by Diane Ezzard
“That stuff is a load of cobblers. It didn’t work for me, but the real McCoy did.”
“So, what’s this got to do with your new business?”
“I grow my own now and sell it.” Kylie spluttered and blinked.
“What, you’re a drug dealer?”
“It’s not like that. I just have a few regular customers I supply. They’re elderly friends in the same boat as me. We’re not taking it to get high, but that is a nice bonus sometimes.” Flo nudged Kylie.
“But you could end up in prison. You know it’s illegal, don’t you?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m too small fry for the police to worry about.”
“How did you start up this enterprise?”
“I sent Chris to Amsterdam to buy some. We kept it hush-hush from the family. I don’t suppose your dad would approve. You know what a killjoy he can be. Then I researched on the net how to grow my own. I don’t smoke it in the house.” Flo said that as though it would be a crime to do such a thing.
“Is there no other way you can take it? I wouldn’t like to see you getting into trouble over this and it is quite pungent,” Kylie said, holding her nose.
“There’s not a lot I can do about the smell other than sticking air fresheners all over the house. I’ve tried other lotions and potions for the pain, and I wouldn’t want to become addicted to painkillers. There’s no other remedy like this one.”
“But the smell is gross, and it’s such an obvious pong.”
“Oh dear, is it that bad? I suppose we’ve got used to it. Chris doesn’t seem to mind. He’s probably high from the aroma half the time.”
“I don’t know what to say, Auntie Flo. I’m flabbergasted. You must be careful though.”
“It’s okay, the local drug dealers know me. I told them I’m not trying to encroach on their patch. We had a good chat and we understand each other.” She winked. “I’m only interested in supplying people in pain. I do have some morals, you know.”
“Mm.”
“Anyway, enough about me. How’s your love life, young lady? Have you found someone to shack up with yet?” Kylie smiled at her auntie’s quest to learn language more appropriate for someone younger than her years. Auntie Flo had never been one to conform. She didn’t have her first tattoo until her late forties and now had more ink than Kylie. Flo was the epitome of growing old disgracefully.
“No, I’m still looking. I’ve not been as lucky as you.” Whilst Kylie had been shocked at her auntie’s revelations, she thought Flo would be even more so if she knew Kylie was seeing a married man.
“Well, I’m glad you’ve popped over. We don’t see enough of you. Let me make you an Irish coffee as a treat. I’ve also got some cake I’d like you to try. It’s a new recipe of mine.”
“It’s a bit early for any booze for me. Can I have a cup of tea?”
“Certainly, if that’s what you want but you must try my cake.” Flo had a cheeky glint in her eye.
Kylie joined Flo in the kitchen while they chatted some more. Flo still liked to do some things the old-fashioned way and used tea leaves in her fine white porcelain teapot that had the rose design on the side. She made her and Chris a coffee with a good dose of whisky. Kylie watched as the cream flowed over the spoon and settled at the top of the mugs. They returned to the conservatory, Flo carrying the tray. Flo held onto the lid of the teapot as she poured out the tea then cut a piece of cake off for Kylie.
“Here, get this down you. I know you’re partial to a bit of fruitcake.” Kylie took the small plate from Flo and immediately took a bite out of the cake.
“Mm, this is good, Auntie Flo. You must give me the recipe.”
“I will, dear.”
“That was a terrible do about Nigel Hastings, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, the whole village is talking about it. God forgive me for saying this but it’s not true that only the good die young. That man didn’t get the nickname nasty for nothing. He upset so many people.”
“There are plenty glad that he’s dead. Does that include you, Auntie Flo?”
“Well, I wouldn’t wish what happened to him on anyone. It’s put me off trying those magic mushrooms that are all the rage with the young ones.”
“Auntie Flo! They’re hallucinogenic. They send you loopy.” As Kylie said that, the room began to feel distant. “Oh, what a lovely painting of a flower that is. I’d never noticed it before.” Kylie stroked the mug she drank from.
“Thank you, dear. Here, have some more tea and cake.”
“Don’t mind if I do. Did you see Nigel before he died?”
“I was angry with him after he disqualified my vegetables, especially my asparagus. That was my pride and joy. The last time I saw him was just before he went over to Millie’s soup stand. I gave him one of my looks. You know the ones I mean, the look where I can knock a man stone dead.” The significance of that sentence didn’t dawn on Flo.
“Do you remember seeing anyone around the soup stall who acted suspiciously?”
“No, not really.” Kylie took another bite of the delicious cake.
“Was anyone else about at the time?”
“I can’t remember now. I get very forgetful, you know.”
The room began to disappear in and out of focus. She couldn’t remember what she’d asked. The cushion material looked so shiny. She stroked it. Everywhere became hazy. Kylie couldn’t understand it. She felt spaced out, a million miles away.
“Auntie Flo, what was in that cake?”
“Marijuana, my dear.”
So, that was it. Kylie was stoned.
Chapter 8
Rachel was the last of the three girls to go on her mission to find out information. She trotted along to the library where Christine Beckley worked. Christine only did part-time hours nowadays. It was enough on top of looking after her elderly parents. Ten years previously she had done a very brave thing and bought her own place. She didn’t think her mother would have ever forgiven her but with her ailing years and need for support, she had to accept her daughter’s offer of help. Christine had never married and as an only child had been spoilt. However, she lived under the shadow of her domineering mother for years. It was because of her mother that she never found “the one”. No one was good enough for Agnes Beckley’s daughter.
The nearest Christine got to marriage was when she courted Wally Sawyer. Of course, her mother didn’t approve. That was only natural. He was a roofer, a job far too lowly for the prestigious librarian, according to Agnes. Wally finally agreed with Agnes on the day of his wedding and took off with Christine’s best friend, Rita, an hour before the service was due to take place. Christine hadn’t heard from either of them since and nor did she want to. The shame of being stood up at the altar affected her badly. She became bitter and lonely. That experience took her thirty years to get over and it was only her fondness for Nigel Hastings that finally helped her to move on. People close to her wondered what she saw in him. Maybe it was the similarity of his personality to that of her mother. They were both bossy and constantly found fault with Christine. But the fact that Nigel even noticed her was enough for Christine to see she didn’t have to be the wallflower anymore. The only problem was that years with no form of close relationship meant she was emotionally immature. This was as much as Dotty and her friends knew about the lady who had been a judge at the local fairs for the longest time. Sometimes, Dotty wondered what she’d do without Betty Simpson’s snippets of information. Now Rachel was tasked with finding out more.
As luck would have it, the library where Christine worked was only around the corner from Rachel’s office. Rachel had never been much of a reader. At junior school, she loved everything by Enid Blyton. When she was told at high school that she had to throw away her Famous Five books as they were only for kids, she was mortified. She took the hump and never read another book. When there was a buzz around Fifty Shades of Grey, she tried to pick up reading again but it was too heavy going for her. She had
lost the power of concentration.
So now here she was, sneaking up and down the aisles of books, browsing through the large print section. She’d purposely worn her long blonde hair up to make her look more like a bookworm. If she had to lend a book, just to get to speak to Christine, then so be it. She may even attempt to read one. Rachel soon spotted Christine when she walked up to the counter. Her shiny red and gold name badge was emblazoned on her chest.
Christine tinted her hair herself. That much was certain. The colour was varying shades of brown. Rachel chuckled to herself. If she had left it grey, she would have been able to promote the novel of the same name. She wore an old-fashioned thin pink cardigan over the top of an equally thin black jumper. Her skirt was a multi-coloured floral number with an elasticated waist popularised by women of a certain age who liked to shop via catalogues. The brown brogues on her feet were a typical part of the uniform for a librarian. It made Rachel think. She didn’t want to morph into a typical office worker wearing black pants and a purple tailored blouse. She would have to make more effort to look different from the crowd in future. Perhaps she should take a leaf out of Dotty or Kylie’s books. Dotty wasn’t one to go with the crowd. She had a quirky style of her own and loved the dress style of the forties and fifties. Older members of the community commented on her looking like Rita Hayworth. Kylie, on the other hand, wore clothes with attitude. She dressed like she was going to a rock concert. In truth, she had never been to one in her life. Her goal was to get to Glastonbury one of these years, but the longer she left it, the less likely it would happen. Still, Kylie was the rock chick in the group with her endless supply of dark T-shirts promoting different groups and a hair colour that alternated between pink, blue and purple depending on her mood. Rachel’s look was feminine and practical, and her favourite colour was pink. It was surprising that the three girls got on so well, they were so different, but they had been inseparable since junior school.
Rachel waited her turn behind a chap wearing glasses the size of milk bottles. She noticed he hadn’t picked up one of the large print books. Maybe he was masochistic. That thought took Rachel back to the Fifty Shades book. She looked at him and shook her head. Linking him with bondage was a repulsive idea. Rachel sidled along and found herself in front of Christine with her shiny badge.
“I’d like to borrow this book, please, Christine.” Rachel knew from her training at work that holding eye contact and calling someone by their first name was the best way to win friends and influence people. She had recently been on a rapport building course, so was pleased to put into practice the skills she picked up. For the life of her, she didn’t know why she had been sent. She got on with people okay and the only people she encountered were her immediate team and of course, Harry from accounts, her new boyfriend. It wasn’t as though she had a customer-facing role so needed to learn these things. But now she was glad of those new skills as she stood in front of the librarian.
“Good morning, I’d like to take this book out, please,” Rachel repeated. She had picked up a copy of Wuthering Heights knowing it was a classic. If she was taking up reading again, then there was no better place to start than with a good old romance. Christine didn’t look up. Rachel sighed. She wouldn’t give up or change her tone. She repeated the sentence. There was still no response from Christine. Rachel tried one more time, a little louder.
“Ssh, ssh, ssh,” came a chorus of sound from those in the vicinity. It sounded like a train going past. Christine finally looked up.
“Yes, can I help?” Rachel closed her eyes and counted to five – ten would have taken too long and there were four people behind her now in the queue.
“I’d like to borrow this book please.”
“Do you have your membership card?”
“Erm no, I’m not a member.”
“Then you must fill this form out first and bring it back with two forms of ID.” Rachel hadn’t expected so much red tape just to take a poxy book out of the library.
“Erm…” Rachel turned and glanced at the people waiting behind her.
She looked around then moved closer to Christine and whispered, “I don’t know how to fill it in.”
Christine passed her a pen.
“If you’ve got your ID with you, you can complete it now.”
“Would you be able to help me with it? I’m not very good at filling forms out.” Christine sighed. She could well do without the extra hassle from Rachel but these days her bosses came down hard on anyone not showing extra support to people with disabilities. Only last week the library set up an initiative to help people with dyslexia. In Rachel’s case, there was nothing wrong with her ability to fill out the form, she just couldn’t come up with any other way to engage Christine’s attention and get close to her.
Christine huffed. “Can you take over here, Penny? I’m just going to assist this customer with her form.” She indicated for Rachel to move over to the corner.
“Don’t I know you?” Rachel asked Christine.
“Name.” Christine pointed to where Rachel needed to write her name on the form.
“Weren’t you one of the judges at the Spring Fair?” Christine’s cheeks turned bright red.
“I have been a judge there for fifteen years.”
“Terrible business with Nigel Hastings, wasn’t it?”
“You knew him, did you?” Christine eyed Rachel with suspicion as her eyes narrowed.
“I knew more of his reputation than anything.”
“And what had you heard about him?” Rachel thought the conversation had gone skew whiff. She was the one supposed to be asking the questions.
“I heard he was a tough judge and that he upset a few people.”
“He had his favourites, but he was a good man and misunderstood by many.”
“Is that allowed if you’re a judge? I thought you had to be impartial.”
“True.” Christine’s expression changed. She coughed. Rachel could see anger burning in her eyes.
“So, who were his favourites?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.” Christine’s lips narrowed.
“Oh, go on. I won’t tell anyone plus he’s dead now so what harm can it do.”
“Let’s just say there were some people who got preferential treatment from him. Address.”
“Sorry?” Rachel frowned.
“Put your address in there.” Christine tapped the paper. From the way Christine’s demeanour changed talking about Nigel, it was obvious Rachel wouldn’t get much more insight into her relationship with the man today. The pair remained silent other than Christine asking questions relevant to the form.
Rachel had gleaned little from Christine. By the time she came away from the library, she felt there was more to Christine than meets the eye. If she had the time and inclination, she may also now read up on Heathcliff’s antics in Wuthering Heights.
Chapter 9
The three friends met up at the Strawberry tea rooms as usual at the weekend to compare notes.
“I don’t think my auntie Flo had anything to do with it.” Rachel poured the tea from the ceramic floral teapot.
“But without hard evidence to the contrary, we can’t discount her.”
“That’s the sort of thing your dad might have said, him being an ex-policeman.”
“Well, it’s true.”
“We don’t seem much further forward with our enquiries. I’ve got an idea,” Kylie said.
“O-oh.” The two other girls glanced at each other. Dotty raised her eyebrows.
“Why don’t we invite Delphinia to do us a reading and see if she can see anything?”
“You don’t believe in that mumbo-jumbo, do you, Kylie?” Dotty pulled a face.
“If it’s good enough for the police to get clairvoyants in, it’s good enough for us. I mean it’s not as though we have any other bright ideas on how to move forward.”
“She’s got a point, Dotty, and it can’t do any harm. We could ask Millie to com
e along. It might help give Delphina extra vibes or whatever else it is she gets.”
“I haven’t spoken to Judith Hastings yet about what happened when she looked after Millie’s stall for a period.”
“Yes, but if she’s the killer, she’s hardly going to say she popped her batch of poisonous mushrooms in while the coast was clear.” Kylie shook her head.
“No, but she may have seen someone else there.”
“You can still check that out. Come on, Dotty. This will be a bit of fun.”
Finally, Dotty agreed, and Kylie arranged for Delphinia to come over the following Wednesday evening to give all three girls and Millie a reading.
Kylie went to town on the arrangements. She bought some scented candles and incense. She even put on a little buffet courtesy of Sainsbury’s. There were sausage rolls, pork pies, mini quiches and Prosecco chilling in the fridge.
“Gosh, you shouldn’t have gone to this much trouble, Kylie,” Rachel said when she arrived, the last of the group to turn up at Kylie’s tiny flat. Kylie had moved out of her family home four months ago after a nasty bust-up with her mum. They still weren’t on full speaking terms which meant Kylie only spoke to her if she was after something. Kylie felt her mum interfered too much in her love life. She’d have a field day if she knew Kylie was dating a married man. Maybe, seeing Kenny would end in disaster, but she would have to make her own mistakes, and no one could tell her any differently. Once Kylie wanted something, nothing would stop her getting it and she wanted Kenny from the first time she set eyes on him. She had only been in her new place a week when the toilet blocked. It wasn’t the most romantic of encounters when Kenny came over to get rid of the turds lurking down the pan.
Kylie felt indebted to him. Since the blockage, her morning ablutions had been affected, due to the pungent smell from the drains. She was so repulsed by her own excrement lingering in the bathroom that her body had reacted, and she had been constipated for days. After Kenny performed his magic, Kylie let rip and couldn’t hold back on that waste waiting in her bowels. She was so thankful when she came out of the toilet, she offered up her body to Kenny as a bonus for his work and he accepted. He had been coming to check Kylie’s plumbing ever since.
