Chapter 3 The City of Forgotten Things

Not that Hull Paragon was particularly enormous, but after spending several hours sitting in a carriage with nothing but her thoughts and a rapidly deteriorating laptop for company, the sudden press of people was rather overwhelming.

She stepped aside to let a family pass, dragging her rucksack closer to her body.

The station was much as she remembered it. The high roof, the familiar ironwork, the smell of coffee and diesel, and the constant shuffle of people heading somewhere else.

Some things, apparently, didn't change.

She pulled out her phone and checked the address of Ashcombe's solicitors.

Old Town.

She'd suspected as much from the emails, although she'd been hoping for somewhere closer to the station.

It wasn't particularly far, but she was carrying everything she'd brought with her, and the rucksack was beginning to feel considerably heavier than it had when she'd left home.

Still, walking was free.

She could manage walking.

She passed through the station doors and emerged into the afternoon air.

To her right stood the modern shopping centre, its glass frontage reflecting the grey sky. People moved in and out beneath the signage, carrying shopping bags and takeaway coffees. There was a certain liveliness to it, a suggestion that the city was trying rather hard to look forward.

Clarissa turned her attention towards the older buildings.

And there it was.

The Hull she remembered.

Not that she was being entirely fair.

She knew perfectly well that the city had changed over the years. There were new developments, renovated streets and businesses that hadn't existed when she'd lived here.

But the old city centre still had an unmistakable air of tiredness about it.

Large buildings that had once housed department stores stood with their windows dark and their grand entrances looking rather neglected. Shopfronts that she remembered displaying clothes, shoes and expensive household goods were now empty, their interiors stripped bare or hidden behind faded advertising boards.

She remembered those shops being busy.

She remembered her mother taking her into town on Saturdays, promising that they were only looking, which usually meant she wasn't getting anything.

She remembered the smell of the department stores, the polished floors and the feeling that everything inside was far more expensive than anything her family could afford.

One building in particular caught her attention.

She slowed.

She couldn't remember what had been there originally. A department store, perhaps. Something large enough to have occupied the entire corner.

Now its windows were dark.

A faded sign remained above the entrance, although the lettering had become difficult to read.

Clarissa stared at it for a moment.

"Charming."

She continued walking.

It wasn't that Hull had nothing going for it. There were attractive buildings, interesting little streets and places that were genuinely worth visiting.

She just found it difficult to separate the city from the feeling she'd had growing up here.

A feeling that there was somewhere else she ought to be.

Somewhere bigger.

Somewhere better.

She'd left at seventeen with very little money and a determination that had bordered on desperation.

She'd never really looked back.

Until now.

She checked her phone again.

2:38 p.m.

Twenty-two minutes.

She had time.

Old Town was rather different from the area surrounding the station.

The streets narrowed, the buildings grew older and the modern shopfronts gradually gave way to brickwork, timber framing and the occasional impressive façade that looked as though it had survived several centuries through sheer stubbornness.

Clarissa found herself slowing down.

Not because she was particularly interested in the architecture.

Although some of it was quite pretty.

It was more that she was trying to reconcile the place she remembered with the one in front of her.

There were buildings she'd never noticed before. Carved stone details above doorways, dates picked out in brickwork and little plaques explaining the histories of places she'd walked past countless times as a child.

She wondered how much she'd missed simply because she'd been desperate to leave.

A narrow street opened onto Land of Green Ginger.

Clarissa stopped.

Then she smiled.

"Oh, I remember you."

The George Hotel stood ahead, its old frontage looking rather more impressive than she remembered. She approached the building, glancing towards the tiny window set into its brickwork.

The smallest window.

She'd been fascinated by it as a child.

She couldn't remember exactly why it had been there, although she vaguely recalled some story about watching for approaching coaches.

She took out her phone.

A quick photograph.

Then another, because the first had caught too much of the pavement.

She zoomed in.

The little window was almost absurdly narrow.

"Imagine trying to get a decent view through that."

She adjusted the angle and took one more photograph.

Something moved.

Clarissa lowered her phone.

There was a small shape near the upper edge of the window.

At first, she thought it was a bird.

Something dark, perhaps a starling, perched against the old stonework.

But as she looked, it seemed to turn its head.

Two tiny points caught the light.

Not quite golden.

Not quite green.

And the eyes...

Clarissa frowned.

There was something peculiar about their shape. They seemed too narrow, too sharply angled to belong to a bird.

For a brief moment, she had the distinct impression that something was looking directly at her.

Then a bus rolled through the street, briefly obscuring the building.

When it passed, the little shape was gone.

Clarissa looked up again.

Nothing.

She glanced at the photograph on her phone.

A dark blur.

Probably a bird.

She zoomed in, but the image was too grainy to make anything out.

"Well, that was helpful."

She slipped her phone into her pocket.

She had a solicitor to meet, and she was already beginning to look like someone who had become distracted by pigeons.

She checked the time.

2:46 p.m.

Right.

Time to find Ashcombe's.

The offices were situated in an old building on one of the quieter streets of Old Town.

Clarissa stopped outside, looking up at the frontage.

It was considerably more attractive than she'd expected.

Tall windows, dark-painted timber and a polished brass plaque beside the entrance.

ASHCOMBE & PARTNERS

Solicitors.

There was something reassuringly established about it.

She pushed open the door.

Inside, the reception area was warm and pleasantly quiet. Dark wooden flooring ran beneath a patterned rug, and a staircase curved upwards towards the first floor.

A large framed photograph of Hull's waterfront hung on the wall.

The receptionist looked up.

"Good afternoon. Can I help you?"

"Hello. I'm here to see Mr Ashcombe. Three o'clock appointment."

"Of course. Miss Mayfield?"

Clarissa nodded.

"That's me."

"Mr Ashcombe is expecting you. If you'd like to take a seat, I'll let him know you've arrived."

"Thank you."

Clarissa settled onto a chair near the window and placed her rucksack beside her feet.

She glanced around.

There were bookshelves against one wall, although most of the volumes appeared to be legal references. A few framed certificates hung beside them, and an antique clock ticked quietly above the reception desk.

She checked her phone.

No new messages.

No miraculous payment notification.

No unexpected offers of employment.

Just the usual collection of emails, promotional rubbish and a reminder that her mobile bill would be coming out in four days.

She locked the screen.

"Miss Mayfield?"

Clarissa looked up.

A man stood in the doorway.

He was perhaps thirty-five or thirty-six, tall, with dark brown hair neatly styled away from his forehead. His suit was charcoal grey, beautifully fitted, and a waistcoat completed the rather polished appearance.

He had blue-grey eyes and an expression that suggested he was accustomed to people listening when he spoke.

He also looked considerably younger than she'd expected.

"Mr Ashcombe?"

"Theodore, please. Mr Ashcombe makes me sound terribly old."

His voice was unmistakably English, with a polished London accent that seemed almost at odds with the surroundings.

Clarissa stood.

"Clarissa. Thank you for seeing me."

"The pleasure is mine."

He offered his hand.

His handshake was firm without being unnecessarily enthusiastic.

"Please, come through. Can I get you some tea or coffee?"

"Coffee would be lovely, thank you."

"Excellent choice."

He gestured towards the corridor.

"Although I should warn you, our coffee machine has strong opinions about how it wishes to be operated."

Clarissa smiled.

"Sounds familiar."

He glanced at her.

"Ah. The laptop?"

She nodded.

"The laptop."

"Still behaving itself?"

"Define behaving."

Theo gave a quiet laugh.

"I see. Well, perhaps we should avoid discussing its future until after we've discussed yours."

His office was much as Clarissa had imagined, although considerably less intimidating.

A large wooden desk stood near the windows, with several leather-bound books arranged neatly along one side. There were shelves containing legal texts, historical volumes and a rather impressive collection of books about Hull.

The walls were decorated with old photographs and framed prints.

One showed the city's waterfront as it had looked many decades earlier.

Another depicted an old street lined with merchants' houses.

Clarissa took a moment to look around.

"Interesting office."

"Thank you. I rather like it."

"Very traditional."

"An occupational hazard, I'm afraid."

He indicated a chair opposite his desk.

"Please, sit down."

Clarissa placed her rucksack beside her and settled into the chair.

Theo took his place behind the desk, opened a folder and glanced through the papers.

"Now, Miss Mayfield. First, my condolences. I understand you and your grandfather were close when you were younger."

Clarissa nodded.

"We were."

"Arthur spoke of you occasionally."

She looked up.

"He did?"

"Indeed. He was rather proud of you."

Clarissa wasn't quite sure what to say.

Theo seemed to recognise that and continued without pressing her.

"Your grandfather was an interesting man. Very knowledgeable. Occasionally rather stubborn, but I suspect you already know that."

A small smile tugged at her lips.

"That sounds about right."

"I thought it might."

He opened another document.

"Now, I believe you've travelled some distance to be here, so I'll try not to keep you longer than necessary."

"That's appreciated."

"Although I should warn you, I have a rather unfortunate tendency to become distracted by the history of old buildings."

Clarissa looked at the bookshelves.

"I'd gathered."

He smiled.

"Then we're already making progress."

The formalities took perhaps twenty minutes.

Theo explained the inheritance, the relevant paperwork and the transfer of the property into Clarissa's name.

There were several documents she needed to sign, although he took the time to explain each one rather than simply pushing them across the desk.

Clarissa appreciated that.

She'd never been particularly comfortable with legal paperwork. There was something about the language that made her feel as though she might accidentally sign away her kidneys.

Theo seemed accustomed to people feeling that way.

"You're not expected to understand every clause in every document, Miss Mayfield. That's rather the point of having a solicitor."

"Good. I was beginning to think I'd need a law degree."

"An understandable concern. Although I wouldn't recommend acquiring one solely for the purpose of selling a small library."

Clarissa laughed.

"That was actually my next question."

Theo looked up.

"Ah."

"How quickly can I sell it?"

He sat back slightly.

"Quite directly to the point."

"I'm afraid I have rather practical concerns."

"Of course."

Clarissa folded her hands.

"I don't live in Hull anymore. I haven't for years. I work from home, and I've inherited a building I don't particularly need. I'd like to know what it's worth, what needs doing and how quickly I could get it onto the market."

Theo considered her for a moment.

"Well, there are a few things to establish before we can discuss a sale."

"Such as?"

"The condition of the property, its title, any outstanding obligations and, naturally, its market value."

"Right."

"I'd also strongly recommend that you inspect it before making any decisions."

"I was planning to."

"Excellent."

He closed the folder.

"Then perhaps we can discuss the building itself."

Clarissa had a feeling she knew where this was going.

Theo's expression changed slightly.

Not dramatically.

Just enough to suggest that he'd arrived at a subject he found considerably more interesting than probate paperwork.

"Your grandfather's library has a rather unusual history."

Clarissa sighed inwardly.

Here we go.

"How unusual?"

"Rather more than you might expect."

He stood, crossed to one of the bookshelves and retrieved a thin folder.

"Do you know anything about the original building?"

"Only that Grandad bought it years ago and turned it into a library."

"Quite. But it existed long before that."

He returned to his desk and opened the folder.

"The original premises date back to the early seventeenth century. We believe they were constructed around 1615, although the exact date is difficult to establish."

Clarissa blinked.

"1615?"

"Approximately."

"That's rather old."

"Indeed."

He produced a copy of an old illustration and placed it on the desk.

It showed a narrow building with a steep roof, small windows and a wooden frontage. Several barrels stood outside, and a man in a long coat was depicted carrying a crate towards the entrance.

Clarissa leaned forward.

"Is that it?"

"The original building, yes. Or as close as we can establish from the surviving illustrations."

She studied it.

It was difficult to reconcile the little merchant's premises in the drawing with the building she'd known as a child.

"Who owned it?"

"A merchant by the name of Elias Wren. He appears to have been a rather successful trader."

"What did he trade?"

Theo smiled.

"That's where things become interesting."

Clarissa looked at him.

"Let me guess. Books?"

"No. Something rather more unusual."

He turned a page in the folder.

"Petrified curiosities."

She frowned.

"Sorry?"

"Objects that appeared to have been turned to stone. Petrified wood, mineralised organic matter, unusual geological specimens. Such things were highly prized by collectors and those interested in natural philosophy."

Clarissa looked back at the illustration.

"So he sold rocks?"

Theo considered this.

"Well, when you put it like that, it sounds rather less impressive."

She smiled.

"I'm trying to understand the business model."

"Quite understandable. Although I suspect Mr Wren would have been rather offended by the description."

He tapped the illustration.

"He seems to have made a considerable fortune from his trade. There are references to him dealing with collectors across Europe, and his private collection was apparently quite extensive."

"Apparently?"

"Unfortunately, the surviving records are incomplete."

Theo reached for another document.

"His property passed through several owners over the following centuries. It eventually became a bookseller's premises, then an antiquarian bookshop before your grandfather acquired it."

Clarissa glanced at the papers.

"Does that mean there are things in the building that might be valuable?"

"Potentially."

That caught her attention.

"Valuable how?"

"Historically, perhaps. Financially, I couldn't say without an inventory."

She looked at him with renewed interest.

For the first time that afternoon, the history of the building had begun to sound quite promising.

Theo noticed.

"I thought that might interest you."

"It certainly does."

He smiled.

"I suspected it might."

Clarissa settled back in her chair.

"Well, perhaps I should be a little more careful about what I throw away."

"I would strongly recommend that."

Theo spent the next few minutes explaining what he'd discovered about the building.

It had survived several changes of ownership, alterations to the frontage and various periods of neglect.

He'd found references to an antiquarian bookseller operating there during the eighteenth century, along with records suggesting that some of the older collection had remained in the premises throughout subsequent changes.

He was particularly interested in the original structure.

"The foundations appear to contain some considerably older stonework," he explained. "It's quite possible that the current building incorporates parts of an earlier structure."

Clarissa nodded politely.

She was trying to picture the place.

The little library she remembered had never seemed particularly ancient.

It had been a cramped, cluttered building full of books and the occasional suspicious smell of old carpet.

She'd never imagined that people might have been conducting business there four hundred years earlier.

"Your grandfather was rather protective of it," Theo continued.

"That sounds like him."

"He was very particular about certain parts of the collection. There were books he wouldn't allow to be moved, and others he seemed quite determined to keep out of circulation."

"Grandad always said some books were better left alone."

Theo looked up.

"Did he?"

Clarissa nodded.

"Although I assumed he meant because they were expensive."

Theo smiled faintly.

"Perhaps."

He returned the illustration to its folder.

"I've always found it interesting that he chose to keep the building as a library rather than sell it or convert it into something more commercially viable."

"Grandad loved books."

"Yes. He certainly did."

There was something in the way Theo said it that made Clarissa look at him again.

"You knew him quite well?"

"Not particularly well, I'm afraid. We spoke on several occasions, usually concerning the property. But I found him an agreeable man. Very knowledgeable."

"About the building?"

"About rather more than that."

Theo glanced towards the bookshelves.

"He had a remarkable memory for historical details. I once spent nearly an hour discussing the history of Hull's old merchant families with him."

Clarissa smiled.

"That sounds exhausting."

Theo laughed.

"It was actually rather enjoyable."

She found herself wondering what else her grandfather had been doing during the years she'd been away.

It was an uncomfortable thought.

She'd always imagined him behind the counter, reading his books and making tea.

Perhaps she'd forgotten that he had been a person outside her childhood memories.

Someone with conversations, friendships and an entire life she'd never really known about.

She looked down at the old illustration again.

"I suppose I should have visited more often."

Theo didn't answer immediately.

Then he said quietly:

"I'm sure he would have liked that. But I wouldn't imagine he spent his final years keeping score."

Clarissa looked up.

There was a kindness in his expression that she hadn't expected.

"Thank you."

He inclined his head.

"You're welcome."

The meeting eventually returned to more practical matters.

Theo explained that he'd arrange for a property valuation and recommended that she inspect the building before making any decisions about its contents.

He also mentioned that the property was currently vacant, although the utilities and some of the services might need checking.

"Does it have electricity?"

"It did when I last visited."

"Plumbing?"

"Likewise."

"Heating?"

Theo hesitated.

"That, Miss Mayfield, is a rather more complicated question."

Clarissa closed her eyes briefly.

"Wonderful."

"I wouldn't panic just yet."

"I'm not panicking."

"Of course not."

She gave him a look.

He smiled.

"I'll arrange for someone to check the property. In the meantime, I would advise against assuming that everything is in working order."

"Noted."

Theo gathered the paperwork.

"There's one other thing."

Clarissa looked up.

"Your grandfather left instructions concerning the contents of the building. He specifically requested that the books and personal possessions remain undisturbed until you had the opportunity to inspect them."

She frowned.

"Why?"

"I'm afraid I don't know. He simply made it part of his instructions."

"Did he say anything else?"

"Only that the collection was to pass to you with the property."

Clarissa considered this.

She'd been expecting a building full of old books.

She hadn't realised there might be anything particularly important about the contents.

"All right."

Theo watched her for a moment.

"May I ask what you intend to do with it?"

"Sell it, probably."

He nodded slowly.

"Of course."

There was a pause.

Then:

"Although I would encourage you to take your time before making that decision."

Clarissa raised an eyebrow.

"You're very fond of this building, aren't you?"

"Perhaps a little."

"More than is strictly necessary for a solicitor?"

He smiled.

"Almost certainly."

She laughed.

"Well, I'll try not to disappoint you."

"I wouldn't dream of suggesting otherwise."

He stood and offered her the folder.

"Shall I walk you over? I have a spare key, and I suspect you'll want to see the place while there's still some daylight."

Clarissa stood.

"That would be lovely, thank you."

She reached for her rucksack.

Theo glanced at it.

"Have you brought everything you own?"

"Only the essentials."

"Which appear to include an unusually large collection of clothing."

"Some of us have to be prepared."

"Indeed."

He opened the office door.

"Lead the way, Miss Mayfield."

Outside, the afternoon had become noticeably colder.

Clarissa pulled her coat closer and followed Theo along the pavement.

He walked with the easy confidence of someone who knew the streets well.

Unlike her.

She was beginning to realise that, despite having grown up in Hull, she remembered surprisingly little about Old Town.

Perhaps she'd never paid much attention.

Or perhaps she'd simply been too young to appreciate it.

Theo stopped briefly beside an old building, pointing out a carved date above the entrance.

"That one dates from the eighteenth century. It's been altered considerably, of course, but the original frontage is still visible."

Clarissa glanced up.

"Do you do this everywhere you go?"

"Do what?"

"Point out the age of buildings."

He looked genuinely thoughtful.

"Not everywhere."

She waited.

"Only places with buildings."

Clarissa laughed.

"Good grief."

He smiled and continued walking.

They turned into a narrower street.

The buildings stood close together, their upper floors leaning slightly towards the road. Some had been renovated, others looked as though they hadn't seen a paintbrush in decades.

Clarissa found herself looking more closely at the details.

A carved doorway.

An old sign.

A date picked out in brickwork.

She took out her phone and photographed one of the buildings.

Theo noticed.

"Interested in architecture?"

"Not particularly. I just liked the lettering."

"Ah. A writer's eye."

"Something like that."

He nodded.

"Your grandfather had much the same habit."

Clarissa glanced at him.

"He did?"

"Indeed. He was always pointing out things other people overlooked."

They continued walking.

A few moments later, Clarissa noticed a familiar little shopfront.

She slowed.

There it was.

The chocolatier.

Or at least, what remained of it.

The old frontage was still there, although the sign had changed slightly. Warm light glowed behind the windows, and rows of chocolates were displayed in little trays.

Clarissa stopped.

Theo turned.

"Something wrong?"

She shook her head.

"No. I used to come here when I was little."

He looked towards the shop.

"Ah. They're rather good, actually."

Clarissa smiled.

"I've never tried them."

"Never?"

"Never."

"How unfortunate."

She gave a little shrug.

"I couldn't afford them when I was younger."

Theo looked at her.

Then back at the shop.

"Well, perhaps you should remedy that."

Clarissa laughed.

"Perhaps."

She glanced at the window again.

Maybe, if the hotel contract paid on time.

Maybe, if the building sold.

Maybe.

She turned away.

"Come on. I want to see this library of mine."

Theo gave her an amused look.

"Of course."

They carried on down the street.

The little building was tucked between two older premises, its frontage narrower than Clarissa remembered.

She stopped outside.

For a moment, she simply looked at it.

The sign was faded.

The paint around the door had begun to peel.

One of the windows was dusty, and the display behind it contained a rather haphazard collection of books that had clearly been sitting there for some time.

She could see the outline of shelves beyond the glass.

A shadowed interior.

A narrow doorway.

And above it, the old sign.

MAYFIELD LIBRARY

Clarissa swallowed.

She hadn't realised how much she'd missed the place.

Not until she was standing in front of it.

Theo unlocked the door.

"After you."

Clarissa hesitated.

Then she stepped forward.

The little brass bell above the door gave a familiar chime as it opened.

And somewhere above them, on the narrow ledge of the old upper window, something small and dark shifted its weight.

Two strange eyes followed her inside.

Then the creature disappeared into the shadows.

Clarissa didn't notice.

She was too busy looking at the books.

And for the first time since arriving in Hull, she found herself wondering whether selling the building was quite as simple as she'd imagined.