Chapter 1: Eugenie
The wooden shed had belonged to her grandparents. It was essentially a potting shed containing the usual tools, which were now going rusty and the two or three husks of ageing and also rusting mowers. In the past her grandfather had been an amateur craftsman and had used all manner of antique woodworking tools, they were neatly stored away in chests.
The creaking door yawned as Eugenie entered the musty interior with cobwebs adorning the windows, she knew that what might seem like bits of old wood destined for the recycling plant actually might be more applicably photographed and sold on eBay.
But Eugenie had prevaricated. In winter the shed was cold and damp and in summer it was hot and humid, there never seemed an appropriate time for the task of clearing it out and the immensity of the task of sorting through so much stuff weighed heavily, like a brick in her mind. In fact there was a pie of bricks stacked up behind the shed; the purpose of those was long forgotten.
Every now and then Eugenie thought about it and then put the thought away like ‘clouds floating away in the sky’, the phrase came easily to her as being a slogan of her mindfulness course online. So now, inactivity was part of her everyday life.
She decided to take one thing at a time and removed a chest from the corner of the shed and put it into her car to take back to her kitchen, iphone at the ready to capture anything saleable.
Theo, her husband put the chest on the kitchen table for her. Inside thee were the tools she remembered, made of wood, they presumably were for all manner of carpentry jobs. She photographed them artistically after she had laid them out on a white tea towel spread out on the table for that purpose.
At the bottom of the chest was an encrusted dirty object. She rinsed it under the tap and then noticed that the blackened handle which now appeared to be a large magnifying glass might be silver. Carefully she gently used dip silver cleaner to clean the handle and it revealed small jewels set into chaised silver.
Now that it was clean she thought that it was exquisite and she never remembered it in her grandmother’s house, it must have lain there for years. She was not going to put this on eBay. Carefully she carried it into her office and laid it atop her ‘to do’ notebook. It was not a useful thing. She remembered the old adage,’ if a thing is not useful or beautiful, then throw it away.’ Well to Eugenie, the magnifying glass now in it splendour was a beautiful object and she would keep it.
Ever since her grandmother’s death there had been a winding down, she had moved to Devon from London. She loved nature’s abundance in the West Country. The vista of hills in the distance when she drove out of the town and the patchwork of fields along journeys often delighted her. She loved the changing seasons each providing some new delight and in Autumn, the corn fields edged with poppies. So too, she loved quiet woodlands with only the songs of birds to listen to, there was a particular bluebell wood Theo and she went to every year. But she missed her flat in London with its convenience, kitchen appliances that were the state of the art, no maintenance problems and also London’s culture. There were floor to ceiling windows in her first floor flat’s lounge and being among the treetops squirrels could be seen running around. It was easy to close the door and go out for all the many attractions that London offered. She wasn’t unhappy in Devon; but she was missed intellectual stimuli.
Her Grandmother had been wealthy: she had made a fortune in the 1950’s from owning three haberdashery shops and now the family had all had a share in that wealth but Eugenie needed a purpose, something to help her rebuild her confidence. Having wealth also meant responsibility. She was considering gifting to charity and was researching what charity she might support. When causes came on TV, she would impulsively send money via texting. Having more money than she actually needed meant that she could fly. She and Theo could fly the world if she wanted to, go anywhere, and do anything. But she and Theo had, ‘been there and done that’; it was her inner life that needed some reorganising.
Rescuing her grandfather’s woodworking tools were not about money. Eugenie hoped someone would buy them, treasure them and use them just as her grandfather had done. The magnifying glass too was symbolic; she was taking a good look at her life and her deepest desires.
She had grief about her Grandmother, who was the one person who had cherished her as a child. Eugenie looked though the kitchen window and saw in the lane a shimmering glimmer of bright yellow in the dark undergrowth. The primroses were out, Spring was here, the renewal of life in the natural world made sense to Eugenie and renewed her spirit.
Eugenie had always had a faith, although she did not belong to an established church, she had a belief system. She felt that there was good in the world and she just knew, knew, something or someone would come into her life if she searched properly and a way would be found. She examined her innermost needs and wanted to be successful, and to find fame. She had long wanted to write a best seller, not quite like Fifty Shades of Grey, but something that was hers and would catch the reader’s imagination. However, she also knew fame could not be bought.
Cleaning out her Grandparent’s shed was a chore, and it took many hours of sorting and many hours of trips to the recycling centre. Until the only things that were left were a collection of old photograph frames that her Grandfather had made with his word working tools. They stood leaning against one wall. The setting sun carelessly cast dust beams through the grimy window and Eugenie’s feet made sodden clumping sounds on the wooden floor as she went over to retrieve the last lot.
She randomly chose one frame and looked at the photograph. She stared, wasn’t it a photograph of herself as a child, sitting in her Grandmother’s garden having tea? She remembered how they had sat in the shade of the cherry tree and everything was done in Grandmother’s interminable way with white tablecloth and best china tea set. Crumpets were served under special Harrod’s crumpet servers made of stainless steel, she had never eaten such delicious crumpets before or since.
She stood transfixed and with her memories came an uncanny feeling of her Grandparents being there with her. She could almost hear their voices as she stood alone in the shed, Geoffrey and Muriel’s special shared, recreational place.
’Oh, that frame is lovely Lionel, you have done it beautifully.’
’But will it sell at the craft fair Ivy, that’s the thing.’
’I don’t want you to sell that one, let’s keep it for a photograph of one of the grandchildren.’
Eugenie decided just at that moment that she was not going to sell the shed along with the house sale. She would take it down, remove it and put it up again in her own garden. She would make the shed into a writing den for herself, never mind if she was sentimental. An old comfy chair, her Grandmother’s potting table and some paint would work wonders. She would use off cut carpeting on the floor and install electric light. She began to get excited. Outside the shed she would make a rockery out of the bricks and plant it with her Grandmother’s favourite kinds of plants. Then when finished she would begin a family memoire.
She may not become famous, she may not write a best seller but the memoire might be a way of her being there for her own grandchildren and a way of honouring her Grandparent’s legacy.
A year later Eugenie’s interest in creative writing would take a very different direction and one that would lead her into realms she didn’t know existed.
