Aunt Bessie Needs

by Diana Xarissa

  While she was tempted to continue walking further, Bessie needed a trip into Ramsey if she was going to have a guest for tea that afternoon. She turned around reluctantly, promising herself a second walk after lunch if the weather stayed fine. When she reached the holiday cottages again, she heard her name being called.

  “Bessie, Bessie, come and see,” a voice shouted.

  Bessie swallowed a sigh and forced a smile onto her lips. Maggie Shimmin was waving to her from the large patio behind the nearest cottage. As Bessie crossed the sand towards her, Maggie shouted something back into the cottage, but Bessie couldn’t make out her words. Maggie was a plump woman somewhere in her fifties, and Thomas was just a few years older.

  “I was just shouting for Thomas,” the woman explained as she greeted Bessie with a hug. “I know he’ll be interested in hearing what you think as well.”

  “How are you?” Bessie asked the woman.

  Maggie shrugged. “Mustn’t complain, but you know my back has been giving me trouble for a while now. We’ve been so busy with guests that I haven’t had time to rest it properly, of course, and now I suppose I’ll just have to suffer until October when we close down the cottages for the winter.”

  “I am sorry,” Bessie said, even though Maggie was never happier than when she had something to complain about, although she also quite enjoyed having someone to gossip about.

  “But how are you? I know you have some friends coming to stay with us next month, don’t you?”

  Bessie nodded happily. “Janet and Joan Markham are coming,” she replied. “Janet told me that they’ve requested the cottage closest to mine, which would be wonderful if you can accommodate them.”

  “As they’re friends of yours, of course we’ll accommodate them,” Thomas said from the doorway behind his wife. “But how are you this fine spring morning?” he asked Bessie.

  “I’m very well, thank you,” Bessie replied.

  “Now you must come and have a look at our first themed cottage,” Maggie said excitedly. “I’m sure we’ll be able to charge a considerable premium for it now.”

  Bessie followed the couple into the cottage and looked around the sitting room. It didn’t look all that different from the others, at least to her eyes.

  “The theme in here is British Summer Holiday,” Maggie told her. “So we didn’t change all that much. We changed out the old art for pictures of Blackpool and Skegness, though. What do you think?”

  “It’s lovely,” Bessie said, glancing at Thomas.

  “It’s not that different,” he said. “The bigger changes are elsewhere.”

  “Yes, come and see the bedrooms,” Maggie said. “That’s where we did the most work.”

  Bessie followed her to the first bedroom and stood in the doorway, speechless. The large bed in the centre of the room was covered in red satin bedclothes, with what looked like hundreds of yards of filmy red fabric draped from the ceiling around the bed. The furniture had been painted with glossy red paint and a neon sign was hanging on the wall. It said “Las Vegas” as it blinked on and off.

  “It’s Las Vegas,” Maggie told her. “Isn’t it splendid?”

  “It’s, well, it’s not really to my taste,” Bessie said slowly. “But it’s definitely a theme.”

  “Come and see the second bedroom,” Thomas invited her. As Bessie passed him, he winked at her, suggesting that he wasn’t as enamoured with the cottage’s new look as his wife was.

  The second bedroom was also predominately red, but with splashes of green and white. A huge sombrero covered a large part of one wall, with a painting of a cactus on the other.

  “This one is Mexico,” Maggie told her.

  “Mexico?” Bessie echoed faintly.

  “Well, we had all the red paint left over from the Las Vegas room, so it seemed easier to find a theme to fit that than to buy more paint,” Maggie explained.

  Bessie nodded and then turned and looked at Thomas. He was staring at the room as if he’d never seen it before. “It’s very bright,” he said after a moment.

  Maggie turned and walked out of the room, leaving Bessie and her husband to follow.

  “I’m not sure that themed cottages are a good idea,” Bessie whispered to the man.

  “I told her she could do one over and we’d see how it went,” Thomas replied. “If we get any complaints about this one, we won’t do any of the others.”

  Bessie nodded and then slowly headed back towards the sitting room. She stuck her head in the loo that was between the bedrooms, but didn’t spot anything out of the ordinary there aside from a picture of the Eiffel Tower on the wall. Maggie was in the kitchen.

  “The loo is France, of course, and the kitchen is Italy. What do you think?” she asked Bessie.

  “It’s all a lot to take in,” Bessie said, noting that “Italy” seemed to consist of a few jars of dried pasta on the counter and a hand towel that looked like the Italian flag.

  “Well, I think it’s wonderful,” Maggie said tartly. “We’re just putting the finishing touches on it. The first guests to stay here will be arriving on Friday afternoon.”

  “I hope they appreciate all of the time and effort you’ve put into the place,” Bessie said.

  “Yes, so do I,” Maggie frowned. “Once we’ve shut for the season, we’re going to start working on themes for all of the other cottages. If you have any ideas, please let me know.”

  “I will do,” Bessie promised. “But now I must dash. I have a guest coming for a cuppa later and I need to get to the shops before she arrives.”

  “Thanks for taking a look,” Thomas told her as he escorted her back out onto the beach. “And thanks for not telling Maggie what you really think. She’s so excited about what she’s done that I don’t have the heart to tell her how awful it is. I just hope the guests aren’t too critical when they see it.”

  “I’m not sure you should be charging a premium for the place,” Bessie said hesitantly.

  “We aren’t at the moment,” Thomas assured her. “We’ll have to see how bad the complaints are before we start offering lower prices for that cottage.”

  Bessie grinned. “Good luck,” she said.

  “Thanks.”

  Back at home, Bessie rang her usual car service and ordered a taxi. She’d begun using them when they’d first opened for business in Laxey more years ago than she wanted to remember. The original owner of the service had been a good friend who had given Bessie very special pricing. When he’d sold the service to a Douglas-based firm, Bessie continued using them, as she was fond of several of the drivers. Her favorite driver, Dave, was at her door a short time later.

  “How are you today?” he asked as he escorted Bessie to his car.

  “I’m very well, but I need an extra trip to Ramsey for some shopping,” she explained.

  “We’re still doing our regular trip on Friday?” he checked.

  “Yes, I just need a few things for this afternoon, as I have a guest coming for tea,” Bessie told him.

  Dave dropped her off at the large supermarket in Ramsey. “I’ll be back for you in an hour,” he promised before he drove away.

  Bessie filled her shopping trolley with biscuits and cakes. Laura had seemed upset. Chocolate and sugar were sure to be needed. She took her time going around the shop and was just walking out of the front door as Dave pulled up. He quickly helped her load her bags into the car’s boot before helping her into the passenger seat.

  Back at home, Bessie made herself a light lunch and then took that second walk she’d promised herself. Just before two, she piled biscuits and bite-sized pieces of cake onto large platters and put them in the centre of the kitchen table. She’d just switched the kettle on when she heard a knock on her door.

  “Hello, and welcome,” Bessie said brightly to Laura, who stood on her doorstep looking uncertain.

  “Hello,” she said softly.

  “Come in,” Bessie invited.

  “Is this Manx?” Laura asked, poin
ting the small sign next to the door.

  “Yes, it says Treoghe Bwaane, and it means widow’s cottage,” Bessie told her. “It’s the only thing I can say in Manx with any confidence.”

  Laura smiled. “It’s a very difficult language,” she agreed. “I can’t believe how much my head hurt after class last night.” She followed Bessie into the cottage and sighed as she looked around. “This is absolutely perfect,” she exclaimed. “I’d love to live somewhere just like this.”

  “You live in Douglas, don’t you?” Bessie asked.

  “Yes, in a tiny little flat with an exorbitant rent,” Laura replied.

  “Oh, dear, I am sorry. Douglas is expensive, but you do get to be centrally located.”

  “Yes, and I’m grateful for that, anyway.”

  “But sit down and help yourself to something while I get the tea ready,” Bessie told her.

  A few minutes later she put a steaming mug of tea in front of her guest, who had taken a few biscuits but hadn’t eaten anything yet. Bessie dropped into the chair opposite her and helped herself to a biscuit.

  “How are you?” she asked gently.

  “Why is it called widow’s cottage?” Laura asked back.

  “It had the name when I bought it,” Bessie explained. “And it felt eminently suitable, as I’d just lost the man I loved.”

  “Really? I don’t want to be nosy, but I’d love to hear the whole story,” Laura said.

  Bessie knew the woman was just trying to avoid talking about whatever was bothering her, but she didn’t mind sharing the story with her. Just about anyone on the island could have told Laura the story; it was very well known, at least to residents of a certain age.

  “I was born on the island, but my family emigrated to American when I was two,” Bessie began. Laura settled back in her chair and took a bite of one of her biscuits. “When I was seventeen, my parents decided to move back to the island.”

  “Why? I’ve always thought that it would be exciting to live in America.”

  “Remember that this was a great many years ago,” Bessie said. “I don’t think that my parents ever felt properly settled in the US to start with, and then there were economic issues as well. They both felt that they would be happier back here, and they expected both my sister and me to come back with them.”

  “How old were you, again?”

  “Seventeen. My sister was nineteen, and she was already engaged. She chose to get married and remain in the US.”

  “But you came back here?”

  “I wasn’t old enough to be given a choice, really. I didn’t want to come back. I was in love with Matthew and I wanted to stay and get married like Elizabeth, but as I was under eighteen my parents decided that I had to return to the island with them.”

  “How awful for you,” Laura gasped.

  Bessie shrugged. “They did what they thought was best at the time. I hadn’t known Matthew for very long and they didn’t know him at all. They were trying to protect me, although it’s taken me a great many years to realise that. At the time, I hated them.”

  “I can’t imagine. So you came back to the island and bought this cottage?”

  “I came back to the island, determined to find a way to be with Matthew. After some months, he decided to come and get me. He was going to sail over, we would get married, and then he would take me back to the US with him.”

  “How romantic,” Laura sighed.

  Bessie blinked back a tear. “Illness was common on ocean crossings in those days. Matthew passed away a day or two before his ship docked in Liverpool.”

  “Oh, Bessie, I’m so sorry,” Laura gasped.

  “It was a long time ago,” Bessie told her. “I’m content with my life. I love the island and I can’t imagine being anywhere else, really. Matthew had made a will before he travelled and he left everything to me. That small lump sum was enough for me to buy this cottage. As I blamed his death on my parents, I needed to get away from them.”

  Laura patted Bessie’s hand. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

  “I never did reconcile with them, something that I would do differently if I had the chance,” Bessie told her. “I was fortunate that I chose Doncan Quayle as my advocate and let him deal with the money. It turns out that he’s not only a good advocate, but also has a gift for investing well. For many years I lived very frugally in my little cottage by the sea.”

  “I’m quite jealous,” Laura admitted. “I can’t imagine anything better than having my own little house and never having to leave it.”

  Bessie frowned at the woman. “Are you okay?” she asked.

  Laura waved a hand. “I’m sorry. I’m fine. I’m just not particularly fond of other people right now. But do go on and finish your story.”

  “There isn’t much else to the story,” Bessie told her. “I had a brief romance with a man who wanted me to move to Australia with him, but ultimately turned him down. Thanks to Doncan’s clever investments, I’ve been able to add two different extensions to the cottage and in the last few years I’ve been able to be less and less frugal and increasingly indulgent. For me, indulgence means books, and I tend to buy far too many.”

  Laura laughed. “I’m a huge fan of libraries,” she said. “But if I had unlimited financial resources, I’d have a huge library in my home and I’d fill the shelves with every book I ever thought sounded even the slightest bit interesting.”

  “Well, you’re more than welcome to borrow books from my shelves,” Bessie said. “Before you leave you’re welcome to have a browse.”

  “Oh, no, that’s okay,” Laura said quickly. “I would be afraid I might lose or damage something if I borrowed it.”

  “You mustn’t worry,” Bessie assured her. “I have far more books here than I’ll ever read again, even if I live for another hundred years, and I buy more books all the time. There are a few on a shelf in my bedroom that I couldn’t bear to part with, but you’re welcome to borrow any others. You might be doing me a favour if you lose one or two, anyway, as I’ve no shelf space left and I just received a box from my favourite bookshop with four new titles.”

  Laura nodded and then took a sip of her tea. Bessie refilled both cups and added more biscuits to the plate before she sat back down. She took Laura’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “You don’t have to tell me what’s bothering you, but I’m more than happy to listen if you think it might help.”

  “I’m not, that is, I don’t…” Laura sighed and then took a deep breath. “It’s my ex-husband. He’s moved to the island.”

  Bessie frowned as Laura’s eyes filled with tears. “But that’s awful,” she exclaimed, remembering the things that Laura had told her about the man.

  “I’m so scared,” Laura told her. “He put me in hospital the last time we fought. I moved to the island to get away from him and now he’s followed me.”

  “He knows you’re here?”

  “Oh, yes. He sent me a letter to let me know he’d arrived,” Laura explained. “I found it in my post box yesterday when I got home from work and, well, I was sobbing when Henry arrived to collect me for our class last night. I haven’t, that is, he doesn’t know much about my ex, Marcus. I really don’t want to tell Henry everything.”

  Bessie patted her hand. “Is it too much to hope that he’s settled in Jurby or Port Erin?” she asked, naming the towns at the north and south ends of the island.

  “Oh, no, he’s moved into a flat just a few doors away from me,” Laura replied, her tone bitter.

  “You need to talk to John Rockwell,” Bessie said firmly. “Or maybe Peter Corkill would be better. He works for Douglas Constabulary. The police should be able to do something.”

  “I’m not sure what,” Laura said. “I never pressed charges against him. I just divorced him and moved away.”

  “You should still talk to Peter or John,” Bessie said. “They need to be aware that he’s here and he’s dangerous.”

  “And then they’ll go and talk to him, and he�
�ll laugh and assure them that I’m overdramatic and maybe slightly delusional. And they’ll believe him because he’s incredibly charming and clever and everyone always believes what he tells them.”

  “Why would you make something like that up?” Bessie demanded.

  “He told my mother that I fell down the stairs when I’d been drinking and lied to cover up how much I drink,” Laura replied.

  Bessie was momentarily speechless. “I’m so sorry,” she muttered eventually.

  “My mother believed him,” Laura added. “We haven’t spoken in over a year.”

  Bessie sighed. “Why did he move here?” she asked. “Did he give you any reasons in his letter?” she asked.

  “Oh, he claimed he was offered a wonderful job at one of the banks over here. He assured me that my being here had nothing to do with it. It was simply too good of an opportunity to pass up.”

  “And you don’t believe him?”

  “I don’t believe anything that man says about anything, ever,” Laura replied sharply. “I’m sure he has a job over here, but I’m also sure that he’s spent the last six months or more looking for it, just so he could move here and ruin my life.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “That’s just it,” Laura said sadly. “I simply don’t know what to do. I love the island. I love my job, and I really like Henry. We have a lot of fun together and I think I could really fall for him, given enough time. He understands, as well, that I’m still getting over the things that happened in my past. I can’t imagine leaving and starting all over again somewhere else.”

  “So stay,” Bessie said firmly. “You’ll just have to do what you can to avoid the man. Maybe you should find a new flat outside of Douglas.”

  “I don’t know. Moving is a huge expense and bother. I like my little flat, as well. It’s right in the centre of everything and just the right size. I don’t want to move. I want Marcus to move.”