by Babs Horton
“Why didn’t he go back?”
“Greswode always kept him poor. Worked him to death and made sure there was no chance of him ever returning.”
All the while she spoke she didn’t take her eyes off the crucifix and the button.
“He would never have taken the crucifix off,” she said again. “And if he did why would he have put it in the font?”
Archie thought hard, “To hide it?”
“No. I know he would never have taken it off willingly.”
“You mean someone might have taken it off him? Or it got broken in a struggle maybe?” Archie mused.
Gwennie stood quite still.
“Ay, that’s what must have happened. And the button, the elephant button is from a shirt of his…a beautiful blue shirt that he used to wear for best.”
Archie listened with bated breath, afraid to speak in case she stopped.
“He used to look so handsome in that shirt the blue showed off his black skin a treat. I sewed those buttons on myself and they wouldn’t have fallen off easily, it must have come off in a struggle.”
“And if that’s what happened then maybe the person he struggled with hid them in the font, but why would anyone do that?”
“Perhaps whoever did it panicked, had to hide them to cover things up. I remember thinking that his blue shirt wasn’t among his belongings when they packed them up after his death.”
“So do you think he wore his best shirt here but someone changed him after, after they…?”
“Killed him,” said Gwennie coldly. “I don’t think my Bo killed himself, and all this time I’ve blamed him…”
“If he struggled and the shirt was ripped then maybe the police would have known that he hadn’t done it himself.”
“You are a very clever boy,” she said absently. “I should have trusted him; I should have known he wouldn’t leave me.”
“You weren’t to know, though, were you?”
“I see now that it was all so nicely covered up. I was away when it happened…”
Archie tried to make sense of it but her thoughts were too fast for him to keep up.
He chewed his lips nervously and listened.
“You see, I made cook tell me everything when I found out. She said that when they found him he was wearing his working clothes…they had to burn them because they were covered in…”
“Covered in what?”
“It doesn’t matter…you see he wouldn’t have worn that shirt to work in…maybe he had come to the Skallies to see my father. And all these years I doubted him…”
Archie was confused. Why would the black man have come to see Gwennie’s father?
Then a thought struck him. “How would Bo have got in here?”
Gwennie smiled sadly, “I’d shown him the secret way. We used to meet in here sometimes.”
“Maybe he came in that way and there was someone already here.”
“Someone who’d arranged to meet him?”
Gwennie put her hand to her head as if trying to catch hold of a thought.
“I remember afterwards, Wilf from the Pilchard said that the last time he’d seen Bo he was coming down through the sand dunes. He said he was whistling and seemed excited about something.”
“He wouldn’t have been excited about blowing his brains out, would he? I mean no one would.”
“I think,” she said, making the sign of the cross, “that my Bo was definitely murdered.”
“Why do you think someone would murder him?” Archie said breathlessly.
“I don’t know but there was something bothering Bo in the weeks before he died. He said that there was something not right and that someone wasn’t telling the truth and he didn’t like the way the master was with me. Neither did I.”
“How was he with you?”
“It’s of no consequence. He had wandering hands.”
“Maybe Bo found out something and then he had to be killed to shut him up.”
“I’ll never know for sure but I’ll bet that the Greswodes had a hand in it. Maybe he’d worked out that I was with child…that Bo and I were going to go away together. He was a very jealous man.”
She became silent then and shuffled across to a pew and sat down looking ahead of her. Archie sat down beside her.
The sunlight played across her face and the crucifix in her hand glowed brightly.
“You can keep the crucifix and the button if you like,” Archie said. “To remind you of Bo.”
She looked up at him and her eyes were extraordinarily blue and full of tears.
“Thank you,” she said and she closed her hand around them tightly.
“I think that I need some time alone now.”
Archie nodded and got to his feet.
“I’d like it if you didn’t mention this to anyone, Archie. There’s no point raking up the past now, there’s no one left to be punished for what they did. You’ve done me a very great favour.”
“Havel?”
“Oh, yes. I’m sure, Archie, that coming here today you’ve worked out what did happen to 80. And I know now that he wasn’t meaning to leave me. It makes it almost bearable.”
The sun died behind the window and darkness seeped into the chapel like smoke.
Afterwards he would never forget the look on her face as she watched him go but it would be a long time before he heard the end of her story.
He let himself out of the chapel and pocketed the keys.
“Bang! Bang! You’re dead!” squawked the parrot from the Grockles.
“Ah, bugger off!” whispered Archie Grimble and he walked slowly back along Bloater Row.
Archie and Cissie were sitting out on the step of the Pilchard counting marbles when the postman came along Bloater Row. He smiled at Archie and Cissie, posted a letter through the letter box of Skibbereen and then went whistling back the way he’d come.
Archie was putting the last glass marble into the drawstring bag when the noise started.
Inside Skibbereen someone shrieked piercingly. This first shriek was followed by hollering and yelping and the sound of someone banging on saucepans.
Archie and Cissie leapt to their feet in alarm and ran inside to fetch Nan. The three of them stood together listening to the racket.
Then the door to Skibbereen was flung open and out stepped Mrs Galvini.
It was the first time Archie had seen her in ages and she looked thinner, paler than usual but she was beaming from ear to ear and pulling Alfredo along behind her.
“Lena, what’s happened? You were making such a racket, they could hear you in Rhoskilly.”
“Mother of God! Nan, we just had letter. Letter with very good news. Oh, such good news I think I having an attack of the heart. My heart going boom bomb boom.”
Archie and Cissie began to giggle.
“What’s the news, Lena?”
“Is such happy, happy news and I say to my Alfredo pinch me and he did. See, I have bruise here on my bum bum. I can’t believe this happen to us. One minute and I gonna wake up and find I dream it all!”
“Lena! What has happened?” Nan urged but there was not any sense to be had from her.
“I so happy I want to dance. Hey, Archie, you dance with Lena, eh?”
Archie escaped into the doorway of the Pilchard Inn, leaving Cissie to be Mrs Galvini’s dancing partner. He watched in mortification as Mrs Galvini took Cissie’s hands and they danced up and down Bloater Row.
Nan, with her hands on her hips shook her head and looked at Alfredo in despair.
“Alfredo, it’s a good job that one of you two has some sense. Will you tell me what’s happened? I can’t stand the excitement.”
“We have letter to say we have inherit house in Italia. Big house, lots of rooms. We going back, Nan, even after all this long time we go back.”
“Alfredo, that’s wonderful! But I’ll miss you both.”
“St. Nan, we miss you lots but now we maybe have business again. You can all come st
ay and have holiday in Italia. Now, maybe my Lena stop worrying a little, take her mind off all the bad things.”
“Lena, stop spinning Cissie around so fast or shell be sick!” Nan yelled.
Archie slipped inside the Pilchard to avoid having to congratulate the Galvinis.
He felt the tears rising and he blinked to try and clear them. He didn’t want the Galvinis to leave. It was different with the porker and the Kellys, he hadn’t minded mem going, his life had been better without them. First Benjamin, then Romilly and now the Galvinis. To lose the Galvinis would be a terrible thing.
He couldn’t imagine Skibbereen without them. He loved that house to bits, loved the laughter, and the everlasting smell of cooking. The tinkle of the music boxes and the wonderful colours of the tiny glass animals.
Mr and Mrs Galvini had always cheered him up when he felt miserable, fed him when he was hungry. What was happening to everyone in the Skallies?
One by one they were all disappearing.
“You must come into the Pilchard, the both of you. We must have a drink to celebrate. Run and fetch your mammy, Archie, and tell the Paynes and the Misses Arbuthnots,” Nan called out.
Soon the Pilchard Inn was full. The Paynes appeared and even the Misses Arbuthnots came shyly in. Martha Grimble arrived flushed from baking bread. Soon the small bar was filled with laughter and animated chatter. After two drinks Nan grew bold and went and knocked on the Grockles. Even the stranger Fleep got out of bed to join in the celebration.
Archie sat with Cissie near the fire and sipped his ginger beer. He smiled whenever he caught the eye of Lena and Alfredo Galvini but the lump in his throat was almost choking him.
At Nanskelly Eloise Fanthorpe sat in a wicker chair near the sports pavilion, looking out to sea. A book lay open in her lap but she had abandoned it because she could not concentrate.
She was thinking about Archie Grimble when, as if summoned up by magic, he appeared, clambering over the stile.
She watched him as he walked, unaware of her presence, towards the school and then stopped quite still.
He looked quite different to the last time she’d seen him. He’d put on a bit of weight, looked a little more confident, perhaps? He had more colour in his cheeks and he wasn’t dragging his leg as badly. Benjamin Tregantle would have been pleased to see him looking so well.
She called out to him and he turned around, smiled and made his way over towards her.
“Hello, Miss Fanthorpe. Is it all right for me to find William?”
“It’s all right by me if you come here whenever you like but I’m afraid that William is away for the day.”
“Oh,” He sounded disappointed.
“Why don’t you sit yourself down? You must be hot after your long walk, I’ll bring us a cool drink. It’s peaceful here this afternoon as the girls are out on a nature ramble and won’t be back for a while.”
Archie sat down on the grass and watched Miss Fanthorpe hurrying towards the school.
What was it Benjamin had said? That Miss Fanthorpe would do him a good turn if he ever needed it. Yet Benjamin had never mentioned Miss Fanthorpe to Archie when he was alive.
Miss Fanthorpe returned with a jug of orangeade and a plate of butterfly cakes and sat down.
“How is my favourite detective doing?” she said as she filled a tumbler with orangeade.
“Well, I think I may have solved a mystery from a long time ago.”
“You have? My goodness, that was quick. You must tell me!”
“Well, it’s a bit of a secret but Benjamin said you could be trusted.”
“I swear not to tell a living soul,” she said seriously, laying her hand across her chest.
“I found out, by accident really, what happened to Boreo Orore, the black man from Killivray.”
Miss Fanthorpe looked nonplussed, as though she had expected him to say something entirely different.
“That’s the poor man who er…”
“Blew his brains out?” Archie said.
“That’s right. I’ve heard lots of stories about Boreo from my dear father. He used to walk out here like you do; he spent a long time talking to Father.”
Archie smiled.
“It was really sad that he died. My father said he was a fine, handsome fellow, wise and honourable. He used to talk to my father about going back to Africa one day.”
“I know he wanted to go back and it’s really sad that he never did.”
“I remember Father saying that he was brought back to England by Old Mr Greswode. I expect that you’ve heard about all the animals that used to be kept at Killivray?”
“Yes. But he got rid of them, didn’t he, when he got married?”
“He did. He was a rich young man and was fooling around with things he didn’t understand. It was quite horribly cruel to bring exotic creatures like that over here on a whim and then abandon them.”
“What happened to them?”
“Some were shot and stuffed and kept at Killivray. I believe the tiger cubs were given to the circus, I used to cry when I was a little girl, thinking about the poor things being taken away from their mother. Papa said it broke Boreo’s heart.”
“Your father must have missed him after he died,” Archie said.
“It’s curious, Archie. You see just before my father left Nanskelly he had lent Boreo some money to help him get back to Africa. He was in some kind of trouble but Father had left Nanskelly before he killed himself. I know he often wondered what happened to him and was surprised that he never heard from him again. I only heard about his death when I came back to Nanskelly and that explained why he never contacted my father.”
“What sort of trouble was he in?”
“That I don’t really know. I think it was something delicate and my father was very old-fashioned in some ways. He wouldn’t discuss certain things in front of children and women.”
“The thing is, though, Miss Fanthorpe, I don’t think Boreo did kill himself. In fact I am sure that he didn’t.”
Miss Fanthorpe looked at him aghast.
“But everyone knows that he went into the chapel and shot himself. I gather that the police were involved and it caused a great scandal round these parts. Come now, Archie, you must tell me everything you know.”
He recounted the story of how he had met Gwennie in the wobbly chapel and found the crucifix and the elephant button belonging to Boreo Orore.
Miss Fanthorpe listened attentively.
“Have you told anyone else about this?”
“No. Gwennie said she didn’t want to rake up the past. She was glad to know the truth. You see, Boreo had promised that he’d take the three of them back to Africa.”
“Who were the three of them?”
“I don’t know, that’s just what she said. Maybe it was Thomas Greswode, or the cook from Killivray?”
“Maybe,” said Miss Fanthorpe, smiling down at Archie and thinking that her father must have known the delicate nature of Boreo’s trouble and tried to help but someone else had taken matters into their own hands.
So, her father had been right, there were plenty of skeletons in the Greswode cupboard.
“How is life in the Skallies?” she said, changing the subject.
“Not too good.”
“Why is that?”
“Everyone’s moving away and soon there’ll be no one left. My friends Mr and Mrs Galvini are going to Italy in a few days’ time and I don’t want them to go.”
“And where in Italy are they going?”
“Someone has left them a house in a place called Santa Caterina and they want to open a restaurant. Mrs Galvini is a very good cook.”
Miss Fanthorpe smiled. “How lovely,” she said.
“Have you ever been to Santa Caterina, Miss Fanthorpe?”
“Oh, no,” she replied and she looked away quickly.
“Why look, the girls are back. I really must go. I have a Latin lesson with the third form. Goodbye, Archie Grimble.”<
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“Goodbye, Miss Fanthorpe.”
“Well done with your detective work. You’ve unlocked one secret. I wonder how many more you will unlock?” and she looked at him with a very funny expression on her face.
He climbed the stile and walked back along the cliff path thinking of everything that had happened since he’d first gone into the wobbly chapel.
He had the feeling that the mystery of Boreo Orore wasn’t the mystery that Benjamin had meant him to solve. If Benjamin had known that those things were hidden in the font he’d have told someone years ago, wouldn’t he? No, there was something else that Benjamin had wanted him to discover but he hadn’t been clever enough. He’d been on the wrong track with Thomas Greswode; there was no mystery about Thomas Greswode’s death; it had been sad and unnecessary but just an accident.
He looked out across the sea, sparkling away to the horizon, a calm, blue, summer sea, the sort of sea that Thomas had sailed into on the last day of his sad life.
He kicked out at a rock on the path and realized that he’d kicked out with his bad leg. It was getting stronger. Maybe one day he’d be able to get rid of this hateful calliper.
He pulled a blade of grass from the hedgerow and chewed on it as he walked back to the Skallies.
The sun was high and a light warm breeze rippled the surface of the rock pools where the blennies and shrimps were dozing. It riffled through the long grass of the sand dunes and stirred the washing on the makeshift lines strung along the beach.
The windows of the houses in Bloater Row were opened wide and the sound of Cissie’s laughter drifted out from the Pilchard Inn and mingled with the chiming of the church clock in Rhoskilly Village.
Lena Galvini looked round the bare kitchen of Skibbereen sadly. The stove was unlit for the first time in years and there were no smells of cooking filling the air. The kitchen dresser was bare of jars and crockery and the scullery was empty. The hams and smoked sausages she had already given out to the folk in the Skallies.
Their prized possessions were packed up in two trunks and had already been taken to the end of Bloater Row where soon the car would arrive to take them to St Werburgh’s and the start of their long journey home.
In the parlour she took down the last two musical boxes from the mantelpiece.
