Sealed with a Secret

by Lisa Schroeder

  I wish she’d take a gap year,” I heard my dad say to my mum as I approached the front room. “What’s the hurry anyway?”

  Great, I thought. More Alice and university talk. Just what we need.

  “Peter, we’ve been over this,” Mum said. “Alice has said a gap year doesn’t interest her. And if there isn’t anything she’d love to be doing for a year before beginning university, then what’s the point, really? Generally, kids who take gap years want to travel.”

  “Or they need to work to make money,” Dad said. “Sometimes I wonder if we should press the issue a bit more with her.”

  “She’ll get financial aid,” Mum said. “Some scholarships, hopefully. And there are always loans. I just thought we’d have more money for the travel that will be necessary for flying her back and forth during holidays.”

  Alice had applied to a number of top schools in America, where she planned on studying pre-med. Her number-one choice was the University of Southern California. She wouldn’t hear back for another month or so as to where she’d be going, but with her outstanding grades, there was no doubt she’d be getting in somewhere.

  I was about to clear my throat, to let them know I was there, since I seemed to be invisible a lot of the time these days, but I didn’t get a chance. Alice came barreling past me. “Is it too late for me to apply to Cornell?” she asked. “It’s in New York.” She groaned as she closed her eyes briefly, like she was in pain. “I can’t believe I didn’t apply to any schools in New York.”

  “Sweetheart, you really shouldn’t choose a college solely because of a boy you’ve known only briefly,” Dad said.

  “I’m not, Dad! It’s a really good school.”

  “Is this going to take a while?” I asked with a sigh. “Because I’ll go sit in my room and wait if it is.”

  “No,” Dad said. “We’re leaving now. Alice, we’ll have to discuss this later; I’m sorry.”

  Dad gave Mum a quick kiss good-bye and then led us around back where the wagons are stored to transport items between the shop and home. It was a cool and cloudy morning, pretty typical April weather, as the three of us trudged down the sidewalk pulling our wagons of antiques. The Little Shop of Treasures isn’t too far from where we live.

  “I don’t know why you’re making us come with you,” Alice said as we weaved around a steady stream of people coming out of a café. “You get along fine without us while we’re in school.”

  “I can use all the help I can get today,” Dad replied as he gave a wave to a man setting a sign outside his shop. “It’s a lot of work cleaning up new pieces, adding them to the inventory, and tagging them before they’re put on display.”

  He’d brought home two large bags of items, which we’d carried on to the Chunnel with us in Paris. I’d told him he should have shipped the stuff home, but he’d said he didn’t want to wait for all of it to arrive. When Alice and I were younger, Dad took these trips on his own. We were always so excited to see what he brought home for us. It was almost as fun as Christmas, as he pulled items from his bag and handed them over.

  One time, when he came home from a trip, he’d handed Alice a six-inch ceramic figurine of a girl with golden hair wearing a long, mint-green dress with white-and-gold accents and a matching hat, carrying a dainty little basket. I thought she was the most beautiful figurine I’d ever seen. When he handed me my gift, a vintage toy horse, I had to blink back the tears because I was so disappointed. I wanted that ceramic figurine he’d given Alice. Somehow I managed a polite thank-you. But Alice saw right through me.

  “Dad?” she’d asked. “Is it all right if Phoebe and I trade? I think she’d rather have this figurine, and I’d much rather have the pretty horse.”

  Dad had simply shrugged and told us it was fine with him, if that’s what we both wanted. I’d flung my little arms around Alice’s neck and hugged her as I blinked back happy tears.

  If that happened today, I thought, she’d probably ask if she could have both the figurine and the horse and leave me with nothing.

  Now Alice prodded him in regard to the lot of antiques he’d brought home. “Are you disappointed you didn’t find anything amazing?”

  “I try to keep my expectations low,” Dad replied, “but my optimism high. Which means I’m always hoping I might find something great, but I never really expect it. If that makes sense.”

  “Dad?” I asked.

  “Yes?”

  “Does it happen very often?”

  “Does what happen very often?”

  “You know, finding the painting or the vase worth a half a million pounds?”

  He gave me a tiny little smile. “Not nearly often enough. But that’s partly what makes those things so valuable.”

  I thought of the compact in my bag, and for a moment, I was tempted to share it with them. But I wanted to know more about the item first, if possible. Besides, I liked having a secret that was all mine and no one else’s. It made me feel important. Special. I hadn’t felt that way much lately, what with my parents being so consumed with Alice’s university stuff.

  We walked in silence for a little while until Alice let out a heavy sigh. “Do you think Justin misses me as much as I miss him?”

  “How am I supposed to know?” I replied. “Why don’t you ring him and find out?”

  “Because I don’t want to be the annoying, needy girl. I emailed him as soon as we got home, but I haven’t heard from him yet. Unfortunately, some people don’t check their email very often. I need to wait for him to respond, as difficult as it might be.”

  Did she really believe that was the reason, or was she just telling herself that to make herself feel better? It seemed to me like if he missed her as much as she missed him, he would have replied immediately.

  I stifled a yawn. “I think you need to try to take your mind off of Justin. How about you try to not talk about him for the next few hours? Or give us a real treat and try for all day.”

  She stopped in her tracks, her brown eyes glaring at me. “Phoebe, you are so mean.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s twice today you’ve said that. Can’t you see that I’m trying to help you?”

  She took off in a huff, rushing past me, her brown ponytail bobbing about in such a way it reminded me of a squirrel’s tail. “But you’re not,” she called back at me. “If you wanted to help me, you’d let me talk about him as much as I like.”

  “Fine, Alice. Talk about him and be miserable all day if that’s what you want. See if I care.”

  She slowed down a bit, and I caught up to her. When I glanced over, I noticed she was biting her bottom lip, as if trying to keep back the tears. I quickly decided that if she started crying there, in the middle of the sidewalk for the world to see, I would cross the street and pretend I’d never seen her before.

  “You don’t understand,” she said as we walked together again. “How could you? You’re only twelve. I feel like I might have met the person who’s meant to be my one true love, and now I may never see him again.”

  I couldn’t let it go. I stopped and faced her. “Alice. True love? What a bunch of rubbish. You only knew him for three days!”

  She looked like she wanted to tear into me, but Dad, who had been walking ahead of us the entire time, turned and glared at us. “Girls. Please. That’s enough. It’s just two more blocks and then we’ll be at the shop. How about we keep our thoughts to ourselves for now? All right?”

  “Fine,” Alice said, her face hard and cold.

  “Perfect,” I said, because honestly, her love life was about the last thing I wanted to discuss.

  Going to work with Dad used to be fun for us. If only she’d start acting like a regular person again. Someone I’d actually want to be around. Of course, Dad had said her behavior was all completely normal, but I just didn’t see how that could be true. We’d always gotten along so well. And now … ugh. I could hardly stand to be around her for ten minutes.

  The more I thought abou
t it, the sadder I became. I wanted to fix things between us, but how? How could I do that when it seemed all we did was argue?

  I vowed then and there to find a way. There had to be something I could do.

  When we stepped inside The Little Shop of Treasures, the familiar smell of musty old stuff combined with Mum’s favorite floral air freshener made me smile. Even if I find shopping for antiques frustrating sometimes, I do love this cute little shop. For a while, Dad tried to keep things categorized—a section for dishes, another for clocks, one for figurines, etc. But eventually, as he acquired more and more pieces, the place kind of took on a life of its own, and now, there is no rhyme or reason to what goes where, and it’s so much more fun that way.

  There’s lots of old furniture scattered about—chairs, hutches, bureaus, and tables. Jewelry is locked up in a glass case by the cash register, along with a large selection of coins and some old pocketknives. Pictures are hung on the walls.

  He bought the business when I was six, so I was old enough to understand that the vintage toys he brought into the shop weren’t to be played with. Still, they’ve always been my favorite things to look at—old cars and double-decker buses, dolls and action figures, wooden blocks and spinning tops. When I was eight, I fell in love with a really old stuffed little bear, and I couldn’t stop talking about him. I named him Nicky, because he wore a pair of red knickers and I thought that was so funny. For Christmas that year, Dad wrapped Nicky up and gave him to me. I still have him in my room, on a shelf.

  When we stepped through the front door, Dad flipped the sign in the front window so it read OPEN. Then he turned and stroked his mustache as he surveyed the place.

  “Everything all right, Dad?” I asked.

  “Yes. Just fine. Looks like Martin sold the cherry curio last week while we were away. I wonder how much he fetched for it.”

  Martin is Dad’s one part-time employee. He’s in his sixties and he absolutely loves old things, as well as chitchatting with people. Dad has said a number of times he doesn’t know what he’d do without Martin. It’s because of him that Dad is able to travel to Paris a couple of times a year to look for new antiques.

  “Okay,” Dad said, “let’s get these wagons unloaded straight away.”

  We headed toward the inventory room at the back of the shop. There’s a desk with a computer and a couple of tables and chairs, as well as a sink and cleaning supplies. While Dad cleared away some of the clutter, Alice and I began setting boxes onto the tables. Almost everything was in a box to keep the items as protected from damage as possible.

  The bell above the door jingled, alerting us to a customer, so Dad hurried out. As soon as he was gone, Alice leaned against one of the tables and pulled out her phone.

  “Hooray,” she said, “Kiera’s texted that she’s back from holiday. I’ve missed her so much.” She motioned toward the back door. “I’m going to step outside and give her a ring.”

  As soon as I was alone, I went to the computer and turned it on. While I waited for it to power up, I took the compact out of my pocket. I was so curious how much it might be worth. A hundred pounds? A thousand? Or maybe I was completely wrong about the whole thing, and it was only worth what I’d paid for it. I didn’t think that could be true, but I was no expert, so anything was possible.

  I peeked out the window to check on Alice. She was talking up a storm, her free hand waving around. Poor Kiera was probably getting an earful about Justin. Well, better her than me.

  Returning my attention back to the compact, I opened it. Inside, there was a mirror on the top half, and on the bottom, a little tray for holding powered makeup and an applicator. But here, there was no makeup. Instead, there was a black-and-white photo of a girl who had chin-length dark hair with tight curls around the bottom half. She wore a sweater with a blazer over it, and to me, her face looked sad, since she wasn’t smiling.

  I’d seen the photo before, when I’d opened up the case to see what was inside after I’d returned to our hotel in Paris. But it was only now that I noticed something underneath the photo—a neatly folded piece of stationery.

  I heard footsteps coming my way, so I opened the top desk drawer and threw everything in it before I sat down in front of the computer.

  “Where’s Alice?” Dad asked when he stepped into the room.

  I clicked on the inventory software icon to open it. “Outside. Talking to Kiera on her phone.”

  “You sure you don’t mind her doing that? I mean, she’ll be back to help you, right?”

  “Once she tells Kiera all about her broken heart, yes, I’m sure she’ll be back to help. Meanwhile, I quite like the peace and quiet.”

  Dad chuckled. “Okay, then. I’ll be up front if you need me for anything.”

  I pretended to be concentrating on the computer program. “Mm-hm,” is all I said.

  After he left, I checked the window again. Alice could come in at any time, but for now, she seemed engrossed in conversation with her friend.

  I dashed back to the desk drawer and pulled out the folded piece of paper. I’m pretty sure I didn’t let out a single breath as I read the one-page letter written in cursive handwriting.

  September 28, 1941

  Dear Kitty,

  I can’t believe it’s now been two years since we’ve seen you. Mama, Papa, and I, we miss you so. But as long as the war rages on, they believe you are better off staying with your evacuee host family there in the peaceful countryside. Enclosed is a picture of me, taken recently. I know you wanted to see me in my ARP uniform, but hopefully you will understand that I only want to wear that thing when I absolutely have to.

  Don’t laugh, but my friend Mary Jane has a great-grandmother who believes in magic and spells. I asked her for a spell that might bring two people together when there is distance between them. She gave me this list of activities I must do, telling me it works for distance between two people in more ways than one. Kitty, please believe me when I tell you I’m trying to do everything on it so we can once again be together as the loving sisters we once were. Cross your fingers it works!

  Find the boy who will always be a boy and circle it three times.

  Leave an invisible handprint at the place where opera singers once performed before a fire changed everything.

  There are four corners of the square, but only three are occupied. Visit the empty space, place a coin, and make a wish.

  Close your eyes and hold your breath as you walk through the door of this church with a crypt, beneath a clock and a steeple.

  Blow a kiss through the window of the Indian restaurant where Winston Churchill once dined.

  Wave to the songbirds and woodpeckers who come here to visit the dead while taking in the spectacular view.

  A lion waits for you above a tea shop. Leave him a gift in the hollow pillar.

  Your loving sister,

  Sheila

  The makeup compact I’d bought that might be worth a nice amount of money was suddenly so much more.

  A letter over seventy years old?

  A girl living with an evacuee host family?

  An ARP uniform?

  A spell to bring two people together?

  It was all a bit strange but also really amazing. Alice had done a big project on the Blitz a few years back, and she’d asked me to help glue photos on a poster board for her. Before helping her, I’d known that the Blitz was when Nazi Germany bombed us for almost a year during World War II. Everyone in London grows up knowing about the Blitz. But I remember learning some things I hadn’t known before. Like, I hadn’t realized that in an effort to keep millions of children safe, they were sent away to live in the countryside or even to other countries.

  It was almost hard to imagine, but I could tell from Sheila’s letter that her sister Kitty was one of those children.

  I desperately wanted to read the letter again, more slowly this time, but since Alice could walk in at any moment, I decided the best thing to do was to shove the entire lot
back into my coat pocket, where it remained for the rest of the day. Alice came back inside shortly after I read the letter, so I’d done the right thing.

  While I typed the new stuff into the program on the computer, I managed to sneak in a search for a Cartier makeup compact, but nothing came up. That told me we’d never had one like it in the store. I wasn’t sure where else to look to figure out its value. Dad had books and certain online sites he used, but I didn’t really know about any of that.

  Still, while I might not have known how much the compact was worth, I was determined to find out more about that strange letter and what it all meant. For lunch we had Marmite sandwiches that Mum had made (no cooking required, thankfully) and while we ate, I decided to pick Dad’s brain a bit.

  “Dad?”

  “Yes?”

  “When the children got sent away, before the Blitz, did they have to go all by themselves?”

  He stopped chewing and set his sandwich down. “That’s a rather odd question to ask, Phoebe. What made you think of it?”

  I hadn’t expected him to question me about my question. I had to think fast. “Oh, well, when we were traveling home on the Chunnel, I heard an old woman saying something about living with an evacuee host family when she was a child. And it just got me thinking about it. I meant to ask you earlier, and then I forgot. I’m simply curious about it, that’s all.”

  This answer seemed to satisfy him, as he nodded his head and leaned back in his chair, stroking his mustache a bit. “I see. Well, yes, Operation Pied Piper was the project’s name, and you’re correct—if children were old enough, they were sent away without their parents. Some teachers went along, however, as supervisors.”

  “How old were the children?” I asked, as I wondered how old Kitty might have been.

  “I’m not sure exactly,” he replied. “I’m guessing from the very young, who went with their mothers, all the way up to fourteen or fifteen. At a certain age, the older children, as teenagers, could go to work to help the war effort.”