a big guy, but he must be delicate with his movements as he handles the case as though it’s made of glass.
‘Wow,’ I say staring at it disbelievingly. ‘It’s beautiful.’
It is; he’s polished it until the walnut is shining like glass. It looks as though it has just been newly crafted rather than restored to its former glory. Gingerly, with bated breath, I lift the lid and inside the small sections are revealed, all fitted neatly back together.
‘That compartment at the back is most unusual. Has a secret door.’ I step back as he carefully presses on the bottom of the case and the panel slides back. ‘It’s not unheard of for these nineteenth-century cases to have a hidden compartment in them. Shame there wasn’t something in there.’
‘Maybe there was,’ I say with a smile.
Bertie is waiting out the front of his house as I arrive at 7 p.m. as planned. Tilly appears at his feet, her tail wagging like a banner. She is totally at home here already, and she gives me an ecstatic welcome. By the front gate, Mavis is perching at an acceptable distance, on the wall. Jack is obviously really efficient when he gets going. I smile at her. ‘Hello, Mavis, did Tilly give you a welcome?’
‘Yes she’s a darling,’ she says, ‘gave me a paw very politely.’
Bertie looks at the carefully wrapped package in my arms. ‘Is it mended?’ he asks eyeing it impatiently.
‘Yes it is,’ I say, ‘and I think Chris has done an incredible job.’ Delicately I unwrap the case and place it gently down on a small table Bertie has put out ready. ‘What do you think?’
Bertie stands and stares at the writing case for a moment. ‘My gosh, Sophia, it’s as though you’ve turned back the clock.’ He walks forward and reverently touches the shiny wood, feeling with his roughened fingers along the new but carefully matched hinges. He opens it and peers with pleasure at the fixed compartments ready for letters and envelopes. ‘I shall put them back in there,’ he says. ‘It will be a pleasure to restock the letters and stamps, just as it was when Elsie was using it.’ He looks at me with shining eyes. ‘She would be as pleased as punch to see this restored to its old beauty.’
‘She’ll be looking down,’ says Mavis with certainty.
‘That she will,’ he agrees. ‘Now …’ He brushes away a couple of stray tears that have trickled down his wind-roughened cheeks. ‘Show me where this little hidey hole is then, love.’
I wait for him to step back a couple of metres, then press on the small panel at the base of the case and obediently the panel slips back to reveal Elsie’s letter just as it was when I had discovered it.
Bertie puts out a shaking hand and slides out the letter, gazes at it for a second and then opens it up, the sight of the familiar handwriting bringing more tears to his eyes. ‘It’s as though she’s just finished writing it,’ he says.
‘You go in, love, and read it. We’ll wait,’ says Mavis kindly.
As though in a dream Bertie walks in, Tilly at his heels, and he shuts the door. I’m so glad he’s got such a lovely little dog; she’ll look after him.
For a moment we both look at each other. ‘I hope he’s okay with this and it doesn’t upset him too much,’ I say at last.
‘It’ll be the making of him,’ Mavis says with much more confidence than I feel. ‘You’ll see. I knew that – and so did Elsie, when she asked me to send the other letter to Flora.’
It takes me a moment to register what she’s said. ‘You? But why? When did you send it?’
Mavis laughs. ‘All these questions. When she knew she was becoming more unwell, Elsie gave me the letter for safekeeping. She said she’d written one for Bertie, but she was in two minds about giving it to him. So she gave me one, which she asked me to send to Flora when the time was right.’
‘So what made you send it now?’
‘Elsie died sooner than we all expected. So I kept the letter as she asked – Bertie was in no state to read it then. I bided my time and then during this lockdown, knowing how lonely Bertie has been, I realised it was now he needed to hear about Flora. I had no idea you had found the other letter.’