by Agatha Frost
“So, Marcus figured out that you were his daughter when he saw your mother?” Shilpa asked, her hand drifting up to her mouth. “How did he know?”
“They had an affair during the production of ‘Chitty Chitty Bang Bang’,” Poppy said, looking at the cast photograph again. “Marcus played the Child Catcher, and my mum played Truly Scrumptious. Marcus was married to another woman at the time, but I think their relationship was coming to an end. After Christmas, Mum found out she was pregnant. She was scared, so she left the club and moved away. She told me she’d heard about his prison past and she didn’t want to raise a baby around him. Two weeks ago, when Marcus saw my mother, he confronted her the next day when she picked me up, and the truth came out. He’d put the dates together, and he said he’d always wondered why she’d just vanished. He said the reason he’d had a temper with me was because I reminded him so much of my mother, and when he realised that I was his daughter, his attitude completely changed.”
“For the better,” Jayesh jumped in. “He really wanted to make up for lost time.”
Poppy folded up the photograph and tucked it back into her pocket. She stared out of the window for a moment, her mind seeming to be somewhere else entirely.
“You always think there’s more time,” Poppy whispered without turning back. “You never think you’ll find your father and not have time to get to know them. I was still adjusting to it. He kept trying to buy me gifts and tried to talk to me, but I wasn’t ready to face the truth. The night you saw me in his dressing room, he told me that he had always wanted a daughter. It felt like a blow because I had always wanted a father. I couldn’t piece together how I was feeling. I blamed him, but it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know.”
“And then he was shot,” Shilpa said with a shake of her head. “So cruel.”
“For two weeks, I had a father,” Poppy said as she began to sniffle. “And I spent those two weeks pushing him away. How can I live with myself? I don’t want his money, I want more time.”
Poppy melted into Julia’s side, so she wrapped her arm around the girl and held her like she would Jessie. How could Julia have got everything so wrong?
“Tickets from Peridale and Riverswick,” the conductor announced as she made her way down the carriage. “Any tickets?”
Jayesh pulled his wallet out, but Shilpa rested her hand on his. She pulled her own purse out of her jeans pocket and pulled out two twenty pound notes.
“Four returns from Riverswick to Cheltenham,” Shilpa said to the conductor. “Same day.”
The woman accepted the money before printing out the tickets. Shilpa tore them out and passed them around.
“We’re getting off at the next stop and waiting for the first train to take us back to Julia’s car,” Shilpa said firmly. “Nothing will be gained from running away. Poppy, I’m sorry you didn’t get to know your father like I know you would have wanted to, but we cannot change what has happened. All we can do is look within and work on ourselves to make tomorrow a better day. You cannot blame yourself for the unfortunate turn of events, unless either of you wants to confess to switching those guns.”
“I didn’t do it,” Poppy said, suddenly sitting up and wiping her nose. “I swear I didn’t do it.”
“Jayesh Patil-Smith?” Shilpa demanded, turning to her son. “Did you switch those guns?”
“Mum!” Jayesh exclaimed. “You know I wouldn’t do that.”
“If you had asked me last night if my son would run away, I would have laughed in your face, but here we are,” Shilpa said with a stern look at her son. “But I believe you.”
Before the conversation could go any deeper, they pulled into Cheltenham station. After grabbing hot drinks from a small coffee shop, they waited the twenty-five minutes until a train came in the opposite direction. They rode back to Riverswick in a contemplative silence, which was only broken when they were walking back to Julia’s messily parked car.
“I didn’t know he was leaving his money to me,” Poppy said as she crammed her bag into the boot. “I don’t want it. I don’t deserve it. Catherine was his wife.”
“I don’t think she deserves it either,” Julia said, almost under her breath. “Don’t make any rash decisions. He might not have been there for you in your life, but his money might be able to give you a different future than one you might have had otherwise. I’m sure these things take time anyway.”
With Shilpa in the front seat and the teenagers in the back, they drove back to Peridale. When Julia passed the police station, and her café came into view, she was relieved by the thought of having some normalcy in her day, even if she still did not know how her discovery of Poppy’s connection to Marcus fit into the bigger picture.
They pulled into her space between the café and the post office, and they collectively jumped out.
“How about some breakfast?” Julia suggested as she pulled their bags out of the boot. “On me.”
“That sounds like the best idea I’ve heard all morning,” Shilpa said with a laugh. “Jayesh, stay where I can see you.”
They walked around the side of the building, and Julia was relieved to see that the café was empty. She pulled on the door, the little bell above the door ringing out, startling Jessie as she wiped down the cake display cabinet glass.
“There she is!” a shrill voice cried across the village. “Don’t move!”
Julia spun around, and for the second time that week, she saw Catherine running across the village green, this time followed by two uniformed police officers and DS Christie. Julia’s heart sank, the urge to jump back in her car to drive away catching her by surprise. It was not until one of the officers grabbed Poppy that Julia realised they had not been running towards her.
“What are you doing?” Julia cried as they handcuffed Poppy. “It’s not a crime to inherit. She has a rightful claim to that money.”
“Poppy Johnston?” DS Christie said as his officer tightened the cuffs behind her back. “I’m arresting you on suspicion of conspiracy to murder.”
Julia stood by completely dumbfounded as DS Christie read the bewildered looking girl her rights. She caught Shilpa out of the corner of her eye practically restraining Jayesh as he tried to get at his girlfriend. When DS Christie was finished, Julia stepped forward, her mouth open to speak, but the DS put a finger up, silencing her.
“We had a positive match to a fingerprint we pulled off the gun,” he whispered as he passed her. “It belongs to Poppy.”
Julia watched in horror as they marched Poppy back to the police car parked outside the village hall. She did not know what to do or say, so she just watched the scene unfold, the world melting away from her.
“But I believed her when she said she didn’t do it,” Julia whispered. “I believed her.”
13
“Maybe it was for revenge,” Sue suggested as she dug through the rack of baby clothes in the small boutique on Mulberry Lane. “What do you think about this? Whoever decided that yellow was the gender-neutral colour clearly had no taste.”
Sue put the tiny T-shirt back before waddling across the shop to the wall of tiny shoes. She checked the prices on a couple of pairs before putting them straight back, a horrified look on her face.
“But Poppy wanted to get to know her father,” Julia said, following Sue across the shop. “She said she was upset that they didn’t have more time.”
“She could have been lying,” Sue said, pausing to rest a hand on her giant bump, clearly exhausted. “Neil said they’re the size of watermelons right now, and it feels like it. I can barely breathe.”
“I told you not to come out today,” Julia said, smiling at the shop assistant as she stared at them. “You could drop any day now.”
“Exactly,” Sue said through gritted teeth as she pushed against her lower back. “I’m going to be trapped in my house for the next eighteen years. I want to enjoy my freedom while I can. Evelyn laid hands on me in the supermarket yesterday. She thinks I’m having two
girls.”
“What do you think?” Julia asked as she rested a hand on Sue’s stomach. “I think it’s one of each.”
“I think they might actually be watermelons,” Sue said as she moved Julia’s hand across her stomach. “Can you feel that? It’s like they’re trying to kick their way out.”
Sue pressed Julia’s hand hard into her stomach until she could feel something solid pushing up against the skin. A small part of her was horrified, but an even bigger part of her was completely fascinated by what was going on inside her sister’s body.
“Let’s get out of here,” Sue said, tucking her hand under her bump. “I need to get off this white carpet. I never know when I’m going to go, if you get what I’m talking about. All it takes is a sneeze, and it’s all over.”
Arm in arm they carefully made their way out of the small shop before wandering slowly further down Mulberry Lane, a quaint shopping street in the village, which dated back to the 1700s. Julia pulled out her Christmas list and traced her finger across the items she needed to buy.
“I need something for Jessie,” Julia said. “And something for Barker, and then I think I’m done.”
“I don’t know how you juggle everything,” Sue said as they peered at the Christmas display in the window of Pretty Petals. “Between the café, the adoption, Barker, and trying to get Gran out, I’m surprised the men in white coats haven’t come for you.”
“There’s still time,” Julia said with a wink as she looked across the street at a small shoe shop. “How about a new pair of Doc Martens for Jessie? She’s scuffed hers up pretty bad.”
“Perfect. Just get any colour apart from black. That girl is always ready for a funeral.”
They walked across the road, the sun setting in the distance behind their father’s antique barn at the bottom of the lane. The Christmas lights strung across the street suddenly lit up, and as though to complete the scene, snow began to delicately flutter in the wind.
After seeing a pair of burgundy Doc Martens in the window, they walked into the small shop. The kindly old man smiled at them from behind the counter before looking back at the customer he was serving. When Julia realised it was not just a random shopper, and that it was Ross Miller, the director of the Christmas play, her heart sank a little.
“It’s a shame the rest of the shows aren’t going ahead,” the shopkeeper said as he accepted something from Ross. “I think the wife was really looking forward to seeing it after all the buzz. But I appreciate you personally bringing around a refund for the tickets. Not many would do that.”
“I’ve lost my cast twice now,” Ross said with a bitter laugh. “It would be almost impossible to reboot the show for a third time. I’d better go. I have another eighty-three refunds to hand out for tonight’s show. Word will hopefully spread and people will come to me for the rest.”
Ross turned around, stopping in his tracks when he spotted Julia. For a moment, neither of them seemed to know how to react to each other, so Julia pushed forward a smile and was glad when it was returned.
“I’m sorry to hear about the show,” Julia offered, looking down at the clipboard of names and addresses in Ross’ hand. “I think you’ve worked really hard on it.”
“Thanks,” Ross said, giving Julia a curious look. “Although I suppose you’ve heard about what happened with Poppy this morning.”
“I have,” Julia said vaguely. “I heard she’s still being questioned by the police.”
“I never thought she had it in her to plan something like that,” Ross said with a forced laugh. “She always seemed a little wet behind the ears, like she wouldn’t say boo to a ghost. It’s always the quiet ones, isn’t it?”
“Didn’t your uncle tell you that he’d left his fortune to Poppy?” Sue asked as she heaved herself down on one of the trying-on benches. “That seems like something an uncle would share with a nephew.”
“We weren’t particularly close,” Ross said with a shrug. “And since Catherine found out about being disinherited, she’s refusing to take part in the show. I think she’s already booked a flight out of the country. She mentioned something about spending Christmas in Barbados, but I wasn’t really listening. I didn’t think my uncle had actually changed his will to leave everything to her in the first place, but she seemed sure that he had. Claimed to have sat in on the session with the lawyer. I guess my uncle wasn’t as sensible as he seemed, but that’s what happens when you’re old and dying.”
“Dying?” Julia echoed, the word burning in her throat. “Your uncle was dying?”
“According to the autopsy,” Ross said with a nod as he glanced down at the list of names. “They said it was late stages of colon cancer. I don’t know if he knew or not, but if he did, he kept it quiet. I should get on with these. It’s going to be a long night.”
Ross walked around Julia and opened the door. Before he left the shop, he turned back to her before pulling a pen from his pocket. He quickly wrote something down on the corner of one of the sheets before tearing it off.
“Now that they’ve found out it was Poppy, can you pass this onto your gran when she gets out?” Ross passed Julia the slip of paper containing his phone number. “She’s one of the best actresses I’ve had the pleasure of working with, and I wouldn’t mind writing another part for her wherever I end up next.”
Julia slipped the paper into her handbag before turning to the display of Doc Martens. She picked out the burgundy pair along with a pair of black ones just to be safe. When she had Jessie’s sizes, she took them over to the counter and paid for them. When they left the shop, the sun had completely set, and Sue clearly had something on her mind.
“If Poppy did it, why haven’t they let Gran out?” Sue asked as they made their way down the winding lane to the antique barn. “Surely one of us would have heard something from her lawyer by now?”
“Because they have twenty-four hours to charge Poppy and it hasn’t even been twelve yet,” Julia said after checking her watch. “And we still don’t know that she did it. They only have a fingerprint against her, which isn’t enough to charge her.”
“And her motive,” Sue reminded her. “If she did know she was going to inherit, it’s all they need to cook up a case. I know you believe the girl, but people do lie.”
Julia knew Sue had a point, not that she wanted to admit she thought Poppy had lied to her on the train. She had seen how much it had taken to confess the truth about Marcus being the father she would never get the chance to know. If Poppy had lied, she was a better actress than she had portrayed in the role of Mandy Smith.
They walked into the antique barn, which was filled with old pieces of furniture, giant paintings, and displays of coins, stamps, jewellery, and everything in between. Their father was inspecting a collection of medals at the counter, a magnifier clenched in his eye socket.
“Girls!” he exclaimed as he popped out the magnifier. “What a lovely surprise. Is there any news about your gran? I heard about that ginger girl being arrested.”
“Not yet,” Julia said as she looked around the huge barn she had spent so many hours in as a little girl in the years before her mother’s death. “I’m actually here to do a spot of shopping. I was looking for something for Barker’s Christmas present, and I thought who better to ask than you.”
“I have just the thing,” Brian said with a click of his fingers. “Wait here.”
He scurried off into the depths of his collection. Sue slumped down in an expensive looking chair, her head cupped in her palm as she leaned her elbow against the arm. She looked like she could fall asleep at any moment.
“Do people actually buy this junk?” Sue whispered as she rubbed between her eyes. “None of it looks valuable.”
“Value means different things to different people,” their father exclaimed as he came back with a dusty book. “A friend of mine pulled that sofa from a skip, not realising it was worth well over four thousand pounds to the right collector.” He put the book on the c
ounter before blowing off the dust. “I think Barker would see value in this.”
The dust travelled through the air to Sue, tickling her nose. She let out a loud sneeze, which echoed around the barn. She immediately stood up, her hands cupping her bump, the look on her face saying it all.
“I need to go,” she whispered, her eyes wide and her cheeks red from embarrassment. “Oh, I really need to go.”
She quickly kissed Julia on the cheek before hobbling out of the barn, half-hunched over. Julia chuckled to herself as their father watched on, clearly confused.
“Women’s troubles,” Julia whispered with a knowing nod. “What is it?”
“A very early rare edition of The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins,” he said as he dusted down the ancient looking thick volume. “First published in 1886 in Charles Dickens’ very own magazine before making its way into hardback, it’s considered by many to be the first modern example of the murder mystery books we know today. Considering Barker’s current pursuit into the world of fiction, I thought this was an appropriate gift.”
“It’s perfect,” Julia whispered as she carefully pulled back the cover to peer at an illustration of three Victorian men and a woman stood around a table. “But I don’t think I can afford this.”
“I’ve seen these go for upwards of two thousand pounds at the right auctions,” Brian said, crossing his arms as he leant against a cabinet of army medals behind him. “But for you, I’ll let you have it for a hug for your old dad. And before you tell me you can’t accept it, I’ve been clinging onto this book for months because I had a feeling you might come in here looking for something for Barker, so just accept it.”
