After that I took out the trash, which included all of the tea, hoovered, and then ran to the grocery store to buy her all kinds of new teas. I couldn’t help myself and swallowed the big ball of flaming fear that accompanied my paranoia, as I remembered how my mother could be.
At some point Beth looked up while I was sitting on the sofa, flipping through the other book I had brought, getting over the poison scare. It was a warm spring day and there were fresh roses in a vase on the table next to me. The entire room smelt nice.
“Do you know Alistair Ashworth, Maggie?” she asked in a very clear, crisp voice.
I automatically sat up straight and if I had been a cat, my ears would have perked up. “Yes,” I said, trying to sound normal.
“Oh, boy,” Detective Black said. “Don’t go all cuckoo over a man. Have some pride.”
I glared at him and returned my attention to Beth who touched the rollers in her white hair and squinted at me. “He’s a detective that moved to London. Broke his poor mother’s heart, you know? She was a good hairdresser, she was. She always did my hair really well. Anyway, Alistair turned out to be a fine young man.”
My heart was racing by now, and I wanted to yell at her to hurry up, though I managed to contain myself. “What about him?” I asked quietly while a storm of feelings raged inside of me. Why hadn’t I gotten a haircut recently? I was hyper aware of the fact that my once coloured bob had now morphed into something more like a dark blond blob.
“Oh, right. He’s moved back to the village,” she said and rattled on, but her voice was drowned out by the sound of trumpets and fireworks.
Detective Black rolled his eyes.
She managed to inform me that he actually lived across from her in the cottage where Mr Simms used to live. He had raised sheepdogs until he moved to the Caribbean to marry a former stripper. To each their own. Point is, as soon as I would step outside of this cottage, I could see Alistair’s home. I could potentially see him as well. Should I ring the doorbell? No, I’ll go home to change. And I should bring something. Flowers? No. Chocolate? No. Alcohol. Yes.
“What are you getting worked up over?” Detective Black asked. “It’s been years since you last saw him. He won’t even remember you and he’ll probably be married with five kids.”
I made a face, but realised part of that could be true. “Is he married?” I blurted out and Beth stopped talking. Then she shrugged. “Don’t know, actually. I have only caught a glimpse of him and only just yesterday evening. But Dawn delivered some post and told me it was him and that he had moved back. He’s got a lovely black Volkswagen Beetle. I love those cars.”
“Right, right.” I stayed with Beth a little while longer as I complained about my writer’s block and then left. I stared at Alistair’s cottage for a while but decided that if I was going to see him, I would have to be prepared. As I made my way home, I saw the familiar figure that belonged to Victor Woodsbury. He had stopped to look at something, maybe his phone? Unlike his wife Patricia, I had liked Victor ever since he ran into me as I was wandering the streets, blubbering because I found out my boyfriend at the time had cheated on me. He had taken me to his place, made me a cup of tea and showed me photo albums just to get my mind off it. Luckily enough, Patricia hadn’t been there.
I sneaked up to him and saw that he was looking at a beautiful jewellery box with a heart-shaped necklace in it. “Boo,” I said.
He jumped up and then snapped the box shut before whirling around. The muscles in his face relaxed as he realised it was me and he managed a smile. He put the box in his jacket. “Maggie, our favourite author,” he said, apparently speaking on behalf of the village.
“How are you, Victor? Haven’t seen you around in a while.” He was dressed in an expensive suit with a purple silk tie that matched the blazer he was wearing.
“Work’s been busy.” He glanced around, and his expression turned more serious. “Actually, I could use some advice.”
“Oh?” Finally someone was coming to me for advice instead of to my aunt. Perhaps people were catching on that as a writer I could be very insightful. Dare I say wise?
“Could you ask your aunt to stop by sometime tomorrow?”
My face fell. “Sure.”
“And perhaps you should come along as well. After all, you did solve that case of the missing garden gnomes.”
“I did. I also found out at uni who stole girls’ underwear. Anyway, I’d be happy to help.”
He nodded, then gripped my upper arms firmly. “It’s important you don’t tell anyone. I mean it. And that goes for your aunt as well. This is important.”
I swallowed. “Okay, I got it. You can stop squeezing my arms now. Any longer and you’ll cut off my blood supply.”
He immediately let go. “Sorry, I guess I just—well, just be sure to see me first thing tomorrow. I’ve taken the morning off and I’m staying at the Pembroke Hotel. I’ll have a room and you can come up.”
“What? You—really? The Pembroke Hotel?” It had recently been renovated by a Mr and Mrs Field and before that it had a horrible history even though it was a gorgeous Victorian estate. Just the name alone gave me the heebie-jeebies and the fact that we were meeting there made this whole thing feel more serious than I had thought.
“Perhaps it is a mystery,” Detective Black said. “One that will lead to danger and death.”
I hoped not.
Victor glanced around again, and then strode off whistling as if nothing was the matter. This whole thing was very strange, but I couldn’t think about it too long. I hurried back home. Instead of going through the bookshop, I took the back entrance and walked up the stairs to my flat.
I was running slightly late and though Detective Black was eager to get back to his novel and make me bleed ink, I had something else planned. I swapped my black shirt for a red one, since it was supposed to be a seductive colour. What I really needed to do was go shopping and buy myself a new wardrobe. Shirts and jeans were alright when I was nineteen, but my style had changed. Even if right now it had changed in my head only. It was time I bought some more feminine and colourful clothes.
After putting on some extra mascara, I squeezed myself into a corset. It took five minutes and afterwards I could barely breathe. This was my first date since my ex, and I couldn’t help but feel extra self-conscious. I was desperate to hide my tummy and look as sexy as possible. The only reason I didn’t wear high heels was because I knew I’d fall over in them. I was already prone to accidents when I wore flats. Add heels and I was a hazard to people’s safety.
My date’s name was Danny, and we met on one of those online dating apps that I decided to give a go last week. So far I had encountered rude guys, shy guys, weird guys, and Danny. Danny loved books and he made me laugh, which was all I wanted. He was also easy on the eyes.
I couldn’t take my aunt’s Land Rover because it meant explaining where I was going, and I didn’t want that. I also didn’t want the entire village to find out about it and ask me how it went. This was a first date and it could go either way. Which is also why I tried not to get excited, but as I made my way to the bus stop, my nerves fluttered like birds.
The entire ride I went over the ice breakers that I’d Googled yesterday and felt semi-confident when the bus stopped outside the pub The Black Dog. It was located in the village next to ours; I didn’t want to run into anyone I knew. With great difficulty I pushed myself out of my seat, but at least I had a flat stomach and right now that was a priority.
I was glad I was doing this. I needed this in order to avoid becoming a hermit.
And so I entered the dark pub and scanned the thin crowd for Danny. When I was certain he wasn’t here yet—it was now ten minutes past our meeting time—I sat down where I had a view of the door.
The owner, a middle-aged man with a red face, took my order and later brought me my lemonade.
The door opened a few times, but each time it was someone else. I checked my phone for messages, but the
re was nothing. I was beginning to get worried.
“Don’t be. He might have decided not to come,” Detective Black said.
“Why would he do that? He’s the one who asked me out.” I glanced around to make sure nobody was looking at me like I was crazy. Then I played a game on my phone to pass the time and so I wouldn’t fret.
Thirty minutes later the owner showed up at my table with a look of sympathy. “Sorry, luv. But if he ain’t here now, he ain’t coming.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “Go home and don’t call him.” He grabbed my empty glass and went back to the bar.
Tears filled my eyes, and I blinked them away. He was right. Even if Danny was running late, he would have let me know. I got up and left. On my way back to Castlefield, I picked a quiet spot on the bus where I could cry silent tears. By the time I arrived at the bookshop, I was fine. Enough.
Susan was closing up while Eddie stood behind the counter, his cheeks no longer flushed.
“I see you survived the day,” I said. Eddie was my best friend and I could tell him anything, but that didn’t mean I wanted to. My disastrous non-date would not be mentioned. Ever.
“I came close to death a few times. Particularly when Mrs Dowry asked where the sex books were.” He pretended to gag.
“Hey, age is nothing but a number.”
He shook his head vehemently, and I laughed.
“Can I go now?” Susan asked, startling us both.
I blinked. “Sure. We’ll finish up.”
She nodded and disappeared behind the curtain to grab her jacket and her bag. Then she took the back entrance, which was through the door marked Private. She’d pass the bottom of the stairs that led to my flat.
“You know, just for fun I feel like pretending to confess my undying love to her, just to see how she’ll react,” Eddie said as he watched her leave.
I smiled. “She’ll probably nod and then continue working.”
“Or she’ll malfunction and her hard drive will explode.”
“Eddie! She’s not a robot.”
He leaned forward, a playful grin on his face. “Are you sure?”
I laughed and threw a pen at him. “Come on, let’s balance the cash register so we can get you home.”
“Ah, yes. The joys of warming up a microwave meal for one.”
“I recognise your subtle hint of wanting to be invited for dinner, and since I was going to eat at The Rose anyway, I guess you can tag along. We can discuss how I’m failing horribly as a writer.” Plus, I needed a distraction from Danny.
“Is it that bad, huh? I’m sure a good meal with your friend Eddie will make you feel better. Are you buying?”
“No.”
“It was worth a shot.”
I glared at him.
“What? Free food just tastes better.” He grinned at me.
“Let’s just go before I change my mind.”
Chapter 3
An hour later Eddie and I sat in the local pub, munching on our fish and chips. It could be quite packed around dinner time, but this evening we were two of the few customers. We had picked a quiet corner close to the kitchen to avoid the four middle-aged men who were laughing loudly at the bar. One of them was the baker from across my bookshop, Stanley. His wife would not be happy tonight. He was supposed to be on a diet with a strict zero tolerance for alcohol. He was also the one who was laughing the loudest. I liked him. He sometimes gave me an extra scone for free. Which was bad for my waistline, but good for my mood.
The pub was cosy and charming, with dark tones and soft lighting. The food was also very good, and it had been a while since I had an evening meal here. Which is probably also why I finished my plate so quickly. Though I always ate my meals faster than Eddie. It was probably a sign that I should eat more regularly, but when I was writing, or trying to, I could sometimes forget basic human needs.
“I visited Beth today.”
Eddie looked up, stuffing his face with the last piece of his cod.
“She told me that Alistair moved back.” My voice was a bit higher.
“Alistair? Alistair Ashworth? The one you had a major crush on all throughout secondary school?”
“Yeah, that Alistair.” My face warmed. In fact, my whole body started radiating heat. Soon I’d be attracting cats.
“I thought he joined the Met.”
“Yeah, he did. I was extremely jealous of the fact that he got to be a real-life detective. Although, in hindsight I’m glad I don’t have to deal with gruesome deaths. Except for in my novels, of course.”
“Right. Well, have you seen him yet? Where does he live?”
“Opposite Beth, actually. And no I haven’t seen him. I’m thinking of stopping by, though I’m not sure what I should say to him.”
“What? You don’t still like him, do you? Then again, you have been single for a few months. You might as well get out there and try. It’s been long enough since Co—”
I held up my finger to his lips as I leaned over the table. “Don’t even say his name.” I removed my finger and leaned back.
“Fine. He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named does not deserve thinking about anymore. So go say hi, but just keep in mind that Alistair might not be the person you remember him to be. Everybody changes.” He toyed with the extra packets of ketchup and mayonnaise and finally tucked them into his trousers.
I glanced around. “Why do you always do that?”
“Free stuff is free stuff. We can’t all be loaded authors like you.”
“I am not loaded and right now I have a serious lack of inspiration so who knows, I might end up being nothing more than an eccentric bookshop owner.”
He waved his hand. “Don’t worry about that. You went to London and you’ve done all the boring parts of being an author lately. You should relax and read a few books and let your creative well fill up.”
I chuckled.
“What?”
“Nothing. You just don’t usually use metaphors.”
“I can be writery if I want to be. You must be rubbing off on me.” He smirked.
I slurped my lemonade and looked up when a couple in their late forties sat down. They didn’t look like they were from around here. They had that twinkle in their eyes and that new-people vibe about them, untainted by the views and style of the Castlefield villagers.
Eddie leaned in. “Those are the people that bought the Pembroke estate and fixed it up.”
So that was them. The Pembroke estate was gorgeous, but had an association with tragedy as a serial killer had originally built the estate, creating secret tunnels and rooms to trap victims. She used it as a hotel to kill mostly maids and guests. After that a family owned ran the hotel, but married men disappeared and were said to be cheaters who died because of the curse.
It had been empty for a long time before Mr and Mrs Field bought it and renovated it. They knew their audience, since they hired my aunt to cleanse the hotel, which even featured in the local newspaper. When they opened, they got Eleanor and the vicar involved and there were loads of baked goods, as well as a balloon artist and a bouncy castle for the kids. At Eddie’s request, they even allowed him and his friend Brian to use their ghost-busting equipment to check if there really weren’t any vengeful spirits anymore. When Eddie shared that info, I considered putting on a sheet with two holes to mess with them, but the bouncy castle had been too much fun.
I was contemplating whether or not I should introduce myself when Mrs Field leaned towards me. “Excuse me,” she said. “I don’t mean to bother you, but aren’t you that mystery author? Maggie Matthews?” She had a gorgeous smile with dimples.
“Yes, I am.” I beamed. There weren’t a lot of newcomers in this village, so being recognised didn’t happen that often and always made me feel special. It helped that in the past few years I’d done a few book tours in neighbouring areas here in Cornwall, as well as one in London.
“I just loved your latest novel.”
Now I was beaming even more. Any more compl
iments and I’d be blinding astronauts looking down at Earth. “Thank you so much. I’m glad to hear it.” I had rehearsed plenty of standard phrases that made me sound professional. The first time I had gotten recognised, I was so excited that I had asked for her autograph. The woman didn’t mind. In fact, I think I have a fan club that consists only of her. She still sends me Christmas cards.
“I’m glad you got the Pembroke Hotel up and running again. I’ll definitely visit sometime soon,” I added.
“That would be lovely. I look forward to it,” she said.
I nodded at her and her husband, who smiled at me with tight lips. “Enjoy your evening,” I murmured and we went back to our business. “They seem nice,” I said to Eddie.
“They are.”
I leaned back and sighed. “I didn’t realise I’ve been working so hard until experiencing the outside world in all its glory again.” Even such a small thing as having dinner at the pub with Eddie was enough to lift my spirits, pun not intended. I also made a promise to myself to go out more and not just to the pub.
“Yeah, you needed this. But that’s what friends are for.”
“That and to tell each other they look horrible in certain outfits.”
Eddie pretended to be shocked. “Are you trying to tell me something?”
I chuckled.
“So, shall we go?” Eddie glanced at his watch.
“We shall,” I said. “I just need to nip to the bathroom, be right back.”
“Sure.”
The bathrooms were located past the bar, near the entrance. When I pushed open the door, the scent of lavender struck me. Ever since they had a new female bartender working two nights a week, this was what the women’s bathroom smelt like. I was forever grateful. Not that it smelt bad before, but this was definitely nicer.
After I’d gone to the toilet, I washed my hands with the lavender soap and checked myself in the mirror. My complexion was pale with dark circles around my eyes. My short hair was cut in an uneven bob and had almost grown to reach my shoulders. I rubbed my cheeks to get some colour in them. It was spring. I really had to stop locking myself in my office.
Prelude to Poison Page 2
