by Adele Abbott
“He did. Are you sure you’ll be able to afford it?”
“Yes, that’s not a problem. Ever since he was sent to prison, I’ve put a little money aside every month. I thought he could use it towards a house when he got out, but he insists that he wants to use it to clear his name so he can get on with his life.”
“What can you tell me about your daughter’s relationship with Phil’s stepfather?”
“I never really liked Andy. I couldn’t see what Felicity saw in him, but they seemed happy enough, particularly after Liam came along.”
“How did Phil get on with his stepfather?”
“Not very well at all. They were always at each other’s throats.”
“Did it ever get physical?”
“No.”
“Would Phil have told you if it had?”
“Yes, he’s always confided in me.”
“What about Phil’s relationship with his stepbrother, Liam?”
“Phil was very good with him, and Liam seemed to look up to Phil.”
“I understand your daughter and Andy have split up.”
“That’s right. About six months after Liam’s disappearance, Andy walked out. The stress was too much for both of them. Felicity has remarried since then. I broke off all contact with her after Phil was sent to prison. I couldn’t accept the way she’d abandoned her son. We haven’t spoken in years.”
“Do you know where Andy is now?”
“No. I heard he moved abroad, but I couldn’t tell you where.”
“Phil told me that he’d occasionally take Liam with him when he went fishing.”
“Yes, but not very often. As you can imagine, a young boy of that age soon becomes bored and starts to mess around. It was no fun for Phil having Liam there because he took his fishing very seriously.”
“Phil insists that he never saw Liam on the day he disappeared.”
“And I believe him. Phil may have his faults, but he’s not a liar.”
“Edie, have you ever asked Phil about the blood that was found on the rocks and on his fishing rod?”
“Of course. And he’s always said the same thing, that he has no idea how it got there.”
“Do you have any theories as to what might’ve happened to Liam?”
“The only thing I can come up with is that a stranger must’ve snatched him. After all this time, I suppose we have to assume he’s dead, don’t we?”
“Unfortunately, yes, I think so.”
“Do you really think you’ll be able to help Phil, Jill?”
“I’ll tell you the same as I told Phil. Cases like this one are notoriously difficult, but I’ll do my best.”
“Thank you. I can’t ask any more than that.”
“Do you think Felicity will talk to me?”
“I really couldn’t say, but I’ll give you her address.”
***
I’d just parked in front of the old watermill when someone hammered on the driver’s side window. Miss Drinkwater was standing next to the car, beckoning to me to get out. She was red in the face and clearly angry about something.
“Is there a problem, Miss Drinkwater?”
“A problem? Yes, I would say so,” she snapped. “Is it correct what I hear that your grandmother has taken over the hotel?”
“That’s right. Who did you hear that from?”
“Never mind that. I understand she’s going to be offering afternoon tea.”
“I don’t know, but it wouldn’t surprise me. The hotel does have a restaurant.”
“Tweaking Tea Rooms has been offering afternoon tea in this village since before you were born, and I’ve never had to put up with competition before. I’d like you to have a word with your grandmother, young lady. Tell her that it’s not on.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Drinkwater, but it’s not for me to tell Grandma how to run her business. Not that she’d take any notice of me anyway. Why don’t you have a word with her yourself?”
“Don’t you think I’ve tried? Every time I go up there, there’s no sign of her. If you ask me, she’s got wind that I’m on her case and she’s probably hiding.”
“I think that’s very unlikely. You’ll find that Grandma isn’t the kind of person to scare easily.”
“I simply won’t stand for this. You can tell her that.” And with that she huffed, puffed and walked away.
“What did Miss Drinkwater want?” Jack asked when I walked through the door.
“She’s not very happy because, apparently, Grandma is going to be offering afternoon tea in the hotel.”
“What does she expect you to do about it?”
“I’ve no idea. I’d like to know who told her that the new owner was my grandmother.”
“It sounds like there could be a showdown.”
“If there is, my money is on Grandma.”
“Mine too. I managed to grab a word with Wendy’s mum, and she said Wendy can come over on Sunday afternoon about two.”
“Great. Where is Florence, anyway?”
“Upstairs, playing with her dolls’ house the last time I checked. By the way, Jill, have you remembered what date it is next week?”
“It’s not your birthday, is it?”
“No, it’s our wedding anniversary.”
“Oh yeah, of course. I knew that.”
“I’ve come up with a really great idea for how we can celebrate it.”
“A slap-up meal at my favourite restaurant?”
“Much better than that. I’ve organised a dinner with both of our parents. Won’t that be brilliant?”
Chapter 5
Jack sat down at the kitchen table and began to spread marmalade on his toast.
“Are you still not talking to me, Jill?”
I ignored him.
“I’ll take that as a no, shall I? I really don’t know why you’re so upset. I thought you’d be pleased that I’d arranged a dinner party for our anniversary.”
“We went through all this last night.”
“Oh, so you are talking to me.”
“As I said last night, a quiet romantic dinner for two would have been lovely, but what on earth possessed you to organise a dinner party with our parents? Have you forgotten about the bust-up our mothers had?”
“But that was years ago. Surely, they’ll both be able to let bygones be bygones, won’t they?”
“What planet do you live on, Jack? Of course they won’t.”
For a short period, Jack’s mother, Yvonne, had worked at Cakey C, the tea room owned by my parents, and their new partners, Alberto and Blodwyn. Things had been okay for a while, but then there had been an almighty bust-up. I never did get to the bottom of what caused it, but it definitely had roots in Yvonne’s previous occupation. When she’d been alive, she’d worked as a witchfinder.
Just then, Florence came running down the stairs. “Mummy, Daddy, Great-Grandma’s here.”
This morning was going from bad to badder.
And before you lot start, we’ve already had the conversation about the word badder. Of course it’s a word.
“Come on, Mummy.” She grabbed my hand and dragged me through to the hallway.
“Florence, why don’t we play a trick on Grandma and pretend we aren’t in? We could hide and not answer the door.”
“No, Mummy, that wouldn’t be very nice.” Before I could stop her, Florence had already opened the door.
“If it isn’t my favourite great-granddaughter.” Grandma took Florence into her arms and gave her a big hug.
“I’ve learnt a new spell, Great-Grandma.”
“Have you, now?” She smirked at me. “And which spell has your mummy taught you?”
“The ‘grow’ spell. It makes plants bigger. Can I show you?”
“Of course you can, but I need to have a quick word with your mummy first. Why don’t you go through to the garden and I’ll be with you in just a minute?”
“Okay, Great-Grandma.” Florence went skipping through the house. A
nd, she made it look so easy.
“So, Jill?” The smirk was still plastered on Grandma’s face. “You decided to take my advice after all. I assume you’re going to ramp up the lessons now?”
“Yes, but we don’t intend to overdo it. We decided I’d teach Florence one new spell a week.”
“One? Is that all? At that rate, it’ll take forever to teach her all the spells she needs to know. Why don’t I help? That would move things along much quicker.”
“Absolutely not. Jack only agreed to this on the condition that you weren’t involved, and that I would be the one to teach her.”
“Why does that human have a say in it?”
“That human is Florence’s father. Keep your voice down or he’ll hear you. Anyway, why are you here? What do you want?”
“I don’t need a reason to visit my granddaughter and my great-granddaughter, do I?”
“No, but if you try to teach Florence any more spells, you’ll be barred.”
“Good luck with that. Now, let me go and see how Florence is doing with that spell.”
“Before you do, I should warn you that Miss Drinkwater is on the warpath. She’s not very pleased with you.”
“Who’s Miss Drinkwater when she’s at home? I’ve never heard of the woman.”
“She owns Tweaking Tea Rooms, and she’s heard that you’re going to be offering afternoon tea in the hotel.”
“What does that have to do with her?”
“Apparently, Tweaking Tea Rooms have offered afternoon tea for over thirty years, and they’ve never had to put up with any competition in the village before.”
“That’s about to change. Why did she come to you? Why not come and tell me herself?”
“She tried to, apparently, but you were never in.”
“That’s because I’m a very busy woman. If you see her again, tell her I’d be happy to discuss the matter with her.”
“Don’t you dare go and do anything stupid.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Turning her into a frog maybe.”
“Don’t go giving me ideas.”
***
Ahead of my visit to see the author, Margaret Plant, I’d carried out a little research. Although I’d never heard of her, it seemed that she was something of a phenomenon, having published two books a year for the last twenty years—the majority of which were bestsellers. Curiously, she hadn’t published anything for the last two years. During my research, I’d come across numerous posts from her readers who were becoming impatient over a series of delays to her latest book. I now understood why her agent, Georgina Walpole, didn’t want news of the missing manuscript to break.
Margaret Plant lived in Lower Tweaking, in a beautiful house called the Quill. From my research, I knew she was in her late sixties, had never married and had no children. Georgina Walpole had informed me that Margaret had a live-in housekeeper called Mrs Flattery, and it was she who answered the door.
“Mrs Flattery? I’m Jill Maxwell, here to see Margaret Plant. I believe she’s expecting me.”
“She is indeed. Come in.”
Mrs Flattery’s long black hair was tied neatly back, and she was wearing a smart blue uniform. I considered complimenting her on her appearance, but I figured that wouldn’t get me anywhere.
“Before I take you through to Mrs Plant, would you like to see where the thief got in?”
“Yes, please. That would be very helpful.”
She led the way to the kitchen, which was at the back of the house.
“They broke the pane on the right. When I came downstairs that morning there was glass all over the windowsill and on the floor.”
“I understand from Georgina Walpole that the only thing taken was the manuscript.”
“That’s correct, which is weird because Mrs Plant has some very valuable ornaments and jewellery.”
“Have you worked for Mrs Plant for long?”
“Almost twenty years now. I feel so very sorry for her. She’d worked so hard on this latest book, which has taken much longer than usual to write. She works such long hours too; she locks herself away in the study and only comes out to eat or sleep. She’s in there now. I’ll take you through to her.”
For a woman who rarely left her study, Margaret Plant was dressed to the nines.
“Jill Maxwell, I assume. I’m Margaret.”
“That’s right. Georgina Walpole told me this would be a good time, but if you’re just on your way out, we can always reschedule.”
“There’s no need. I’m not planning to go out today. Do have a seat. I’m very grateful that you were able to come at such short notice. I assume that Georgie has filled you in on what happened?”
“She has, yes. It must have been a terrible shock when you discovered the manuscript was missing.”
“I was devastated. I still am. The thought of having to write that book again from scratch is simply too much to bear.”
“Do you still have your notes on the book?”
“I didn’t make an outline—I never do. I’m what’s known in the trade as a pantser. In other words, I write by the seat of my pants. I just dive in and see where the book takes me.”
“I see. Have you ever considered using a computer?”
“I’ve tried it a couple of times, but I found the creative juices wouldn’t flow, not like they do when I’m using Daisy.”
“Daisy?”
She patted the typewriter. “I call her that because she has a daisy wheel. I don’t imagine that means much to you. You’re far too young. It’s that disc-like thing with the letter keys on it.”
“I see. Where was the manuscript taken from?”
“This desk. It was just behind the typewriter. That’s where I leave it every evening.”
“And nothing else was taken?”
“Nothing. If it wasn’t for the broken window and the missing manuscript, you wouldn’t know anyone had been in here. Have you read any of my books, Jill?”
“I’m afraid not. I don’t really get the chance to read much, what with work and looking after my little girl.”
“How old is she?”
“Florence is five.”
“I never had children, but I look on all of my books as my babies.”
“Mrs Flattery tells me you spend most of the day in here.”
“That’s right. Nose to the grindstone. I chose this room for my study because it looks out onto the back garden, and if I need some fresh air, I just go through there.” She pointed to the door next to the window. “When the words won’t come, I take a walk around the garden, weather-permitting, and wait until inspiration strikes.”
“It’s hard to imagine why a random thief would take nothing but the manuscript. Can you think of anyone who might have taken it?”
“No. My first thought was that someone was going to try and extort money from me. I half expected to receive a note demanding payment, but I’ve received nothing. It’s a total mystery.”
“What about visitors, Margaret? Do you have many?”
“Very few. The only family I have is my sister, Ruth, but she seldom visits. It’s months since she was last here.”
“What about your neighbours?”
“That’s a bit of a sore point, I’m afraid. I’ve fallen out with the neighbours on either side. My fault entirely. When I’m in the garden, trying to get the creative juices flowing, I don’t want any interruptions. On several occasions, I’ve been rather short with the neighbours, and now they don’t talk to me at all.”
“Would it be possible to take a quick look outside?”
I figured that in order to gain access to the kitchen, the thief must have come through the garden.
“Of course.” She stood up from the desk and led the way out of the door. “I’m afraid it’s a bit of a mess out here, as you can see. I keep intending to find myself a gardener, but I never seem to get around to it.”
I considered mentioning Peter, but I thought that wouldn�
��t be very professional. Maybe later, depending on how things turned out.
There were tall hedges to the left and right, with a wire fence behind them. It would have been difficult, although not impossible, for someone to gain access from the neighbouring gardens. At the far end of the small garden was a high wall in which was set a wooden door.
“Where does that door lead to, Margaret?”
“Into the garden of the property on the other side of the wall.”
“How come there’s a door between the two properties?”
“Apparently, when these houses were built, they were owned by the same family. The door provided easy access. It’s locked now of course. There’s a padlock on the other side so no one can get through.”
“Do you know who owns that house?”
“Err, yes, it’s a widower by the name of Mr Stanley Trotter.”
“Do you know him well?”
“Not particularly.”
***
I had hoped that Margaret Plant might offer me a drink, but it didn’t seem to occur to her. By the time I came away, I was rather peckish and ready for a cup of coffee, so I magicked myself over to Cuppy C. Although the shop itself was quiet, the twins were going at it hammer and tongs behind the counter.
“Hey, girls, keep it down. You’ll upset the customers.”
“It’s her fault,” Amber said. “Tell her.”
“Rubbish,” Pearl countered. “She’s the one who started it.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“What are you arguing about anyway?”
“Business has been a little slow of late,” Amber said. “We’re trying to come up with a way to get more customers through the door. I suggested that we do a two-for-one offer.”
“I think we should do buy-one-get-one free,” Pearl said. “That’s a much better idea.”
“No, it isn’t!” Amber insisted. “Everyone does that. Two-for-one is far better.”
“Girls, I don’t know how to break this to you, but this argument is nonsense. Your suggestions are one and the same thing.”
