The Pearl Locket. Kathleen McGurl
‘Horrible. I want Dad to take it out. Look at the peeling wallpaper around it!’ Kelly grabbed a loose corner of paper above the skirting board and pulled. The paper came away in a huge long strip to halfway up the wall.
Matt gasped. ‘God, you’ll get in trouble for that!’
‘No, I won’t. It’s all got to come off soon anyway.’ She tore another strip upwards, screwed up the paper and stuffed it in her bin.
‘Hey, there’s something written on the wall, here.’ Matt moved closer to get a better look. ‘A love heart—how sweet! What’s it say? Joanne, no wait, Joan loves Jack. Aw! Joan and Jack. Wonder who they were? Give us a pencil, Kells. I’ll add our names—Kelly 4 Matt, hey? What do you think, babe?’
Kelly felt a shiver go down her spine. Joan, Jack. Who were they, indeed? One of them presumably lived in this bedroom before her, and had written this on the wall. Mum had said that her great-aunt Betty had lived here alone for fifty years, so it had to be before then, unless it was a visitor. But a visitor wouldn’t write on the wall. It had to be someone who’d lived here. Joan, whoever she was, was probably dead by now. A picture flashed into her mind of a young girl, her own age but from a time way back, with blonde hair caught at the side in a Kirby grip. That was the problem with old houses. They were full of the ghosts of past occupants.
‘Kelly? Are you OK?’ Matt’s voice broke into her thoughts.
‘Fine. Let’s get out of here. I need some fresh air.’ She grabbed her beach bag and ran down the stairs.
‘You’ve got the window wide open. How much air do you need?’ Matt called after her.
But Kelly felt she just needed to escape from the house for a while. ‘See you, Mum. We’ll be back for tea.’ She dragged Matt after her.
‘Er, bye, Ali. See you later.’ He waved as Kelly dragged him out of the front door, down the garden path.
She banged the garden gate closed behind them and took a deep breath. Better already.
‘What’s the matter, Kells? You seem really wound up.’
‘I am. Joan loves Jack. That really creeped me out, you know.’
‘Why? It’s only a couple of names.’
Kelly shook her head and began walking down the road towards the clifftop and beach. ‘I don’t know, Matt. I just thought, what if they were, like, our age when they wrote that, and maybe that was like fifty or sixty or seventy years ago, before Mum’s great-aunt had the house. They’d be ancient now. Or dead. And it’s just weird to think of kids like us, being in love and everything, and then getting old and dying.’
‘Babe, it happens to us all, you know? Everyone gets old and dies sometime. Unless they die young.’
‘Dying young would be better than fading away.’
‘Bet you won’t say that when you’re fifty.’ Matt playfully punched her arm.
‘Fifty’s already old.’
‘You should try to find out who that Joan and Jack were,’ Matt said. ‘Like, if one of them lived in the house, maybe your great-gran would know. Maybe one of them was some relative of yours. You might not feel so creeped out about them if you knew who they were. My mum’s into the whole genealogy thing, you know. She spends hours online, trying to fill in gaps in the family tree. It’s kind of interesting, in a way.’
Kelly considered this. Maybe it would be a good idea to do a bit of research and find out who they were. Joan was such an old-fashioned name. It had to be someone from long ago. But who?
***
A week later, Ali and Pete had unpacked everything and flattened the hundreds of boxes, which were now stacked in the garage waiting for the removal company to come and collect them. They’d arranged the furniture and hung curtains, and the house looked respectable enough to entertain visitors. It was beginning to feel like home, though Ali could still not believe they actually owned the house outright, after their years of renting. They’d met several neighbours as well as spending a pleasant evening with Jason from next door, the day after moving in. He seemed to be a thoroughly pleasant chap. In some ways he reminded Ali a little of her father.
She had invited her grandmother to tea that afternoon and was busy making preparations. Kelly was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of tea and texting.
‘Kelly, will you help me make a cake for your great-gran?’ Ali asked. ‘You know what a sweet tooth she has. Dad’s collecting her this afternoon. She’d love a home-made cake.’
‘Aw, Mum. I hate baking. I’ve got loads of homework to do as well. We’ve started a module in history about life for ordinary people during the Second World War. I’ve got a stack of reading to do for it.’
‘Oh. All right then, I’ll do it. You should go and get on with your homework now. Get it out of the way before she comes, so you can spend some time with her. Remember it’s going to be a lovely big surprise for her, that we’re in this house where she grew up.’
Kelly looked up from her phone and frowned. ‘I don’t get why you didn’t tell her we were moving.’
Ali began collecting together the ingredients for a Victoria sponge cake. ‘Well, I did tell her we were moving house, just didn’t say we were moving here. She knows we inherited it from Betty, but I’d let on that we were planning to sell it. I thought it’d be a lovely surprise for her to find that we’ve actually moved in, and are bringing the house back to life. I can’t wait to see her face when she arrives.’
‘Hmm, well. I’ll go and do my homework now, then,’ said Kelly. She picked up her phone and tea mug, scraped back her chair and left the room.
At ten to three Pete was dispatched to collect Margaret Eliot from her nursing home. Gran was 89, and as Ali’s parents lived in Spain it had fallen to Ali to make arrangements for her when she’d become unable to cope in her own home any longer. She’d also had to sort out a place for Great-aunt Betty, who’d spent the last couple of years of her life in a different nursing home. Ali had always felt it was sad that the two sisters didn’t get on, but Gran had never said much about why that was. Anyway, it was too late now.
Ali bustled round, putting plates, cups and saucers ready on a tray, filling the kettle, and sprinkling icing sugar over the top of the Victoria sponge. It had come out well. She wasn’t much of a baker herself, but it was worth making the effort for Gran, who would certainly appreciate it.
She went into the living room, the window of which looked out onto the street, to await Gran’s arrival. A couple of minutes later, Pete’s car pulled into the driveway. Ali rushed out to the front door, calling up the stairs to Kelly and Ryan as she went.
Outside, Pete was wrestling with Gran’s Zimmer frame, trying to pull it out of the boot, while Gran remained sitting in the passenger seat. He was swearing quietly. ‘Darn thing went in all right. Why won’t it come out?’
Ali went round to open Margaret’s door.
‘Gran! I’ve been so looking forward to bringing you here. What do you think of our new house? Of course, you know it well. I’ll hardly need to give you a guided tour!’
Margaret’s face was stony. ‘Hello, Alison. I think you’ve got a bit of explaining to do. Why didn’t you tell me you were moving into this house?’
‘I thought it would be a lovely surprise for you,’ Ali said. Oh no. Don’t say Gran was upset by it. Had she got it all wrong?
‘Well it’s certainly a surprise, but not a lovely one. I’m here now. May as well come inside, I suppose. Never thought I would have to set foot inside this cursed place again.’
Pete, standing by with the walking frame, raised his eyebrows at Ali. She gave a small shrug in response. ‘Come on then, Gran. Let me help you out of the car.’