A Postcard from Italy

by Alex Brown

  ‘That’s such a coincidence, as I actually live in Woolwich.’

  ‘Really? Well, I never,’ Ellis said, lifting his arms and turning his palms upward in a gesture of incredulity. ‘Perhaps you know the street where the house was. I have the details right here.’ And he quickly searched his phone, explaining that he’d made a note of all the information they held about the miniature watercolour on the auction house computer systems, just in case it proved useful while he was here. ‘Repository Road.’

  ‘Oh, that’s where the army barracks is. Maybe the artist was a soldier if the painting is dated 1943.’

  ‘Could be. A bundle of pencil drawings were also found there too … all with the same marking on, so we will need to work out how they’re all connected.’ Grace liked how he said ‘we’, as if they were already a team bound together in their quest to unravel the mystery of the forgotten items in unit 28. ‘Little is known about the artist, other than that they were reclusive and most prolific in the 1950s and 60s, as there are more pieces with the same marking on in private collections around the world, each one commanding significant sums at auction. But some of those paintings surfaced in America and then some later works were found in Italy. George Clooney is a big fan, which of course has helped drive collectability of the paintings.’

  ‘Wow! So you think the paintings in our storage unit are by the same artist?’

  ‘Well, I need to take a close look, but I’m hopeful,’ Ellis grinned, lifting his eyebrows.

  ‘And a recluse, you say.’ Grace was intrigued. ‘Does that mean nobody knows who the artist is? Rather like a Banksy of olden days?’

  ‘Yes. I guess so,’ he nodded. ‘Although there was rumour of the artist being of noble descent – a count, or was it a lord? It was definitely a title or prominence of some kind, but nothing has ever been proven so it could all be hearsay. But mystery surrounding an artist always adds a certain intrigue and premium to the value of each piece as it surfaces.’

  ‘How exciting. And Connie did live in Italy,’ Grace added. ‘I know that for sure from her diary which is dated 1955 … so the timing fits. Maybe she knew the artist and bought the paintings before they became valuable.’ Ellis nodded slowly, as if mooting the idea as a possible answer to the conundrum.

  ‘But how come the collection is here in the UK?’ he asked. ‘Why would she bring them all the way from Italy and put them in a storage unit in Greenwich, England? Surely she’d hang them on the walls of her home … don’t you think it seems odd to hide them away for all these years? Call me biased, but to me art is a joyful thing. Something to be treasured and enjoyed, not banished away.’ He shook his head, deep in thought.

  ‘I agree. But I’ve seen all sorts of things hidden away inside our storage units.’ She smiled, remembering the medals and the fossils.

  ‘Oh, I bet you have! So come on, tell me what’s the most bizarre thing you’ve ever found?’ he asked, putting his phone away in a pocket so as to give her his full attention.

  ‘Well, this isn’t bizarre, exactly, but it did make Larry and me stare in silence for a few minutes after unlocking the door to this particular unit … number 211. It’s stuck in my head ever since.’

  ‘Go on … what was in number 211?’ he prompted, widening his eyes and hanging on her every word.

  ‘A collection of prosthetic limbs! Which isn’t that unusual; but all of these ones were right legs, and in various sizes from tiny baby ones right up to adult man-size ones – luckily the owner turned up, after Larry sent the third payment reminder notice, and took them away, as we had no idea what we were going to do with them.’ They laughed together, and Grace liked how being here with Ellis made her feel. Light and relaxed. And she wondered if she might get to come to the café again before he had to leave for the next part of his European trip.

  ‘That’s too funny! I can just imagine Uncle Larry’s face on seeing all the legs. I bet it was a picture.’ And they laughed some more. ‘Well, thankfully it didn’t put you off opening abandoned units for ever more or we would never have discovered Connie’s intriguing collection. And I can’t wait to get inside the unit and take a look.’

  ‘Well, it’s very kind of you to come here and see for yourself,’ Grace said in a moment of exuberance. ‘I’ve grown quite fond of Connie, so it would mean a great deal to me to find out more about her life and what happened to her.’

  ‘Then it means a great deal to me too, Grace! I’ve really enjoyed being here in the café with you and I’m looking forward to us spending more time together on this.’ He nodded as if to punctuate his point, making Grace blush as she looked down into her now empty mug.

  Was he flirting?

  She’d been out of the loop for so long that she couldn’t really tell. And her and Phil had just kind of become a thing. There had never been any flirting as such … more a casual acceptance of two people walking home from the bus stop together. But then, suddenly, Cora’s words from last night were flying around inside her head again … Forgetful. Nosey. Rough-handed. Lazy. And then: he has a girlfriend, in America, you fool, and she’s bound to be smart and vivacious and beautiful so he’s hardly going to flirt with someone like me now, is he?

  She inhaled sharply and let out a quick breath to clear her head, determined to not let the millstone drag her down again and spoil the moment, for right now she did actually feel normal. She was out in a café with someone who knew nothing about her difficulties with anxiety and the challenges she dealt with at home, and it felt nice. In fact, it felt very nice indeed to be enjoying herself and participating in her own life for a change. And not waiting for Cora to bang on the flaming ceiling any minute now and bellow her demands.

  ‘Me too,’ she said softly, ‘I’m looking forward to it as well.’ She didn’t look him in the eye, but she’d work up to it for sure. Today was just the beginning as, in that moment, she made a promise to herself to make more of an effort, knowing that she was ready to break out of her self-imposed confinement. Even if it was only to come to the café now and again for a hot chocolate, and maybe Larry would be OK with her bringing her laptop and doing the invoicing spreadsheet while she was here? It would make a change from just being at home or at work, plus she couldn’t really see another way as she could hardly stop going home at lunchtimes to give Cora her lunch and a comfort break. And she was also going to broach the topic with Cora of having a weekend off to go to the spa with Phil. After all, her mother had said she should make more of an effort with this one …

  ‘Awesome,’ Ellis said, then after clearing his throat he carried on. ‘Unravelling the provenance of an interesting piece of art is the very best part of my job. And there are ten paintings in Larry’s email, so if they are all genuine … then we need to hurry up and find Connie’s next of kin, however far removed, and break the good news, because the Guggenheim – and George Clooney – are bound to be interested for sure.’

  ‘Good news?’

  ‘That’s right. The collection could be worth a considerable amount of money if sold to the right buyer. Of course, I’ll need to establish authenticity and ownership of title.’

  ‘Title?’

  ‘Yes, we need to be sure the paintings were Connie’s … that they are her possessions to be inherited, and weren’t stolen or acquired by some other criminal activity.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure that isn’t the case,’ Grace quickly intervened, ‘Connie doesn’t strike me as being that kind of person; her diary is so open and honest, and well … it’s very romantic. Romantic people aren’t usually criminals, are they?’ Ellis smiled at her, as if amused by her rationale. ‘And we know now that she had a daughter, Lara. I wonder what happened to her?’

  ‘I guess we have to assume that she died,’ Ellis said, ‘and that’s why the Bona Vacantia department got involved. Although, strictly speaking, everything in the unit belongs to the storage company now – it’s in the Ts and Cs of the contract in the event of non-payment – but I’m sure Larry wouldn’t want t
o deny someone their rightful inheritance, if it turns out that there is a long-lost living relative somewhere.’

  ‘Which, unfortunately, is looking unlikely.’ Grace sighed. Betty’s friend, Maggie, had managed to find out that Connie did indeed die intestate and with no living relatives that anyone was aware of. And adverts had been placed in newspapers but nobody had come forward, not even to contribute to the cost of the funeral. That had been paid for by the state and then recouped from the proceeds of the sale of Connie’s home. The balance of which, some £750,000, was sitting in a government bank account somewhere, waiting to be claimed. Apparently, the funds would be paid out, with interest added, if they were successfully claimed by a relative within twelve years.

  ‘But not impossible!’ Ellis said. ‘We know that Connie lived in Italy for a while so there could be family members there who she didn’t keep in touch with when she came back to London. If the paintings are genuine, then there are other ways to search for relatives. We have specialist law firms back home that hunt for heirs, especially if there is a large inheritance at stake. And £750,000 is a lot of money! I’m sure you have the same here in the UK.’

  ‘Ah, yes my mother watches that Heir Hunters TV programme,’ Grace told him, remembering when Cora went through a phase of sitting up all night watching back-to-back episodes with the volume up so high that she’d had to wear earplugs when trying to get some sleep.

  ‘That’s it.’

  ‘So how will we know if the paintings – or indeed all the possessions – truly belonged to Connie?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, it’s tricky without a will that specifically mentions each item in the storage unit, but if we can find some mention of them in her papers or diaries, and receipts would be useful, you know, if she bought them from a gallery perhaps … Or photos of her with the items showing in the background. Some connection is always helpful.’ He creased his forehead, as if pondering on all the possibilities.

  Grace thought about what he had said as she took a mouthful of her hot chocolate. ‘Penny for them?’ Ellis asked, ‘that’s what you say here, don’t you?’

  ‘Ah, yes, we do,’ she laughed, touched by his efforts at Britishisms, ‘although I haven’t heard anyone say it for a long time … I was just thinking about Connie, and wondering why she didn’t sell the paintings, if they are worth a lot of money? Her neighbour told us that she died alone and in poverty …’ Grace shook her head. ‘Why would she struggle like that when she had all those valuable possessions in the storage unit right there at her disposal?’

  ‘Yes, it’s very sad, but not uncommon. I’ve seen it several times … usually the older person is reluctant to dip into their relatives’ inheritance, taking pride in being able to leave as much as possible to their children or grandchildren.’

  ‘Interesting. Then perhaps Connie was doing just that … kindly leaving everything for someone else to benefit from, at the expense of her own wellbeing.’

  ‘It’s odd then, that she didn’t leave a will. Maybe she simply didn’t know the true value of the paintings?’ he suggested. ‘It could be as you said, that she bought them back in the 1950s or 1960s and really had no idea … it is possible, and I’m looking forward to finding out.’

  ‘And what about the jewels? They could be costume and worth nothing at all, of course, but they are very realistic looking … what if the stones are precious diamonds and rubies? Wouldn’t they be worth a lot of money too?’ Grace wiped her mouth on a napkin before summoning a modicum of courage to look Ellis directly in the eyes. He smiled and held her gaze momentarily.

  ‘Jewels?’ He lifted one eyebrow.

  ‘Yes, there was a big leather jewellery box in the unit, crammed full of exquisite bangles, necklaces, earrings and brooches.’

  ‘And where is the box now?’ Ellis leant forward eagerly.

  ‘Larry locked it away, to be on the safe side.’

  ‘I’d like to take a look, if I may?’

  ‘Sure … do you know much about jewellery then?’ she asked, remembering what Larry had said.

  ‘Well, I’m no expert; art is my thing. But I did spend some time covering for a colleague a few years back in the Fine and Antique Jewel department.’

  ‘Oh, does that mean you have a contact who might be able to help us with the jewellery too?’

  ‘Yep. It sure does,’ he nodded enthusiastically, and then quickly drained the last of his coffee. ‘So I think it’s about time we finished up here and headed back … because the mystery of unit 28 just got a whole lot more intriguing.’

  ‘So, tell me again what happened?’ Jamie handed Grace a mug of tea before sitting in an armchair opposite her.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, her voice wobbly as she took the mug and cupped her hands around it, drawing comfort from the heat. She glanced up at the ceiling above them where Cora was watching a game show on the TV with the volume at such a deafening level that Jamie had heard it through the adjoining wall and had come round to see what was going on. She had told him about Phil and the spa weekend and how she had broached the subject with Cora, who had flatly refused to even consider it before launching into a long tirade about how selfish Grace was. How she always had been and so, ‘It’s no surprise you’d be wanting to go off gallivanting with that poor man of yours and abandon me without so much as a backward glance to fend for myself for a whole weekend.’ When Grace had tried to point out that it had been Cora who had said she must make more effort with this one or risk being all alone, Cora had screeched, ‘Dropping your knickers in a cheap hotel like a common slut isn’t making an effort. Sure it isn’t.’

  Grace took another sip of the tea.

  ‘Do you mind if we don’t go over it all again?’ She glanced at Jamie, her cheeks still flaming with the humiliation of what her mother had called her.

  ‘Of course not, love.’ He glanced up at the ceiling before adding, ‘Hang on a moment,’ and after going out to the hallway he yelled, ‘Cora, that’s enough. Turn it down now. Please.’ And as if by magic, she did. ‘Right, that’s better. I can actually hear what you are saying now,’ Jamie continued, turning his attention back to Grace. ‘I just thought it might help to let it all out. You looked pretty shaken up when you answered the door to let me in; your face was ashen,’ he said, coming over to sit next to her on the sofa. He placed a reassuring hand on her arm.

  ‘That’s because after the bust-up with Mum, I had just come off the phone from calling Phil back to let him know that it wasn’t going to be possible for me to go on the spa weekend. You know, I had even made my mind up to make some changes in my life. I was actually feeling excited at the prospect of a weekend off and going somewhere new … that’s a massive deal for me!’

  ‘I know it is, darling. And I’m proud of you … when I said you’d be golden in no time, I never imagined you’d be jaunting off to swanky spa hotels at the drop of a hat,’ he laughed, kindly. ‘So good for you! Sounds like the old Grace that we know and love is coming back sooner than we anticipated.’

  ‘Hmm, well she would have been if that …’ she paused and raised a pointed index finger at the ceiling before adding, ‘rude, ungrateful … cow-bag hadn’t ruined it all,’ in a whisper.

  ‘Ooooh, Grace! You are definitely coming back to us … I haven’t heard you use the “c” word in ages,’ he laughed, shaking his head in mock disapproval. ‘Go on, say it again … it’ll make you feel a whole lot better, I promise.’

  ‘Oh don’t.’ She tried not to smile. ‘I really shouldn’t complain about her, I wouldn’t even have anywhere to live if she hadn’t let me come back home when I needed to after what happened with Matthew.’

  ‘Yes you would!’ Jamie nodded firmly. ‘I have a perfectly good spare bedroom next door that you could have moved into.’

  ‘The one with a lodger in?’

  ‘Well, err … yes …’ He stalled and then quickly added, ‘But he could easily sleep on the sofa.’

  ‘No he couldn’t, not when he’s paying y
ou rent. I couldn’t do that; it wouldn’t have been fair. Anyway, it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t have one lousy weekend off.’

  ‘True. And when were you supposed to be going?’

  ‘Quite soon, it was going to be a treat for my birthday,’ she told him, and then added, ‘Well, one I’d have to pay for myself,’ letting her voice fade away on remembering Phil’s ‘if we go halves’ statement.

  ‘Your birthday?’ Jamie said, sounding surprised, but with a dash of confusion on his face.

  ‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten,’ Grace sighed and looked upwards in mock despair. ‘We always get pizza and play charades and drink cheap cider. Not that we have to do that, of course. I guess it is a bit childish with us being actual adults now, and not geeky teenagers any more, with no other friends apart from each other.’

  ‘Stop it,’ Jamie said abruptly. ‘Of course I haven’t forgotten, so don’t be talking yourself down. Your birthday is important. It’ll be wonderful, I promise you.’

  ‘Wonderful is pushing it a bit … it’s only pizza from Gino’s round the corner with cheap cider, but thanks. You know, I’d be lost without you.’ And she smiled ruefully.

  ‘And stop that too, Grace. You have a lot to contend with,’ he motioned with his head up at the ceiling, ‘and I reckon you’re doing pretty well keeping on top of it all by yourself.’ Silence between them followed. ‘And what was that thwack on the wall earlier?’ he added to change the subject.

  ‘Oh, that must have been when she threw the TV remote control at me – it narrowly missed my head and hit the wall,’ she told him, staring at the swirly patterned carpet that had been on the floor since she was a small child. The same carpet she had stared at when Mum was frequently giving Dad what for … screaming at him for whatever perceived misdemeanour he had committed that day.

  ‘Grace, I’m so sorry. Come here.’ And he moved closer to give her a hug. ‘I’ll talk to her,’ he said, rubbing her back.

  ‘I don’t think there’s any point in doing that, Jamie. She was adamant. I didn’t even get as far as discussing possible care options, or telling her that Bernie, Sinead and Mikey have all offered to pay for someone to help out. And I didn’t dare tell her about Mikey’s suggestion to put her in a home … as that would have tipped her over the edge for sure.’