“And a little short, Lottie. I doubt they would successfully cover my bottom and that would look hideous with leggings.”
To change the subject Lottie pointed towards Christmas trees with roots which leaned against the last few trees in the avenue near to Santa’s Grotto. “Now, that we must have,” she said, “I’ve not had a real tree for years and they do smell so nice.”
“Trouble is they also drop needles everywhere.”
“That’s what Hugh used to say and so we always had an artificial tree. In fact we had it for years but I sent it to a charity shop when sorting out stuff before the move.”
“In that case we’ll get one. I mean it has to be said that we’ll have all the time in the world over the coming months to vacuum up the needles.”
As they passed Santa’s Grotto they peeped inside to see if Bernie the Boatman was on duty, but Santa’s chair was empty and a list of opening times for visiting him stated that he would be there between eleven in the morning until three in the afternoon on weekdays and eleven until six at the weekend.
“Missed him,” said Lottie, “still never mind, we’ll catch him next time we’re here.”
“I wonder where the reindeer and sleigh are.” Hetty looked all around.
“That’s probably the sleigh over there,” Lottie pointed to a sheet of tarpaulin covering something large, “I expect as they use real reindeer the rides are only on busy days or when Santa is on duty.”
A large marquee stood at the bottom of the avenue to the right where the area was flat. And near to the lake, stood the café which was for the Christmas period a Patisserie and the home of Simeon Dupont the patissier for whom accommodation had been made in an adjacent room.
Keen to sample Simeon’s wares, the sisters headed for the café where they were overwhelmed by the mouth-watering display and especially the stack of multi-coloured macarons. Unsure what to order they finally settled on something they were familiar with and ordered two eclairs and two coffees. To their surprise, Tess Dobson, who they had met during their summer holiday was the waitress.
“Well, hello there,” she said, recognising the sisters, “I heard you were buying Faith’s place but didn’t realise you were here yet.”
Hetty’s jaw dropped. “It seems everyone we speak to knew we were the buyers of Primrose Cottage. Goodness only knows how.”
Tess smiled. “Maisie’s son, Brian, works for the estate agents who dealt with the sale.”
“Say no more,” said Hetty, gently shaking her head. “Anyway, it’s lovely to see you again, Tess.”
“And you too. So, when did you get here?”
“Last Friday,” said Lottie.
“Ideal, just in time for Christmas.”
By the time the sisters left the café, the lights in the trees were shining brightly against the dark sky and the air felt chilly. Keen to know what was inside the marquee they went to take a look. To their delight it was crammed full of Christmassy house plants and brightly coloured decorations. Suddenly overwhelmed with a festive spirit they bought a poinsettia, two cyclamen and a bowl of hyacinths. They also bought a few decorations to add to ones each already owned and had brought with them to Cornwall.
Before they left they also bought a tree and as Hetty watched the netting process, Lottie noticed a small caravan over towards the maze.
“Well, look at that,” she said, much amused by the large sign over the closed door, where a small queue was gathered, “Psychic Sid, Fortune Teller, extraordinaire. I wonder if he’s any good.”
Hetty squinted to read the sign. “Well, there’s only one way to find out. We’ll put him to the test next time we come up here.”
When they arrived back at the cottage they found a small magazine on the doormat. Hetty picked it up.
“What’s that?” Lottie asked, as she placed the box of plants on a table in the hallway.
“It says it’s The Pentrillick Gazette,” Hetty flicked through the pages. “Looks like a local advertising magazine. Should be interesting and could be useful for any jobs we need doing.” She tossed it onto the table beside the plants and then went back out to the car to fetch in the Christmas tree.
In the evening, the sisters sat down by the fire and admired their handiwork. The Christmas tree, planted in a bucket, stood in the corner with twinkling white lights which reflected the numerous coloured baubles and strands of silver tinsel.
“Where did you put that village magazine?” Lottie asked, standing up to replace a strand of fine tinsel which had fallen onto the floor from the fleshy leaves of her aspidistra, “I’d like to have a look at it now.”
“I think it’s still on the hall table.”
The magazine was the December edition, and Lottie gleaned on reading the first page that it was a non-profit making monthly publication financed by advertising which was distributed free to residents of the village and was on sale to others in the post office for the modest sum of fifty pence.
“The August one must have been around in the summer when we were here on holiday,” said Lottie, “but I don’t recall seeing it at all.”
“Well I daresay the people who stayed at Sea View Cottage the week before us took it home with them and I should imagine it was in demand anyway if it mentioned the murder of poor Faith Trethewy.”
“Hmm, it may well have done as there seem to be a few news items dotted here and there.”
“So, is there anything exciting in it?” Hetty asked.
“Could be,” said Lottie. “Lots of businesses have adverts here and are wishing patrons a happy Christmas and so forth. There are items for sale too and details of the Wonderland at Pentrillick House and church services over the Christmas period.” She turned over the page. “Ah, and this looks like another news page.”
She read through the articles and then laughed. “You’re never going to believe this, Het, but there have been a number of robberies in the village and the surrounding areas but the same things have been taken from each. You’ll never guess what.”
Hetty frowned. “Christmas presents from beneath trees,” she said, unconvinced.
Lottie shook her head. “No, all the things were taken from gardens.”
“Garments from washing lines,” said Hetty, with a chuckle.
“Nope, try again.”
“Garden furniture.”
“No,”
“Christmas wreaths from doors.”
“No.”
“I give up.”
“Gnomes,” said Lottie. “So far fifty three have been reported missing since the beginning of October and all were taken after dark.”
“Gnomes,” said Hetty, her tone one of disgust, “why would anyone take those horrid little things?”
“That’s a bit harsh, Het. Some of them are rather sweet.”
“Humph, well I hope you don’t want any here. I can’t abide the nasty little things. They give me the creeps.”
“Well, each to his or her own,” said Lottie, closing the magazine and standing up to put another log in the stove.
Chapter Four
On Tuesday morning, Lottie went into the garden straight after breakfast to gather greenery to make a wreath for the front door but as she looked up at the holly she saw that the branches bearing plump red berries were well out of her reach. However, in the garden next door a holly bush bore berries on much lower branches. She cut several strands of ivy and a little fir, picked up a handful of small pine cones, just visible in the long grass, and then returned indoors.
“Do you think I’d be out of order if I popped next door to Tuzzy-Muzzy and borrowed a few twigs of holly?” Lottie asked Hetty who was washing up the breakfast dishes.
“Borrow?” said Hetty, with an impish grin, “Would you be intending to return them after Christmas then?”
Lottie tutted. “Don’t be pernickety, Het, you know what I mean. It’s just that the bush next door has lovely red berries which I could reach whereas ours doesn’t.”
Hetty place
d the last item onto the draining board and tipped the washing up water down the sink. “Yes, I noticed you were struggling; I was watching from the kitchen window.”
“So what do you think?”
Hetty dried her hands. “I think if you’re going next door then I’m going with you. I’d like to take a closer look at the place anyway and we know there’s no-one there nor is there likely to be until the place is sold or whatever next year.”
Tuzzy-Muzzy lay well back from the road at the end of a driveway. It was a detached house of considerable size and at one time had been run as a guest house. However, its current owner, an artist, had lived there alone and the house had been empty since she had gone away.
Having gained access to the grounds by way of gates at the foot of the driveway, Hetty and Lottie furtively walked around the perimeter of the gardens, admiring the landscaping, impressive even in the dead of winter.
“Poor house,” said Lottie, gazing up towards the upstairs windows, “What it needs is a family to bring it to life. It’s far too big for one. Rosie must have been lost in it.”
“I agree and if it were mine I’d turn it back into a guest house.”
Hetty paused beside a peach coloured rose. “That’s something I’ve never seen before…a rose in December. Not growing in a garden anyway.” She leaned forward to see if it had a scent. “Hmm, and it smells divine.”
“And some of the fuchsias are still flowering too. And look at that camellia, it’s massive.”
Hetty looked at the tree to which Lottie was pointing. “Is that what it is? I had wondered. I must admit I’m looking forward to seeing what might come up in our garden next year. From what we know Faith had an interest in gardens so there could well be all sorts of fascinating things.”
While Lottie cut several small sprigs of holly, Hetty wandered off and followed a path around a large pond and then back towards the rose garden.
“When you’ve finished, pass me the secateurs, please,” Hetty was smelling the peach coloured rose again.
“Okay, but why?” Lottie handed over the secateurs and then laid the holly down on the path to tie a piece of string around it so that she could carry it without pricking her fingers.
“Because this rose is beautiful and I want to take it home. Besides it looks lonely here with no-one to admire it whereas I shall give it pride of place on one of our windowsills.”
“But that’s theft, Hetty. Honestly I don’t think you should.”
“Really?” Hetty cast a withering look at her sister and pointed to the bundle of holly she held by the string.
“Yes, okay. Point taken.”
Later in the day, after Lottie had made the Christmas wreath and hung it on the front door, the sisters went again to the charity shop and to their delight found Daisy and Maisie were both there. After greeting each other, Maisie put on the kettle and insisted they join Daisy and herself for a cup of tea.
“We’re so glad you came back,” said Daisy. “We’ve talked about you both often, haven’t we, Maisie?”
“Yes, and all of it good,” Maisie grinned as she took four mugs from beneath the counter.
“The place seemed so quiet after you’d gone,” Daisy continued, “Not that you made a lot of noise, it’s just, well, you know, you added a bit of excitement to our lives.”
“That’s really sweet and I have to confess you’ve both been in our thoughts a lot over the past few months too.” Lottie was moved by the words of kindness.
“So what’s been happening here,” Hetty asked, as she took a seat on a chair by the counter, “since we went home in August, that is?”
“Not a great deal,” said Daisy, “nothing noteworthy anyway.”
Maisie chuckled. “Except for the gnomes going missing, that is. Rum do that. I mean, who in their right mind would steal one gnome let alone dozens?”
“That’s what I think,” said Hetty, “Ghastly little things. There must be a madman in your midst.”
“So, what’s the story behind the thefts?” Lottie asked, feeling sorry for the garden ornaments.
Maisie shrugged her shoulders. “Search me. All we know is that they disappeared after nightfall over several weeks back in October and November.”
“Probably turn up at a car boot sale next summer,” said Hetty, dispassionately. “Might be worth a bob or two to folks who like geeky things like that.”
Daisy nodded. “That’s what I think.”
“Hmm, yes, I suppose that is a possibility,” Maisie agreed, “but it might be risky as I’m sure the police will be on the look-out.”
Hetty frowned. “Humph, I very much doubt the police would allocate much time to a trivial crime like that. On the other hand, if there’s not much going on, perhaps they might.”
Lottie looked puzzled. “If I remember correctly I saw someone selling gnomes at Wonderland when we went there yesterday. He had quite a few garden items including miniature wooden wheelbarrows which rather took my fancy, I must admit.”
“Ah, that would have been Jack,” said Daisy, “He makes the barrows for use as planters and sells them on-line as well as at Wonderland. His gnomes are all brand new though and not second hand. He’s a nice bloke and as straight as a die and the last person likely to go round nicking stuff.”
“When we went for a walk the other day we saw a car parked outside Sea View Cottage,” said Hetty, having just remembered. “Is someone staying there?”
Maisie handed out mugs of tea. “Yes, four young people who have stalls up at the Wonderland. Apparently they’re staying there until the new year.”
“In which case we probably saw them then,” said Hetty, “as we were up there yesterday. What do they sell?”
“All sorts,” said Maisie, as she sat down on a small sturdy table, “The two chaps are called Finn and Woody and they sell these video games that youngsters seem to like. The two girls are Shelley and Ginger and they sell jewellery, candles, perfume and stuff like that. They all seem really nice, especially the girls. I was chatting to them in the pub last week. I hope they do some good trade.”
“We’ll have a look at their stuff when we go again as we need to do a bit of Christmas shopping,” said Lottie.
“I saw someone was selling designer clothes as well,” said Hetty, “so I must give that a go. I’m a sucker for nice clothes even if my figure isn’t great, nor ever has been.”
“We’re planning to have our fortunes told too,” said Lottie, who thought designer clothes were a dreadful waste of money, “who knows what the future holds for us?”
Daisy laughed. “Well not Psychic Sid, that’s for sure. From what I’ve heard he talks as his belly guides him but then I’ve never believed in that sort of stuff anyway.”
“Me neither,” Hetty agreed, “but it should be a bit of fun.”
In the evening, the sisters, keen to get out and about and mix with people as much as possible, went to the village hall to play bingo. Neither won any of the games but much to her delight, Hetty won a box of chocolates in the raffle and after she had collected her prize, they decided as it was only half past nine to pop into the Crown and Anchor as they would pass it on their way home anyway. Inside they found a man of medium height, who was a little overweight, sitting at the bar talking to Bernie the Boatman.
“Ah, ladies,” said Bernie with a huge grin, “allow me to introduce you to the Wonderland’s star attraction.”
Hetty frowned. “Well, we know you’re not Simeon the Patissier so I’m a little mystified as to who you might be.”
Lottie tutted. “Oh, Het, use your imagination. My money goes on this gentleman being Psychic Sid.”
The star attraction slapped his thigh. “Spot on, my lovely. I am yours truly Psychic Sid. Please allow me to buy you and your delightful friend a drink.”
“That’s very kind,” said Lottie, feeling pleased with herself for her correct assumption, “we’d both like a glass of red wine, if that’s okay.”
“Coming up,” said
Sid, beckoning Alison to assist him.
“Please allow us to introduce ourselves,” said Lottie, unbuttoning her coat. “I’m Lottie Burton and this is my twin sister, Hetty Tonkins.”
“Twins,” said Sid, clearly surprised, “but you don’t look anything like each other.”
“Not all twins are identical,” said Hetty, as Sid handed her a glass of merlot, “although at times when we were younger I wished that we were.” She raised her glass. “Cheers and thank you for the drink.”
“Hetty and Lottie have only recently moved to the village,” said Bernie, “but they know quite a few of us already because they were down here in the summer for a family holiday.”
“Very nice,” said Sid, “and would that have been with your husbands?”
Lottie opened her mouth to answer but Hetty shushed her. “Don’t say a word, Lottie. You’ll no doubt be having your fortune told on our next visit to the Wonderland so you mustn’t give away any secrets.”
Sid chuckled. “Very wise but please do at least tell me how long you’ve been living here?”
“Less than a week,” said Lottie. “We arrived here last Friday.”
“Real newcomers then,” said Sid, “Can’t say that I blame you though. This is a lovely spot even in the winter and I wouldn’t mind settling here myself.”
“The ladies were here during the summer when police were investigating the murders I told you about the other night,” said Bernie, “and even helped out in a funny sort of way.”
“Amateur sleuths,” said Sid with a chuckle, “that conjures up quite a comical image.”
Chapter Five
On Wednesday morning, Hetty and Lottie drove down to Long Rock to shop for groceries and especially frozen goods to fill up the small freezer which Hetty had owned for several years. They also bought the ingredients needed to make a Christmas cake and a Christmas pudding. On the way back they called in at Vince Royale’s garage for petrol. They were unable to establish whether or not he was wearing his Christmas jumper because his clothing was hidden beneath a dark green boiler suit. However, when they went into the shop to pay for the petrol, they saw the lady behind the counter was wearing a red Santa hat and flashing Christmas tree earrings.
A Pasty In A Pear Tree Page 3
