of tools and useless things one found in abandoned sheds. It was like treasure hunting in an antique shop. She used to love doing that with her grandfather.
She glanced about and spied a dusty painting leaning against the wall. The scene was of a child and a brown dog. Behind the canvas were more paintings, some framed, some not. Lexi flicked through them. The ones that caught her attention she took out and set aside.
She looked for somewhere to sit and study the paintings. A small tin trunk wedged under a workbench seemed the only offering. Thinking it empty, she went to tug it out, but it remained fast.
Using both hands, she heaved it out and was showered in a puff of dust. Squatting down, she inspected the latch that was held tight with a small lock. ‘Why are you locked?’ she murmured. The shed was open to anyone passing by, yet this ugly little chest had a lock on it. The trunk was nothing special, plain and in parts rusted. No ornament or writing hinted at its use.
Intrigued, she grabbed a hammer from the workbench, but then hesitated. She had no right to open someone else’s property. Lexi closed her eyes momentarily. What was she thinking of breaking into the trunk? What am I doing? Never had she broken the law and here she was guilty of trespassing and breaking and entering! She looked around the rowboat as though expecting someone to jump out and arrest her.
Something inside urged her on. She knew she couldn’t stop now. Sucking in a deep breath, she bent and hit the lock hard. The ringing sound was loud in the quiet peacefulness of the garden. The metal dented and with another few solid whacks the lock gave.
Shivers of excitement tingled along her skin. Gently, she eased up the lid. A wave of staleness hit her, but she quickly forgot it as she examined the inside. A small tray filled the top space containing balls of twine, screwdrivers and a small trowel. A flicker of disappointment filled her. A toolbox. All that for a toolbox?
The top tray didn’t fit well and Lexi slipped her fingertips underneath it to lift it up. After placing it on the floor she stopped and stared. A piece of canvas covered the bottom and on lifting it up, a book was revealed. Delicately, worried it would disintegrate at her touch, Lexi carefully withdrew the book and blew the dust from the plain brown leather cover with no markings. She frowned and turned the book to read the spine: it too was bare.
She opened it to the first page and read:
So, you found it. I knew you would.
What you are about to read is a record of true events that happened to me.
Read with your heart. ~
Alexandria Jamieson, July 1st, 1945.
Hollingsworth House.
Goodness! This journal was written here at this house.
Amazed, Lexi sat on her bottom and crossed her legs, careless of spoiling her business suit. A spear of sunlight angled in through the shed’s small window and illuminated the page. She ran her fingers over the words, absorbing them, letting them enter her heart. Alexandria Jamieson – the writer had the same first name as her. The journal was written here at the house during the Second World War.
A shiver of excitement ran down her back. Swallowing, she turned to the next page and read:
From the first moment our eyes met, and he winked at me despite his pain, I was lost. I didn’t know it then, but the man who lay on the stretcher covered in blood, mud and the sorrows of war would be the only man I would ever love. The one man who would come to mean everything to me, in this life and beyond.
But I get ahead of myself.
I must start at the beginning.
Lexi gasped, having forgotten to breathe while reading. She cupped her hand to her mouth, speechless, aware of the enormity of the treasure that she had uncovered – a personal diary. In her hands she held the emotions, the fears and the very spirit of another woman from an era long gone. As someone who loved history, antiques and the mystique of the past, Lexi knew that such a diary was valuable, if not monetarily then at least for its archival value for historians.
A dog barked close by. Lexi jumped and listened as a man’s voice answered. Footsteps. Hurriedly, she placed the diary back in the trunk. Crouching, feeling like a criminal, she peered out of the window. A man threw a stick for a big black Labrador. They were walking away from the shed, heading towards the far end of the lake. Was he the owner of this wonderful house?
She waited until he was near the far boundary and the gap in the hedge and, as quickly as she could, she slipped from the shed, gently c
losed the door and shot the bolt home. She checked that the man hadn’t doubled back and noticed her, then she ran along the bank through a strand of birch trees and onto the path at the side of the house.
Back at her car, she fumbled with her keys until at last she turned the ignition and started the engine. Puffing, she didn’t look back as she drove away.
Her hands were still shaking as she let herself into her flat ten minutes later. Disgusted with her behaviour, she flung her laptop case and her bag none too gently onto the kitchen bench. Switching on the kettle, she leaned against the sink. What had she done? She’d nearly been caught breaking the law. And she was a solicitor! Hugging herself, she tried to calm down. It was all right, she’d not been seen.
The kettle boiled and switched itself off, but she ignored it. The diary’s contents plagued her. That short glimpse fuelled her imagination and sparked her curiosity. She had to return to the house. She must know more about the woman, Alexandria Jamieson, whose simple words “The one man who would come to mean everything to me, in this life and beyond” burned into her soul.
Those rich words carried a haunting feel to them. Perhaps she should have brought the diary with her, but that would have been stealing …
Lexi jumped when the phone rang. Lord, she had to get a grip. Rubbing her forehead, she picked up the phone. ‘Hello?’
‘Lexi, it’s Jilly. How are you?’
Smiling in response to her sister-in-law’s pleasant voice, Lexi sat on the new cream sofa she’d bought a few weeks ago, then stood immediately remembering her dusty bottom. ‘Hi, Jill. I’m fine. How are you and everyone?’
‘The same as always.’ Jilly laughed. ‘I’m ringing to wish the birthday boy a happy birthday.’
Lexi’s smile faded at the thought of Dylan being away again. ‘He’s not here. Gone to a conference in Birmingham.’
‘Well, that’s a pain. I thought you were cooking him a fancy dinner?’
‘So did I, but I forgot about the damned conference.’ Looking down at the dust on her skirt, Lexi checked the sofa for marks.
‘So you are all by yourself tonight then?’
‘Yes, tonight and tomorrow, too. There’s a dinner after the conference, so he’ll stay instead of driving.’
‘That’s crap. Come over to ours for the weekend. Leave now and we’ll have some drinks and watch a DVD or something. The girls miss you.’
‘I don’t know …’ the thought was tempting, but did she have the energy?
‘Oh, go on. It’s been ages since we’ve seen you. It’ll only take half an hour to get here. The girls will be so excited, and so will your brother. Gary was saying only yesterday that you’ve been a stranger for the last few months. In fact, we haven’t seen you since Christmas.’
‘I speak to you every week on the phone.’
‘I know, but it’s not the same. You and Dylan work too hard.’
Lexi glanced at the clock on the DVD player. Quarter to six. Suddenly the flat was too small, too quiet. ‘Okay. I’ll come over for the weekend. I’ll be there in an hour.’
‘Fantastic!’ Jilly squealed like one of her daughters. ‘Just bring clothes, nothing else. Don’t stop and buy food or anything like you usually do, and no sweets for the girls, they’re wound up enough without extra sugar.’
‘Then I won’t come.’
‘Oh, Lex—’
‘I’ll just get them something small. Smarties, or something.’
‘Keep it to something small.’
‘What’s for dinner?’
‘We are having takeaway, Indian or something. I’ll tell Gary to get extra. Drive carefully.’
‘See you in an hour. Bye.’ Lexi hung up and stared around the quiet sitting room. No, she didn’t want to spend the weekend here by herself, though she should. She’d spent plenty of money and time in creating a beautiful room. The furnishings were neutral colours of cream, beige and white, with splashes of brown and caramel. Dylan liked the sleek look of modern lines, something she didn’t always agree with or want, but it was his home too and so she’d decorated with his tastes in mind. Yet, funnily enough, she was the one who spent most of the time here. Dylan lived a large part of his life at the hospital.
She went into the bedroom they shared, a large room, dominated by the king size bed. Why did they have such a large bed? She shook her head. When they had bought it five years ago, not long after they were married, they’d laughed and rolled about on it like a couple of teenagers. Now, they were rarely in it together.
Lexi dismissed the depressing thoughts. She was going away for the weekend and refused to be down in the dumps. Two days of playing with her nieces, joking with her lovable brother and eating Jilly’s wonderful food would put her to rights again.
As she showered and changed, then packed her overnight bag, she made a mental list of things she’d need, and if at times her thoughts strayed to a certain diary in a boatshed, she did her best to ignore them.
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