Page 4 of The Hidden Daughter (The Lost Daughters #7)

When Charlotte arrived home, she kicked off her shoes and placed her bag on the sofa, immediately rifling through it until she found the little box Mia had given her.

She took it out and turned it over and around, unable to tear her eyes from it, before taking out her phone and calling her grandmother. It only rang twice before she answered.

‘Curiosity is killing this old cat,’ her grandmother said with a throaty laugh. ‘Tell me what she gave you. Was it anything interesting? The deeds to a mansion, perhaps?’

Charlotte laughed, too, because she’d never been so curious as she was right now. She’d found it almost impossible not to think about the box through her shift, and even harder not to just go over and open it to see what was inside.

‘I still don’t know what it is, because I felt like it was yours to open,’ she said. ‘Grandma, I don’t know how much you were told over the phone, but it appears that a little wooden box was left for you many years ago, decades ago, in fact. Mia told me that the other boxes she found were left by…’

Charlotte hesitated, but her grandmother was quick to urge her on. ‘Left by who?’

She waited another beat, before finally saying, ‘By their biological mothers. It seems that the house where the boxes were found was a home for unmarried mothers to have their babies. They were placed for adoption there, too, from what I can understand.’

‘Adoption?’ Her grandmother went quiet for a moment.

Charlotte grimaced, before repeating: ‘Yes, that’s what she said. For adoption. Although she was very quick to say that there were no adoption papers they could find in this case.’

‘This house, it was in London?’ her grandmother asked.

‘Yes. She called it Hope’s House.’

‘Well, that’s strange, because my mother always told me that she never went to London until she was much older, when they had to travel there for business.’ She hesitated for a long while. ‘I’m not sure what to make of it all.’

Charlotte didn’t like that she was unsettling her grandmother, but she pressed on. They both had questions now, and she only hoped the tiny box provided some answers.

‘Would you like me to open it? With you on the phone?’

Her grandmother didn’t hesitate, and Charlotte could hear the eagerness in her tone and wished she’d been able to take it to her in person. ‘Yes. Open it and tell me what’s inside.’

Charlotte balanced her phone between her ear and shoulder, gently tugging at the old string. It sent fibres into the air as she used her nails to work on the tight knot. It was like being a child on Christmas Day.

‘Grandma, whatever’s in here, if there’s anything at all, it doesn’t mean that—’

‘I’m not scared of what’s inside, or of being adopted, if that’s what this is all about. Whatever I find out about my past doesn’t change anything about the life I’ve lived. But I just can’t make sense of how this box has been hidden for so long, or why it’s come to light now.’

Charlotte lifted the lid off the box and stared at the contents inside.

She had no idea what she’d been expecting—perhaps a letter or a carefully folded birth certificate, but instead there was a very modest diamond ring twinkling back at her.

She sat down and put the box beside her, taking out the ring with as much care as she would have lifted a tiny creature.

‘Charlotte?’

Her grandmother’s voice reminded her that she was waiting to find out what she was looking at.

‘Grandma, there’s a ring inside, perhaps an engagement ring by the looks of it,’ Charlotte said, turning it to the light before trying to slip it on her finger.

It was tiny, far too small for her ring finger, but she was able to slide it onto her little finger.

She studied it, feeling as if she’d suddenly been given more questions than answers.

‘A ring?’ her grandmother asked, her voice much quieter than usual. ‘Does it have any engravings on it, or any particular markings? Is there anything that links it to me or our family?’

Charlotte took it off her finger and turned it over and over again, peering at the ring. ‘Nothing that I can see. But it has a very modest solitaire diamond set within the gold, and the band is very small.’

She put the ring back on her little finger and picked up the box again, her eyes widening as she saw something familiar.

‘Is there anything else in there?’

‘There’s a piece of fabric, an emblem, of the coat of arms of Norway,’ she said.

Charlotte traced her thumb over the golden lion as it stared back at her from the red background.

The emblem also bore a golden crown and an axe with a silver blade, and just seeing it gave her a pain in her heart as she longed for the country of her birth.

‘And I think there’s a photo at the bottom, too. ’

Charlotte set aside the fabric and lifted out the carefully folded photo, frowning when she opened it and saw how damaged it was from the fold down the centre. But the two people in the image were almost perfectly preserved, and she gasped when she saw the woman.

‘Lotte? What is it?’

She swallowed, not blinking as she stared at the faded photograph in her hand.

‘Lotte?’ her grandmother asked again. ‘Tell me what you’ve found.’

Charlotte cleared her throat. ‘Grandma, there’s a photo of a very young woman and a man of a similar age. I could be wrong, but it looks like they’re standing outside the hotel at the Sognefjord, the one you took us to when we were children.’

‘Well, that’s more than a coincidence,’ her grandmother started.

‘Grandma, the woman in the photograph, she looks…’ Charlotte held it even closer to her face, hardly able to believe what she was looking at. ‘She looks just like you, but I don’t recognise the man.’

Charlotte turned the photo over, finding carefully printed words on the back as a shiver ran down her spine. If there had been any doubt as to her family’s connection to this little box, the name staring back at her immediately put an end to them.

‘The photo, it has your mother’s name written on it. It says Amalie, 1950.’

Her grandmother was so quiet on the other end that Charlotte had to check she was still there.

Everyone had always said that her grandmother was the spitting image of Charlotte’s great-grandmother when she was younger, and although her own hair was lighter, more auburn like her mother’s, Charlotte herself had inherited those same dark brown eyes.

‘Grandma?’

‘It certainly appears that the box has found its intended family,’ she said. ‘And you’re certain it’s the hotel at the fjord?’

Charlotte nodded, still staring at the photo. ‘I’m certain. I know we only went there once, but I’ve never forgotten it.’

‘Well, I think that’s enough mystery for one night,’ her grandmother said. ‘You’ll keep these things safe until we can figure out what they all mean?’

‘Of course,’ Charlotte said. ‘I’m too intrigued not to take good care of them.’

They said goodbye, and when Charlotte ended the call, she picked up the box and carried it to her kitchen table.

Then she poured herself a glass of wine and sat back to stare at the items from the box again, feeling overwhelmingly protective of young Amalie in the photo.

She had a gnawing feeling in her stomach that Amalie might not be here for much longer, that they might not have long to find out what the clues meant.

Because one thing was for sure: someone in her family had been lying about something in their past for this box to resurface so mysteriously all these years later.

Charlotte sipped the last of her wine and then tucked each of the clues back into their little box, placing them in the exact order she’d taken them out.

Then she rose to go up to bed, flicking out the kitchen light, but having second thoughts, she picked the box up and took it with her, deciding to place it on her bedside table.

For some reason, she wanted the box close to her, and she didn’t know whether it was for safekeeping or because it had reminded her of how much she missed home, how much she wanted to see her grandmother and Amalie, too.

Regardless, she liked glancing over and seeing it there as she changed into her pyjamas; it was oddly comforting having something related to her family nearby.

Why are you in that photo, Amalie? What secrets have you been hiding all these years?

And as she slipped beneath the covers, Charlotte had a feeling that no matter how tired she was from such a long day, those questions were going to run through her mind all night.

As was the temptation to book a ticket to Norway in the morning just so she could hold her grandmother in her arms and inhale the sweet, flowery scent of her perfume.

The first thing Charlotte did when she woke up the next day was sit bolt upright, reaching for her phone to check the time, before realising that she hadn’t slept in because she didn’t have to get to work.

She lay back down, checking her messages and the news on her phone, before stretching and heading into the kitchen to make a coffee.

She took a hesitant sip and burnt her bottom lip as she sank into a chair, waiting for her emails to load on her phone.

And then she almost sloshed the hot coffee all over herself when she saw the first unopened email.

She stared at it for a minute before opening it, forgetting all about her coffee as her eyes raced across the words.

Dear Charlotte,

You might remember meeting my wife and me when we dined at Velluto earlier this year.

You mentioned your contract there ending soon, and I’d like to personally invite you to visit our exciting new hotel in Oslo.

It just so happens that we’re in need of an executive chef, with opening less than a month away now, and I have a feeling you might be exactly the right person for the job.

I very much hope you can visit us this week or next, your schedule permitting, of course.

Regards,

Daniel Hatton, Executive Manager, Nordic Hotel Group

Charlotte reread the email to make sure she hadn’t imagined it, thinking back to when she’d first met Daniel and he’d talked about his new restaurant.

He’d mentioned to her then that he was opening a new hotel and was visiting the best hotels and restaurants in London for inspiration—it seems that she’d been interviewed for a position at the time without even knowing.

Her heart began to race and she reached for her coffee, forcing down another sip of the black, sugary drink before picking up her phone again.

Offers like this didn’t come along every day, she knew that, but she loved London—the city had been her home since she was fresh out of school and determined to make it as a chef.

She’d trained at Le Cordon Bleu and proved to herself that she had what it took to succeed, that she wasn’t crazy for wanting to make being a chef her career, and she’d never intended to leave.

England felt like home to her in the same way Norway had when she’d been a child—it was where she was supposed to be.

But this? This was the opportunity of a lifetime, to be part of something from the very beginning, working for the most successful Scandinavian hotel chain in the world.

She was no fool; she knew that they would have had an executive chef secured some time ago, and clearly that person had let them down or been fired.

But she wasn’t going to overthink the opportunity—someone else’s loss, for whatever reason, could be her gain.

And it also meant that she could finally see her grandmother again, that she would have a reason to go home.

Charlotte stood and walked to her window, looking out over Chelsea and imagining what it would be like looking out from an apartment window in Oslo instead, trying to figure out if she was ready for it or not.

Call him. She knew in her heart whom she needed to talk to before she made a decision, and after pressing her forehead to the cool window for a long moment, she turned and went to retrieve her phone.

She would never make a decision so big without consulting him, regardless of which way she was leaning.

It only took two rings for her brother to answer, although his voice sounded scratchy, as if he’d just woken up. She glanced at her watch and saw that it was only seven o’clock.

‘Sorry it’s so early,’ she apologised.

‘It’s fine, I was on call anyway.’

‘Are you free for breakfast? Or lunch?’ Charlotte asked. ‘I was thinking we could meet this morning.’

‘If you can meet me at that café closest to the hospital in an hour, I’ll be there.’

She breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thanks, Erik.’

‘Is everything all right?’

Charlotte smiled just hearing his worried, big-brother tone. ‘It will be. I’ll see you soon.’