Somewhere in England there is a large town, (exactly where is unimportant, as this story is about people) in the town there is a large old house. The house has been the home of the Turner family for many generations and now is home to Megan Turner and her parents.
Megan loved the house as was very old, very large and full of mysteries. In odd corners of the attic, the basement and even in the garden shed she finds old things that had belonged to her grandma or her great-grandparents who had lived there a long time before she was even born. On rainy days she liked nothing better than to explore the house and pull things out from the back of cupboards and once she even tried to lift the floorboards looking for hidden treasure.
When Megan was nine she was finally tall enough to reach the catch for the ladder that led up into the loft, she knew she wasn’t supposed to go in the loft without her father to help her, but it was a really wet and boring afternoon. She had asked her father for some help, but he was working in his office. Megan’s father, who was called Arthur Turner, was an animator, and would work at his computer in his home office most days, right now he was creating an animated advert for a famous brand of toothpaste. Megan wasn’t too impressed by the gift of a hundred tubes of toothpaste that had been given to her father when he had accepted the commission, her mother on the other hand was very practical and said they would come in useful. (For a moment Megan was terrified she’d have to brush her teeth five times a day to get through all the toothpaste, but so far she was still only brushing twice a day.)
The old electric lights flickered alarmingly before the light grew steady, (Arthur had always meant to change the old tube light for an energy-efficient LED strip, but had never got around to it). The light illuminated a cavernous space with sloping walls and huge beams. The floor was covered in boxes, the ones closest to the loft hatch were from Megan’s childhood, they contained baby clothes and had been kept as her parents had wanted a little brother or sister for Megan, who however remained an only child. Further back were boxes that contained things that her parents had brought with them when they moved here, but had never unpacked, like dad’s old sporting trophies, and mums handwritten cookery books and notes from the days when she’d been a culinary student. Further back and stacked neatly at one side were a row of boxes that had belonged to Grandma Sue who had lived in the house as a little girl. Some of the boxes contained her old clothes and toys which would to old and dusty to be played with according to Megan’s mum. Megan agreed that the clothes were far too old-fashioned, but she loved some of the old toys, so she used to play with them up in the loft. There were also half a dozen boxes of artist models and sketch pads that Grandma Sue had left behind. Looking at the dates written neatly on the side of the sturdy cardboard boxes Megan could tell these had been from her grandmother’s student days when she’d been to the Royal Art College in London. Her grandmother was now a famous sculptor and dabbled in all sorts of art. Megan’s dad often said that he had followed in his mother’s footsteps, but he had chosen a media which didn’t get him dirty, (his mother often worked with clay models and as a result she would be coated in clay dust).
Today Megan was determined to have a new adventure, so she carefully pushed and shunted boxes around the floor to get at the ones right at the back. Here she discovered things that had belonged to her great-grandparents, like an old bicycle and something called a basket wheelchair, which was a bit of a mystery as it seemed too large to get up through the loft hatch. Amongst these ancient artefacts that Megan believed should surely be in a museum, she found a set of metal travelling trunks. They were navy blue, and the reinforcing bands were painted black, they looked as if they had been around the world judging by the bumps and scratches on the paintwork. Painted across the top of each were the names of her great-grandparents and her grandmother, the names had once been picked out in bright white paint, but were now faded although still legible. On the trunk that had belonged to her grandmother was a white handprint which was about the same size as hers. With considerable effort Megan pulled the box into the clear space in the centre of the loft to examine it, but found it was locked. Just as she was considering prising the lid open with one of her dad’s screwdrivers, there came a call from her mother announcing that dinner was ready.
A couple of days later Megan and her parents went to visit Grandma Sue who lived on the other side of town above her art studio, in a lovely apartment where Megan’s dad had grown up. It amused Megan that she spent her Sundays travelling back and forth to visit her grandma at the art studio, when her dad had done the exact same journey in reverse to visit his grandparents at the old house. After lunch she asked Grandma Sue about the blue trunk up in the attic. Her grandmother thought as hard as she could, but couldn’t remember anything about the trunk or the handprint. Megan really wanted to know about it, but maybe it was something Grandma Sue wanted to keep a secret. On the way home in the car Megan’s mother explained that Grandma Susan’s memory was going, that’s why she’d served custard with dinner instead of gravy.
At the beginning of the summer holidays Megan begged her father to bring the metal trunk down from the attic so she could show it to Grandma Sue who was coming over to child-mind whilst her parents were at work. The little trunk was put in the place normally occupied by the coffee table and when Grandma Sue came in she recognised it at once.
“We’re all curious to know what’s inside that mum,” said Arthur. “It was a mighty task getting it out of the roof, I started to think it was lined with lead,” he added with a smile.
“I can’t remember what’s inside, I know my parents bought a set of trunks for us to take on a long holiday. We went across the sea to a far off land. I remember when my father was writing on our names in white paint, I put my hand in the paint, father told me to clean my hand, but I put it on the trunk. The handprint still there, I must have been about Megan’s age,”
“Please, grandma tell me what’s inside?” pleaded Megan
“As far as I can remember my mother unpacked the trunks when we came home and they were put into the attic in case we ever needed them for another long trip,”
“Well it certainly isn’t empty now,” as Arthur spoke, he rubbed his back. “I could always cut the trunk open with my power tools?”
“Certainly not,” snapped Grandma Sue. “I don’t want my trunk damaged. I know there was a key and I’m sure I put it somewhere safe. I just can’t remember right now,”
“That’s okay Grandma Sue, how about we make sandwiches for lunch?” offered Megan kindly.
Over the weeks of the summer holidays Megan’s father and mother saw that Grandma Sue’s memory was getting worse and worse. On the day when she backed her car into the gatepost, dad finally announced that she shouldn’t be driving, and that it was time for her to move back into the house where she could be with her family all the time. After much deliberating Grandma Sue agreed and began to pack up her belongings ready for the move.
On the day of the big move Arthur hired a van and a man, as Grandma Sue wanted to bring some of her furniture and even a few of her sculptures with her. As always Megan wanted to be helpful, she carried many boxes and piles of books down the flight of uncarpeted stairs that led from the second-floor apartment into the double height space of the artist studio below. The studio still contained several half-finished works of art, many studies, and every wall was covered in sketches. Megan was a little sad that she wouldn’t be coming back here, as her grandma would be renting the place out to another artist. There was a large sculpture in the middle of the room carved from a block of sandstone of a woman dancing, Grandma Sue had been working on it for years, but never quite finished it, and now it would never be, which made Megan more than a little sad. She carried vases of dried flowers, packs of paper, sketch pads, and even pots and pans from the kitchen.
Everything was going really well until she brought down Grandma Sue’s old jewellery box. It was a lovely thing. When Megan opened the lid, she saw there was a mirror on the inside which made the more valuable jewellery that was kept in the top tray sparkle twice in its reflection. It contained all Grandma Sue’s sparkling earrings and many silver rings as she loved them. There were double doors on the front which opened to reveal six little drawers each containing jewelled hairpins, bracelets, necklaces and brooches. The jewellery box was finished with black lacquer, with decorative brass hinges and corners making it look like a travelling chest. The inside of the was lined with red silk with a delicate oriental pattern, the silk was now faded and even worn in a few places. The box was quite large and surprisingly heavy, Megan held it carefully by the handles on either side, as she knew how valuable it was to Grandma Sue.
The little brass handles dug into Megan’s hands, so she thought she’d adjust her grip, and would be holding the box underneath. As she moved her hands her foot slipped on a stray piece of paper which was lying on the wooden stairs. As she stumbled the jewellery box slipped from her hands, and in slow motion she watched it fall down the stairs. The little doors flew open and the drawers slid out scattering their contents, as it hit several stairs sending earrings and necklaces flying in every direction. The sound was awful as the once beautiful wooden box hit the concrete floor at the bottom of the stairs, Megan began to cry and wail she was so upset, she been so careful and now this had happened, she was so upset in fact that she hadn’t noticed that she had twisted her ankle and bruised her arm when she had fallen over.
Megan’s mum and dad came running when they heard the noise. They found Megan crying, not from the pain from her bruises and twisted ankle, but from her distress at breaking grandma’s treasured jewellery box. Mum took her home in the car and cleaned up her ankle and wrist, but Megan only began to calm down once her mother had given her a milky cup of tea.
Left to clear up the mess Arthur found a large cardboard carton and began to pick up all the fragments of the box he could find along with all the jewellery, he was careful to make sure he had pairs of earrings and all seven of the silver rings that he knew his mother kept in one of the little drawers. He found an engagement ring under a drift of discarded, scrunched up sketches near the stairs, this was a mystery as he’d grown up with just his mum. After locating as much off the jewellery as he could find he carefully laid them out on a big sheet of black paper, he counted out twelve rings including the seven silver ones. A set of hairpins, the ornamental bracelets and brooches and a few hard to identifying knickknacks. Amongst the wreckage of the jewellery box he found a small, black, metal key. He realised it was the key for the metal trunk. He couldn’t understand why his mother had put it in the jewellery box, and forgotten about it, but he just knew that Megan would be delighted to discover they had found the key. As it happened Arthur forgot all about the key, as he was so concerned about Megan’s twisted ankle when he got home
Arthur tried to glue the jewellery box back together, but it had smashed so comprehensively that it was an impossible task. In the end he did an internet search and found another jewellery box in an antique shop that was almost the same, just two towns away. Megan had pleaded with her mum and dad not to tell grandma about the destruction of the jewellery box, fortunately the old woman hadn’t noticed it was missing as she was so distracted with the move.
It was a pleasant autumn day with the leaves falling and swirling through the air, when Arthur took Megan to pick up the new box. They had a wonderful time, looking at the brightly coloured autumn trees along the sides of the road. They picked up the new jewellery box, which was nearly identical to Grandma Sue’s, except there were a couple of dents and scratches in different places. Megan and her father had lunch in a lovely old-fashioned cafe next to the antique shop before heading home. When they got back Megan announced that the jewellery box was rather dirty and that she wished to clean it out. She vacuumed the silk lining in all the drawers and she even used wax furniture polish to buff the sides of the lacquered box.
“You’ve done a cracking job there Megan, all we need to do now is fill it with Grandma Sue’s jewellery,”
Piece by piece Arthur handed Megan the things to put in the drawers, and they filled up the top level of the box beneath the mirror, with the most precious rings and pendants that Grandma Sue possessed. It took a combined effort from father and daughter to remember where all the items had gone, but they were finally done.
“I think we’ve outdone ourselves my darling, grandma will never notice.”
“You’re wrong dad, it is not quite right, it doesn’t smell like grandma’s jewellery box, we need a spray of her perfume.”
Grandma Sue had gone for an afternoon nap, so Megan crept into the bedroom and took the bottle of French perfume from her grandma’s dressing table. Back down on the kitchen table she carefully sprayed a large puff of the French perfume over the open lid of the jewellery box and the drawers that had been laid out beside it on the table. The French perfume smelt very strong and in Megan’s mind it was the smell of grandma, she’d worn the same perfume as long as Megan could remember, and its smell permeated all of her possessions.
This time Arthur carried the jewellery box upstairs and nestled it onto the dressing table amongst his mother’s other odds and ends, whilst she was in the bathroom, he also returned the perfume. Meanwhile Megan went to throw out the cardboard box which had been the temporary home for her grandma’s jewellery, she turned it over so she could flatten the box to put in the recycling and something jangled onto the kitchen floor. The second she bent down to pick up the little black key she realised what it was.
“The key to grandma’s trunk!” Shouted Megan as she danced around the kitchen with joy.
She was so excited that she could finally find out what was in the trunk, she had half a mind to go straight into the living room and open it, but she knew it would be rude, after all it was grandma’s trunk. When Grandma Sue came downstairs Megan made her a cup of tea and took it through in to the living room, along with the key.
“That’s the key to my old trunk, where did you find it my sweet?”
“Well grandma it was in the bottom of your jewellery box, we found it during the move. Please can we have a look inside the trunk now?” Megan could hardly contain her excitement as she spoke.
Smiling in that special way reserved for grandmothers Sue nodded and handed Megan the key to do the honours. Megan had been fantasising about the contents of the trunk for so long now, that she’d convince herself it would be filled with pirate treasure or something just as awesome. It was an understandable sense of disappointment that she felt when she saw the trunk was filled with nothing more than piles of paper, with bad grace Megan stormed off to her room in a sulk.
That evening over dinner Megan barely said a word, and she only grunted at her father when he asked if she had looked through the papers, as if they were important.
After that day Megan didn’t give the trunk and its contents any more thought until halfway through the autumn half term. She had made plans to go out with her friends. They were planning on building a big den in the woods behind her friend Lottie’s house. Despite the girls best laid plans, the great British weather had plans of its own and it was windy, and it rained for the whole week. Megan tried playing online games with her friends and video chatting with them, but it wasn’t quite the same. Like many nine-year-olds she grew bored, so bored in fact she even did her homework. After completing her book report and her spelling practice, she decided it wouldn’t hurt to have another look at the trunk and its contents.
Much to Megan surprise she discovered more than a dozen short stories written and illustrated by her grandmother and another girl called Hetty, who had neat handwriting. Reading the first manuscript, which was held together with a length of pink ribbon, Megan realised that Hetty had written the stories and that grandma had done the drawings. Even as a child her distinct style was already noticeable in the way she drew. The first story was about three pirates arguing about the best kind of treasure, and of course they each had to bring a piece of treasure to prove that either gold, diamonds or rubies were the best kind of treasure to have. After really enjoying the story Megan looked for another, but to her horror she discovered all the other papers in the trunk were in a horrible jumble. There was an illustration of a princess riding a unicorn, between two pages of a story about an adventure in a deep dark cave. Slowly over the next few days Megan pieced together the various stories along with their illustrations. She really loved one story about a sea captain who was chasing a giant water serpent all over the world. The captain spent his whole life chasing the serpent because it scales would make a magic potion that would restore him to his youth.
Excitedly Megan told her mum and dad, and of course Grandma Sue all about the stories over dinner. Sometimes Grandma Sue would remember the stories and other times she didn’t. What was really frustrating, was that she couldn’t remember who Hetty was. There was no last name on the manuscripts and Megan had no luck discovering her identity through an Internet search, there were simply too many Hettys.
Megan’s father had announced over dinner the previous night, that he was finished with the damn toothpaste advert and he had time for a family day out, as it would be the last day of the half term holiday. The plan fell apart early on when Megan’s mother got called into work at the restaurant where she was a supervisor, as three people had called in sick. Resilient as always Arthur had suggested that the two of them head out for another father-daughter day, but these plans were dashed by a ferocious thunderstorm. In the end Megan, Grandma Sue and Arthur sat in the sitting room reading through the short stories, there were twenty-four in total and they were all very funny and very different.
“I’ve got a great idea,” announced Arthur, “why don’t we turn each of these stories into an animation? We could use grandma’s pictures as a reference and play one every day during December like an advent calendar.”
“That’s a great idea dad, but who is going to watch them apart from us?”
Megan regretted her words immediately as dad seemed upset, but it was the truth that hardly anyone had watched his short animations online.
“How about we put the TV in the window at the front of the house and surround it with Christmas lights, like other people decorate their houses along the street. We could put each of the short films on repeat so people could watch them as they walk past,”
“That’s a great idea Megan,” said Arthur scooping his daughter into a great big hug as he spoke.
For the rest of October and all of November, the two of them worked hard on this new project, Megan’s mum was worried that Arthur wasn’t looking for another job, but he assured his wife that the money from the toothpaste advert would tide them over, and this was a special project after all. Megan thought that the videos her father was making were a kind of Christmas present from Grandma Sue to everyone who saw them.
On the first day of December Megan helped her dad push the TV up against the big front window. Despite mum complaining that she wouldn’t get to watch television for a month, they set everything up. They surrounded the TV with Christmas lights and even place the speakers outside on the window ledges. Megan ran in and out telling her father to move the TV this way or that, to make sure the whole thing could be seen.
As the sun set on the first of December, Christmas lights started coming on all the way down Megan’s street. One house had a full forest of Christmas trees on their lawn, whilst another house had a life-size Santa and his sleigh on the roof. Probably the most elaborate display was their next-door neighbour’s, who had transformed his front garden into Narnia, complete with fake snow and a wardrobe you could walk through. The street was quite famous in the town for the elaborate decorative lights the residents put on. As the first people began to walk down the street to see the Christmas lights, Megan flicked the switch and played the first of the short stories. This one was one of Megan’s personal favourites, it was about a very dopey-looking unicorn getting lost on its way to the market, where it wanted to buy sugar lumps. Looking out of her bedroom window Megan could see people stopping and watching the funny story until ten o’clock, when her dad turned it off and announced she really should be going to bed.
As the days of December slowly went by Megan would spend most evenings watching from her window ,and soon recognised people coming back every night to see the next story. Arthur was delighted when he discovered posted through their letterbox, a lovely note from a mother and her daughter, who had enjoyed the story about the forgetful milkmaid and the clever cheese. Soon the two of them started receiving lots of fan mail, most of which were polite little notes saying how much they enjoyed these original short films.
One morning in mid-December as Megan was going through the previous night’s fan mail, she discovered a letter from a girl called Alice. In her letter Alice explained that she knew the stories from these animations as they have been told to her by her grandmother. Alice was polite, but she wanted to know how Megan and her father had come across them. She had believed that the stories had been made up just for her by her grandmother. Megan showed the letter to her dad who agreed that it was quite possible, that Alice was the granddaughter of Hetty, the girl who had written the stories with Grandma Sue.
With a sense of adventure Megan and her father set off one afternoon at the beginning of the school Christmas holidays, across town to the address that Alice had left in her letter. They knocked on the front door together as they were both too nervous to do it themselves. A middle-aged woman opened the door and close behind was a girl, who Megan presumed was Alice. After introducing himself and explaining why they were there, the woman didn’t look too impressed, but Alice understood and encouraged her mum to invite them in.
When they were all sat in the living room drinking cups of tea, Arthur tried again to explain more clearly why they’d come to see them, but before he got started an old lady, who looked even older than Grandma Sue came in and settled herself in an armchair.
“Am I correct to presume that you’re Susan Turner’s son and granddaughter?”
“That’s right, I’m Arthur Turner and this is my daughter Megan.”
“Are you Hattie?” Asked Megan, as she spoke, she held out one of the stories that she’d brought along with them, which showed Grandma Sue’s signature alongside that of Hetty.
“I am indeed Hetty,” she took the proffered papers to look at them. “Oh gosh where on earth did you find these? I haven’t seen them in years.”
“We found them in an old trunk up in the loft,” replied Megan.
“We were wondering if you could tell us more about them?” added Arthur.
“Surely Sue would be able to tell you, unless she…”
“No, she’s still with us,” interrupted Arthur, “It’s just that her memory is very bad, some days she can’t remember anything about herself. That’s why we were hoping you could fill in the blanks.”
Hetty told them everything she could remember, about the days when she used to babysit Sue, in the big old house on the other side of town.
“You see we were very good friends, despite there being a ten-year age gap, which when you’re young is a lot of difference,” concluded Hetty.
“If you were such good friends how come we never met you before?” asked Megan bluntly.
“It seems like such a silly thing now, but when I left to go to university, you see I wanted to study literature, I became a journalist and an editor at a newspaper. Where was I, yes. When I went to university, I told Sue that I wouldn’t be able to babysit her anymore, she was twelve or thirteen, and didn’t really need a babysitter anyway. I remember she took it very badly and she went off crying. I never got a chance to say goodbye properly. I meant to make things up with her when I got back from university, but I got my first job working for a women’s magazine. After that there never seemed to be time.” Hetty sounded regretful.
“It’s never too late grandma,” said Alice.
“That’s right,” joined in Megan, “you can come over to see Grandma Sue on Christmas Eve, that will be a fantastic surprise for her.”
Hetty agreed, if she could bring Alice, who seemed very keen on the idea.
On Christmas eve the two old ladies were reunited over cups of cocoa, although Grandma Sue had a little glass of sherry with the gingerbread men that Alice had made and brought along. To begin with Grandma Sue thought that Alice was Hetty, as the two of them looked a lot alike, and it took quite a bit of explaining to convince Grandma Sue that the old lady was Hattie, her long lost friend. Once Hetty had got talking, Sue began to remember more and more.
“I remember that when you told me you were going off to university, I got so cross I threw all our stories into my trunk in the loft. I locked the trunk and was going to throw the key in the river, or bury it in the park or something but…” Grandma Sue paused as she dabbed at her eyes. “I loved the memories that the stories held, so I put the key in the bottom of my jewellery box.”
Megan was delighted, she now had all the pieces of the puzzle, how her grandmother and her friend had written and illustrated the stories, and why they’d ended up locked and forgotten about in a trunk in the attic. As the two old ladies began to reminisce about the sixty years or so since they’d last seen each other, Megan and Alice went upstairs to play with Megan’s dolls. The two girls discovered that they went to the same school and the only reason they had never met before, was that they were in different year groups, with Megan being a year older.
When it grew dark Megan took her new friend Alice outside to watch the final short story, along with her parents and the stars of the show, as it were, Susan and Hetty. It would be nice to say that snow began to fall and there was music in the air, but this is England and it rained. After eight minutes standing outside watching the story all about the gingerbread man who saved Christmas, huddled together under Arthur’s golf umbrella, they all went back inside for some mulled wine for the adults and fresh cups of steaming cocoa for Megan and Alice.
“Arthur, I was wondering if you would consider turning these short stories into comic strips for my newspaper, I may be retired as the editor there now, but I still have connections?”
“That would be fantastic, if of course I had consent from you, and my mother.”
Grandma Sue nodded and smiled happily, she’d had two sherries and a glass of mulled wine and would have probably smiled at any suggestion.
“There will be a tidy little sum, and of course it will get you more exposure for your good work.”
Megan’s mum was delighted to think that Arthur would be paid after all, for this work. Of course, Arthur was excited that he might get to work on more projects of his choosing, and maybe he would be able to work on his own short animations with a proper budget. So, it was a very Merry Christmas in the Turner house and there was the promise of a happy New Year to come.
Epilogue.
When the school holidays were over Hattie and Alice still came over to visit regularly, seeing her old friend seem to be helping grandma Sue with her memory and Megan and Alice were fast becoming best friends.
The two girls would sit with one another during lunch breaks and they began to write short stories of their own, inspired by the stories there grandmothers had written. Who knows for sure what stories they wrote? They probably wrote about dragons and princesses, but maybe they wrote about laser beams and space battles too.
The end.