When Alice Met Danny

by T A Williams

  ‘Did I not? Well,’ Mrs Tinker cast a watchful eye around the ward. There was nobody awake within earshot. ‘She didn’t tell you why her husband left her, did she?’

  Alice shook her head.

  ‘She and her daughter arrived back in the village a couple of years ago.’

  Alice looked up in surprise. She had imagined that Mandy would have been born and bred in Woodcombe to have such an encyclopaedic knowledge of everybody and everything. Mrs Tinker read her expression.

  ‘She was from here originally, and her mum’s still here, but she’s gone a bit doolally. Mandy moved to London and got married. She had the one daughter. A nice girl, but a bit of a tearaway, though that was probably because of the divorce. Anyway, a couple of years ago, she and her husband split up, so she came back to Woodcombe. Mrs Armstrong, who used to run the butcher’s before it closed, knows her and her mum very well. The reason for the divorce was infidelity.’ Mrs Tinker looked suitably disapproving. ‘And she was the guilty party. She had an affair, and the marriage collapsed because of it. There, I bet she didn’t tell you that.’

  ‘Oh dear, what a shame. It must have been awful for their daughter.’ Mrs Tinker nodded sadly. Clearly, her knowledge of the folk in the village was every bit as comprehensive as Mandy’s, so Alice decided to ask her the question she had avoided asking Mandy. ‘While we’re talking about village people, I wonder of you could satisfy my curiosity about somebody else?’

  ‘I’m sure I don’t know as much about the village goings-on as Mandy, but I can try.’

  Alice smiled. She felt sure the old lady in her heyday would have been able to run rings round Amanda. ‘What can you tell me about Mr Tremayne at Manor Farm?’ She immediately saw Mrs Tinker’s face cloud.

  ‘Now, Alice, that really is a sad, sad tale.’ She gave Alice a weary look. ‘And it’s a long one. I’ll tell you tomorrow, if you don’t mind. I’m think I might just have a little snooze now.’

  Her eyes were already closing as Alice left the room.

  A sad, sad tale. Alice was still thinking about Mrs Tinker’s words as she drew up outside 23 Lyndhurst Avenue. The Burrell brothers had gone off to another job this week, so as to leave the place free for the electrician and plumber. Inside, she found Scottie on his knees in the kitchen, identifiable by his helpful tattoo, while Gerry the Giraffe had disappeared into the roof space. Sinister thumps and a ghostly scraping sound indicated his exact whereabouts. Tentatively, she climbed the ladder until her head was inside the loft. It was a big space and they had even considered turning it into a fourth bedroom for a while. In the end it was decided to keep it for storage.

  ‘Hello, Gerry, is that you?’

  ‘Certainly is. I’m doing a bit of treasure hunting.’ He pointed across to a small suitcase. ‘I found that underneath the old insulation. It’s locked. I thought you might want to try and pick the lock. Otherwise I can easily break it for you if you like.’

  He crawled back across the joists and handed her the case, which she took gingerly.

  ‘Feels a bit too light for doubloons, I’m afraid.’ She gave him a big smile.

  He was clearly one of the glass half full persuasion. ‘You never know, it could be a map showing the location of buried treasure.’

  ‘Well, if that’s what it is, you’ll be due a finder’s fee. Anyway, we’ll open it together when you come back downstairs.’

  ‘Ten minutes and I’m out of here.’

  Alice climbed back down the ladder and took the case into the lounge. The new floor joists were in position and she knew that as soon as Scottie and Gerry had finished, the new floorboards would go down. She laid the case in the corner and went out through the kitchen into the garden. Outside, Scottie the plumber was on his knees, about to start drilling a hole in the wall for the sink waste.

  ‘It’s going to get a bit noisy and a bit dusty round here. You might do well to stay down the far end of the garden for a few minutes.’ She thanked him and took his advice. The garden, now that all the rubbish had been cleared away, looked much bigger. Miraculously, they had even found a couple of shrubs still alive in spite of having spent years under heaps of rubble. She had decided to simply turf the rest.

  ‘Afternoon.’ She spun round, unsure where the voice had come from, and looked up. There, peeking over the top of the fence, was a face she hadn’t seen before.

  ‘You must be my new neighbour.’ He was a sandy-haired man with piercing royal blue eyes. ‘Name’s Mortimore. I would offer you my hand, but I’d probably fall off this damn ladder while I did so.’

  She gave him a bright smile. ‘Alice Grant. I knocked on your door a few times, but you were never there.’

  ‘Just come back from Italy. I’ve got a house near Florence and I find myself spending most of the year there. I only really use this place as a pied-à-terre for a few weeks now and then. I must say it’s good to see the clutter all gone. You’ve got a fair job on your hands, I dare say.’

  She grimaced. ‘It wasn’t a pretty sight. But, now, we’re getting on very well. It’s all cleared out and the builders have been marvellous.’

  ‘I would be happy to offer you a cup of coffee if you have time.’ He shifted his weight on the ladder. ‘You can come in by the back gate if you like. I’ve done all the pruning I intend to do here anyway.’

  Alice decided it would be sensible to do her best to bond with her neighbour, so she accepted gratefully. She went out through her smart new back gate and round into his garden. It was a bit overgrown, but she could see at once that he had some beautiful plants in there. With a few days’ work, it would be a delight. She walked up the path and met him by the rear of the house.

  ‘I can offer you my hand to shake now without fear of causing an accident.’ He smiled at her. She shook his hand and took a closer look at him as she did so. He was probably at least ten years older than her, in his late forties or early fifties. There was no doubt about it, though. He was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. He looked very fit and the blue eyes were somehow compelling. ‘Would you like to take a seat out here?’ He waved her into a smart conservatory that had been tacked onto the back of the house.

  ‘This is a lovely room.’ She looked around, rather regretting not having done something similar next door. ‘Did you put this on?’

  ‘Yes. I must confess it was as much as a barrier to that crazy Browning woman as anything. At least from in here you couldn’t see her or, God help us all, smell her. Now, what can I get you?’

  Alice looked at her watch. It was almost four o’clock. ‘A cup of tea would be wonderful, if that’s all right.’

  ‘Of course. Now just make yourself comfortable for a few minutes while I make it.’

  ‘Can I help?’

  ‘No, thanks, I can manage tea by myself.’ He gave her a smile. ‘It’s when I start cooking that things tend to go wrong.’ He disappeared into the house. She sat down on a wicker chair and studied her surroundings. Although there was no direct sun on the conservatory at that time of the afternoon, it was very warm in there. She pulled her jumper up and over her head, inadvertently catching her T-shirt and pulling that up with it. As she removed the jumper and scrabbled to pull her T-shirt back down again, she opened her eyes to find him standing by the door, clearly fascinated by the scene.

  ‘Oh, please excuse me.’ She saw the slight smile on his face and tried to brazen it out. ‘I don’t always start stripping off as soon as I’m in a strange man’s house.’

  ‘Well, in that case I will consider myself particularly fortunate.’ In spite of the age gap between them, she found herself blushing. ‘Anyway, I just came to ask if you want any particular type of tea.’ He reeled off a list of exotic names, but she stopped him when he got to English breakfast. Any further embarrassment was interrupted by the sound of the kettle boiling. He disappeared once more and she had time to calm down and take stock of her feelings. That had been an almost flirty exchange and, to her surprise, she found it rather sti
mulating. Absentmindedly, she folded her jumper and laid it over the arm of the chair. At that moment, he returned with a tray. On it were two mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits. She saw that they were typical Tuscan cantuccini, made with almonds.

  ‘The biscottini should be good. At least they’re fresh, but do be careful. They’re as hard as rocks.’ He pushed the plate towards her. ‘I tend to dip them in the tea. Saves on dentist’s bills.’

  They chatted for over half an hour. He was a good conversationalist and she found that she enjoyed his company. For his part, he seemed as delighted as Vicky, her other immediate neighbour, that the horror house was finally being civilised. When her watch showed four-thirty, Alice stood up and took her leave.

  ‘I really must go and see how the electrician and the plumber are getting on. Thank you for the tea. I look forward to being able to return the favour before too long.’ He accompanied her to the door. As she was leaving she turned back to him. ‘I’m very sorry, I didn’t get your full name.’

  ‘Oh, please excuse me. It’s Daniel, Daniel Mortimore. My friends call me Danny.’ They shook hands once more and she left, her head spinning. What is it about me and men called Danny?

  Chapter 20

  Gerry and Scottie were taking a break. Both had cups of tea. Scottie had lit a roll-up, while Gerry was demolishing a sticky bun. He looked up as Alice came in.

  ‘Ah, that’s good. I thought you’d gone off and left us with the secret of the treasure map still unsolved.’ Gerry levelled a thumb at the suitcase. ‘I was telling Scottie about it. He thinks it’s full of bank notes.’

  Scottie took a final drag of his cigarette. ‘So, do we pick or smash the locks?’ The two men exchanged glances.

  Gerry picked up a hammer. ‘I was never any good at picking locks. What about you, Scottie?’

  ‘Never tried. No, give it a whack.’

  Gerry gave Alice a quizzical look. Alice shook my friends call me Danny, her next-door neighbour, out of her head and concentrated on the matter in hand. She shrugged and nodded. Gerry raised the hammer and, with two quick blows, smashed the locks clean off. He refrained from opening the lid. Instead, he turned formally towards Alice. ‘If Madam would like to do the honours?’

  Alice came over and sat down on a toolbox beside Gerry, setting the suitcase down on her knees. Taking the lid in both hands she pulled it upwards. All three of them leant forward as it opened.

  ‘I told you there weren’t any doubloons.’ Alice was disappointed to see nothing but a sheaf of papers in there.

  ‘But that could still be the treasure map, couldn’t it?’ Gerry was still hopeful, but beside him, Scottie extended a thumb and turned it downwards.

  ‘Hope springs eternal, but somehow I don’t think there’s a map here.’ He stubbed his cigarette out on the side of his toolbox, and flicked it into the hole where the floor was yet to be put down. ‘So, Alice, what does it all say?’

  She picked up the sheets and flicked through them. They were all handwritten on cheap lined paper, yellow with age. They were letters. She was fascinated to see that they were dated 1915 to 1916. The heading on each sheet read simply France and a date. To her great excitement, it became clear that these were letters written by a soldier in the trenches of the First World War, the period that so fascinated her. In every case, the handwriting was the same. She glanced down to the signature at the bottom of the pages and almost squealed out loud. He had signed them all in the selfsame way. Yours forever, Danny.

  She sat bolt upright. That name again!

  ‘You all right, Alice?’ Gerry sounded concerned. ‘What is it? You look like somebody’s just walked over your grave.’

  ‘Sorry, Gerry. No, I’m fine. It’s just these letters. They were written by a soldier in the trenches of the First World War. I’m studying that period at the moment. The terrible thing is that they only go up to 1916.’ She flicked through to the last sheet. ‘July first, 1916. How awful. I wonder if he was killed.’ She sat back in shocked silence.

  ‘Who was he writing to?’ Scottie’s voice was far more gentle than his outward appearance. ‘His wife?’

  Alice glanced at the letters again. They were all to My dearest Gladys. Without reading them, it was difficult to tell the relationship, but at least it was clearly not his mum. She looked up. ‘His wife, his sister or his sweetheart. Her name is – was – Gladys.’

  ‘And what’s his name?’

  ‘Danny. I can’t see a surname. But I’m going to take them home and read them. If either of you want a go after me, you’re very welcome.’

  A distant church bell started to chime five o’clock. Scottie and Gerry got up and headed off to continue their work. They were keen to get the job done as quickly as possible. They had promised that they would complete their first fix by the weekend, so the plasterer could come in the following week. Alice bade them farewell and headed out to the car. As she came out of the house, her phone rang. It was Megan.

  ‘Hi Alice. All well?’

  ‘I’m fine. And you?’

  ‘Extremely well.’ She sounded happy. ‘I wondered if you felt like a pie and a pint down at the King’s Arms tonight.’

  ‘Sounds good. I’ll see you there at seven.’

  No sooner had she finished the call than the phone rang again. This time it was Danny Kemp, her friend and now tenant, from London.

  ‘Hi, Danny. Burst pipes, fuses blown, no hot water?’

  ‘No, the flat’s great, thanks. I was just keeping in touch. How’s everything going down there?’ She realised that she was very pleased to hear his voice.

  ‘Everything’s fine. Except for the fact that everywhere I go, I find men called Danny.’

  He laughed. ‘Must be fate. Don’t forget, I was the original and genuine.’

  She told him how things were progressing with the house and about finding the wartime letters.

  ‘That sounds like a sign from the Almighty to me. You definitely need to push ahead with your plan to go back to university.’

  She had been thinking the selfsame thing. ‘I’ve been looking at Exeter university’s website. There’s a great-looking MA programme in the history department. I’m going to see if I can get an interview one of these days.’

  ‘Good for you. Alice, the reason for calling, apart from the pleasure of hearing your voice, is to see if we are going to be able to meet up in two weeks’ time?’

  ‘Of course, your windsurfing event. But aren’t you going to have company?’

  ‘No, it’s as I thought, Janie’s ducked out, so I’m all on my own. There’s a restaurant in Beauchamp with a Michelin star. How about dinner there on the evening of Friday fourteenth?’

  ‘The Lobster Pot, I know it.’ She’d heard of it, but had never been there. ‘I’d love to, Danny, but this time we go Dutch. OK?’

  ‘It’s a deal. And a date. I’ll book a table and give you a call a few days before to remind you.’

  ‘I won’t forget.’

  ‘I certainly won’t.’

  ‘Oh, and Danny…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Sorry I fell asleep on you last time.’

  ‘Any time you want to fall asleep on me, you will be very welcome.’ Before she could retort, he hung up.

  Chapter 21

  That evening, the King’s Arms was busy for a Wednesday night. Steve behind the bar told them it was because of a local farmers’ association meeting. Alice’s ears pricked up. There was one particular farmer she would be interested to meet.

  She and Megan found a table in the corner. Alice had brought Danny the dog with her, thinking he might enjoy the outing as he’d been left alone quite a lot recently. It would also give her a chance to judge his behaviour in a public space. Megan ordered salmon salad and a glass of white wine.

  ‘So what happened to the pie and a pint?’

  ‘Too fattening. I need to watch my figure, you know.’ Alice noticed the twinkle in her eye.

  ‘I’ll have the same, but maybe
we could have a bottle of wine, rather than two glasses.’

  ‘Excellent idea.’

  They took their drinks to the table and sat down, Danny stretched out beside them, nose towards the door. Although he appeared asleep, he was watching everybody who came in and out. Occasionally somebody would stoop down to pat him and the heavy black tail would thump the floor.

  ‘Danny’s not the only one looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed tonight.’ Alice gave Megan a wink.

  ‘Not so much of the bushy tail, please. I’m trying to keep that to a reasonable size.’ Megan poured the wine and raised her glass. ‘A toast: to Alice, or should I say Cupid?’

  ‘Oh, Megan, I’ve been scared to ask. Did it work? Did he call you?’

  ‘He certainly did. Bless him, he sounded terrified.’ She smiled as she reminisced. ‘And we went out for dinner last night.’

  ‘And…?’ At that moment the salads arrived. Alice waited until the waitress had left before prompting once more. ‘So, come on, dish the dirt.’

  ‘No dirt. Just a really lovely evening. Reggie Burrell is a very, very nice man.’ She related the events of the evening as they ate their salads. Alice was delighted for her friend. Finally, Megan put down her fork. ‘And you?’

  Alice told her all about her day. When she mentioned Mrs Tinker, Megan looked more serious.

  ‘I managed to have a word with the specialist while I was in there yesterday morning. I have met him a few times before. He couldn’t tell me much, but it looks like she hasn’t got a lot of time left.’

  ‘Is it cancer?’

  Megan shrugged. ‘You know how it is. He couldn’t say, for fear of breaching patient confidentiality but, between you and me, I don’t think there is much doubt. Every time I go to see her, she looks weaker.’

  ‘I know what you mean. She more or less fell asleep after ten minutes today.’ Both women sat quietly for a few moments, thinking fondly of the old lady. Megan was the first to rally.