Aunt Bessie's Holiday

by Diana Xarissa

  Andrea had finished cleaning the floor and now she walked over to them. “You should approach this like you did my class,” she said, glancing nervously at Mai as she spoke. “Start with a few simple shapes and get the feel for how the paints work. You have nearly three hours and as much paper as you need, so take your time and play with techniques and brushes. Then spend the last hour working on painting what you see in front of you.”

  “Andrea, isn’t this your lunch break?” Mai called from her corner of the room. “You need to get going so you’re back to set up for the cartoon drawing class.”

  “I’ll be back,” Andrea said sharply. “You might want to think about setting up some flowers or a still life or something for your class to paint, as the view outside is pretty miserable today.” With that, Andrea left the room.

  Mai looked at everyone and then shook her head. “I’m sure you’d much rather paint the lake, even if it is a bit damp.” Before anyone could reply, she was back on her mobile, talking and laughing with someone.

  “I’m not finding a soggy October afternoon especially inspiring,” Andrew told Bessie after a few minutes.

  “I’m just painting a circle,” Bessie replied. “I’m not ready to tackle the view yet.”

  They both heard a sheet of paper being torn off an easel and looked at Jack Strong.

  “My circle was rather more soggy than I’d planned,” he told the others. “I shall try again, I suppose.”

  After a few more minutes of working in silence, everyone jumped when the studio door opened suddenly. Lawrence Jenkins stuck his head in. He looked around the room, and when he spotted Mai, shook his head. She disconnected her call as Lawrence crossed to her.

  Bessie worked on her circle, wishing she could hear the conversation going on in the corner of the room. After a few minutes, she decided that she really needed some fresh water to rinse her brushes in. She walked to the small sink and slowly emptied her cup.

  “…doesn’t matter. Harold will fire me as soon as he’s officially back in charge,” Mai was saying in an angry whisper.

  “Maybe not,” Lawrence answered. “I still have some say about what happens here, even without Charles’s support. And I’m working on getting someone else on my side, as well. But in the meantime, you have to do your job and teach your classes. You can’t sit here on your phone and ignore the guests.”

  “I’m tired of the guests,” Mai complained. “You said this would be a fun job, but all I do is run around listening to complaints all day.”

  “I still own that plastics factory in Birmingham. If you’d prefer, you can spend a few months putting deodorant containers together,” Lawrence snapped back.

  Mai made a face. “I don’t see why I can’t just have some time off,” she replied crossly.

  “We aren’t having this conversation now,” Lawrence told her firmly. “You get to work. I need a word with one of your students.”

  He spun around and nearly tripped over Bessie, who quickly turned the tap on and filled her cup. For a moment he looked angry, but then he gave her what looked like a fake smile.

  “Mrs. Cubbon, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “It’s Miss Cubbon,” Bessie replied.

  “Oh, of course. Well, I do hope you’re enjoying your stay,” he told her.

  “I am, aside from what happened to Charles Adams, of course,” she replied.

  “Yes, of course, that was tragic,” he said, waving a hand as if dismissing the man’s murder. “Anyway, if there’s anything I can do to improve your visit, do let me know.”

  “I didn’t realise you work for Lakeview,” Bessie said in a questioning tone.

  “I’m a shareholder in the company that owns the property, along with many others,” he replied.

  “Ah, and Charles was as well?” Bessie asked.

  “More or less,” was the evasive reply. “Anyway, I just need a word with your friend, Mrs. Moore,” he told Bessie, walking quickly away from her.

  Bessie followed more slowly, not wanting to eavesdrop on the man’s conversation with her friend. If Doona wanted her to know what they’d discussed, she’d tell Bessie later.

  Whatever Lawrence said to Doona had her quickly following the man out of the room. Bessie watched her friend leave, suddenly worried. Doona was back, alone, within a few minutes, but Bessie could tell that her friend was upset.

  “Are you okay?” she asked as Doona picked up one of her brushes.

  “No, but we’ll talk later,” Doona whispered.

  Before Bessie could work out the correct reply to that, Mai spoke. “Okay, I’m sorry about that,” she announced. “I had to ring a couple of people about issues they’re having with their stay and it took much longer than I expected. Let’s see how you’re all doing.”

  Apparently, Lawrence’s lecture had been effective. For the next two hours, Mai taught them several different watercolour painting techniques. Then she gave them the last half hour to work on painting their view of the lake. While Bessie was eager to talk to Doona, she enjoyed the class and even thought her lake painting wasn’t terrible when four o’clock rolled around.

  “That’s very nice,” Mai told her as she made a circuit of the room.

  “Thanks. I don’t hate it,” Bessie replied.

  “Are you taking the follow-up class on Friday?” Mai asked.

  “We are.”

  “We can work then on refining a few techniques,” Mai told her. “And, if we’re lucky, it will be sunny. That always improves everyone’s pictures.”

  As Mai wandered off towards Jack and Nancy, Bessie looked over at Doona’s painting.

  “You really do have talent,” she told her friend, frowning slightly. While Doona’s picture was well executed, just looking at it made Bessie feel sad. The colours were dull and muted and it was obviously raining and miserable in the two-dimensional world Doona had captured.

  “Thanks,” Doona muttered as a reply.

  Bessie turned and looked to see how Andrew had done. His painting was much brighter, almost as if he were seeing the lake in sunshine.

  “I thought I might as well paint what I wanted to see, rather than what I can see,” he told Bessie with a wink.

  “It’s wonderful,” Bessie replied.

  “It isn’t bad,” he conceded. “I might actually keep this one for myself.”

  The door to the classroom swung open and Andrea walked in. She glanced at Mai and then raised an eyebrow.

  “Ah, Andrea is here, so that means our time is up,” Mai said brightly. “You’re welcome to leave your work on your easels so that they can dry properly. If you are taking the follow-up class on Friday, you can collect today’s work at that time. Otherwise, stop in anytime between nine and five any day before you leave. Whoever is here will be able to find your paintings for you.”

  “Are you taking Friday’s class?” Bessie asked Andrew as they queued at the sink to dump their water and wash their brushes.

  “I’m signed up for it,” he replied. “So I’ll probably take it, unless something more exciting comes along.”

  “I would have thought you’d rather spend time with the grandchildren,” Bessie said.

  “I’m spending a lot of time with them,” he told her. “Starting with breakfast and going on from there. Having a few hours to myself, even if it means making a mess of painting, is a nice break.”

  “Your painting wasn’t bad,” Bessie argued.

  “It was better than my pencil drawing,” he said with a laugh.

  “You’re doing Friday’s class, right?” Bessie asked Nancy.

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” Nancy said with alacrity. “I’m really enjoying these classes.”

  “I’ll be here too,” Jack added. “Although I’m less excited than my lovely wife.”

  With the tidying finished, Bessie and the others headed out of the classroom. The lobby was full of small children who seemed to be chasing one another every which way.

  “Okay, boys and girls,” Andrea
shouted from the centre of the space. “If you can line up in a straight line, we’ll march into the craft room and get started.”

  Bessie walked quickly through the door, eager to get away from the chaos. Outside the rain had stopped, at least temporarily, but the air was still chilly.

  “Bessie, I need to ring a few people,” Doona said abruptly. “I’m going to go back to the cabin. Can I meet you at five at the Italian restaurant and we’ll get dinner?”

  “Of course,” Bessie agreed quickly, feeling a little hurt that her friend clearly didn’t want her around for the calls.

  Doona just nodded and then rushed away, leaving Bessie with Andrew as Nancy and Jack walked off towards their accommodation.

  “I wonder what Lawrence said to her,” Andrew said. He glanced at Bessie and then shook his head. “Sorry, that’s incredibly nosy of me. I suppose you never stop being an investigator, even when your retire.”

  “I’d like to know what he wanted as well,” Bessie confided. “Doona seemed quite upset when she came back from talking to him.”

  “Are you okay?” Andrew asked.

  The pair fell into step together, heading towards the centre of the village.

  “I’m fine,” Bessie replied without thought.

  Andrew stopped and put a hand on her arm. “But how are you really?” he asked when she looked at him.

  “I’m worried about Doona,” she confessed.

  “A little bird told me that the murder weapon came from your cabin,” Andrew said quietly.

  “I thought as much from the questions Margaret Hopkins was asking,” Bessie told him. “And it probably had Doona’s fingerprints all over it, as well.”

  “If it did, I think Margaret would have arrested Doona by now,” the man replied.

  “If it was our knife, it should have had Doona’s prints on it,” Bessie argued. “She used it the night of the murder to open some boxes.”

  Andrew shrugged. “Maybe the police could only get partial prints or something,” he said. “They make it look easy on telly, but very few people leave nice complete and usable fingerprints on things that they use.”

  “So did your little bird have anything else interesting to tell you?” Bessie asked.

  “They’re considering a number of different suspects,” he replied. “There are quite a few people who seem to have had motives.”

  “Like who?” Bessie demanded.

  Andrew shook his head. “I really can’t talk about an active police investigation,” he said, “even if I’m not really with the police anymore.”

  “Doona and I made a list,” Bessie told him. “If I run through it with you, will you tell me if we’ve missed anyone?”

  “Bessie, this is a police investigation. You shouldn’t be getting involved,” he argued.

  “My dearest friend is a suspect and it looks like the murderer may have found the weapon on our patio,” Bessie replied tartly. “We’re already involved, whether we want to be or not.”

  “Who’s on your list, then?” he asked.

  Bessie frowned and then rattled off all of the names she could think of. “Lawrence Jenkins, Harold Butler, Mai Stratton, Jessica Howe, Herbert Howe, Joe Klein, Nathan Beck and probably Monique Beck as well,” she said.

  “I’m not sure what motive you can assign to some of them,” he told her. “But all of those people are certainly on my list as well.”

  “But your list must be longer than mine,” Bessie replied.

  “Not really,” Andrew said. “Margaret has to consider every single person at Lakeview, from guests to staff, but the vast majority of people didn’t know Charles and were tucked up in bed, fast asleep, when he was killed.”

  “There must be other members of staff who’ve made your list,” Bessie suggested.

  “By this time of year, the park is running on limited staff. If Charles had been killed in August, when the park is at its busiest, Margaret would have had a much bigger job. As it is, aside from a few waitresses that Charles had flirtations with, very few of the staff seemed to have had much interaction with the man at all. Harold was still handling most of the day-to-day operations of the park.”

  “So what was Charles doing?”

  “Cost cutting,” Andrew said dryly. “Which is why he’d had trouble with Nathan Beck. Charles wanted to use a single source for all of the food that the park purchases for use in the various restaurants. Nathan has his own suppliers for L’Expérience Anglaise and he wasn’t happy about the proposed changes.”

  “Seems a weak motive for murder,” Bessie remarked.

  “People have been killed for less,” Andrew told her.

  They’d now reached the village centre and before Bessie could reply, several members of his family surrounded Andrew. Bessie just waved to him as two small girls demanding his immediate attention swept him into the Squirrel’s Drey. He smiled and waved back, leaving Bessie on her own to consider what they’d discussed.

  Not wanting to go back to the lodge and disturb Doona, Bessie got herself a cup of tea from one of the takeaway counters and sat down in the food court. She sipped her tea and watched as people came and went through the building. Margaret Hopkins had a huge job on her hands if she had to investigate every single guest, she thought, even if she can eliminate those under eighteen.

  From her quiet corner, Bessie watched as Mai wandered in. The girl glanced around the large space as if looking for someone. After a moment, she headed straight towards Bessie. There was a Lakeview brochure on the table, and, without thinking, Bessie picked it up and began to leaf through it. Mai didn’t even seem to notice her; instead she walked past her and took a seat at a table a few places away from Bessie’s.

  As Bessie sipped her tea, she spotted Harold Butler coming out of the door marked “staff.” Bessie was surprised when he headed towards Mai. He was clearly focussed on the girl and didn’t seem to see Bessie, who kept her head down, ostensibly studying the brochure. Bessie watched with interest as the pair greeted one another, seemingly politely. Harold slid into the seat across from Mai and Bessie could only wish she were close enough to overhear the conversation that followed.

  They’d only been together a few minutes when it appeared that things were getting quite heated. Bessie looked away as Mai rose to her feet. There was a mirror on the opposite wall, and Bessie found that she could see the pair quite easily while pretending to look away from them. Mai’s voice was getting louder and Bessie could suddenly make out a few words.

  “….should I have to cover for her? I’ve worked hard enough today without having to wait tables tonight.”

  Harold’s reply was too quiet for Bessie to hear, but Mai wasn’t trying to keep her voice down anymore.

  “So close the restaurant,” she said loudly.

  When Harold answered, Bessie could hear Mai’s bitter laugh before she replied.

  “Yeah, you’re right, I would have to listen to the complaints, wouldn’t I? I suppose I don’t have a choice. At least you could look a little less smug about it, though.”

  Harold stood up, and then to Bessie’s surprise, gave the girl a hug that looked affectionate. Bessie waited for Mai to object, but the girl returned the embrace, looking up into Harold’s eyes and whispering something to him. He nodded and then glanced around, as if suddenly nervous that someone had seen them. Mai sank back down into her seat, while Harold strode quickly away.

  Mai was looking down at the table, which gave Bessie her chance. She picked up her cup and headed straight towards the girl.

  “Mai, this is a surprise,” she said brightly. “May I join you? I hate sitting on my own, even if I’m only having a cuppa.”

  Bessie sat down opposite the girl, not waiting for a reply. Mai looked up in surprise, and then smiled mechanically.

  “Of course, feel free,” she muttered without enthusiasm.

  “Oh, dear, something tells me you aren’t having a good afternoon,” Bessie said. “I do hope everything is okay.”

 
“Oh, I’m fine,” Mai said. “I’ve just been working really hard. We had a much larger staff in the summer, and now everyone who is still here has to work twice as hard to keep things running smoothly.”

  “I’d have thought managing guest services was a busy enough job on its own,” Bessie said.

  “It is, really,” Mai replied. “But I actually volunteered to teach the watercolour class. I love painting, and teaching the class lets me spend time with guests who aren’t complaining, which is nice.”

  Bessie chuckled. “I suppose that’s a help,” she said. “But I can’t imagine many guests complain. The park is so lovely.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Mai replied darkly. “Some people will complain about everything in the hopes of getting a discount. And a lot of parents have very high expectations for anything and everything that their children do, as well.”

  “I suppose I can see that,” Bessie said thoughtfully. “I do hope you’re done for the day and can just go home and relax now.”

  “I wish,” Mai said, frowning. “I’ve just been told that I have to wait tables in one of the restaurants tonight. It seems Monique Beck isn’t feeling well and I have to take her place.”

  “Oh, dear,” Bessie exclaimed. “What’s wrong with Monique?”

  “Who knows? She’s always taking time off. If her husband wasn’t such an amazing chef, she’d have been fired a long time ago.”

  “Well, I hope she feels better soon,” Bessie said.

  “Oh, I’m sure she just didn’t feel like working today,” Mai said airily. “I just hope Harold won’t put up with as much nonsense from her as Charles did.”

  Mai lowered her voice and leaned towards Bessie. ‘Charles thought Nathan was incredible, and he was willing to pay Monique just to sit in a corner all day if it kept Nathan happy,” she whispered.

  “Really?” Bessie murmured.

  Mai stood up abruptly. “I’d better get to work,” she said with artificial cheer.

  Bessie turned to see what had caused Mai’s mood change, but the only person she recognised behind her was Doona, who was walking towards them.

  “Mrs. Moore, I hope you enjoyed the class this afternoon,” Mai said brightly “I’m looking forward to working with you again on Friday.”