by J New
When they were seated, Penny folded her hands in her lap to stop herself from fidgeting. She was not nervous, but there was apprehension in her expression as she regarded Mr Hawkins, who, sensing her concern, immediately put her at ease.
“Please, don’t worry, Miss Finch.” He was quietly-spoken, with a friendly face. “I realise my telephone call must have come as a bit of a surprise.”
“Yes.” Penny’s mouth was dry, and she swallowed. “This is all a terrible shock. Everyone in the village was saddened to learn of Mrs Montague’s passing. She will be missed.”
Mr Hawkins nodded. “Yes, she was a unique character.” He slid a cream envelope across the table towards Penny, his eyes never leaving hers. “Mrs Montague thought highly of you, Miss Finch. As it happens, she came to see me only last week. Our firm has been handling her affairs for many years, and she had a personal request to ask of you.”
Penny noted he said request, not bequest, and a feeling of relief washed over her.
“Allow me to explain, if I may, although I understand it’s also set out in the letter she asked me to give you.”
“Please, do.” Penny looked down at the envelope, and saw her name handwritten on the front in a shaky script.
“Mrs Montague’s instructions were that the extensive private library in her house was to benefit the local community,” Mr Hawkins continued. “Most of it is probably suitable for local educational establishments, Mr Montague having been a keen scholar throughout his lifetime. However, and this is what Myrtle came to see me about last week, she was insistent your mobile library should have first choice of any of the books you think the regular library members would like. Although I don’t suppose she imagined you and I would be having this conversation quite so soon.”
Penny was touched by what she was hearing, and opened her mouth to speak, but Mr Hawkins raised a finger to indicate he was not quite finished.
“That’s not all. There are also instructions, subject to your agreement of course, for you to catalogue the books and allocate them to suitable beneficiaries. I understand there are some first editions which are very valuable and might be more suitable in the British Library or a museum, but you would be in charge of organising everything as required.” He scrutinised her face. “Is that something you might be interested in doing, or do you need some time to think it over?”
“Goodness, I…” tears pricked Penny’s eyes. She nodded, unable to speak for a moment. “I’d be honoured, Mr Hawkins. That’s such a generous and thoughtful legacy. The residents of Hampsworthy Downs will be forever grateful.”
Mr Hawkins beamed. “Excellent. Myrtle was an extraordinary woman. I know she’d have been delighted you’ve agreed to rise to the occasion, not that I think she ever doubted you would. I should add that a generous sum of money has been set aside for you to be paid for the work involved.”
Penny shook her head. “That’s really not necessary, Mr Hawkins. It would be a pleasure for me to do this, it’s not like work at all.”
“No arguments.” He raised an eyebrow. “It will be rather time-consuming, labour of love or not. There’s no deadline as such, but it would be preferable to clear out the books sooner rather than later.”
Penny vaguely wondered if the house was being sold, not that it was any of her business. “That’s no problem,” she said. “I can start tomorrow, if that suits. Between evenings and weekends, I’m sure I can get it all done in a few weeks, since I don’t work Fridays.”
“That would be marvellous. I’ll let Celia know you’re coming. She’ll be continuing to look after the house for now.” Mr Hawkins stood up indicating the meeting was at an end, and Penny followed suit, but not before lifting the envelope from the table and placing it in her handbag.
Mr Hawkins opened the door and shook Penny’s hand again before she left. “Let me know if you need anything. My secretary will be in touch with you to arrange the payment when you’re done. Thank you again, Miss Finch.”
“Thank you, Mr Hawkins.” Penny turned and made her way back to where Susie was waiting, unable to contain her grin.
“I knew it!” Susie leapt up when she saw her and let out a faint squeak of delight. “Was I right, is Fischer going to be a rich little doggie?”
“Ssh.” Penny noticed the receptionist giving them a disapproving look and grabbed Susie by the arm. “I’ll tell you outside.”
In the car park, she recounted the conversation with Mr Hawkins, bouncing as she walked.
“I understand why you’re excited by the prospect of getting your hands dirty with hundreds of old dusty books, and I’m pleased for you, I really am,” Susie said, not as impressed as Penny by the turn of events. She sighed, “I’ll just have to come up with a new headline, I suppose.”
Back in the van, Susie sat in silence while Penny tore open the letter she had received from Mrs Montague, wiping a tear from her eye as she read its contents. “Look,” she said when she was finished, handing the letter to Susie. “What are the chances of Mrs Montague writing this only a week ago, and then dying out of the blue? The hairs on my arms are standing on end just thinking about it.” She peered in the envelope, realising there was something else in there, and pulled it out. “That’s weird.”
“What is?” Susie looked up from the letter and stared over at Penny. “Is that a library card?”
Penny turned the card over on her hand. “Yes. It’s Mrs Montague’s library card. Why on earth would she be giving it to me?” Her heart began to race. “Something’s not right, Susie.”
“You mean, maybe she wasn’t expecting to be reading too many more library books?”
That was exactly what had been running through Penny’s mind. She bit her lip, as she connected the dots. “Think about it, Susie. Mrs Montague goes to see her lawyer with a last request a week before she dies. Then she drowns in a shallow pond, even though she’s a good swimmer, fit for her age and knows the area like the back of her hand, and no-one’s even suspicious.”
“Uh-oh.” Susie groaned. “Is this another one of your hunches, Penny?”
Penny’s eyes were blazing. “Don’t you see? It’s a clue from Mrs Montague. She left that card for me on purpose. What if she was scared and feared for her life, and that’s why she was getting her affairs in order? After the Julia Wargraves murder case, I think Mrs Montague knew if she died in questionable circumstances, she could count on me to investigate. It’s the least I can do, don’t you think?” She handed the card to Susie and turned the key in the ignition, impatient to get back to Cherrytree Downs and pick Fischer up from her parents’ house. The sooner she could start making inquiries, the better.
“It’s also possible you’re jumping to wild conclusions, and she put the card in the envelope by mistake.” Susie folded the letter and put it back in the envelope along with the library card. She fastened her seat belt with a click as Penny drove out of the car park. “But something tells me you’re not going to let this go. Am I right?”
Penny gave her a sideways glance. “You know me too well. Maybe you’ll get your juicy story for the paper after all.”
Four
Edward Marshall, Penny’s fiancé, shared Susie’s lack of enthusiasm for the contents of the letter from Mrs Montague, although it wasn’t hard to work out his reasons were more selfish. Susie simply wasn’t interested in books, declaring she was lucky if she had time to read the texts on her phone. Edward, on the other hand, was used to spending his free time at the weekends with Penny. Depending on the time of year, that usually involved travelling to classic car shows in spring and summer, or something related to his vintage Mini restoration project the rest of the time. Whether it be going to collect parts he had ordered at on-line auction sites, or lovingly polishing the half-completed vehicle parked in the garage of his semi-detached home on the outskirts of Winstoke, he liked Penny to be by his side.
“It’s hardly a
princely sum for what could be a great deal of work,” he said on Friday evening, when she told him how much she would be getting paid for sorting out the books at the manor. “Why didn’t you agree an hourly rate with that Hawkins fellow? I can have a word with him, if you’d like. If this takes longer than you think, you’ll be working for less than the minimum wage.”
“Is money all you think about, Edward?”
“It’s my job in case you’ve forgotten.” He replied stiffly.
“And books are mine. Besides it’s a lot to me,” Penny replied, feeling defensive at his implication she was being taken advantage of. She had already decided to use the money for a trip to one of the International Literary Festivals she had not been to before, possibly Berlin. Of one thing she was sure, Edward would not be coming with her. She wasn’t going to invite him, even though she was pretty certain he would decline anyway. “I’d have done it for free, and I told Mr Hawkins as much. Mrs Montague’s entrusting of her family’s library collection to me is an honour and something I take very seriously, and I have no intention of letting her down. I’m starting in the morning.”
“But you’d let me down, when we’ve got things planned for the next few weekends.” Edward’s jaw was set. “I suppose this means you won’t be able to go to the cinema next Tuesday night either?”
“There’s no point speaking to you when you’re like this.” Penny gazed down to where Fischer, curled up in his bed in front of the fire, was staring at Edward with wary eyes. “It’s only for a few weeks. Even Fischer thinks you’re being unreasonable.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Fischer is a dog, Penny. Dogs can’t think.”
“Well I can, and I think you’re acting like a spoiled child. I’ve had enough of it. Maybe it will do us good to spend some time apart, doing things we both enjoy.”
Edward’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean? You don’t like spending time with me?”
Penny let Edward’s argumentative mood wash over her. It wasn’t worth bickering with someone who always had to have the last word. The truth was she was weary of accommodating Edward’s whims, often at the expense of her own preference. Take, for example, the time he had known she really wanted to run the used book stall at the annual village Summer Fete, but insisted she make the trek all the way to Glasgow with him to look at Mini rally cars instead. Any time they went to the cinema, he always picked the movie, otherwise he was insufferable to sit beside. If it was a film he didn’t like, Edward was that annoying person, checking his phone and getting up to go to the bathroom or the kiosk for more snacks. An art house film or anything subtitled was out of the question or she would have to put up with his moaning about it for days afterwards.
Penny had long before decided Edward was like a comfy old cardigan, safe and warm but not very exciting. She liked safe and warm as much as anyone, but a niggling thought at the back of her mind often came to the surface, declaring she deserved more. The safety aspect was still there, but the warmth had diminished considerably. Edward did tell her he loved her, but in such a way as though to remind her how lucky she was, and she expected their long engagement would end in marriage someday. However, not until Edward had been promoted to partner at his accountancy firm, one of his prerequisites before settling down.
When dealing with one of Edward’s mini-rants, she found diplomacy the optimal solution. “I do like spending time with you,” she answered, which was usually true. “But that doesn’t mean we have to do everything together in our leisure time. And if we can’t go to the cinema on Tuesday, we can go another night, surely?”
“Hmmph. Maybe.”
Penny knew what that was about; Tuesday was the night for cheap tickets at Winstoke Cinema. Edward hated paying full price for anything, and insisted they share a giant tub of popcorn rather than having a small one each, because it was better value. The fact they never finished it was irrelevant.
“I’ll make us dinner tomorrow night, and we can catch up over a bottle of wine. How does that sound? I can pick up a nice steak for you from the butcher’s in the morning.” Penny was a vegetarian, and cooking meat went against her personal views, she had used a meat substitute in the past and Edward hadn’t known the difference. Edward’s expression brightened. He stretched out his feet closer to the fire and lifted the remote control for the television. “That would be nice. Now, did you record that documentary for me?”
Penny had been going to ask him what he thought about Mrs Montague leaving her library card in the envelope, as her suspicions of foul play had been questioned by Susie on the trip back to Cherrytree Downs that afternoon, as probably being a figment of Penny’s overactive imagination, she wanted another opinion. But seeing how comfortable Edward looked, and a full blown argument thwarted, she decided to leave it. The chances of him agreeing with her were slim anyway.
She nodded. “Yes, I did. I’ll put the kettle on.”
Maybe she was being ridiculous, after all. Unless something came out of the woodwork, she should probably forget all about it.
Fischer’s head twitched as the camper van made its way along the winding driveway to Cherrytree Manor, his nose pressed against the passenger window. The route inclined upwards towards the country house, an impressive Georgian residence which was only visible upon turning the final bend.
Originally surrounded by orchards and meadows which had been sold off over the years and now formed a large part of the village below, what acreage remained was occupied by a private garden with a wide lawn and mature hedges. Majestic old trees bordered the edge of the landscaped area, at the bottom of which was an ancient stone wishing well, fenced off to prevent accidents.
“Imagine living here, Fischer! You could get up to some mischief in that garden, I’m sure.” Penny pulled the van to a standstill beside the weathered Land Rover that had been Mrs Montague’s preferred mode of transport. There was a shiny Jaguar parked at the front of the house as well, but Penny couldn’t remember ever having seen Mrs Montague driving it. She knew Celia Higgins, the housekeeper, sometimes used it to go to the supermarket in Winstoke, which wasn’t often as Mrs Montague had liked to shop local.
Fischer began to pant and scratch at the door, eager to be let out to explore. Penny scooped him up and they climbed out. She didn’t bother to lock the van, there was no need.
“When I was a little girl I used to think this place was something out of a fairy tale.” It still looked magical, although not as big as it had seemed when she was only half the size. She set Fischer down as they approached the front door, which was behind a portico with four columns that had been added to the house when the front of the building was reconstructed after a fire. Heated by paraffin stoves and open hearths in those days, the threat of fire was an ever-present danger. The history of the house was well-documented, and Penny had researched it at the library while still at school. The site had been occupied for almost a thousand years since its original Saxon owner, with rebuilding having taken place at least three times.
The door creaked open before Penny had a chance to rap the solid brass knocker in the shape of a lion’s head. Celia, wearing a housecoat, greeted them with a weak smile. Her eyes were red and watery.
“Hello, Penny. I was looking out for you. I’m glad you and Fischer are here. The place is so very… empty and quiet, without Mrs Montague.” Her face crumpled, and Penny took a step closer.
“Oh, Celia. I’m so sorry. Is it all right for Fischer to come in? He is house-trained.”
“Of course, dear, Mrs Montague adored the wee fellow, she wouldn’t have minded at all. Follow me.”
Penny had been inside the house on previous occasions at various charity events hosted by Mrs Montague, who was a generous patron of several causes, including the Summer Fete. However, those times she had been in one of the various reception rooms facing the garden. Now, Celia led her through the bowels of the house, along dim corridors an
d up and down various staircases, so that Penny lost her bearings completely. When they reached their destination, Penny found herself on a mezzanine overlooking what she could only describe as a gentleman’s study.
“Mrs Montague didn’t change a thing in here after her husband passed away,” Celia said, her voice a proud whisper. “The newspaper’s still on the desk from the day Mr Montague died, right beside his pipe.” She jutted her chin out. “I dust regularly of course, but some of the shelves are too high for me to reach, and I don’t like using the steps unless James, the gardener, holds them.”
The faint aroma of old books in the room immediately made Penny feel at home. “Don’t worry. I’ll clean everything as I go along,” she assured her.
“Mrs Montague liked to come and sit in here and read,” Celia continued, looking around with a glassy gaze. She seemed in no hurry to leave. “You’ll probably find her library books lying around, if she had any on loan.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for them.” Penny felt a twinge of guilt for having assumed she wouldn’t get them back.
Celia nodded to some cardboard boxes and tape on the floor. “I wasn’t sure what you’d need, but I found some packing materials you can use. No doubt I’ll have to get more, anyway, if the place is sold.” She reached a hand into her pocket, pulling out a paper tissue. “Forgive me. It’s all a bit much to take in. What with Master Milo and his entourage coming home for the funeral, all the beds need making up. Then they’ll need feeding, no doubt.” She blew into the tissue, making a trumpeting noise which caused Fischer to jump. “I’d best get on with it, I suppose. Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will. Thanks, Celia.”
Penny watched as Celia scurried out, Fischer hot on her heels. When the older woman realised she had a companion, she paused and bent down, her face breaking into a smile. “Do you want to come with me to the kitchen, Fischer? I think you can smell the pie I’m baking. Clever boy.”
