After supper, when they had cleared away the supper things and Charlie had left for the pub quiz-night, Gabby got out the folder Peter had given her containing the Canadian restorer’s report on the figurehead of Isabella, and laid out all the photographs and the better quality JPEG images of areas of damage.
She had been inspected by a Valerie Mischell, of Collections and Conservation, Museum and Heritage Services, Culture Division, City of Toronto, at the home of Mark Hannah, ‘… who discovered the figurehead and generously provided much of the following information which forms part of his research into marine shipping and wrecks of the 19th century.’
Gabby scanned the first page of the report; it would be interesting to know more about Mark Hannah and his work.
‘The purpose of the inspection is to provide information for the Victoria & Albert Museum in London … describing any obvious work that might be necessary in the opinion of the person carrying out the inspection …’
‘These are very good photographs of her,’ Nell said, coming and peering down at the array of images. ‘What an interesting face.’
They both studied the photographs. Isabella lay with a gold headpiece around her hair. Her right hand held a lily, and Nell stared down at the flowing lines of her robe and at her hands. The right hand was beautifully carved, fingers splayed, with a thin gold band on her little finger.
‘Mark said she had been cut away from the bow timbers, Nell. She is flatter in the back, and can you see, here … her left hand is damaged and has been remodelled.’
‘You’re lucky to have such a detailed report, Gabby, from someone of obvious experience. It will be of enormous help to you.’
‘If I’m given the job, Nell.’
‘The figurehead has been painted several times. Many elements have been painted with gold-coloured oil paint. Evidence of an older cream-coloured paint layer under the white coating …’ Gabby read from the report.
She picked up another photograph. ‘Detail of crack along neck. Head secure but some paint loss reveals a thin layer of plaster underneath the paint …’
‘Look at the detail of the right ear as it disappears into her hair,’ Nell said, entranced.
‘Oh, Nell, you really need to see the figurehead itself to appreciate the detail. Look at the robe, the wrist, the curve of her arm at the elbow as it disappears into her robe … This would be such a wonderful project to work on.’
Nell smiled. Gabby’s enthusiasm was infectious and Nell felt a whiff of envy at Gabby’s chance of working with something so beautiful.
‘The neck and upper body seem the most damaged.’
‘That left hand … it’s a terrible reproduction, totally out of proportion.’
‘Mm, I can see that. What else does she say?’
‘Image 01–0193 … Traces of blue-green paint in upper rear right gap.’ Gabby jumped on the last sentence and photograph. ‘Great! Nell, she found some original paint!’
‘Don’t get your hopes up, Gabby, until you’ve done a detailed inspection of your own.’
‘You are going to come and see her, aren’t you?’
‘I’d certainly like to see her before you start. You just can’t wait to get your teeth into this, can you?’
‘I haven’t got the job yet, Nell!’
‘I know Peter, Gabby. He wouldn’t let you take this report away unless he wanted you to restore it.’
The phone went and Nell got up. ‘It’s probably Elan.’
He and Nell phoned each other most nights. But it was not Elan, it was Peter.
‘Were your ears burning?’ Nell asked.
‘Why? Should they have been?’
‘Gabby and I were just looking through the report that Mark Hannah brought with him.’
‘Good, I can catch Gabby in work mode. How are you, Nell? I hear you’ve been landed with the Browns’ enormous picture.’
Nell had a clear picture of his wolfish, cerebral face crinkling with amusement. ‘Glad you find it funny, Peter. I trust you had nothing to do with them coming to me with it?’
‘I merely advised them that if anyone could do anything with it, you could.’
‘Thank you very much! Well, I hope when I am a bent old crone still working on that masterpiece you will have the grace to feel guilty. I will hand you over to Gabby.’
‘You will never be an old crone, Nell. We must have lunch soon?’
‘Look forward to it,’ Nell said, handing the phone to Gabby. How ridiculous that a certain tone of voice, like a code or secret signal, could still contract her stomach with memory of love.
‘Hello Peter,’ Gabby said, breathless.
‘Gabby, I’ve come up with an idea that might satisfy all the various bodies responsible for the funding for the museum. I’ve spoken to John and he thinks it is possibly the answer, if you are agreeable.’
‘Right,’ Gabby said nervously, wondering what was coming.
‘As we explained, funding is always a problem, and unfortunately we have to depend on councillors like Rowe, who are good at drumming-up money for Cornish artefacts.
‘We want to get the figurehead into a condition where we can exhibit her in the museum by the end of June, before the influx of visitors. We wondered if you would be willing to work on her in two stages. Initially, make sure she is sound and make all the immediate repairs that are needed to safeguard the whole, plus the superficial ones that affect her appearance.
‘When you are happy that she is in a condition to be exhibited in June, having made whatever tests and analysis you consider necessary for further more detailed work later on, would it be possible for you to go on to other work and return to the figurehead at a later date, possibly when the museum is closed at the end of the season? Does this sound feasible to you?’
‘Of course, Peter. John says that the museum is kept at a regular temperature so we don’t have to worry about humidity. That would be fine. I would like to see her again, properly, out of her wrappings and in position. This inspection report is very helpful. I’ll make my own inspection and give you a quote for all the initial work I consider vital before she can be exhibited. After I’ve been working on her for a while, I’ll then submit a more detailed quote for the next stage of her restoration. Would that be OK?’
‘Perfect. Thank you for being so accommodating. By then we will hopefully have more funding and voluntary contributions coming in from interested parties. I can now appease Rowe, Penwith Council, the Heritage people, and the Cornish Historical Society. Bless you!’
Gabby laughed. ‘Does that mean …?’
‘Of course it does, Gabrielle! John and I have always been convinced you are the best person for the job. We just have to tweak terms and make it official. You’ll get a letter in a few days.’
‘I’m really looking forward to restoring her, Peter, it’s very exciting.’
‘It is, isn’t it? We are all hoping Mark Hannah comes up with more history for us. Goodnight, Gabrielle, and thanks again.’
‘YES!’ Gabby said, replacing the phone and punching the air.
‘I told you you had nothing to worry about,’ Nell said, laughing. ‘I’m off to bed.’ She nodded at the report. ‘I should remove those papers and photographs from the table. Charlie will come home and drip egg sandwich all over them.’
‘Oh, God! That wouldn’t look very professional.’
She walked to the back door with Nell. ‘Look, a new moon.’
They both looked up. It was a clear, cold night and the stars stood out like a child’s drawing on black paper.
‘Do you remember Josh and his telescope?’ Nell asked. ‘I wonder what happened to it. It was one of Elan’s extravagant presents, wasn’t it?’
Gabby felt a sudden wrench for that time again, for the simple, innocent pleasures of Josh’s childhood. ‘Josh used to get crazes on things, do you remember? Absolute passions. Then he would go on to the next thing.’
‘Don’t remind me. Do you remember the fish?’
‘Which all died, because he never took any notice of the man in the aquarium and mixed and matched them because he liked their colour or shape. Months of his pocket money eating each other up before he learnt a hard biology lesson.’
‘The fishy mess in the sink when he cleaned them out.’
‘Always at Sunday lunchtime!’
‘And the stick insects he begged for and then could not bear to touch.’
‘And the rabbits.’
‘Then the guinea pigs.’
‘He stuck to his bantams, he loved those. And the calves.’
‘And Hal. That gelding was the love of his life. I still stop in the village and he whinnies and canters over.’
‘I know. He’s a lovely character.’
‘I wonder how he’s doing. Josh, I mean. I think he’s finding Sandhurst harder, physically, than he expected.’
‘People are always saying that it’s because the young are not as fit as the last generation, but Josh has always been sporty and fit.’
Nell snorted. ‘How many late-rising youths know their way around an assault course? Or readily accept being bellowed at? Or want to trot round Dartmoor in a blizzard with a great pack on their backs? Total masochism if you ask me. Absolutely bonkers.’
Gabby began to laugh. Josh and Nell argued about the army every time he came home, but she knew perfectly well, as Josh did, he could do no wrong in Nell’s eyes.
‘Goodnight, lovie,’ Nell said, making off across the yard, watching her step in the dark.
‘’Night, Nell.’
Gabby whistled for Shadow who had scooted off into the dark. She looked up at the stars once more before shutting the door. On her way upstairs she paused and pushed Josh’s bedroom door open. Funny how a room always retained the faint smell of a person. Odd how strong a sense smell was, taking you faster than thought to a place or a person you loved.