The Secrets of Palmerston House

by Phillipa Nefri Clark

  For hours he worked, forcing the crowbar into the cracks around the door then hitting it with the hammer until it was deeply embedded. All his weight on the crowbar didn’t move anything. Not even a bit. Over and over he tried until his arms were like jelly and plaster and timber shards littered the floor. In fury, he slammed the hammer into the centre of the door, chipping off a little stone, but the door held firm.

  Bernie replaced the shelving and restacked the boxes. Kicked the mess to one side. Nobody would see it in this light anyway. Sweat poured down his body and every muscle ached. All for nothing. He needed the key.

  He froze as a distinctive creak came from above.

  Another creak. And a laugh. Elizabeth’s laugh.

  ***

  The trip to Warrnambool was both productive and enjoyable, with Elizabeth and Angus choosing the perfect wedding gift and enjoying a delightful lunch overlooking the water. Back at Palmerston House, they’d gone straight to the kitchen, more than ready for a cup of tea. As the kettle boiled, Elizabeth prepared a teapot and Angus told her a story from his time in London, making her laugh. But then, when the kettle stopped whistling, there was an odd sound. A scrape, almost like a footstep from the other side of the door to the cellar.

  “Did you hear that?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Yes. Probably a mouse.”

  “A mouse! In my home?”

  Angus grinned. “Or a rat.”

  Elizabeth put her hands on her hips.

  There was a soft thud, further from the door.

  “I’d better take a look.” Angus headed for the door to the cellar. “Probably a misguided possum.”

  “Oh, perhaps we should call... now I’m being silly.”

  “Don’t need the pest control person yet. Let me see if I can locate the culprit.”

  “Not what I meant, but be careful.”

  As he opened the door, Angus blew her a kiss. “No rodent is a match for me.”

  His footsteps faded and Elizabeth opened the drawer where she kept the torches. “I’ll bring some light.”

  “What on earth?” Angus’ words were muffled by distance.

  Elizabeth stepped through the doorway. “Angus?”

  “Why are you—” his words cut off with an oomph.

  Footsteps approached, fast footsteps. Fear cut through Elizabeth. “Angus?” she cried, flashing the torch around at the top of the steps.

  Bernie loomed into her vision, face red and clothes covered in a white substance. At the base of the steps he stopped, swaying. In one hand was a hammer, and a crowbar in the other. Elizabeth turned and ran.

  She couldn’t leave Angus. In the kitchen, her eyes darted around and as Bernie’s heavy footsteps grew louder, she seized a knife from the sink and backed away.

  ***

  The scenery changed again as Trev rounded a long, slow curve, twisting downward into a valley. As if cast back in time, the first sight of the village always drew him back to his childhood. Long, lazy summer afternoons splashing through the creek on the other side of town, kicking a ball with his mates. Not a lot changed here over the years.

  “Is this it?” Charlotte sat up straighter, keenly gazing around.

  “Sure is. See the oval over there?” He gestured to a sports ground nestled beside a tree-covered hill. “Kicked my first goal there.”

  “Cool. How far are we from Hanging Rock?”

  “Not far. Maybe fifteen minutes.”

  “I loved the movie. And the book.”

  “Mum carries copies. Pity we haven’t got time to go there for a picnic.” He laughed at his own joke.

  “Funny. This is so like River’s End.”

  “Except the ocean. But yeah, it is.”

  There was the shop. His heart beat faster. So many great memories helping Mum out as a kid, making extra money as a teen. Out of habit he drove into all-day parking over the road, so as to keep the spots in front of the shop free for her customers.

  “And we are here.”

  “It was a nice drive. Thanks.”

  “Not too long for you?” He unbuckled his seatbelt.

  “Not with a bookshop as the prize.” Charlotte smiled and his heart flip-flopped. Then she was out of the car, waiting for him to join her.

  “I thought spending the day with me was the prize.” He locked the car.

  “Nope. Bookshop.”

  “There’s a train station not far away. Will only take you... maybe a day or so to get back to River’s End.”

  “Nice.”

  “Or you could accept the fact you enjoy my company. Careful, no jaywalking or I’ll arrest you.” He steered them toward a pedestrian crossing.

  “Is this even in your jurisdiction? Not as though the road is busy.”

  “Rules are there for a reason.” The silly conversation continued as they crossed the road.

  Outside the bookshop, Charlotte stopped with a little squeal of delight, something Trev had never heard from her. She peered at the window display, mouth slightly open and eyes wide. “There’s so much detail. Look how perfectly placed the flowers are... even the petals across the plate to accentuate the cupcakes. And they are almost the same as the cover of the book being promoted! Does your mother do this on her own?”

  “Come and ask her.”

  Trev held the door open for Charlotte to go through first. She brushed against his chest and the scent of her hair filled his senses. Not the time. Yet there was no way to remove the smile on his face.

  Inside, he spotted his mother at the back of the shop, rearranging books on a shelf. She glanced up with a smile as the door closed behind him then her eyes lit up with recognition.

  “Darling! How wonderful.”

  “Hi, Mum. Thought I should visit.” He met her halfway and reached down to put his arms around her. She squeezed him back but not with the strength he remembered. A little bit of his happiness disappeared. “New wheelchair? When did you get this?”

  “At least six months ago.”

  “Oh.” Was it really so long since he’d been up? He wanted to kick himself.

  “Er. Hi. Lovely shop.”

  Trev straightened. “Charlie, come and meet Mum. Mrs Rose Sibbritt. Mum, this is my friend, Charlotte Dean.”

  “Do you prefer Charlie, or Charlotte, dear?”

  “Either is fine. Just not Lottie.”

  “Never Lottie! And it’s Rosie, please call me Rosie.” Rosie held out her hand and Charlotte took it. “Long drive for a quick visit. Or are you staying?” She turned her head to Trev.

  “Not this time, sorry. The opportunity came up this morning for a day off, so I took it. We did.”

  “Good. Shall we have coffee?”

  “Why don’t I go and get us all coffee so you two can talk?” Charlotte offered. “Who makes the best coffee in town?”

  A couple of directions later, Charlotte slipped out through the door. Trev watched her go.

  “Friend?”

  “Hmm.”

  “Well, I approve. She likes my shop.”

  He laughed. “Charlie always has a book in her hand it seems. Didn’t know if she’d come with me but once I mentioned this place, she almost leapt into the car.”

  “Good taste.”

  “Thanks, Mum.”

  Rosie wheeled toward the counter. “Didn’t mean you.”

  “I know.” Trev followed. “Charlie will amuse herself in here for hours, so how about we have a talk about the shop? If you want to.”

  Rosie turned the wheelchair and backed it a bit to make room for Trev to pull a stool from under the counter. “You’ve driven all this way for me?”

  “You needed me. Of course I did.”

  Tears welled up in Rosie’s eyes and she grabbed Trev’s hand. “There’s a lot to talk about.”

  ***

  Bernie burst through the doorway. He staggered to a stop near the kitchen table, blinking at the sun streaming through the window.

  His eyes roamed the kitchen, coming to rest on Elizabeth
who had squeezed herself between a counter and a tall cupboard.

  “Are you holding a knife?”

  “Don’t come near me.” Her voice was weak. Scared.

  “I’d never hurt you. Elizabeth.”

  She glanced at the tools he still carried. He placed them, one at a time, on the table. “See?”

  “Bernie, please go. I need to go to Angus.”

  “Angus? Oh, he’s fine.”

  “Then where is he?” Elizabeth stepped forward, knife still in hand but lowered to her side. “What did you do to him?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I don’t believe you! I heard him.”

  “He was surprised to see me.”

  “Please. Please, Bernie. You’ve told me before you like me so please go now. Let me pass.”

  “I don’t mind if you’d like to keep living here.” He smiled “I’d like your room though, because I prefer all the space and such a pretty outlook, over the back garden. But you can have any other room you want.”

  “Thank you.”

  What on earth was he going on about? Stay calm, Elizabeth. Agree with him. Through the doorway to the cellar, a groan emanated and fear clutched her stomach.

  “Bernie, I left the washing basket outside. Would you mind fetching it? Then we can have a cup of tea.”

  “I’m not crazy, you know. But I’ll go. I’ve done all I can here.”

  “All you can?”

  “I tried. With so little to go on, I’ve exhausted almost every avenue.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “And it is isn’t your fault. Oh, dear Elizabeth, you simply purchased a property. How were you to know it was stolen?” He shrugged. “My poor great-great-grandfather Henry was left with nothing, thanks to Eoin Ryan. It is his family who will pay, not yours.”

  All Elizabeth wanted was to go to Angus. But Bernie kept talking.

  “I will have Palmerston House back. For Harry. He may have lived out his days poor. He and his family, driven to work like common folk but at least he had them.”

  “Bernie? Have you been to the graveyard?”

  “In River’s End?”

  “Near the cliff are some interesting graves. From the early settlers. Perhaps you should stop there. To see who they are.”

  He tilted his head. “I might do so.”

  Then he was gone, and a moment later the back door closed with a click.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  After coffee and casual conversation, Charlotte left Trev and Rosie to talk and immersed herself in the book shop. Bookshelves lined the walls but in the centre were reading nooks. Single comfy armchairs, complete with a side table and lamp. A coffee table between two sofas. What she loved most was a child-friendly area with a colourful mat, a pile of second-hand kids’ books, and a table set up with pencils and paper.

  With nobody else in the shop, and a quick glance to make sure Trev and Rosie weren’t watching, she sat on the mat and soaked in the atmosphere. As a child, this set-up would have been a dream come true. Creativity everywhere and no angry adult telling her to clean the house or run to the shops for the third time in a day. This was for children to explore and learn in a fun way. And be kids.

  Voices of incoming shoppers reminded her where she was. Charlotte jumped up and moved to the shelves where Rosie had been working. Might as well complete the job. Mysteries and thrillers filled these shelves and Charlotte touched the spines of those she’d read.

  “Ah! Is that the new J. G. Groggins mystery?”

  One of the shoppers appeared beside Charlotte, nodding toward where her hand was.

  “It is.”

  “My friend told me I must buy it. Have you read it yet?” The lady looked over her glasses at Charlotte. “You look like a mystery buff.”

  “I do? Umm, yes, I have.”

  “Then don’t tell me a thing!”

  “Never. Have you read the previous three?”

  “Three? I thought this was the first in the series.”

  “You are in for a treat.” Charlotte pulled out a total of four books, the newest one and its three predecessors. “Now, this is the first and it really sets up the whole series. I’d suggest reading them in order, so as not to miss a word.”

  “And they are good?”

  “I love them. Devoured them one after another and cannot wait for the final three.”

  “Then I shall take them all.”

  “I’ll pop them onto the counter and you keep browsing.” Charlotte tapped another book on the next shelf. “If you like something a little bit... steamy, then perhaps you’d enjoy this as well. Maybe read the back blurb first.”

  Charlotte left the lady to look and took the four books to the counter. Rosie and Trev glanced up. “Not for me. The lady down the back wants them.”

  “Mrs Lane? She rarely buys anything. Looks here then goes to the library.”

  “I think she’ll buy them. If not, I’ll put them back.”

  With a grin at their surprised faces, Charlotte wandered off to look for books on the region. There were a few, mostly historical accounts of the founding of the village, its importance to the Macedon Ranges, an overview of its early industries, and some gorgeous photos.

  Photos like the kind Bernie said he’d take of River’s End.

  She turned away, troubled he’d intruded. Why was she even thinking about him? He’d left Palmerston House. Earlier, Trev mentioned he’d strongly suggested to Bernie it was time to move on. So, by the time they got home tonight, Bernie might not even be in River’s End. But why would he give up his lifelong dream?

  “And your lovely new assistant was so helpful, Rose!”

  Mrs Lane was at the counter, paying for her books. Five of them, as she’d also followed Charlotte’s suggestion on the other one. A bit surprising, as it was indeed rather hot, but she wasn’t one to judge people by appearances.

  “My new... oh, Charlotte.” Rosie smiled her way. “Yes, she is lovely.”

  Sudden warmth filled Charlotte. Rosie was so sweet and welcoming. Beside his mother, Trev gazed at Charlotte. He didn't smile; it was an odd expression almost of sadness. Was this to do with his mother? Or was he thinking about Charlotte? Curious, she went closer as Mrs Lane left with her bag of books.

  “Sorry to confuse Mrs Lane. About working here.”

  “I wish I had someone like you. I truly do.”

  “As a child I wanted to live in a bookshop. Perhaps, in another lifetime...”

  Trev hadn’t taken his eyes off Charlotte, but now he looked away, out of the front window. He blinked rapidly and she was certain something she’d said or done was behind it. But what?

  ***

  Heart pounding so fast Elizabeth could barely breathe, she took a few tentative steps forward. As far as the table, where the crowbar and hammer lay. She put the knife beside them.

  What if he comes back?

  She ran to the back door and locked it, adding the security chain. Then, back through the kitchen, to the steps to the cellar.

  “Angus? Where are you?”

  He wasn’t on the lower landing, nor in the cellar. The door to the storage room was ajar.

  “I’m... here.”

  At first she couldn’t see him. She’d dropped her torch in the kitchen. But then she saw him, on the floor, on his side. As Elizabeth dropped to her knees beside him, he reached out a hand. “You... you are okay?”

  “I’m okay but what about you? What hurts? What happened? Are you bleeding?” The words tumbled out.

  “Pushed me. Fell badly but if you can help me sit...” he moaned as he moved.

  “I’m going to phone for help. I need you to stay still for a moment, okay?”

  “Where... is he?”

  “Gone. Stop talking for now. I have to run upstairs but I’ll only be a moment.”

  Somehow, Elizabeth got back to the kitchen and grabbed the phone. The first call was for an ambulance and as soon as she hung up, she dialled Christie. She hurried to op
en the front door as Christie answered.

  “Elizabeth! I was planning on dropping—”

  “Christie. Sorry, but I need you here right now.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Bernie was here and he might have hurt Angus. He’s in the room through the cellar and I can’t move him.”

  “Angus is hurt? No! Elizabeth, call an ambulance!”

  “I have, dear. Please come. Come soon.”

  With shaking hands, she unlocked the back door again. She dialled Trev. It went to voicemail. Leave a message. She left a message. Hung up and dialled emergency again. One way or another she’d have a police presence.

  She ran into the laundry and took blankets from a cupboard.

  When she reached Angus again, his eyes were closed. Elizabeth gently covered him with a blanket. “Angus. Help is coming. Wake up, darling. Angus?”

  She sat beside him, afraid to touch him but desperate to know he was okay. Her fingers played with his hair. Brushed it to one side. His forehead was clammy. Elizabeth finally slid her hand under the blanket. Her fingers curled around his.

  “I... Angus, I need you.” The words echoed back at her. She was going to lose him. A small cry caught in her throat. “I love you. Stay with me, darling. Please stay.”

  ***

  For the first time ever, Thomas drove the Lotus. One look at Christie’s face and he’d taken the keys, grabbed her elbow, and hurried them to the car. He’d got her into the front seat and seat-belted as tears streamed down her face. Martha climbed into the 4WD to follow in case they needed a second car.

  “He’s tough as old nails. He’ll be right.”

  As he backed the Lotus out of the driveway, Thomas’ mind raced. How had Bernie got into Palmerston House, and why would he hurt Angus? He’d known the man was bad news from the moment Bernie had driven past him that night, showering stones across the grass verge.

  Thomas stopped at the corner, checking the gears and adjusting the seat to allow for his longer legs. “Phone Martin. Pull yourself together, child. Angus needs strength, not tears.”

  Wide-eyed, Christie glanced at Thomas. “First gear is the other way.” She pulled her phone from the bag Martha had thrown over her shoulder as she’d fumbled with the back door.