Greengage Shelf

by Emma Sterner-Radley

  Kit’s heart ached. So called “not too busy” places were exactly where she preferred to be with her girlfriend. When they were out in public, everyone on this island wanted to talk to Laura Howard. They needed her to help influence the local council, fundraise for charities, and just come to their parties to lend some aristocratic glamour to the event. Not that Laura was an aristocrat, but she was the closest that Greengage had.

  Kit had known all this when she decided to be with Laura. She knew that Laura felt responsible for the entire bloody island and was too kind to say no to anyone. It was one of the things Kit had fallen for.

  And I’m certainly not the type who tells my girlfriend what she can and cannot do. Or tries to change her, she contemplated.

  Still. There was a part of her that wished Laura would stop trying to do everything for everyone else and think about herself for a moment. Because if there was one thing Kit was sure of, it was that if Laura got to choose, she would always pick being alone with Kit. They weren’t one of those independent couples who only met up once in a while. No, they’d both concluded that being together was better than being apart. It was just such a shame that the unselfish Laura so rarely felt she had the right to choose.

  Kit shook off the brooding. This was temporary. Soon they could go back to being one of the island’s most close-knit, affectionate couples. Besides, Laura had promised to make it up to her with a holiday and some lacy lingerie. That was worth waiting for.

  She stole a quick but passionate kiss. “Well, we’ll simply have to make the best of it then. Like you said, sneaking around could be fun.”

  Approaching heavy steps told Kit that Maximillian was coming back.

  “You’re an angel, and I can’t wait to reward you for that,” Laura whispered seductively right as her uncle returned.

  He held out a strangely lifelike fox with bright red fur and a vicious look on its face. It was mounted on a slab of wood, which would make anyone have a vicious look on their face, Kit presumed.

  “Here we are,” he said with pride. “A handsome chap to brighten up your home.”

  Kit took it with hesitant hands. “Ah. Yeah. Thanks, Max, I—”

  “Maximillian,” Laura hissed.

  He puffed out his chest. “Never Max, dear girl. That is a name for dogs and children. You have time enough to say the remaining letters of my name.”

  And you have time enough to figure out that my name isn’t Susan, you bonkers twit, Kit thought.

  Out loud she thanked him again and said her goodbyes to him and Laura. As she walked out with the fox held at arm’s length, there was only one thought in her head: I’ve got to hurry home and email Aimee. If I call her to tell her about all of this, she’ll laugh so much she won't hear the whole thing.

  She stared at the fox and decided to leave him out of the email. She was hoping to stick this thing in the closet and pretend it didn’t exist.

  Chapter Six

  Mustard Heathen and the Broom Closet Prisoner

  The overly loud birdsong and the fact that it wasn’t scorching hot suggested that it was early morning. Not that Kit had needed that proved. Her sleepiness was evidence enough.

  I should’ve had a second mug of tea. Possibly a third one, too, Kit thought as she stepped out of Laura’s red Volkswagen Beetle by the entrance to the library.

  Kit held the door open to get a last kiss from Laura before saying, “Thanks for the lift.”

  “Dearest, you don’t have to thank me every time. I like having this extra time with you in the morning. Especially now that we have to see less of each other.”

  “Mm.”

  Laura’s face fell. “Please don’t be sad. Remember that I promised to make it up to you. Lacy lingerie and a romantic getaway. That was what you wanted, right?”

  Kit couldn’t help but grin. Suddenly even the loud birdsong was less irritating. Nothing could be truly annoying when the mental image of a holiday alone with Laura in sexy underwear beckoned.

  She waggled her eyebrows a little. “Sure. Don’t you want that, too?”

  “Absolutely,” Laura purred. “I’ve already picked out the lingerie in question. How does a black negligée with white lace trim sound?”

  “Bloody delicious,” Kit panted. She cleared her throat. It was too early in the day for her blood to be running this hot. “Anyway, I need to start opening up and you should get to the office before Maximillian wrecks it.”

  “All right. Have a lovely day, and I’ll speak to you tonight.”

  “Sure. Love you.”

  “I love you, too,” Laura had time to say before Kit closed the car door.

  The red Beetle drove off, following the speed limit as perfectly as always.

  Kit turned and nearly bumped her nose on a man’s chest. She peered up and saw a tall bloke wearing retro horn-rimmed glasses and a posh suit jacket over a roll neck. He had angular features and fingers that tapped against his leg as if he were late to his own funeral. Kit had only seen this man in the crowd at a local theatre production, but instantly recognised him as Anthony Caine. This was the bachelor former architect, Alice Caine’s younger son and a likely suspect in the weird case of who moved an old lady’s books around. And then nicked one.

  “Mr Caine, isn’t it? Um, good morning. Fancy seeing you here.”

  “Yes. Quite. Call me Anthony. And you’re Katherine Sorel?”

  “Well, yes, but almost everyone calls me Kit.”

  “Right,” he said in an uninterested tone. “I wanted to have a quick word with you.”

  “Okay. I’m about to open the library, but I’ve got a couple of minutes.”

  “Good. It’s about this ridiculous business regarding my mother’s books.” He ran a hand over his neat hair and seemed to be pondering his next words.

  Kit took the chance to observe him closer. His pale blue eyes were so intense and his face so animated. He carried his striking height and slender build well. No doubt a lot of straight women would find Anthony Caine attractive. Kit found him unnerving. He was constantly fidgeting or moving in some way, as if he was phasing in and out of their world and had to leave soon. Also, he smelled of the strong mustard which had stained his lapel.

  Wholegrain mustard with breakfast? Yuck. Heathen.

  Anthony adjusted his expensive-looking jacket. “It’s all a load of nonsense, of course. Mummy probably moved them herself while searching for a certain volume, got distracted, and forgot all about it. It’s certainly nothing she should be asking the local librarian to look into.”

  He calls her ‘Mummy?’ Phillip always calls her Mother. There’s probably something telling in that.

  If Kit had imbibed enough tea, she might’ve figured out what it was. Now she only knew she was struggling not to yawn in this snob’s face. “It’s not a problem,” she said. “I like helping people. It’s sort of my trademark thing.” Kit chuckled, but Anthony refused to let her break the ice.

  “I see. Well, if you must persevere with this silliness, I should make something clear. Mummy said that you were focusing on every person who had a key to her cottage?”

  “Yes, I suppose I am.”

  “Well, I haven’t told Mummy this, but my key is gone. She gets stupidly worried about where her keys are and who has one, so I didn’t mention that I lost mine about two years ago.”

  Kit fought the urge to shove him. “Well, I personally can see why an older lady living alone might worry about that. Do you know where the lost key might be?”

  He straightened. “It’s not with some undesirable person if that’s what you’re implying. If it was, I would have Mummy change her lock, of course. No, I lost it and all my other keys down a drain in Marseille when I was there on a business trip. Not only is the key in France, it’s also buried under gallons of filth. Quite safe.”

  “I see. How do you get into your mum’s cottage now?”

  “I ring the doorbell, and she opens,” he said in a tone which questioned Kit’s intelligence. “I woul
d have no reason to go there unless it was to see Mummy.”

  “Right. Gotcha. Well, thanks for sharing the info. Mind if I ask if you know anything about the missing book, Journey to the Centre of the Earth?”

  He gave an elegant shrug. “It’s a ridiculous, old fantasy book that we were forced to read in school.”

  “Sci-fi, actually,” Kit said out of professional habit. “Do you know anything about the particular copy of the book your mother owned, though?”

  “No. Nothing at all. I can’t even remember seeing it.” He started to turn. “Now, I really must be going.”

  “Huh? Oh, yes, of course. I need to open the libr—”

  He cut her off with, “I’m sure we’ll meet again,” and left.

  Kit watched him stride away, equal amounts of stress and haughtiness in every step.

  “Yeah, so, bye then,” she muttered.

  She shook her head and turned to fiddle with the alarm system. All the while, her mind was set on how easy it would be for Anthony to borrow his brother’s key. Or to mess with the bookshelf while his mother was busy in the kitchen. Alice might not leave a guest alone long enough for them to rearrange bookshelves and then steal a book, but a son in the house? He would have more time alone to do whatever he pleased. Still, that didn’t answer what motive Anthony would have to mess with those books. Nor what motive anyone else would have. What was so special about the book that went missing?

  The alarm system finally beeped its surrender, and Kit pushed her sleuthing aside to focus on work.

  It was seven o’clock on a beautiful June evening and Kit was locked in a broom closet.

  She had spent an evening in worse places, sure,1 but she still wasn’t happy about being a prisoner in this cramped, dark space which smelled like lavender wood polish and dust.

  She was only in here because of that bloody pest, Maximillian. He’d needed to go to his home on the other side of the island to retrieve a favourite hat, so Laura had taken the opportunity to invite Kit over for some quality time.

  There had been a good three minutes of serious, sensible conversation until they found themselves frantically kissing against the wall. Then they were doing more than kissing. Next, Maximillian stormed in exclaiming that his hat wasn’t there and accusing Laura, or possibly some schoolchildren, of stealing it.

  At the sound of him opening the front door, Kit’s plan had been to step away from the wall she was currently pushed against, brush herself off, and pretend they’d been arguing or something like that. The problem was that Laura, for all her good sides, panicked when she felt guilty. Hence, when that door flew open and those heavy steps stomped in, Laura opened the nearest door and pushed Kit in. Sadly, it had been the broom closet.

  Now, Kit rolled her eyes as Maximillian and Laura talked on the other side of the bloody door. There was no natural way to step out without awkward explanations or a damn good excuse. She literally had to stay in the closet until Maximillian left or was distracted by something.

  There was no silver lining here.

  There was no easy way out of this.

  There was a large amount of frustration settling in the pit of her belly.

  There was… a huge, fat fly in here with her.

  At least she hoped it was a fly. It was hard to tell in the darkness. Maybe it was something that would bite or sting her?

  Great.

  The beast fluttered by her ear, and she flapped her hands to chase it away. This only seemed to antagonise the flying little shithead. She suddenly recalled a picnic where Laura had indicated a really annoying bee and said, “If you scare it or annoy it, it will only bother you more and finally attack. Try to ignore it.”

  That was all fine at a picnic with a knowledgeable country bumpkin to advise her, but how could she ignore a miniscule monster that was locked in the same teeny-tiny space and appeared equally peeved about it? Kit swatted at it again. She wasn’t trying to kill it, just trying to convince it to keep to its own corner.

  Stay by the mop, you little wanker!

  Kit could hear Laura and Maximillian discussing the evening’s dinner. As if they had all the time in the world to discuss gravy and broccoli. As if there wasn’t someone stuck in a flippin’ broom closet nearby! For a second, Kit’s undying love for Laura flickered the tiniest bit.

  The insect buzzed by her chin, heading up to her nostrils, and just like that, Kit was done with all of this. Without thinking, she struck at the bug. She didn’t hit it. Instead, she walloped her own face. Her nose, to be exact. And she hadn’t pulled any punches. Her nose throbbed as if she’d been smacked by a boxer. She tried to be quiet. She was usually good at that, be it in sexual circumstances or stealthy ones. Now, however, the skill failed her, and she bellowed a heartfelt “OUCH!”

  She clamped her hand over her mouth and stared at the closed door.

  All was silent.

  Except for the buzzing insect of course, as it was now more annoyed than ever.

  Then Kit heard the unmistakable voice of Maximillian Howard saying, “Do my ears deceive me, or did the broom closet just yelp in pain?”

  “What? I… Um, I… what?” Laura said most helpfully.

  Kit squeezed her eyes closed and pursed her lips together. She was praying to whatever ridiculous rom-com deity might be listening that Laura’s uncle wasn’t going to open the broom closet door and ask why she was in there shouting.

  It became clear that there was no such god. Or if there was, it didn’t answer prayers. The door opened and Maximillian’s wide face came close to Kit’s. He peered at her for a moment and then said, “Susan, are you quite all right?”

  “I’m fine, thank you, Maximillian.”

  “Oh, good. Are you aware that this isn’t the bathroom but in fact a broom closet? Did you stub your toe? You should’ve brought a light in there with you, you know.”

  For a moment Kit considered doing what she would’ve done back in London. What she would’ve done in her normal and sensible life, the one which had ended when she moved to Greengage. In any other place, with any other people, not only would she have avoided this weird situation completely, she also would have been able to simply tell the truth and put an end to this nonsense. Be that as it may, this was Greengage, where strangeness was more normal than normalcy itself. This was Laura, who never wanted to disappoint or hurt anyone.

  And, if she were honest, this was the new Katherine “Kit” Sorel. A woman who no longer assumed things, people, or situations would be rational, easy, or have any modicum of common sense.

  Therefore, she took a deep breath and said, “You’re right. That wasn’t the bathroom, which was why I was shouting. I was angry at myself for getting lost.”

  “Ah, excellent,” Maximillian said with a reassured smile. “I was worried since it sounded like a yelp of pain.”

  “It certainly sounded like a shout of aggravation to me,” Laura said in a relieved voice.

  Maximillian looked at Laura, then at Kit, who was still slightly behind the small, dark-wood door of the broom closet. Then he looked down the hallway to the bathroom, which had a door which was not only much larger than the one for the broom closet, but also greyish-blue. He gave a brief shake of the head.

  “Well, I am glad we got that sorted out. I shall let you proceed to the bathroom which you will find behind that powder-blue door.” With a slow, clear gesture he pointed to the larger door. “When you return, I have a gorgeous specimen of a squirrel that I had stuffed just last week. I think you will enjoy it, Susan.”

  “Kit,” she corrected.

  “Yes, that, too,” he said with a glazed look.

  An awkward silence descended on them. Or rather, it descended on Kit and Laura. Maximillian appeared the same as he always had.

  “It fell off, you know,” he said out of the blue.

  “What did?” Laura spluttered.

  He gave her look as if he doubted her intelligence. “The squirrel, dear girl.”

  “Oh?” she s
queaked.

  “Yes. Fell off its branch. Right outside my house. Dead as a doornail, it was. I suspect a heart attack, perhaps from a broken heart, like the one from which I suffer. There have been times when I have thought of my lost love and felt as if I were falling off a high branch myself.”

  He was staring into space and so missed the glance that passed between Kit and Laura as they both tried to figure out what to say. They were saved the effort by him adding, “Anyway, I did the only thing you can do. I respectfully picked the poor creature up, said a silent prayer, then had it stuffed.”

  “Uh-huh. That’s terrible, poor thing,” Kit said. “Do you mind if I go to the actual bathroom, now?” She didn’t need to go, but she certainly needed to not listen to this conversation anymore. It was giving her a headache.

  “Of course. Never let it be said that I stood between a woman and her need to powder her nose. Here, allow me to escort you to the bathroom to ensure you find the right door this time.”

  Kit couldn’t be sure, but there was a hint of a giggle coming from Laura as Maximillian took her arm in his and guided her towards the bathroom with the air of someone showing a child where her potty was.

  Kit gave up. This evening was going to be bonkers. All she could do was roll with it. Oh, and try to get out of being given that damn squirrel.

  Chapter Seven

  Trimming the Veg Patch

  The library was quiet that morning and Rajesh was busy discussing politics with some man in the reference section, so Kit managed to get some shelving done. As she worked, she switched her thoughts between the case of the missing book and the wonderful fact that she’d convinced Maximillian to leave the squirrel with Laura last night. She’d claimed that its fur was almost the same colour as Laura’s hair, so they belonged together. There was a risk that Laura wasn’t happy about that little move. Still, since it was due to Laura’s priorities that they were in this weird situation, she’d have to put up with it.