by Alana Ling
‘You know there’s texts, right?’
‘Oh pish posh, you know I don’t like the bloody things to start with. Come by Mama later, will you? I’ve missed my baby girl.’
‘I’m not a baby girl, Mum. And I’ve got work to do.’
But I would drop by. I always did. I liked to pretend I didn’t care for her affection, but I was fooling myself. I would definitely drop by if not for anything else than to apologise for my behaviour. Poppy Guildford was getting to me and I needed to shake her influence off.
Four
Later in the day, I turned from Hopetown Avenue onto Calverley Crescent where Alfie decided to chase squirrels as we walked down the street and while I was carrying a big box of baked goods. I pulled his lead and he was forced to follow me to a few shops down where I found A Stroke of Art. The window display had a knitted mural done by my very own mother of the Haven-on-Sea coastline, and a painted canvas of the same picture made by my late father, who had painted it during his fishing trips.
Pushing the door open, I walked into the shop and a few patrons, mostly older ladies that my mum liked to trade with, turned their heads to look at me and greeted me with a smile. I passed through the bright woollen room to the next where a few middle-aged men were sat doing oil paintings of a plump, naked lady.
A naked lady that looked like Effie, my mother.
‘Mum!’ I shouted. Alfie looked up at me and cocked his head. ‘I know, buddy, I know,’ I told him.
My mum saw me and laughed, and only then did she feel the tendency to cover herself up with the robe she was sitting on.
‘Let’s take five, boys,’ she told her amateur painters and came to give me a big hug. ‘My baby, finally you came to see your poor mother.’
I huffed. ‘Poor…mother? Mum, you’re posing for people. Naked.’ I said and the image hit me again, enough to make me shudder.
‘Come, come, baby, let’s go sit in the back. Would you like some water?’ She pushed me towards her office and sat me on her chair.
I took her up on her offer as I inspected her in her white robe. This month’s hair colour was purple, a choice that reflected both on her toenails and fingernails. Her cat eye glasses had a tint of violet with a floral design on the frame.
Her hair hung loose on her shoulders, permed as usual. Her colour choice gave me an urge to retch. While she usually had a taste of chocolate marble cake, a rather popular cake in Greece, and one which she often made with astounding results to pass on to her patrons when they weren’t painting her naked, all the purple was giving me hints of lavender. And if there was one thing I knew it was that chocolate and lavender had no business together.
She brought me a glass of water, which I gracefully downed to cleanse my palate, and a saucer of butter biscuits.
I placed a box of muffins on her desk, and offered her one, before taking the saucer and breaking a biscuit in two. Effie dug into her blueberry muffin like a carnivore. Anything I’d done to avoid her was already lost down her memory drain.
‘Mum, you know you can’t serve me biscuits without coffee. That’s a disgrace.’
Mum chuckled. ‘Coffee is already brewing, baby. I knew you were coming.’
She headed back to her counter where the ibrik was boiling on top of the gas mini-stove top. She poured two cups of Greek coffee and sat next to me, passing me one cup.
‘Did you talk to him?’
‘Why would I talk to him?’ I asked.
‘He’s your husband. That’s what he’s there for. To help you through the tough times.’ She slurped her coffee and I hoped she burned her tongue.
I bit my own immediately at the very thought.
‘Preston is my ex-husband and may I remind you that the reason we split up was that he was never there when I needed him. That man cannot stay put in the same place for more than two seconds before he has to move again. He’s got social hyperactivity. So, to answer your question, no, I haven’t spoken to him, because there’s no reason to.’
I sipped my coffee and it washed my anger away. Sheer perfection, like usual. It was hard to stay mad at her for long. If only I could make her hate Preston as much as I did.
She pursed her lips and took another sip. She stared at Alfie who was now lying on my feet, his tongue sagging out of his mouth and his eyes darting back and forth between Effie and me.
‘He’s grown,’ she said impassively.
‘He has. He’s definitely grown on you, hasn’t he?’
Mum had been bitten by her dog when she was eight and had been unable to touch, look or cohabitate with one since. The first time I brought Alfie in her shop she nearly jumped out of the back window. She now chose to ignore him to appease her fear.
‘You need to talk to Preston,’ she said after a pregnant pause grew in the air. ‘He’s back for you. Talk to him. Try and work things out.’
I bit my cheek and looked at Alfie to calm myself.
‘I’m happier without him.’
‘You can’t be happy without a man.’
‘Well, Mum, I am,’ I persisted. She was certainly not a woman of the times, but she was harmless. I wasn’t going to change her perception of the world when she was pushing sixty. But I certainly didn’t mind changing her perception of me.
Effie took another sip and urged me to do the same. ‘If you say so. Come on, I want to read your cup,’ she said, turning her own upside down on the saucer and swirling it around.
I rolled my eyes and followed her instructions, because I knew if I didn’t do it, she would do it for me, in my absence, and I’d rather have my fortune told in front of me than behind my back. Not that I believed in that sort of thing.
So what if more than half the time what she saw in the cup came true?
Five minutes later when the coffee sediment had dried in the upside-down cup, she started inspecting the shapes it had formed inside.
‘You have a lot on your plate at the moment, but it will come to an abrupt end very soon.’
‘Well, I’m almost done with the Guildford–Blakely wedding. Only another three weeks of work left.’
’No.’ She tutted. ‘It will be sooner than that. And then you’ll keep running around from one place to the other. It-it looks like you’ve got a tail. Something following you around all the time. Or someone,’ she continued.
‘That must be Alfie, Mum. I’m not going to grow a tail any time soon, am I?’
‘And then I see bars,’ she said and put the cup down. ‘There’s not a lot to see today.’
‘Bars? What bars? Like pubs and bars?’
‘Looks more like prison bars, baby.’
I tutted. ‘Well, I’ve always wanted to go to prison.’
Effie tutted. ‘Don’t mock your mother. I only say what I see. It’s not my fault. Maybe you should get back with Preston and then you won’t go to prison.’
I snarled and Alfie stared at me.
Five
‘And then we get everyone to have a seat. The registrar walks up the aisle, he greets the guests. Groom walks up next followed by his best men and the bridesmaids. Here there will be a small pause while Poppy is delayed, making everyone think she has changed her mind. When heads start to turn and there’s commotion, I give you the go-ahead and you get her to come out with Daddy in tow,’ Sam listed.
She had made minimal comments about the odd wedding schedule and had focused instead on learning her part in it, but then again, I had warned her. And it’s not as if she had anything to worry about. The guests had all been seated and the hunky, new registrar was ready to go.
Despite the fact it was a rehearsal, more than fifty people were in the garden. Rows of wooden benches carved with Poppy’s and Rory’s initials were laid out in neat rows on either side of a path made of rose petals. At one end, a stage raised a couple of feet above ground was dressed with cerulean and white hydrangea floral arrangements weaved with ivory tulle. The eight-person orchestra was situated on the left side of the stage, all tuning their instr
uments and creating a cacophony in the fresh spring afternoon.
‘I can’t believe this is only the rehearsal,’ Sam leaned closer next to me and mumbled.
I pursed my lips and nodded in the subtlest of moves. ‘You understand now why I needed an assistant.’
‘Are they all like this?’ she asked. ‘Your clients, I mean.’
The groom was having a cigarette at the other end of the stage with one of his best men, the second man telling him something that made Rory look miserable. Couldn’t blame the guy. She was probably marrying him for the money and on top of that she was cheating on him. Wouldn’t have been surprised if he knew about it too.
‘No, she was my first big deal. I’ve done a few small events so far. The thing you have to understand about Haven-on-Sea is it’s full of people bigger than themselves. Nurture or nature, something makes its inhabitants uptight and pretentious. Everyone is fighting to get on this little town’s status quo. The rich are fighting for power over one another. The shopkeepers are fighting to be the most cutting edge. The tourists are fighting for the most memorable souvenirs. It’s the way this town was made to be, and I guess like attracts like.’
‘You’re not like that.’
I chuckled. ‘I’m glad you think so. Hopefully I won’t disappoint in the long run.’
I checked my watch and flickered back to life. ‘It’s time. Get everyone to take a seat and I’ll go to Poppy.’
We synced our phones and checked both our Bluetooth headsets were working and I set off towards the house.
‘Good luck,’ she wished behind me and I took a deep breath, knowing how much I’d need it.
As I waded through the endless corridors of the house I heard the patriarch shout at his wife.
‘Oh, stop pretending, Sarah. Let’s get this over with. I have better things to do.’
‘I know, Lesley.’ She sighed, and I ducked behind a column in the foyer before they saw me.
Sarah’s heels clicked on the marble floor as she followed the trail I had come from, leading her outside. Lesley disappeared towards his study.
What was that all about?
I met with him outside his office and saw him pacing beside the closed door, his phone taking all of his attention. When he acknowledged me he did so with a warm smile and a kiss on my hand while tucking away his phone in his pocket.
‘How are you feeling Mr Guildford?’
He chuckled. ‘Call me, Lesley, Joanna. I’m ecstatic. The day is finally here. Well.’ He looked at the door with a side glance. ‘Almost here, I guess.’
I laughed.
‘You’re a real trooper, darling. You are. Not a lot of people can put up with Poppy’s,’ he looked back to the door and lowered his voice, ‘idiosyncrasies.’
‘Don’t worry, Lesley. I can hold my own.’
He fixed me with his stare and grinned. ‘I’m sure you can.’
My earphone sprang to life, breaking the deafening silence between the father and me.
‘Jo, proceed with bride. Over,’ Sam said in a military voice.
‘Shall we?’ I asked Lesley.
He nodded and knocked on the door.
We waited. No response came back. Lesley knocked again.
‘Poppy-bear. It’s time to go,’ he said.
No response.
Lesley repeated himself. I frowned. Poppy was a woman of incredible punctuality. She had spent endless weekends running through everything with me down to the second.
‘Something’s wrong,’ I said and pushed the door open, thinking she had made a run for it. Maybe she wasn’t all about the money after all. Maybe she was fighting for love.
I walked in and felt Lesley breathing hard behind me.
I could taste Poppy, but her flavour was all wrong. She tasted of almonds and Prosecco, almost a Bellini flavour, only one that my mouth had a hard time savouring.
Poppy was still there in the literal sense.
Only she was laying still on the floor, in her first wedding dress, the one she had bought for the rehearsal. Her bouquet, an arrangement of white roses and baby breath, was sitting on top of her head, part of it stuffed in her mouth. Rose Turkish delights sweetened my mouth at the sight of the flowers. Her eyes stared at the ceiling, cold and empty.
‘Oh, God,’ I shouted. Poppy was dead.
Six
Lesley collapsed next to me after finding Poppy dead. The taste of sweet potatoes faded out with him.
I glanced from his unconscious body to Poppy’s, not knowing what I needed to do. Should I get Lesley some water, check Poppy for signs of life, which was highly unlikely, or stay where I was so as not to disturb the scene any further?
I gave myself a mental slap. Dealing with disasters was my job.
Get a grip, Jo!
‘Sam, call the police. Then tell the guests we’re pushing the rehearsal back half an hour.’
Samantha’s voice came through my headset. ‘Okay, boss. Everything alright?’
‘There’s been a murder, Sam. Don’t tell anyone. Call the police now,’ I said and hung up on our connection.
Sitting next to Lesley, I felt for his pulse. It was faint, but that was to be expected of an unconscious sixty-year-old man. I looked around me, purposefully avoiding the sight of the dead body in the middle of the room. There was an oak dresser, polished to look like plastic, a modern piece of furniture that probably cost more than my entire house. A vase with blue delphiniums was sitting on top of it, next to a frame of a younger Poppy. She looked ecstatic, posing between her parents, one hand to her waist and the other arm up in the air. Probably her school graduation. A stark comparison to the cold body a few feet from me.
I grabbed the vase and threw the flowers on the floor next to Lesley. I splashed him with the water.
He coughed and opened his eyes.
‘Mr Guildford, are you all right?’
He groaned. ‘Yeah. I don’t know what happened. But I had the weirdest dream,’ he said and as he sat up, witnessed Poppy again. He collapsed on my chest and I used the one side of the double doors that was still closed to prop him up. He was a heavy man, even if he didn’t look it.
‘My Poppy.’ He sniffed. ‘Who did this to my Poppy?’
‘The police are on their way Mr Guildford. They will find out.’ I reassured him, patting his back.
‘What if she’s still alive? What if we’re wasting time waiting when we could save her?’ he sat up straight, his eyes all fired up.
I was pretty sure anyone that chose to have a bouquet of flowers in their mouth for that long a time was either dead or crazy.
Poppy was both, so maybe Lesley had a point.
I left him leaning against the door and I approached Poppy. Her face was empty, her blue eyes looking up to the ceiling, unblinking. Yeah, that wasn’t a good sign. I pushed my fingers under the bush of roses and fern and found her neck. Her skin was still warm, but no pulse pounded on my fingertips.
She was dead and been killed recently, otherwise she surely would have been colder. I had seen her an hour ago before I left her to finish getting ready and grab Sam. What on earth happened in the last hour?
A throat cleared and, looking up, I saw two paramedics coming into the study. They ushered me out of the room while they attempted to resuscitate Poppy and tend to Lesley, who broke out in tears as soon as he was approached.
I found Samantha standing outside in the garden answering questions diplomatically and firmly. She needed rescuing though so I stepped in next to her.
‘Thank you for your patience, ladies and gentlemen. I’m afraid the rehearsal has been cancelled due to unforeseen circumstances. There’s been an incident and the authorities have been called, so if you could please stay in the garden while we await their arrival that will be much appreciated. All will be explained in due course.’
Everyone fired up with more questions, but I pulled Sam out of their way and walked back inside, closing the doors behind us.
Sam leaned against the
door and took a deep breath. ‘God, these people! Question, question, question,’ she said, flicking her head around.
I chuckled. ‘Thank you, Sam. You did well.’
‘What happened? Who’s dead?’ she asked.
We were interrupted by a team of police officers that marched in through the front door, which was on the other side of where we were standing. Daniel, wearing his usual long coat and suit underneath came up to me and his chocolate peanut butter brownie flavour sweetened my dry mouth.
‘Jo, what’s going on? What are you doing here?’
His green eyes reminded me so much of Preston’s that my brain was momentarily confused. I felt the urge to slap him and kiss him at the same time, before I remembered that Daniel was not his brother.
‘Hi, Detective Anderson.’ I smirked. ‘I’m planning Poppy Guildford’s wedding. Well, was. Her father and I found her in his study,’ I explained as he went in for an embrace and I squeezed him a bit too tight, his musky, peppery cologne juxtaposing his brownie hints. Hints I had missed dearly.
‘I’ll take you through,’ I said and took him to Lesley’s study while recounting how I ended up finding Poppy suffocated. The paramedics greeted him with gentle nods while Daniel’s team protected the scene and awaited their superior to do the walk-through with them.
Poppy’s body was still staring at the ceiling. A shudder passed through my body and my eyelids were wet. She wasn’t a likeable woman, but she certainly didn’t deserve to die.
Daniel asked one of his colleagues to take my statement, and his officer took me to another room, away from the crime scene.
Hours later Sam and I sat down in the Oak Tavern to ravish their gourmet burgers while Jamie was hard at work serving pints and cocktails at the bar.
‘Oh my God! I think this is the best burger I’ve ever had.’ Sam marvelled while I bit into my pickled jam lamb burger, her cucumber complementing the food.
