Regret Me Not

‘I really can’t afford to be wasting time sorting the loft out honey. If you haven’t noticed I’m flat out and you know my chest plays up when I’m up there, you take a look why don’t you?’

‘Fine whatever, it’s not as if I’m busy either! It’ a pandemic everyone is on furlough but me!’

‘Look I’m just say…’’

‘Doesn’t matter I want to do it myself anyway, you will just grump and get in the way.’

Penny had run out of patience.

The loft had not been entered since Penny and Jack moved in 8 years ago. It is a dank dark place where all of Jack’s ‘collectible’ memorabilia is stored. Although, Penny thinks it’s better off at the tip rather than clogging up precious space needed to renovate when the baby arrives. After all, Jack’s new mid-life crisis “business idea” of becoming a blacksmith is getting expensive and a lot of the “collectible” stuff may be worth something. With their first baby on the way, a business in its infancy and the harshness of lock-down they are both in saving mode.

The loft hatch has a small brass latch that still has some sticky remnants of gloss when Jack did his ‘brilliant’ paint job last year. Penny, on the stepladder, holding a butter-knife is trying to pry the latch without damaging even more paint work. Though at this rate she’s thinking what the hell, I may as well just repaint this myself. Jack is foolhardy and headstrong; but she loves him dearly.

The loft hatch gives a loud creak and swings open with a near miss to Penny’s face. Tumbling black dust and dead flies cover Penny’s overalls as the hatch door thuds against the hallway wall. She wipes down quickly and enters the loft without hesitation, still angry with Jack. To the left she pulls the cord, and the single light-bulb enlightens the cavernous space to show many cardboard boxes labelled ‘loft’.

‘Right, let’s get to it’. She pulls the first box towards the opening of the hatch bringing with it a plume of more mothballs. Ripping Jack’s half taped box, she takes out a bunch of old PC magazines from the 90's.

‘Yeah right, like these will make anything, why are they still here?’ She flings them into one of the black bin liners she had taken up with her. A cathartic sense embraces her as she heaves more of these neglected relics.

The neighboring box was unlabeled and aged, yet properly packaged like a present. This was not Jack’s and definitely not Penny’s as she prides herself in keeping essentials only; well apart from her shoe collection, no one comes between Penny and her shoes.

Full of intrigue, Penny pulls on the string bow and gently tears off the old paper tape. She tilts the box towards the single swinging bulb to reveal what treasures are hidden within. To her profound disappointment the box was empty. What an anti-climax to this mystery treasure trove she resolved. But as she was about to throw it aside, she noticed something slide at the bottom. As Penny scrubbed the bottom of the box, her fingers lifted the edge of what felt like soft paper with a padded leather edge. It was a book, a small black notebook with moleskin hard backing and yellow tinged lined pages with terrible scrawling on them, as if chickens with ink on their feet danced the salsa all over the page.

As Penny flicked through the pages, she noticed a small pocket at the back with a raised center. She squeezed the bulge from the base and pushed upward at which point a USB stick appeared.

The plot thickens, she says to herself. What could this be she thinks? One nicely wrapped box with a black book she can hardly read and a USB stick. Whose is this?

‘JACK, TAKE A LOOK AT THIS!’ she shouts in a high pitch crackle.

Jack, downstairs deep in work mode, hears her clearly but chooses to ignore her and continues to digest the YouTube tutorial: how to blacksmith a guide for beginners.

Penny waits for an answer but knows she is being ignored so persists with trying to read the appalling scrawl on the page. She starts to make out the name Nichole which is mentioned quite frequently on most pages, ‘My Dearest Nichole’. This was obviously a diary of some kind, to a lover perhaps and possibly hidden away from prying eyes. She makes out a date in the top right corner 02/03/09. This notebook is over 10 years old, Penny surmises, I bet this belonged to the previous owners she thinks as she wracks her memory for their names.

‘JACK, WHO WERE THE PREVIOUS OWNERS?!’ she shouts.

Still no reply. Penny maneuvers herself onto a wood beam to get a little comfier. She starts to decipher some more of the writing on the first page.

02/03/09

Dearest Nicole,

From the deepest depths of my heart, I did not want to leave you. You are my world and my life and I love you more than you could ever imagine. The day I left you was the darkest day of my life. I only hope that one day you may find this diary of memories and understand how much you mean to me. I know you hate me for what I have done but always remember there are two sides to every story. So please read further if you wish to know the truth and settle this one-sided war of hatred. I truly hope you find it in yourself to forgive me one day so we may be reunited once more.

Your eternally loving father,

Don

A tear dropped onto the yellow tinged page and smudged the ink. Penny was distraught. She knew what it was like to lose a father and missed him every day, she could not imagine hating her father or not talking to him. They are every child’s hero in Penny’s eyes, and she was so looking forward to Jack becoming a father and hero just like her own beloved Dad.

With the book and accompanying USB in hand, she rushed back down the ladder and hurried down the stairs. Jack was halfway through a PowerPoint presentation on forging when Penny burst into the kitchen with tears streaming down her face. Jack shot up and embraced Penny.

‘What’s the matter darling? Did you hurt yourself? Something scare you? Did you find my collection of…What’s up?’

Penny handed Jack the book and USB.

‘What’s this, It’s not mine?’

‘No it looks like the previous owners...’

‘Ah Don! You didn’t meet him, but we met before the sale at the solicitors once, nice fella, full of ambition… but I heard his life ended not so long ago, long term illness I think’

‘It’s his diary to his daughter. They must have fallen out. We should try and get it back to her. I’m not sure what’s on the USB but it’s best if we try and find his daughter and give this back to her.’

‘OK I’ll get in touch with the solicitors in the morning and see what we can find out. For now, can you go back up and shut that loft hatch it’s freezing, we’re not made of money?!’

She gave a slight smile, rolled her eyes and walked back upstairs.

It was just before lunch a week later when Jack’s phone rang on the kitchen table. An unknown number. Jack was walking the dog and wouldn’t be back for a while so Penny hesitantly answered in case it was a call from a much-needed customer.

‘Hi, this is Black Sheep Blacksmiths. Penny speaking. How can we help you today?’

‘Hi... this is Nichole.’

Penny’s head started racing, who’s Nichole? Is Jack having an affair?

‘It’s Nichole, I was told to get in touch regarding my late father? Something about a notebook?’

‘Ah of course! Apologies Nichole, thank you for getting in touch and I am so very sorry for your loss it must have been...’

Penny stopped short before she put her foot in it.

‘Anyway, we just wanted to get in touch to let you know that your father had left a notebook for you. Oh, and a USB.’

‘A USB? What’s on it? It doesn’t matter. I don’t want any of it, we didn’t get on and he was a waste of space anyway, just bin them.’

‘Please Nichole you need to read it I think it’s important. Please can I forward them to an address?’

‘Fine send them here but I can’t imagine the old fool could string a sentence together never mind a whole notebook.’

After a short polite chat, Penny wrote the address given onto a large parcel envelope, sealed both the notebook and the USB inside and left it on the kitchen table for Jack to take to the post office. Jack’s dislike of queuing in the post office pleased Penny. With a smile and sense of accomplishment she went to boil the kettle for a cuppa.

2 months later…

There was a knock on the front door, it was probably the morning post, he always had parcels of some kind delivering either new tools for Jack’s new workshop/Aladdin’s cave or Penny’s new pair of shoes. Although, not so much lately with her now being on Furlough and trying to rely on Jack’s hair-brained business ideas to bring in as much cash before the baby arrives. Penny went to answer the door; Jack had his headphones on, exploring YouTube tutorials as usual.

It wasn’t the postman; it was a courier carrying a single envelope.

‘Can you sign here please?’

She signed the envelope and walked back inside thinking how bizarre it was that the postman had not been yet. She dropped the envelope addressed to Jack in front of him.

‘I get no time to myself, what’s this now?’ Jack moaned with a furrowed frown. Penny rolled her eyes and went to boil the kettle.

‘It won’t open itself Jack,’ she called as she looked on impatiently.

As Jack tore the top of the letter, he pulled out a folded handwritten note and what looked like a check.

Jack’s face dropped.

‘What is it honey, did a customer underpay again?’

‘No, it’s from Nichole, the woman we sent the notebook back to... I…I don’t get it?’

Penny stirred her tea and sat next to Jack on the kitchen dining table.

‘Let me see’

In that second, Penny’s eyes widened, and her hand shook as she almost spilled tea over Jack’s old laptop.

‘Dear Jack and Penny,

I would like to thank you for sending my late fathers’ notebook along with the USB. Although at the time I may have been short with you Penny, please bear in mind my views on my father at that time had been soured by his leaving during my childhood and the embellished stories that were thrust upon me. He really did love me, and I only wish that I could see him again to thank him and learn to love him back, although I know sadly this will never be.

Thank you both for being kind enough to help draw this chapter in my life to a close. In return, I have enclosed a check for £20,000 along with my eternal gratitude for the peace this has bestowed.

You may find this excessive, but it is the least I could give you in return for what was on the USB stick. My father happened to have stored some bitcoin on the USB that is now worth a substantial sum of money. I hope you spend it wisely and enjoy yourselves.

Yours Gratefully,

Nichole

Penny’s eyes were welling up as she peered at Jack’s shocked expression. All she could think was that their troubles were over, they now had a lifeline!

‘We need to start mining bitcoin!’ announced Jack.

Penny scowled at Jack and drank her tea.