The Suitcase In The Attic

by Daphne Neville

  “Oh yes, you’re right, Het. I wonder if they were cousins.” Lottie dried her eyes.

  “They could have been brothers,” suggested Zac.

  “No, not if they were born in the same year,” chuckled Hetty.

  Zac tutted loudly. “They could have been twins.”

  Lottie laughed. “Oh yes, good point, Zac. Your aunt and I of all people should have thought of that.”

  Hetty looked sheepish but was glad to see that her sister had cheered up. “Come on, let’s see if we can find David.”

  “I’ve found another Tregear,” called Zac, instantly as he took two steps along the path between the rows of graves, “this one is for Frank Tregear so he must be the Frank mentioned on Peter’s headstone.”

  “And so he is Peter’s father,” said Lottie as she read the inscription. “And he died in 1915, so that would have been during the First World War.” She looked at the graves on either side of Frank. “No sign of Florence though which seems odd because husbands and wives are usually buried together.”

  “Yes, but I daresay she lived for a good many more years after she lost Frank,” reasoned Hetty. “I mean, the poor bloke was only twenty nine when he died so Florence was probably even younger and may even have re-married.”

  Lottie tutted. “What a terrible thing war is.”

  “Do you have any paper and a pen on you, Lottie?” Hetty asked, “Because I think we need to write these names and dates down as they might well be part of the puzzle and there’s no way my poor old brain will be able to remember them.”

  “I definitely have a pen but not sure about paper.” Lottie looked through the contents of her handbag and found an old shopping receipt. “This is the best I can do.” She handed pen and paper to Hetty.

  “Why don’t we look on the war memorial,” suggested Zac, as Hetty wrote down names and dates, “Because even if David did die overseas his name will be on that.”

  “War memorial,” Hetty looked confused, “Is there one in Pentrillick?”

  Zac chuckled. “Yes, it’s over there.” He pointed to the tall granite edifice standing by the churchyard’s front boundary wall and cordoned off with a chain draped between wooden posts.

  “Well I never,” laughed Hetty, “how many times have I walked past that and not seen it?”

  “Lots,” smiled Lottie, “but don’t worry because I’d not noticed it either. That is to say I’ve seen it but hadn’t realised what it was.”

  Standing in front of the memorial they read through the names of those killed in action during both world wars and later conflicts but there was only one Tregear and that was Peter.

  “No mention of Peter’s father Frank even though he died in 1915,” said Hetty, “so perhaps he didn’t go to war then after all. I wonder why not.”

  “Probably because he wasn’t a well man or he was a conscientious objector,” reasoned Lottie, “Or maybe he was a doctor or a farmer. People with several occupations were exempt. But whatever the reason the poor man died young if he was only twenty nine,”

  “Yes, of course and it doesn’t matter anyway because he died long before 1942 and so will not help our investigations.”

  “And,” reasoned Lottie, “it looks as though David didn’t go to war either.”

  “Or if he did he survived the horrors and came home,” whispered Hetty.

  Zac frowned. “But whether or not he went to war doesn’t really matter because the real mystery is, why was his suitcase hidden away in your attic?”

  Hetty tucked the piece of paper in her pocket on which names and dates were written. “And that, Zac, is exactly what we intend to find out.”

  Chapter Four

  Upstairs in his bedroom, Zac was taking down the old ceiling; the furniture from the room had already been removed and was carefully stacked in the dining room which was seldom used.

  Meanwhile, in the sitting room, newlyweds and pensioners, Tommy and Kitty Thomas, friends of the sisters who lived at the far end of Blackberry Way in a cottage called Meadowsweet, were looking through the treasures from the attic.

  “The name on this identity card is David Tregear,” said Hetty, “Does that name mean anything to you, Kitty?”

  Kitty took the card from Hetty and opened it up. “David Tregear,” she shook her head, “I don’t recall ever hearing mention of that name or the name Tregear for that matter. And his address is the Pentrillick Hotel. That seems odd.”

  “Precisely. Why would a train driver be living in a hotel?”

  “Perhaps he lived there when the card was issued and then moved here,” suggested Tommy, “Must be something like that otherwise why would his belongings be in your attic.”

  Kitty shook her head. “Good point, Tom, but I don’t recall any Tregears ever living along here, but then I wasn’t born ‘til after the war so they might have gone before my time.”

  “There’s a postcard here too from someone called Peter,” Lottie took the card from the suitcase and handed it to Kitty, “And we have every reason to believe that he’s the chap in the photograph wearing the uniform and that he died in 1942. We know this because we found his grave in the churchyard.”

  “We’re also pretty certain that Peter and David were brothers,” Hetty added, “I just wish there was a way of finding out for sure.”

  “I think you ought to have a word with Alex next door,” proposed Tommy, admiring the carved boat, “He’s not local to this village but he’s keen on history and so he might know how to get some answers to your questions.”

  “That’s an excellent idea,” Hetty agreed, “I’ll look out for him when he and Ginny get back from their antique shop which is usually just before six.”

  Zac came down from his bedroom. “Ceiling’s gone,” he announced, stepping into the sitting room and leaving behind a trail of white footprints, “Have you got any old bags or boxes because I need something to put the old plaster and lathes in.”

  Lottie gasped in horror. Zac’s hair was white as were his forehead and eyebrows which had escaped protection from the scarf he’d worn across his mouth and nose. “Oh, Zac, you do look comical,” she giggled.

  Hetty took a picture on her phone and then showed it to him.

  Zac laughed. “Send it to Dad so he can see that I’m making myself useful.”

  “Good idea, and then you can ring him later and tell him what we found in the attic.”

  “Ah yes, that reminds me, I found something else.” Zac dashed from the room and ran up the stairs two at a time. When he returned he held in his hand an old discoloured pillowslip. “I think you might like what’s in here.” He handed the pillowslip to Lottie who was nearest the door. “It must have been tucked between the beams like the shoes and coat because it fell down when I pulled away part of the ceiling.”

  Lottie cautiously peeped inside the pillowslip; in the bottom sat an old teddy bear. She pulled him out. “Poor old thing. He must have been up there with the suitcase all this time.” She passed the bear to her sister who had moved closer to see the latest find.

  Hetty sat him on the palm of her hand and straightened his ears. “Well whoever owned him must have loved him dearly because his fur is very worn in places.”

  “I suppose he must have belonged to David,” Lottie half-smiled, “Oh, little bear, if only you could talk.”

  By evening the lathes had been burned at the end of the garden and the old plaster lay in a heap while they decided how to dispose of it. The room had been cleaned and vacuumed and was ready for the plasterboard to be put in place. The carpet which the sisters had planned to replace anyway, was neatly folded in the garage.

  “Are you going out tonight?” Lottie asked Zac, as they sat in the sitting room around a small dining table eating their dinner.

  “No, there’s a darts match on in the pub so we won’t be able to use the pool table.”

  “In that case if you want you can join us for a game or two of Scrabble. Sid’s coming round later as he does every Thursday and
it’d be nice if there were four of us.”

  “Yeah, sounds good. I sometimes play Scrabble with Mum and Dad and often beat them, especially Dad who Mum tells off because he makes words up.”

  Lottie tutted. “Oh dear, I remember your dad cheating at Ludo when he and your Auntie Barbara were youngsters. He’d move along extra places when she wasn’t looking. Mind you if she caught him all hell broke loose.”

  Hetty chuckled. “Hope you don’t take after him then, Zac?”

  “No, I’m not a cheat in any way. Mum always says cheats never prosper and I think there’s a lot to be said for that. Although to be fair to Dad he’s really honest at everything else and would never do anyone down.”

  “Anyway,” said Hetty, who was sitting by the table close to the window, “it’ll be more fun if there are four of us playing but I must warn you, Zac, that Sid is very good.” From the corner of her eye she saw movement outside which caused her to scowl. Walking along the road whistling with both hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans was the tenant of Fuchsia Cottage.

  “Humph, there goes surly Burleigh again and no doubt off to the pub. I’d like to know what he’s up to. I’ve seen him quite a lot in the daytime recently, so why isn’t he at work?”

  “Perhaps he has some time off,” suggested Lottie, “not everyone goes away for a holiday and he’s probably just enjoying being in Cornwall.”

  Zac looked at his aunt. “Why don’t you like him?”

  “Because he’s a misery,” Hetty retorted.

  “He didn’t sound like a misery,” reasoned Zac, impishly, “People who whistle are usually quite happy and I saw him laughing in the pub the other night.”

  Lottie chuckled. “He has a point, Het, and to be fair we’ve only witnessed him being grumpy once.”

  “So what did he do?” Zac persisted.

  “Albert was in the garden minding his own business when Burleigh walked by. Being a good dog Albert barked and Burleigh said in a very aggressive tone, Shut up mutt.”

  Zac decided it was best not to comment for he knew better than to disagree with his elders especially when said elders were relations and female to boot.

  “So what time will Sid be here?” he asked, knowing he was on safer ground.

  “About half seven,” said Lottie. “She looked at the clock, “And I see it’s nearly that now so we’d better get the table cleared and get the board out.”

  Sid arrived promptly at half past seven with his usual four cans of lager. As he took a seat at the table Hetty went to the kitchen and came back with a bottle of wine and some glasses.

  “Would you like a glass of wine, Zac?” Hetty asked.

  He shook his head. “No thanks I’m not very keen on it.”

  “You’re welcome to one of my cans,” said Sid, “I never drink all four because I like to keep my wits about me.”

  “In that case, yes please,” Zac replied.

  While drinks were being poured, Lottie showed Sid the teddy bear.

  “Well, I never,” he chuckled, “You’re a bit of a tatty head, aren’t you, mate?”

  Lottie tutted. “Don’t be beastly, Sid. Poor little bear.”

  “I think anyone would be a bit tatty if they’d been lying under floorboards in an attic for the past seventy five years,” joked Zac.

  Sid took the bear from Lottie and straightened his thin red tie. “So, have you given him a name?”

  Lottie and Hetty both shook their heads.

  “Perhaps he’s old Jimmy,” suggested Zac.

  “Hmm, might well be,” agreed Hetty, “but I think he looks more like a Fred.”

  Lottie laughed. “Well, if we’re making wild guesses I’ll go for Pilchard as they were quite prolific back when this little chap would have been new.”

  Sid shook his head. “No, I reckon you’re all wrong and my money goes on Saffron Bun.”

  “Another good name,” laughed Lottie, “but as we all have different ideas I think for now we’ll just have to refer to him as the bear.” She then placed him on the window sill so that he could watch the game of Scrabble.

  When they were all seated at the table and the board was in place they each took it in turns to take seven tiles from a bag.

  Lottie, whose turn it was to go first grumbled: “Mine are rubbish as usual.” To the amusement of the others she put down THE.

  Zac looked smug. “I can do much better because I have a six letter word but will have to use Grandma’s E to achieve it.” He laid down CLOSET.

  Sid chuckled and rubbed his hands gleefully. “I can beat you, Zac because I’m going to use all my tiles and make an eight letter word.” Using the L at the beginning in CLOSET he made the word SKELETON.

  Hetty scowled. “Humph, very good, Sid but I don’t think I’ve ever had such horrible letters.” She laid down IN using the N in SKELETON.

  Lottie laughed. “Looks like we ought to ditch the wine, Het, and drink lager.”

  “Skeleton in the closet,” read Zac, “Is there a message there?”

  Lottie’s face turned white. “I hope not but the weird thing is, I felt I wasn’t in control when I put down THE, especially as I can see a much better word now.”

  “Same here,” Hetty agreed, “What on earth made me put down IN when I could have had SKINT?”

  Sid laughed. “Perhaps your David Tregear is trying to tell us something.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking,” scowled Hetty, and she poured herself a bumper glass of wine, “and I don’t think I like it.”

  Chapter Five

  After breakfast on Saturday morning, Hetty hooked Albert’s lead onto his collar and took him out for a walk leaving Lottie to dust and vacuum the sitting room and hallway, a chore they took turns to do.

  The morning was dry, bright and sunny with a light wind blowing from the south east, so when Hetty reached the bottom of Long Lane she took a different route and turned right past the Crown and Anchor. The road led out of the village away from the coast towards Vince’s garage and the A394 but Hetty had no intention of going that far. Instead, after passing the primary school, she climbed over a stile and into a meadow where cows grazed on the lush green grass. Because of the cattle, she kept Albert on his lead and followed the well-worn path across the field towards the sea where a wooden fence ran along the boundary separating the field from the coastal path beyond. When Hetty reached the fence she stopped and climbed the wooden struts to the top. The view was breath-taking. To her left was Pentrillick beyond which lay the Lizard Peninsula in the distance and to her right, just visible, were Saint Michael’s Mount and the contour of Tol-Pedn. In order to go back by a different route, she climbed over the fence, jumped down on the opposite side and lifted Albert through the struts to join her. They then followed the coastal path back towards Pentrillick, past a row of coastguard cottages and then down a track which led onto the beach.

  When she arrived back in Blackberry Way, Hetty noticed a woman nicely dressed in beige cotton trousers and a lightweight jacket. She was leaning on the gate opposite Primrose Cottage and appeared to be looking out over the village, to the coastline and the distant horizon.

  “Good morning,” said Hetty, cheerfully, as the woman turned on hearing footsteps, “beautiful day, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, yes, it is and this view is quite breath-taking. I think I could stand here admiring it for hours.”

  Hetty smiled. “It is and that’s part of the reason why we bought our house. For the view, I mean.”

  “You live up here then?”

  Hetty nodded towards Primrose Cottage. “Yes, that’s my home which I share with my twin sister.”

  “Lucky you. I wish I lived here but unfortunately I live in the town and so have no view at all although to be fair my house is comfortable and I do have a beautiful secluded garden.”

  “Are you on holiday then?”

  The woman stepped away from the gate. “Yes and I only arrived yesterday afternoon. I’m staying next door to you in the guest hou
se.”

  “Tuzzy-Muzzy,” said Hetty, “so we’re neighbours.”

  “For a while, yes.”

  Hetty glanced around to see if there was anyone else nearby. “Would it be rude to ask if you’re here on your own?”

  “Not at all and yes I am. I’m here for a whole month so that I can have a nice long rest. I nursed my elderly mother for a long six months, you see. Sadly she’s no longer with us now but her passing meant there was a lot to sort out, you know, selling her house and so forth. It was all very stressful and my partner, bless him, said I must get away and have some time to myself.”

  “That’s very sweet of him but will he be alright on his own?”

  “Yes, he’s a barrister and has a lot of very good friends to help him out. Besides, he’s also an accomplished cook and has fended for himself a lot already this year especially when my mother’s health began to deteriorate.”

  “That’s nice to hear and you chose Cornwall for your rest. Very wise of you.”

  “Yes, I thought it would be the perfect place to find peace and quiet.”

  “Fancy a coffee? You can meet my sister then.”

  “Well, yes, that would be lovely. Thank you.”

  “My name’s Hetty, by the way, Hetty Tonkins.”

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Hetty. I’m Grace, Grace Dunkerley.” She glanced down at Albert. “And who is this little fellow?”

  Hetty introduced Grace to Albert and then they crossed the road.

  “Please excuse any strange noises,” urged Hetty, as they approached the house and she opened the door. “We’re having a loft conversion done and so at times it can be quite noisy.”

  “A loft conversion. How exciting. I love making alterations to my house and decorating too.”

  Inside Primrose Cottage, Emma and Zac were making coffee for Sid, Basil and Mark.

  “Care to make a couple more for your poor old aunt and this lady, Grace, who’s staying next door?” called Hetty to the kitchen as she hung up Albert’s lead.