Unforgettable (Gloria Cook) - By Gloria Cook Page 0,55
to the daylight. She was transported back to her childhood when she had played explorer games with her siblings and cousins. Aunt Dorrie and Uncle Greg had joined in and she and the others had learned the exciting remarkable facts about famous pioneers, pirates and buccaneers. She must be careful not to unleash dangerous creepy-crawlies, spiders and beetles – not because she was afraid of them, but because they could leap out and strike her down with poison or a nasty skin disease. And curses! She would say a quick prayer before she opened each box in case an ancient curse had been uttered over something inside. She had laughed at herself about that, but as Aunt Dorrie might say, ‘You never know . . .’
Jack had brought her here to his home the first day. ‘You know the farm well, Verity, but did you ever see the house?’ he had asked, after he had handed her out of his motor car. ‘It was built roughly about the same time as Sunny Corner. When you come to think of it, it’s strange that a Newton and a Barnicoat have never entered into marriage. The house is not very impressive but rather it strives for comfort. It’s what my forebears plumped for after first establishing the land and trotting off to explore the world and enduring similar deprivations to the natives. So, no extravagant front steps, just the doorstep, granite, of course, and good and wide. Plain front porch but the windows give a good view of the stream garden. You must wander about outside at will, Verity, you’ll find it very tranquil. My family, and that includes me, have never spent a lot of time here really but it’s always been the perfect place to retreat to.’
‘I’ve only caught glimpses of the house while playing or out riding. I always thought it looked cosy and sheltered among the trees and the usual exotic tall bushes found around big houses.’ Verity had clutched her hands together at her chest. ‘I can’t wait to see inside the house and especially inside all your father’s boxes.’
‘Where would Cornwall be without its gentleman’s glut of rhododendrons and camellias?’ Jack answered, as if thinking about it for the first time. ‘My great-grandfather fretted about the lack of late-summer colour so he was responsible for the borders of hydrangea, hypericum and heathers and the rest. My favourites are the heathers, all types and colours. I’ve added many of them myself. As for inside, there’s a downstairs cloakroom so I’ll ask you to keep to the ground floor, but do make use of the drawing room for your comfort. Cathy, the maid, will bring you meals and tea trays but feel free to ring for anything you want at any time.’
So I’m not allowed to wander upstairs, Verity had thought, that is a bit mysterious. Has he anything to hide? Then she told herself not to be so daft. It was his house, his private domain. No one wanted others to intrude on their bedrooms. ‘You didn’t mention what you’ve hired me for, Jack. Aren’t you at all curious about your father’s finds?’
‘I was years ago. I made to open a box once and my father lashed out at me and ordered me to never touch them again. Since then I’ve never really cared about what is in those boxes.’ Jack had shrugged his shoulders, but Verity had seen that he was still upset by the incident. ‘You may have heard my father was a very hard man.’
‘Aunt Dorrie has mentioned Mr Randall was famous for his quick temper.’
‘That’s an understatement, but anyway, he died before he’d opened his stuff and I suppose it’s time it was unpacked. I don’t want to leave it to the next generation. I’ll show you to the library in a while, but first come with me.’
Verity had pondered those words: ‘the next generation’. Unless he married again and produced children Jack wouldn’t be heralding in the next generation. He had a sister somewhere. Apparently, she had run away from her finishing school and had since been disinherited. Jack’s younger brother had taken himself off long before the war and was said to have drunk himself to death in some foreign land. Presumably Jack was alone because of his father’s brutal behaviour.
Jack had taken her to the huge impeccable kitchen, where copper pans and blue and white china were arranged like crack troops on parade, but the room was made homely by