“Lunch is on me,” Bessie said, holding up a hand when Grace tried to object. “I insist. I spent far too much of the time talking about murder and other unpleasant subjects. You must let me pay for lunch and Hugh’s little treats as well.”
“It won’t do me any good to argue, will it?” Grace asked.
“Not at all,” Bessie said firmly.
When a waitress walked past a few minutes later, Bessie caught her eye. “We’re ready for the bill,” she said.
“I’ll just tell Dan,” the girl said.
Dan was back a moment later. “Ah, I’m sorry, Bessie, but Mary has given me very firm instructions for when you visit. I’m to bill her when you come in and I’m to tell you that you must argue with her if you object. I’m also not allowed to accept any tips you might offer.” He glanced back and forth and then leaned in close to her. “I’m even meant to watch you closely so that you can’t slip anything onto the table when no one is looking.”
Bessie felt her face go bright red. “Mary has no right to…” she began.
Dan put his hand on her arm. “Mary credits you with keeping her sane,” he told her. “She spent hours talking about you one afternoon when we were quiet. She told us that moving the island was difficult, and then there was some trouble with George’s business partner, and legal difficulties and all sorts. She told Carol and me that she thought she was going to lose her mind at one point, but you were kind to her and she’s eternally grateful. She has plenty of money and very little to spend it on. Buying you and your friend lunch will make her awfully happy.”
Bessie wanted to argue, but she knew she’d be wasting her time. “Thank you,” she said instead. “I will take this up with Mary the next time I see her, though. Expect her to ring you soon and tell you the arrangements have changed.”
Dan grinned. “Mary can be formidable when she wants to be,” he said. “She looks tiny and sweet, but she’s not.”
Bessie grinned. “You’re right about that,” she admitted. “But I’m still not happy with her.”
Dan waited while the pair slipped on their jackets and gathered up their handbags. Bessie opened hers, determined to slip a note onto the table, but Dan gently shook his head. “Mary owns part of the café. I really don’t want her angry at me,” he said.
“She’ll never know,” Bessie argued.
“She’ll ask me, and I would never lie to her,” Dan replied.
Impressed with his integrity, Bessie shut her bag and followed Grace to the door. The drive back to her cottage was a quiet one. Both women were far too full of delicious food to want to make small talk.
Chapter 6
Grace dropped Bessie off at home with profuse thanks.
“You should be thanking Mary, not me,” Bessie told her.
“I’ll make sure I do that when I ring her this week.”
“You ring her every week?” Bessie asked.
Grace blushed. “I ring her occasionally, just to thank her for everything that she did for me and Hugh. I know that she spent a lot of money paying for things for our honeymoon and she doesn’t really even know us. So I ring whenever I can think of an excuse to do so and just tell her again how grateful we both are.”
“You’re a kind woman,” Bessie told Grace.
“She gave us a magical week of incredible memories,” Grace replied. “Hugh and I will never get rich doing what we do, but we’ll always remember that week in Paris when we were treated as if we were royalty. I could ring Mary every single day for the rest of my life and not thank her enough. And I should be thanking you as well, as I know you spent more than you should have, too.”
“I was happy to help give you and Hugh your dream honeymoon. You both deserved it.”
Grace shook her head, but Bessie spoke before she could argue. “You did, and I won’t hear another word about it. But do keep ringing Mary, by all means. I think the woman needs as many friends as she can get.”
Grace nodded. “What Dan said was really sad. I didn’t know she’d been that unhappy.”
“I don’t think I realised just how unhappy she was either,” Bessie told her. “I should have done more for her.”
Grace laughed. “You’re already angry with her for trying to thank you by paying for our lunch. What might she have done if you’d done even more for her?”
Bessie had to chuckle. Grace was right. Mary was extremely generous to everyone. Bessie really shouldn’t have been cross about the lunch. It was just the way Mary was. She was still determined to ring her and persuade her to change things with Dan, though. That was just the way Bessie was.
Grace waited until Bessie was in her cottage with the door shut before she drove away. Inside, Bessie pushed play on her answering machine and listened to a handful of messages from friends around the island. The last one was the only one that interested her.
“Bessie? It’s Pete Corkill. I’d really like a chance to pick your brains on this Randall murder and the possible connection with Laura Meyers. John insists that it’s perfectly fine for me to invite both him and myself over for dinner tomorrow night, as long as we bring dinner with us. He suggested Indian food. I’ve promised to bring a cake with me. If there is any problem, please ring my mobile and let me know. Otherwise, I’ll see you tomorrow around six.”
Bessie grinned. John was right. She was more than happy to have the two men invite themselves over. Now she just had worry about whether she should ring John with what she could remember about Julie or simply wait until she saw him. While she was trying to decide, she rang Mary at Thie yn Traie.
“The Quayle residence,” a somber voice said in her ear.
“Yes, may I speak with Mary, please?”
“May I tell Mrs. Quayle who is ringing?” the man asked.
“It’s Elizabeth Cubbon,” she said.
“Aunt Bessie? Goodness, how are you?” came a much more animated reply.
“I’m fine, but who is this?”
“It’s Jack Hooper,” the man said.
Bessie could immediately picture a young ginger-haired boy with too many freckles and a gap between his front teeth. He’d spent many summer days racing up and down Laxey Beach while his mother sat on the sand and hoped he’d wear himself out before bedtime. Unlike most Laxey children, he’d never felt the need to “run away” to Bessie’s cottage to escape conflicts with his parents. Bessie knew his mother had worked hard to raise the boy right in spite of some challenges.
“Jack Hooper? I thought you moved away years ago,” she exclaimed.
“Oh, aye, I did at that,” he said. “Mum and I moved when she and dad split. He was, well, not very happy about the separation, and she wanted to be closer to her own family.”
“That’s right. I remember now. How is your mother?”
“She’s well. She and my nan are back on the island, too. Dad moved to New Zealand with his latest girlfriend, and mum wanted to come back. I was lucky enough to get a job here straight away.”
“With George and Mary.”
“With Mr. and Mrs. Quayle, yes,” he replied. “When we lived in London, I went to butler school and learned how to be a proper English butler.”
Bessie laughed as his accent and tone changed dramatically on the last three words, his casual Manx accent vanishing behind a clipped bit of “received pronunciation.” “I’m sure George loves that,” she said.
“Mr. Quayle has been quite welcoming,” Jack said formally. “And actually, I’m Jonathan Hooper now. Jack is too, well, working class.”
“I’ll try to remember that if I see you at Thie yn Traie,” Bessie told him.
“I hope you will,” he told her.
“You can always come and visit me,” she suggested. “You know I’m only just down the beach from you.”
“I may take you up on that,” Jack replied. “I have such fond memories of sitting in your kitchen having shortbread and a cold glass of milk whenever I fell and scraped my knees.” The man laughed. “I used to fall down on pur
pose, you know, just so mum would take me to your cottage for plasters and biscuits.”
Bessie laughed. “I did wonder how you managed to hurt yourself nearly every day, but then you were a very active child.”
“I was at that. Poor mum didn’t quite know what to do with me. I wore her out, I think.”
“She loved every minute of it,” Bessie told him. “You were her pride and joy.”
“Aye, they were tough times, with dad being how he was, but mum and I got through them.”
“I’m sure she’s very proud of you now.”
“She and nan go on and on about it,” Jack laughed. “She loves seeing me in my uniform.”
“I’m sure you look very smart.”
“I hope I do,” he replied. “It’s part of the job. But let me go and find Mrs. Quayle for you. Please hold the line.”
Bessie grinned at the sudden formality. She’d always liked Jack Hooper and she was delighted to learn that he was back on the island and only a short distance away. She’d have to get his mother’s number from him and give her a ring. It would be lovely to see her again.
“Bessie? If you’re ringing to shout at me about lunch today, please don’t. I was only trying to be nice and I’m not having the best day today already. I really don’t want you angry at me as well.”
“Mary, what’s wrong?” Bessie asked.
The other woman sighed deeply. “Nothing, really,” she said. “George and I just had a small disagreement, and then Elizabeth got into the middle of it. Now she’s not speaking to either of us, and George is locked in his study and won’t come out. I just want to turn back the clock and do today over, please.”
“None of this is any of my business, but if you want to talk about it, I’m happy to listen,” Bessie told her.
“Just a minute,” Mary said. Bessie heard her put the phone down and then, a moment later, she heard a door close. “Okay, I’m back,” Mary said quietly. “I just wanted to shut the door. It would be just my luck to be complaining about one or the other of my dear family members while they were standing right behind me.”
“That would be awkward.”
“Yes, and things are already awkward enough,” Mary sighed. “George is having second thoughts about Thie yn Traie. He wants to keep the Douglas house as well, and I think that’s crazy. We don’t need two mansions. We don’t even need one mansion, really. I’d love to move into a nice little house somewhere with just enough space for the two of us.”
“But George doesn’t like that idea?” Bessie asked.
“George worked hard for many years. He loves to be surrounded by tangible reminders of his success. Living in a huge house makes him feel as if he did things right. I love the man dearly and I understand how he feels, but I really hate the Douglas house.”
“If you kept it, where would you live?”
“That’s just it. George wants to live in Douglas half the time and at Thie yn Traie half the time. At least that’s what he says at the moment. I’m pretty sure that once we moved back into the Douglas house, though, he’d keep finding excuses to stay there and not move back to Thie yn Traie.”
“What doesn’t he like about Thie yn Traie?”
“It’s too far from Douglas, mostly. He likes to feel as if he’s at the centre of everything. Even I can admit that living on the outskirts of Laxey is a little bit, well, isolated, but that’s one of the things I like about it. He hates it.”
“What does Elizabeth think?”
“Oh, she’s on her father’s side, as usual,” Mary said, sighing again. “If we keep the Douglas house and move back there, she gets Thie yn Traie to herself. What could be better than life in a huge mansion with your own staff and no responsibilities? I’ve been encouraging her to think about going back to school or looking for a job, maybe in London or another big city across, but now she’s insisting that she needs to stay here so that there’s someone living at Thie yn Traie. It wouldn’t be safe or sensible to leave the place sitting empty all the time, she reckons.”
“The Pierce family left it empty all the time,” Bessie pointed out. “They only used it as a summer home and they often only came over for a few weeks each year.”
“Tell that to my daughter and my husband,” Mary replied. “Or rather, don’t. This is my problem, not yours.”
“Maybe I should have a chat with George,” Bessie said.
“I don’t think it would do any good,” Mary sighed. “He’s very stubborn when he makes up his mind, and he seems determined to stay in Douglas.”
“You could let him go and you could stay at Thie yn Traie with Elizabeth,” Bessie suggested.
Mary laughed. “It’s an interesting idea, but I’m sure George wouldn’t like it.”
“But he can’t tell you what to do. If you want to live at Thie yn Traie, you should be able to do so.”
“Maybe I’ll tell him that and see what he says,” Mary said thoughtfully. “But that’s not why you rang. What can I do for you?”
“I really don’t want to have to stop going to the café in Lonan,” Bessie told her. “But I can’t go there again knowing that I won’t be allowed to pay for my lunch.”
“Please, won’t you let me treat you?” Mary asked. “I know you’ve been frugal your entire life and I’ve always had more money than I can spend. Let me buy my friend an occasional meal at a wonderful restaurant.”
“I don’t mind you treating me to lunch occasionally,” Bessie replied. “But it feels very different when I’m out with other friends and you pay. I don’t know how to explain it, really.”
“I was just trying to do something nice for you,” Mary sighed.
“And I really appreciate it, but, well, it made me feel uncomfortable. I feel better paying my own way, really.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll ring Dan and tell him you can pay for your own food from now on unless I’m with you. Of course, when I’m with you, Dan won’t let me pay, but that’s a different matter.”
“And you hate when he does that,” Bessie reminded her.
“Yes, I do,” Mary agreed. “I am sorry. I truly was just trying to be nice.”
“I know you were, which is why I’m not cross,” Bessie assured her. “Why don’t we have lunch together one day soon. I’ll even let you treat and not complain.”
“Let me check my diary. Things are little hectic at the moment, as we’re having work done at both houses, although that may change if we do decide not to sell the Douglas house.”
They finally managed to agree on a date two weeks in the future. “Where would you like to go?” Mary asked.
Bessie named her favourite restaurant in Douglas. “I haven’t been there for a while. I don’t go into Douglas all that often.”
“I’ll collect you at half eleven,” Mary told her. “Hopefully we’ll still be at Thie yn Traie and you’ll be on my way.”
Bessie put the phone down and sighed. She really liked Mary and had been looking forward to having the woman living right down the beach from her. Even more, though, she knew that Mary wanted to be at Thie yn Traie. There had to be a way to persuade George to sell the house in Douglas.
With Mary’s problems on her mind, Bessie decided to run a duster around her furniture and then vacuum the entire house. Being busy kept her from worrying about her friend too much. By the time she’d finished her cleaning, it was time for dinner.
“You ate too much lunch,” she chided herself as she stared at the contents of her refrigerator. Nothing sounded good. Eventually she heated up a can of soup and ate it with a slice of crusty bread spread with butter. That was more than enough to fill her stomach after her generous lunch. She headed to bed early, curling up with a book until she felt tired enough to sleep. As she was drifting off, she suddenly remembered that she’d never rung John to tell him what she’d recalled about Julie Randall. It was too late to ring him now, she thought as she snuggled down under the duvet. She’d wait and tell him about it over dinner with him and Pete, she decid
ed.
It was pouring with rain when she climbed out of bed the next morning. Sighing deeply, she showered and then got dressed, all the while hoping the rain might stop or at least lessen in intensity. When she walked into the kitchen, she was disappointed to see that neither had happened. If anything, it seemed as if the rain was even heavier than it had been at six.
Toast with a thick layer of honey and extra-sweet tea didn’t do much to bolster her enthusiasm for her morning walk, but after she’d eaten and tidied up, she pulled on her waterproofs and her Wellington boots and headed out anyway. After several minutes, she found that she was actually almost enjoying splashing along through the sand. She stomped past Thie yn Traie and continued on for several more minutes before turning back towards home. As she walked, she spotted someone climbing down the steep steps behind the cliff-top mansion. Frowning, she kept an eye on the person as she went. She reached the bottom of the stairs at almost the same time as the other person.
“Bessie, my dear, it isn’t fit for man nor beast out here,” George Quayle shouted at her.
“It’s a bit brisk and damp,” Bessie replied.
“But you’re still out, having your walk.”
“If I waited for sunshine, I’d only walk once a week or less,” Bessie told him. The tall and nearly round man seemed to tower over her. He was wearing a huge black raincoat, but he hadn’t pulled the hood up over his head. Already rivers of water were trickling down his face and under his collar. Bessie felt tempted to reach over and give the hood a tug, but she knew she wasn’t tall enough to actually pull it over the man’s head.
“I know you talked to Mary last night,” George said. “And I know she trusts your opinion. You need to persuade her to move back to Douglas with me.”
“I’m not getting involved in your argument with Mary,” Bessie said, conveniently ignoring the fact that she’d given Mary advice on the matter.
“I don’t like it out here,” George complained. “We’re too far from everything.”
Aunt Bessie Needs Page 9
