“We are all more patient than you are, Annabelle,” one of the other women laughed. “You’re always in a hurry, even though you’re stuck at your counter all day no matter how long each transaction takes.”
Annabelle nodded. “But wouldn’t it be wonderful if we each had a customer quota, and once we’d helped however many customers were in our quota, we could go home for the day?”
The other woman shook her head. “We’d all be rushing everyone through and trying to get away, and we’d probably make a lot more mistakes.”
“Yeah, but still,” Annabelle sighed. “It would be nice to know that I only had to deal with one hundred people each day before I could go home, instead of having to wait for five o’clock.”
“What about slow days?” the other woman challenged her. “You know, those days when no one comes in for some reason or another. You could end up stuck at the bank until six or seven or eight, waiting for one last customer.”
Annabelle laughed. “Okay, I haven’t worked out all of the bugs yet, but I still like the idea. Anyway, Julie would have had to work late every day. I’m sure she didn’t do half as many transactions as I did in any given hour.”
“And the customers loved her,” someone reminded Annabelle.
“But the management didn’t,” Annabelle said, nodding towards Alan Rossini, who was still sipping his tea and staring straight out at nothing.
“Some of the management seemed to like her,” one of the girls muttered.
Annabelle shrugged. “Still, she had to be friends with Stephanie Harris to stay on Sidney’s good side. I wouldn’t do that, even if it did mean I could work whatever schedule I wanted.”
“Did you say that Stephanie had cancer, too?” Bessie asked as the thought occurred to her.
“No, she didn’t,” Annabelle replied. “Julie met her in hospital, but Stephanie wasn’t having cancer treatment. I’m not sure exactly what was wrong with her, but I always had the impression that it was female trouble, if you know what I mean.”
Bessie nodded. There was a commotion near the door and everyone stopped talking and looked to see what was happening. Humphrey Randall had just walked in, and he gave the crowd a small smile. Grace’s father was one of the first to cross to his side, and as he pulled Humphrey towards the refreshments the sudden tension in the room seemed to relax.
For several minutes Bessie chatted with the women who had worked with Julie. She worked hard to try to find a way to bring the conversation back around to Marcus Porter, but couldn’t seem to manage it. Eventually she gave up, hoping she’d have the chance to meet the man himself on Monday. As the conversation moved on from Julie to other topics, Bessie found herself getting restless.
“Okay, I can take the hint,” Grace whispered to her. “Let’s go and meet Mr. Randall.”
“What hint?” Bessie demanded.
“You’ve looked over at my dad and Mr. Randall about twenty times in the last two minutes,” Grace told her. “And you’ve been very slowly inching your way towards them.”
Bessie laughed as she realised that the girl was right. She had been moving away from the group of women and back towards the refreshment tables in tiny increments. “Maybe I just need a cuppa,” she suggested as they detached themselves from Annabelle and her friends.
“Maybe we all do,” Doona muttered.
Bessie had noted that Alan Rossini had done nothing more than nod at Humphrey when he’d reached the drinks table. As soon as Grace’s father started making Humphrey a cup of tea, Alan had moved to the opposite side of the room. He was standing there now, frowning at his empty cup. Bessie and her friends headed for Humphrey Randall.
“Mr. Randall, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Grace said when they reached the man.
“Ah, Grace Christian, how are you?” he asked.
“I’m well. I got married in February and I’m teaching and living in Laxey now,” Grace replied.
“Julie and I used to go up there for dinner once in a while,” the man told her. “In fact, La Terrazza was her favourite place to go for a few months. Then her treatment started affecting her sense of taste, and she decided she didn’t like it there any more.”
“I’m sorry,” Grace said.
The man shook his head. “It was kind of you to come,” he told her. “And I’m glad you’re teaching. I always thought you’d be a wonderful teacher, as long as you didn’t have to teach algebra.”
Grace laughed. “I teach primary school just to avoid that very thing,” she said. “I have enough trouble teaching fractions.”
“You could have been wonderful at maths if you really wanted to be,” the man said. “But you didn’t love it, did you?”
“Not as much as I loved English,” Grace told him. “And history.”
“Ah, yes. You always did love your history, didn’t you,” the man said with a smile.
“Let me introduce you to my friends,” Grace said quickly. “This is Elizabeth Cubbon, and this is Doona Moore. Bessie and Doona, this is Mr. Randall.”
The man grinned. “I think you can all call me Humphrey,” he said. “You’ve been out of school long enough, Grace, to call me by my Christian name, don’t you think?”
Grace blushed. “I just, that is, I’ll always think of you as Mr. Randall.”
The man nodded. “And I’ll always think of you as a sixteen-year-old girl with your head in a book and a dozen young men you never noticed following after you.”
Grace turned a deeper shade of red. “I wasn’t, that is, I didn’t…”
Bessie nodded. “I can picture it,” she said. “And Mr. Randall, I’m terribly sorry for your loss. Your words at the memorial service were very touching.”
“Miss Cubbon, it’s a great pleasure to meet you,” he said.
“Please, call me Bessie.”
“Only if you call me Humphrey,” the man replied.
“I knew Julie when she was a teenager,” Bessie told the man. “She was a lovely girl.”
“She often spoke of you,” Humphrey said, surprising Bessie.
“Did she?” Bessie exclaimed.
“You’ve been in the local papers a great deal in the last year or so,” he explained. “When Daniel Pierce was murdered near your cottage, she told me all about spending time there as a teen.”
“Humphrey, Humphrey, I’m so sorry for your loss,” a large woman in a bright red dress shouted from halfway across the room.
Humphrey looked up and then sighed. “I’m going to have to talk to everyone,” he muttered. “Including Hilda.”
“It was a pleasure meeting you,” Bessie said quickly.
“Likewise, but I’d really like to talk to you some more,” Humphrey told her. “Can I buy you lunch tomorrow? Midday, at any restaurant you’d like.”
“Of course,” Bessie said quickly. She named a restaurant on the Douglas promenade that she knew the man could walk to from his flat.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather do something closer to home?” he asked. “I thought I read somewhere that you don’t drive.”
“I don’t, but getting into Douglas isn’t a problem,” Bessie assured him.
“I can give you a ride,” Doona said. “I need to get into town to do some shopping anyway.”
“You’re also welcome to join us for lunch,” the man said. “It doesn’t have to be a private conversation.”
“Oh, Humphrey I was so devastated when I heard.” The woman in red had reached them now. She gave Humphrey a hug and then began to sob loudly. “I couldn’t believe it was real. I still can’t,” she wept. “It’s just too awful to be real.”
Bessie took a step backwards, anxious to get away from the woman. Humphrey caught her eye and winked at her as she, Doona, and Grace moved away. Grace’s father stepped in, trying to put some distance between the woman and Humphrey.
“I think I’ve had quite enough for today,” Bessie murmured to Grace as the trio stopped about halfway across the room.
“Yes, I�
�m exhausted and I haven’t done anything,” Doona said.
“Let me just tell my mother that we’re leaving,” Grace said. “I won’t be a minute.”
True to her word, Grace rejoined the pair after a short conversation with her mother. Bessie had been watching Humphrey, smiling as he’d managed somehow to get behind the drinks table and out of arm’s reach of the loudly lamenting woman in red.
“Who wears red to a memorial service, anyway?” Doona demanded as she and Bessie and Grace walked outside.
“I think Humphrey said her name was Hilda,” Bessie replied.
Grace giggled. “She’s Hilda McDonald,” she told the others. “She’s a teacher at the high school. We always used to joke that she was mad about Mr. Randall, but I think we might have been right. She’s certainly mad, anyway.”
Doona drove Grace home and dropped her off and then took Bessie back to her cottage.
“Do you want to do some shopping in town before your lunch with Humphrey Randall?” she asked Bessie as Bessie put the kettle on for tea.
“I’d love to,” Bessie replied. “I’m hoping the bookshop might have something new and interesting, and I’m out of a few little things as well.”
After she’d had a restorative cup of tea, Bessie rang John and told him all about her afternoon.
“I’ll ring Pete and tell him everything you told me,” he said when she was done. “He might ring you with questions, but I doubt it. He’ll probably want to wait until tomorrow so he can hear what Humphrey Randall has to say over lunch.”
“Yes, I’m looking forward to that as well,” Bessie replied.
“Take Doona with you,” John told her sternly.
“Yes, I will,” Bessie said dutifully.
“You will what?” Doona asked.
“Take you with me to lunch tomorrow.”
Doona nodded. “I thought he’d suggest that.”
“I don’t think it was a suggestion as much as an order,” Bessie grumbled.
She made a light dinner for herself and Doona and then Doona headed for home. Remembering her promise to John, Bessie tried to ring Laura to suggest that she might want to talk to a female police inspector. The phone rang and rang, but no one picked up. Feeling restless, Bessie took a long walk on the beach, breathing the sea air and letting her mind settle. Back in her cottage, she curled up with a book about the French Revolution and read until her eyes began to droop.
Chapter 10
Bessie’s walk on the beach the next morning was a short one. Rain made it less than pleasant and the strong winds that accompanied the rain made it virtually impossible for her to stay dry. Feeling as if she needed coffee more than fresh air, Bessie turned back for home before she’d reached Thie yn Traie. She glanced at the holiday cottages as she made her way back towards her cottage. Every one of them appeared to be occupied, and she couldn’t help but feel sorry for the families that would be waking up on their spring holiday to find rain and wind instead of sunshine.
Coffee and a second helping of toast, this time with extra jam, made Bessie feel better about the weather. By the time Doona arrived, the rain had settled into a light but steady drizzle and the wind had died down to nothing more than an occasional gust. Bessie was ready and at the door when Doona’s car pulled into the small parking area next to her cottage.
“What happened to spring?” Doona asked as Bessie climbed into the car.
“I feel sorry for the people on holiday,” Bessie replied. “From what I could see, the holiday cottages are full. I’m not sure what everyone will do on a cold and rainy day like this.”
“They’ll probably all head to Douglas to shop,” Doona suggested.
“Yes, well, no one was out of bed yet when I walked past, so I think we’ll be ahead of the rush,” Bessie said.
The centre in Douglas wasn’t noticeably busier than it would have been on any Saturday as Doona found a parking space in one of the parking garages.
“Let’s leave the bookshop for last,” Doona suggested. “I assume you’re going to buy at least one or two books, and that you’d rather not carry them around while we do our other shopping.”
Bessie was eager to get to the bookshop, but Doona was right. Instead, they wandered through a large shop, where Bessie bought some socks and Doona bought a lovely jumper that was in the end of winter clearance sales. From there, it was a short walk to the chocolate shop where both women stocked up on truffles and other treats. After another hour of wandering, with a few miscellaneous purchases between them, they finally made it to the bookshop.
“I could spend all day here,” Bessie said as they walked inside.
“We don’t have all day,” Doona reminded her. “We’re meant to be meeting Humphrey in less than an hour.”
Bessie nodded and then crossed to the mystery section and began to browse. When Doona found her forty minutes later, she had a small pile of books selected and was debating over another title.
“We really do need to get going if we’re going to take our shopping to the car before lunch,” Doona said, sounding apologetic.
“I know. I just can’t decide about this one,” Bessie said. “I’ve read the author before and I enjoyed her work, but this is a different series and I’m not sure I’ll like it.”
“Let me see,” Doona requested. Bessie handed her the book and Doona read the back cover. The description made her chuckle. “Okay, I’ll buy this one and I’ll lend it to you when I’m done,” she told Bessie.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. I only found one other book that I want to buy. I was hoping to find two or three. This sounds like my sort of mystery.”
The pair made their way to the tills and then back out into the street. It only took a few minutes to drop off their shopping. Then it was only a short walk to the restaurant where they were meeting Humphrey.
“The shops weren’t too bad, but it does seem as if everyone on the island is here,” Bessie said to Doona as they walked into the very busy restaurant.
“I’ll fight my way through and have us added to the waiting list,” Doona said. “You wait here.”
“I wonder if Humphrey is already here,” Bessie said. “I’m not sure we’ll find him in the crowd.”
“I’ll look for him as I go,” Doona promised. It only took a moment for Bessie to lose sight of her friend as a large and noisy party of people rushed in together. Bessie had to take several steps sideways to avoid being knocked over by a man who seemed to think that he was very important.
“If the wait is more than five minutes, we’ll go somewhere else,” he said loudly.
“But everyone agreed on eating here,” the woman next to him replied.
“I’m not waiting,” the man snapped.
“It will be crowded everywhere on a Saturday afternoon,” someone else commented. “We may as well wait here as anywhere.”
“I’m not waiting,” the man repeated himself at top volume.
Bessie couldn’t imagine that the restaurant would be able to find a table large enough to accommodate the party in five minutes or less. She was looking forward to the group leaving, actually, as they took up nearly all of the space in the building’s small lobby. Doona found her before that happened, though.
“Come on,” Doona said. “Humphrey has our table.”
Bessie followed Doona through the crowd, ignoring a few pointed looks from among those still waiting. Humphrey was sitting in the very back of the room at a small table in what must have been the restaurant’s quietest corner.
He rose to his feet at the women approached. “Good afternoon,” he said. “I hadn’t realised how busy it would be in here today or I would have suggested somewhere else.”
“It is a little crazy,” Bessie said as she sat down. “We can go somewhere else if you’d rather.”
“It’s not too bad in this corner,” Humphrey replied. “The hostess was one of my favourite students. She moved a few tables around to give us some privacy.”
>
“That was nice of her,” Doona remarked.
A waiter took their drink order before Humphrey spoke again. “Thank you for agreeing to meet me. I, that is, I’m not sure exactly…” he blew out a long breath. “My wife and I were together for a long time, but sometimes I don’t think I knew her very well. I’m hoping you can help me understand her better.”
“I’m sorry,” Bessie said, “but I didn’t know her well. She visited my cottage a few times when she was a teenager, but I hadn’t seen her in thirty-odd years.”
Humphrey nodded. “I understand that, but I work with teenagers every day. It seems to me that a lot of their character is formed in those horribly awkward years. I suppose I just want to know what you thought of her. What was she like?”
“I thought you said you taught her?” Bessie asked.
“I did,” Humphrey agreed. “But that was just after the problems with George White. I was going out of my way to avoid getting to know my students, if that makes sense. I certainly wasn’t spending any time outside of the classroom with any of the female students.”
Their drinks arrived and everyone ordered food while Bessie tried to think of what she could tell the man about Julie.
“As I said, I didn’t know her well,” Bessie said eventually. “She and her friends sometimes came to my cottage for tea and biscuits, but I don’t know that she ever stayed the night.”
“She always told me that she ran a bit wild in those days,” Humphrey said.
“I’d say she had a bit of a wild streak,” Bessie agreed. “Nothing too outrageous, but wild by Laxey standards, certainly.”
Humphrey nodded. “And then she got involved with George White.”
“She wasn’t the only one,” Bessie said.
“Now that I’m sixty-one and I have been teaching for over thirty-five years, the whole story angers me, but when it happened, I felt some sympathy for George,” the man admitted. “He was only in his second year of teaching, even younger than I was at the time. I can’t tell you how many times I was offered kisses or more in exchange for better marks by gorgeous girls, some of whom were only a few years younger than myself. Of course, I always turned them down flat and I always made sure the door to my classroom was open at all times whenever I was talking to a student of either gender, but I could see how George might have been tempted.”
Aunt Bessie Needs Page 15
