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‘SO THIS IS WHERE SHE kept everything!’ Tess said quietly, her heart thumping with excitement. She stroked the desk, releasing more dust motes into the already dusty air.
Andy peered over her shoulder and whispered, ‘Is this what I think it is? Does it belong to the woman you told us about?’
‘Yes, I think so. I don’t know why it had to be hidden like this, but hopefully the answer lies in here somewhere.’ She pulled out a drawer revealing an assortment of personal items – handkerchiefs, pens, scraps of paper, an old-fashioned man’s neck tie. Hugo’s? Closing the drawer, Tess then removed the lid of one of the boxes. Inside was a stack of red cloth-bound books, each labelled ‘Journal’. She pulled one out and flicked to the first page. It was beautifully written – in French. Of course it was! French was the language in the islands back in Victorian times, Tess knew that from school. Fortunately it had been one of her best subjects. She was about to read a bit when a cough reminded her she wasn’t alone.
‘I take it this is something important for you?’ Jack asked with raised eyebrows.
‘It is, yes. My ancestor Eugénie worked for Victor Hugo and it looks as if she kept her diaries hidden for some reason. Can we keep this cupboard as it is as I want to examine everything in more detail? How long has it been sealed in under the plaster?’
‘Sure. We can have a handle and a lock on the door if you wish.’ Jack examined the wall more closely. ‘I’d say this was plastered over a hundred years ago as it’s the lime plaster used at the time. Certainly not recent.’
‘Thanks, I would like a lock and I’d rather no-one said anything about it,’ she added, nodding towards Larry who had walked over to the door to chat with a mate.
‘No problem. I’ll ask the men to keep quiet, saying it’s personal.’
‘Thanks. Shall we continue our tour now? I’ll come back later to have a closer look in the cupboard.’
Jack asked Larry to fit a door handle and lock before going back downstairs to finish looking around the first floor. Tess struggled to focus on what was being said, her mind buzzing with thoughts about their find. Her first impression had been it was a kind of shrine. A shrine to Victor Hugo by Eugénie Sarchet, her three-times great-grandmother, and who had kept items once belonging to her famous employer. She couldn’t wait to examine everything in more detail but now was not the time. And to think this treasure trove had been here all along and Doris had never known! All that searching in the library and newspapers and it was under her own roof. Tess felt sad for her aunt, who had been so obsessed by Eugénie and Hugo.
When they had finished their discussions, Jack left for his appointment and Andy returned to his office, leaving Tess at a loose end. The sound of drilling reminded her about Heather and she popped next door.
‘Tess! Good to see you, come on in and I’ll make some coffee.’
Heather ushered her inside.
‘Shall we go downstairs and sit outside? It’s too nice to be stuck indoors.’
Tess agreed, conscious of the sounds coming through the adjoining wall and wondering if Heather was being tactful. She followed her friend down to the kitchen who signalled her to continue through the conservatory to the garden. Outside, Tess sat at a table on the patio and turned her face to the sun. As soon as Heather came out with a tray of coffee and cake Tess burst out with the news of the hidden cupboard.
Heather’s eyes widened.
‘Oooh! I thought you looked excited about something. Do tell me more.’
As they drank their coffee Tess told her the little she knew so far and that she would be undertaking a more thorough search later.
‘Fortunately, my French is pretty good, thanks to an exchange visit I did in my teens. I can hardly wait to take the diaries home and start reading them. Find out what, if anything, happened between Eugénie and Hugo.’ Tess tapped her fingers on the table as she imagined the possible tales hidden in those volumes. ‘Of course, I’ve no idea how many diaries there are and what period they cover, but I did notice “1862” on a page in the diary I glanced at.’
‘What a shame your aunt didn’t know about this secret cupboard. She used to say she’d been sure there must be some record of Eugénie in the house, but never found anything. Odd, isn’t it, that it was sealed away? Why the secrecy?’ Heather’s face screwed up in puzzlement.
‘Exactly. Perhaps it will become clearer when I’ve gone through everything. All I can say now is that Eugénie must have had some crush on Hugo to squirrel away stuff like that. Almost creepy, like someone a bit unbalanced.’ She chewed on her cake, wondering if Eugénie had been mentally unstable, and it had passed down the generations, as her mother had suggested about Doris.
‘That’s a bit dark, Tess. She was only young wasn’t she? Lost her first husband tragically, Doris told me, so may have seen Hugo as a father figure. Who knows? But I look forward to you finding out more, to add a bit of excitement to my life,’ Heather said, licking crumbs off her fingers.
‘I’ll keep you posted, don’t worry. Oh, and before I forget, I’m so sorry about the noise, I hadn’t appreciated how bad it would be.’
Heather shook her head.
‘It’s okay. That rather attractive builder of yours, Jack, came round to explain it would be worse initially while they’re ripping stuff out, but it should improve soon. I’ve been spending time working in the garden, making the most of the lovely weather and going out for walks. Luckily, your other neighbour,’ she waved her arm to her right, ‘is away on a cruise and won’t be back for ages. And it’s good for us all to see your house renovated; property values and all that.’
Tess nodded, her mouth full of cake and her head noting Heather’s description of Jack. She had to admit he was attractive, in spite of her reservations about him. At least if he wasn’t around all the time, she might hardly see him. Which was good, wasn’t it? He unsettled her, but she didn’t want to look too much into why he did. Her life was complicated enough at the moment.
She stayed chatting with Heather for a while longer, enjoying the chance to sit in the sun and do nothing after the frenetic last few weeks. The thought of the mysteries lying in wait next door finally propelled her to her feet saying she should be going. As they reached the upper hall the silence told her the men were probably taking a lunch break and, after saying goodbye to her friend, Tess went back to St Michel for another look in the cupboard.
Larry was with the others, squatted on the stairs eating sandwiches and drinking from flasks. He proffered the keys for the new cupboard lock and Tess skipped upstairs with mounting excitement. While she had been next door the rest of the loose plaster had been removed and cleared and she undid the lock and pulled on the newly fitted handle. Everything was just as it had been. Using the spotlight on her phone, she examined the walls in more detail. Not only were there photos and drawings of Victor Hugo, but there were some small framed paintings and drawings of unusual landscapes, including what could be a stylised drawing of Castle Cornet and a couple of seascapes of rough seas and storms. They weren’t signed but looked, to her untrained eye, to be by a competent hand. Then another picture caught her eye. The tones were sepia, of two women, in Victorian dress, sitting on a rug in the midst of a picnic, one young woman in a dark grey dress and the other late middle age, wearing a light coloured dress. The women were laughing and looking towards each other. As Tess shone the light more closely, she saw an inscription underneath, in French.
‘À ma chère Mme Eugénie Sarchet, en mémoire de notre pique-nique avec Mme Juliette Drouet’
Victor Hugo
The hand holding the phone shook as it dawned on her what she saw. A picture by Victor Hugo of her long-dead ancestor, Eugénie, having a picnic with his mistress. Wow! Tess was frozen for a moment while she let it sink in. Shining the light back on the other pictures, she realised they were probably by the same hand. Hugo’s. What to do with such a find? For the moment she could leave everything locked away, but decided to take the boxes of diaries and the picture of Eugénie and Juliette. She needed Charlotte’s help. After locking the cupboard Tess carefully carried the boxes downstairs until she came on the men finishing their lunch. Larry jumped up and offered to carry them to her car. Minutes later she was on her way to Charlotte’s house.
Charlotte was nearly as excited as she was when Tess carried in the boxes and explained their provenance.
‘What a find! And if the pictures you mention are also by Hugo, then they’d be worth a pretty penny,’ Charlotte said as she studied the picture of Eugénie.
‘That’s not what interests me as much as the diaries. I’m hoping to learn more about Eugénie’s relationship to Hugo which, from what I’ve seen so far, was at least very friendly,’ Tess said, spreading out the diaries on the dining table. She checked the dates and set them in chronological order, beginning in 1861 and ending in 1888.
‘It looks as if she started the journals when she married Arnaud Sarchet – see, it’s here as the first entry.’ She pointed it out to Charlotte, with the date 16ème Mars (March).
‘From my research, it appeared Eugénie began working as a copyist for Hugo about a year later, in 1862.’ Charlotte flicked through the pages. ‘I can see why he chose her, what beautiful writing. Easy to read, too, unlike some of the original writing by Hugo himself. Look,’ she pointed, ‘March 1862, Eugénie describes meeting Hugo and Juliette Drouet – oh!’ She looked at Tess, frowning. ‘I think you should read this yourself, it’s quite...quite sad.’
Tess started reading, translating the French as she went. Her earlier excitement faded as she read what had happened to the poor girl.
‘How awful. Not only to be widowed so young, but to have lost her unborn child in such circumstances. And Hugo and Juliette virtually witnessing it. No wonder they all became so close and Juliette seems to have taken on the role of surrogate mother.’
‘It explains so much. And did you note that Eugénie was the image of Hugo’s dead daughter, Léopoldine? It’s not surprising seeing her had such an impact on Hugo. Well, this is extraordinary.’ Charlotte sat back in her chair, lost in thought and Tess’s head was filled with the image of a young woman in widow’s weeds suffering a late-term miscarriage in front of strangers. If it hadn’t been for their help, it was possible Eugénie might have died.
‘I wasn’t expecting any of this. Not that I knew what to expect, exactly, but these,’ she said, pointing to the journals, ‘are bringing that poor girl to life. Making her flesh and bones, not simply an abstract ancestor, who may or may not have slept with one of the most famous writers in history.’ Tess stood and paced around the room, vaguely registering the distant view of trees framing the deep blue sea and golden beach.
‘You don’t have to rush through these, Tess. It may even be that the diaries become a bit mundane later. The usual “Got up, went to work, came home, went to bed”.’ Charlotte stopped her pacing with a hug. ‘I bet you haven’t had any lunch yet, have you?’ She shook her head. ‘Nor have I, so how about I rustle up something and we can wash it down with a glass of fizz? To celebrate a wonderful find that is probably making your poor aunt turn in her grave!’ she said, laughing.
Tess had to smile. Charlotte was right; food and a glass of fizz were just what she needed.
During the afternoon Tess studied the diary entries for the next few months of 1862. It was slow and laborious translating as she read and she had to take regular breaks to clear her head. Charlotte was right, there was no rush. It was possible the diaries had lain hidden for over a hundred and twenty years, so what was a few weeks now? Tess could feel Eugénie’s grief as she buried her child and continued to mourn her lost husband. Then her slow recovery and pleasure when offered work by Hugo. The pattern of her new life emerging over the weeks, taken up with spending some time with Juliette Drouet and then working at Hauteville House. What an opportunity and honour that must have been. Tess had visited Hauteville on a school trip and remembered thinking how flamboyant and slightly weird it was. Totally unlike anything else in Guernsey, for sure. Exotic, foreign and unique, yes. Eugénie’s descriptions of the rooms matched her own memory and made her shiver as she read them. Talk about bringing history to life! Reading about Eugénie’s response to copying out chapters from Les Misérables also reminded her of her own emotions when she watched the stage musical. She had cried at various points, particularly towards the highly emotional end when so many lives were lost. Tess decided she must read the book when her life had settled down, having such a familial involvement in its production. In English, though, to stop her brain becoming completely frazzled.
‘Well, that was quite a surprise today, wasn’t it?’ Andy said, walking into the kitchen where Tess and Charlotte were having a cup of tea while supervising James feeding himself. Charlotte gave him a kiss and offered to make him some tea.
‘It sure was. If I hadn’t agreed to your suggestion to upgrade the attic bedrooms, we might never have found that cupboard. So thanks for twisting my arm,’ Tess said, grinning.
‘You’re welcome. And apart from this fantastic discovery, you’ll be increasing the value of the house by more than the cost. A win-win. Now, I’m sure you’re bursting to tell me what you found, so fire away.’ He patted Tess’s arm and joined them at the table with his tea. Tess described what she thought were drawings and paintings by Hugo, and showed him the inscribed picture of Eugénie and Juliette. Andy’s eyes opened wide as he listened while examining the painting.
Charlotte, who had been focusing on James, spoke up.
‘It’s an incredible find, and I could wish Tess had found it before I wrote my book on Hugo. The thought of all that first-hand knowledge of the man is enough to make any writer’s heart beat faster with anticipation.’ She sighed, a touch dramatically, Tess thought, until she saw the laughter in Charlotte’s eyes and smiled.
‘Sorry about that. You might find enough material for another book here,’ she said waving at the diaries.
‘Perhaps, but I’ve decided to try my hand at something contemporary. But our friend Jeanne might be interested; she writes both fiction and non-fiction historical books about Guernsey and is gaining quite a reputation for herself.’
‘She’s married to Nick, Colette’s brother, isn’t she?’ Charlotte nodded. ‘Then I expect I’ll meet her soon, Colette’s mentioned getting together.’
‘What are you going to do about the other stuff in the attic? Anything to do with Hugo will be valuable so it needs to be somewhere secure,’ Andy said, flicking through a diary.
‘You’re right. I’ll pack everything up and bring it here, all except the desk. Which reminds me, I took a photo of how it was when we found it, Charlotte. Here,’ Tess said, tapping her phone and passing it to her friend.
‘Oooh! I see what you mean; it does look like a shrine, or memorial. I do hope you find out why it was sealed up as at the moment it makes no sense.’ Charlotte studied the photo, zooming in for a closer look.
Andy cleared his throat.
‘I know this is incredibly exciting and I understand your enthusiasm, but have you given any thought to dinner tonight? Or do you want me to cook it?’
Charlotte dropped a kiss on his cheek and smiled.
‘It’s under control, darling. Steaks are marinating in red wine and I’ve made a salad to go with some new potatoes. Will be ready in less than half an hour if you’d like to bathe your son?’
‘Great, will do.’
Tess watched entranced as Andy wiped James’s hands and face before lifting him from the high chair. He was a natural with James, she thought, making him laugh as they left to go upstairs for the bath. Charlotte had confided in her that she wasn’t sure if she could get pregnant when they married as she was approaching forty, but Andy wanted to marry regardless. Thinking about their relationship brought home to Tess her own single state. Not that she was having to watch the biological clock at thirty-one, but she did like the idea of having a partner to share things with. For some reason, Jack’s face popped into her head. She let out a stifled laugh and Charlotte, busy cleaning the high chair, looked up.
‘Come on, share the joke.’
‘Oh, it was nothing. I was only thinking that upstairs are all those boxes of stuff my aunt had accumulated and I spent ages sifting through and probably won’t need any of it now,’ Tess improvised, feeling her face flush at the lie.
‘Maybe not, but there’s no harm in hanging onto them. They’re not in our way,’ Charlotte said, removing the steaks and salad from the fridge before putting the potatoes on to boil.
‘Anything I can do to help?’
‘No, all under control, thanks.’ Charlotte turned to face her. ‘Would you mind if I came with you tomorrow when you pack up what’s in the cupboard? I’d love to see it first-hand and I’ve always adored poking round old houses. Mrs B will be here to look after James.’
‘Sure, you’d be welcome. And I can pick your brains about possible final finishes. I love what you’ve achieved here.’
The two of them chatted for a few minutes about paint colours and the merits of different brands before Andy returned, bearing a pyjama-clad James for a good-night kiss. He then went off to put his son to bed. By the time he came down again the dinner was ready.
The conversation turned inevitably towards Tess’s house and the hidden cupboard and the progress of the work.
‘Are you happy with what they’ve done so far?’ Andy asked, leaning back in his chair and nursing a glass of wine.
‘Yes, I think so. I’ve never been involved in house renovation before, so it’s hard to know what to expect.’ Tess pursed her lips as she mentally reviewed what she had seen that morning. ‘With the excitement of finding the cupboard, I forgot to ask Jack if he’s on track for finishing in the three months he quoted.’
‘Should be, according to the schedule we drew up initially...’ He was interrupted by a wail coming through the baby monitor and Charlotte left to check on James. Andy seemed to hesitate before continuing, ‘Are you okay with Jack? I sensed a bit of an atmosphere between you and couldn’t help wondering if you’ve not seen eye to eye about something.’ His gaze fixed on her face.
Tess waved her hand.
‘It’s nothing. We got off on the wrong foot when we first met, but we’re okay now. And anyway, I don’t expect we’ll see much of each other as he’s not working there.’
‘Perhaps not, but as I recommended him I’d feel responsible if you weren’t happy with his work.’
‘No worries, Andy, it seems fine so far and I’m looking forward to keeping up with the progress more often now I’m here. Ah, Charlotte, is James okay?’ Tess was relieved to change the subject as Charlotte returned, feeling uncomfortable talking about Jack. He had got under her skin, for sure, but at the moment she couldn’t say whether it was in a good or bad way. Time would tell.