The next morning everyone at the bookshop was feeling a tad groggy, although the general consensus was that the launch had been a triumph. What’s more, Daniel had almost managed to convince Eleanor to see the funny side of her exploding dress.
Mid-morning, Georgie came in to help tidy up, although most of the work had been done after Eleanor fled to the cottage. “I’m sorry for leaving you and Erika to do the clearing up last night,” she said, guiltily.
“It’s part of the job,” said Georgie, cheerfully. “And there wasn’t much to do, anyway. The books were all sold, the snacks were eaten and Joe helped Erika to sort out the empty bottles and put the sofa back.”
“Well, I appreciate it,” said Eleanor. “I see ‘Bill’ has gone.” The large poster Georgie had put behind the signing table had disappeared.
“Yes, I hope you don’t mind but Anton begged and pleaded to have it. Joe was a little disappointed, but I said you might let him have the cut-out ‘Bill’ from outside the shop.”
“Fine, though I’m not sure it will fit in the back bedroom.”
Georgie screwed up her face. “And I’m not sure I want to share a room with that thing either. I guess we’ll have to turn him to face the wall when I’m staying over.”
“Good plan. Now I’d better carry on with the paperwork. There’s nothing I enjoy more than totting up the takings from a successful event.” Eleanor rubbed her hands together and headed over to the counter.
Soon, the shop was busy with customers. Some had been attracted by the cut-out and the window display, others by the news on social media about Bill’s party. As it was Saturday, there was also the habitual mixture of walkers and tourists enjoying a sunny day at the seaside as well as people in town for the Combemouth Festival.
Erika and Joe were doing most of the serving, leaving Eleanor free to use the computer. She was immersed in the figures and didn’t look up immediately when a man approached.
“Good morning, missus. I hear your frock was quite a hit last evening.”
It took Eleanor’s brain several seconds to put together the familiar voice and unfamiliar vision and to make sense of what she saw. “Joshua! You look so, so…” What was the word she was looking for? She groped in her mind for the perfect description, but there was only one word that would do. “So clean!”
Joshua smiled, smoothing a hand over the lapel of his sky-blue suit. “Seersucker. I haven’t worn it for a while and it’s a bit tight around the midriff, but it’s my favourite.”
Eleanor was aware that her mouth was hanging open as she gaped at the apparition standing in front of her. “And you’ve had a shave.” Gone was the grey stubble and Joshua’s hair was newly trimmed and slicked back in neat waves.
“Been to the barber’s,” said Joshua, running a hand over his chin, which was now as smooth and pink as a baby’s bottom. “They did my eyebrows, my nose, my ears and everything,” he added proudly. “And a young lass did my nails, too, see?” He clearly hadn’t been to the dentist yet, but it was still a remarkable transformation.
“That’s marvellous,” stuttered Eleanor. “I’m…” What was she? She was pleased, amazed and taken aback, not least by the citrus scent that now wafted towards her. Joshua was wearing cologne. “I’m speechless.”
Joshua chuckled. “If we’ve managed to rob her of words for a few minutes, I’d say that was money well spent, wouldn’t you Clarence?”
Eleanor peeked over the counter to the floor where the dog sat wagging his tiny tail and looking happy for the first time she could remember. He, too, had clearly had a much-needed wash and was naked apart from a new blue collar and lead.
Eleanor came out from behind the counter. “May I give you a hug?”
“You may,” said Joshua. “But mind the suit.”
“I think we need tea.”
“You’d best make three cups – I’ve told the vicar to meet us here.”
Eleanor sat Joshua down in the café area and went to fetch the drinks. By the time she had made the tea and come back to sit opposite him, Philip had arrived. He had clearly run all the way from St Cuthbert’s and the shock on his face was a picture to behold. By now, Eleanor’s amazement at Joshua’s transformation was beginning to fade, but not so her curiosity.
Joshua leant back in his chair, ready to address his audience. “I expect you’d like to know why I brought you here today.”
“Yes please. If that’s all right,” said Eleanor. Philip, who was still speechless with surprise, simply nodded.
And so Joshua explained. “When I was a boy, there was a lot of bad talk about the Pinkhams – that we were Cornish and notorious wreckers. It was a taint that lay over the family for years.” Joshua frowned. “My mother and father never discussed or denied it, so I grew up believing I was descended from rogues and murderers.”
Eleanor’s heart sank as she listened, distressed at the thought that perhaps the rumours Harold had shared with her were true. Then she watched as Joshua’s expression changed into one of happiness.
“You’ve done me a favour, missus,” he said, patting Eleanor’s hand. “If you’d not come busy-bodying around, I’d never have opened the briefcase and would have gone to my grave thinking I came from a family of cut-throats.”
Eleanor and Philip looked at each other. “What was in the case, Joshua? When we originally found it, you said you knew what it contained.”
The old man swallowed a mouthful of tea and delicately patted his lips. “I knew I’d find my grandfather’s papers and I did. Lots of them. What I didn’t expect to find was his journal and letters from Violet Makepeace.”
Eleanor gasped. “So there was a connection.”
“There was. Alfred loved Violet and she loved him back, but not until it was too late.”
“Oh no,” said Eleanor. “Did one of them die?”
“It was a little more complicated than that.”
“Let me guess: Alfred Pinkham loved Violet but she married Reginald Makepeace, is that it?” Eleanor frowned. “But where does John Able fit in? If he does.”
Joshua looked at her. “Now I’ve read the journal I can tell you that John Able was my grandfather but he changed his name to Alfred Pinkham. Violet was the girl he tried to help by selling that damned earring. As it said in the newspapers – and in Violet’s story – Alfred was arrested and sent to prison, and the only person who knew he was innocent and could have saved him from almost two years of hell was Violet.” Joshua’s expression darkened with anger. “That girl knew Alfred – or John as he was back then – had found the ring at the beach and never stolen nothing in his life.”
“Exactly like Jack in the story,” said Eleanor.
“Yes,” Joshua nodded. “And I didn’t know about it until I opened the briefcase.”
“What happened when your grandfather came out of the reformatory school?” asked Philip, who had now regained the power speech.
“He was fortunate indeed and was taken on as an apprentice by an engineer in Bristol where he lived for seven years.” Joshua shook his head sadly. “He could have travelled the world afterwards, but he missed his home and his family so he came back to Combemouth.” He laughed. “By then the foolish boy was going under his mother’s maiden name, which was Pinkham. Ironical really, wouldn’t you say?”
Philip frowned. “So you’re saying that your grandfather, John Able, didn’t steal the ring but chose a name associated with Cornish wreckers?”
“Precisely. He was not yet fourteen when he left the reformatory school and hadn’t had any education to speak of.” Joshua shrugged. “I suppose he picked out a name he was familiar with and liked.”
“Where does the locket fit in?” asked Eleanor.
“When Alfred turned up in Combemouth aged twenty-one, Violet recognised him as John Able and sent him letters apologising for what she’d done and saying she loved him – all nonsense, of course, as she’d not seen him since he was a child. It seems that Grandfather didn’t respond, which is when she sent him the locket.”
“With the apology – ‘I did you a great harm, for which I am truly sorry’.” Eleanor remembered the words very clearly. “But John – Alfred – must still have felt something for her if he kept it?”
“I daresay he did.” Joshua scratched his chin, seeming surprised to find the stubble was gone. “In her letters, Violet urges John to tell people who he is and to clear his name, but he refuses.” Joshua turned to Philip. “He worked hard and become a prosperous man, Vicar. And he was devout, too. He kept his promise to help poor sailors, but he never wanted thanks for it because he never forgave himself for lying to his mother and hiding the ring.”
“Which is why his name isn’t recorded at St Cuthbert’s.” Philip nodded. “And can you tell us anything about the verse?”
“I can. Any chance of another tea first, missus?”
“Sure,” said Eleanor, pouring him another cup.
Joshua sipped the tea thoughtfully. “Now, where had I got to?”
“You were going to tell us about the verse,” said Philip, helpfully.
“Ah, yes. Well, according to John’s journal it was Violet who wrote the poem and sent it to him. He had founded the St Brendan Hostel by then, you see, and I think it was another nudge from Violet to encourage him to tell people about his good deeds. John must have liked the poem because he later had it inscribed on your wall under the window.”
“Perhaps he also wanted to show to Violet that he forgave her for what she had done as a girl. And the ring in the Bible,” asked Eleanor, “is that the one John found in the rock pool when he was a lad?”
Joshua shivered. “You gave me a terrible shock when you showed me that. Who but a wrecker would keep a dead man’s earring hidden in a Bible?” He sighed. “But now I know different. I read in Grandfather’s journal that the original ring was confiscated when he was arrested, but as soon as he’d saved enough money he bought another pair of earrings. Then, when he returned to Combemouth, he did what he told his mother he’d done all those years before – he climbed up onto the Top and threw one ring into the sea. The other he kept in his Bible to remind him of the fishermen who had perished.”
Philip smiled gently. “So all those years you thought your ancestors were wreckers, your grandfather was in fact an angel.”
“I wouldn’t go that far, but it seems like he did his bit. There wasn’t only the hostel, you see. He also put money into building the new lighthouse and starting a school for poor boys.” Joshua looked down at his hands, clearly moved by the secrets he’d uncovered. “I only wish my dear father could have known the truth.”
“I feel sure he did.” Philip leant over and squeezed Joshua’s arm warmly. “And now is perhaps the time to tell everyone that your grandfather’s money saved the lives of countless seamen, gave poor sailors a roof over their heads and educated hundreds of lads. We might wish John Able had shared his good deeds so your family could revel in them, but he was humble and modest. I think we must forgive him that.”
“Amen, Vicar.”
Eleanor and Philip sat silently for a moment, thinking about the events of the past, while Joshua tipped the last of his tea into a saucer and placed it on the ground for Clarence.
When the slurping had finished, Joshua turned to the vicar. “Did you bring my letter as I requested?”
Philip nodded. “Here it is.” He handed over the brown envelope Joshua had brought to him some weeks before.
Joshua took it and tore it into pieces. “I shall be writing another one, but not for a while yet as I’ve changed my mind about dying. First I’m going on holiday. If that old rogue Harold Greaves can find himself a lady friend, a handsome chap like me won’t have any difficulties.” He smiled, an expression as unexpected as it was joyful.
Joshua got to his feet and handed a large house key, a lead and a bag full of dog paraphernalia to Philip. “Look after Clarence for me, will you? He’s had a bath.” He bent down to pat the dog. “I’m off on a cruise, young sir, and I’m afraid you’re not allowed to come.” There were tears in Joshua’s eyes when he straightened up. “That there’s my only friend.”
“Nonsense,” said Eleanor, welling up. “I’m your friend. And so is Philip here. And so is Harold,” she added, with a little less conviction.
“Eleanor’s right,” said Philip. “And I think you’ll find there are lots of folk who want to be friends with you. In fact, I’ll prove it.”
“And how are you going to do that then?”
“Just you wait and see.”