The Donaldson Case

by Diana Xarissa

  Janet flushed. “I’m sure there are similarities,” she muttered.

  The trio chatted about nothing much for several minutes while Janet and Joan finished their meal. Joan fixed tea for everyone and put out biscuits, but it was clear that everyone was distracted. Michael didn’t stay long.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not very good company tonight,” he told the sisters as they walked him to the door. “Anyway, you’ll want an early night with guests coming tomorrow.”

  “What time are you expecting our guests?” Janet asked her sister before she headed up to bed.

  “Sometime after midday and before three,” Joan replied. “Mr. Nicholson was a bit vague when I talked to him. I suppose a lot will depend on traffic.”

  “I think I’ll have a very lazy start tomorrow, then,” Janet said. “Since we’ll have to be up early while the guests are here.”

  “That’s a good idea. Maybe I’ll try to lie in as well,” Joan replied.

  Janet knew that her sister would probably be up at six, just as she nearly always was. Even in childhood Joan had never been very good at having lazy mornings. As she climbed the stairs, Janet was again reminded of how much she loved Doveby House. In their old cottage, with its single bathroom situated between the two small bedrooms, Janet had always been woken when Joan got up for the day. Now, the sisters were on separate floors and each had her own bathroom. Janet could sleep even when her sister couldn’t.

  It was nearly midday before Janet made it down the stairs the next morning. She felt refreshed after several extra hours of sleep and a long shower. She found her sister in the kitchen.

  “You look terrible,” she greeted Joan, who didn’t look as if she’d slept at all.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” Joan replied, refilling her coffee mug as she spoke.

  “Oh, I am sorry,” Janet said. She gave her sister a quick hug. “Why don’t you go and lie down for an hour or two before the guests arrive?” she suggested. “I’ll do some work in the library where I’ll hear the door if they arrive early.”

  Joan shook her head. “I’ve had too much coffee now,” she said with a small laugh. “I’m just hoping the guests have an early night.”

  “I’ll stay up with them,” Janet said quickly. “You can have an early night, regardless.”

  “We’ll see,” Joan replied.

  Joan nearly always insisted on doing most of the work for the bed and breakfast, and Janet knew that was because Joan was the one who’d wanted to buy Doveby House in the first place. For the most part, Janet was happy to let her sister do the lion’s share of the cooking, cleaning, and sitting up late with the guests, but now she felt guilty as she looked at her sister’s tired face. She didn’t argue, but she was determined that Joan was going to have an early night.

  “Are you still hoping our guests might do some artwork for us?” Janet asked.

  “It would be wonderful,” Joan said. “But after our previous experiences with guests, I’m not getting my hopes up.”

  Janet nodded. It was best not to have any expectations of guests. That way they wouldn’t be disappointed.

  After an early lunch that was also a late breakfast for Janet, the sisters did a last minute tidy up of the house. Janet vacuumed down the centre of each room while Joan dusted and plumped pillows. They were seated in front of the telly, trying not to watch the clock, when someone knocked.

  Joan rushed to the door, while Janet followed at a more leisurely pace.

  “Welcome to Doveby House,” Joan said.

  Janet reached the door and added her own welcome while she took a good look at the new arrivals.

  “I’m Fred,” the man with long blonde hair and a ring through his nose said. He nodded at the girl next to him. “This is Molly.”

  Molly’s head was shaved and she also had a ring through her nose. “Hey,” she said quietly.

  Joan stepped back to let the couple in. Fred dragged a large suitcase in behind him. He was very thin, in skin-tight jeans and a T-shirt that had seen better days. Janet wondered if he could actually lift the case that looked very heavy.

  Molly was very slender as well and was wearing an almost identical outfit, except her T-shirt had long sleeves. Janet could see various tattoos on Fred’s arms and she wondered if Molly also had some. There was no polite way to ask, of course.

  “You have your choice of two guest rooms,” Joan said. “I would suggest the larger one, but you can choose.”

  “We’ll have to see which one feels right,” Molly told her seriously. “We’re creative. The energy has to be right.”

  “Yes, well, if you’d like to follow me, I’ll show you the rooms,” Joan replied.

  Janet followed the trio up the stairs. Fred half-carried and half-dragged the case along as they went, bumping it up the stairs. Joan opened both guest rooms and let the couple inspect them.

  “This one,” Fred said after several minutes. He pointed to the east room. “It feels better.”

  “Of course,” Joan murmured, handing him the key. She locked up the west room. “We’ll just leave you to freshen up,” she said. “I’ll put the kettle on if you’d like some tea in a short while.”

  “Great,” Molly muttered. “We’ll be down.”

  In the kitchen, Joan looked at Janet and shrugged. “They seem nice, I suppose,” she said hesitantly.

  “I’ve never met artists before,” Janet whispered. “They’re sort of what I expected and sort of not.”

  “I know what you mean,” Joan replied.

  It wasn’t long before the couple joined them in the kitchen. Joan quickly made the tea and set out a large plate of biscuits.

  “So you’re both artists,” she said once everyone was settled in.

  “We are,” Fred confirmed.

  “We’re quite eager to find some paintings of local scenes for the guest rooms,” Joan said. “If either of you does anything like that, we’d love to see it.”

  Molly snickered and shook her head. “That sort of art isn’t for us,” she told Joan. “We didn’t come up here to paint the scenery.”

  “So why are you here?” Janet asked. As soon as the words were out of her mouth she felt as if it was a rude question, but the couple didn’t seem to mind.

  “We’re looking for inspiration,” Fred told her. “A change of scenery always helps inspire our work. A week here should recharge our creative batteries.”

  “What sort of art do you do?” Janet couldn’t help but ask.

  “I’m a poet,” Molly said proudly.

  “Really? I’ve heard it’s frightfully hard to get poetry published,” Janet said.

  “I don’t worry about such things,” Molly said airily. “I write for myself, not for others.”

  Janet bit her tongue before she asked how the woman paid her bills. Even she knew that was a question too far.

  “Let me share something with you,” Molly said. “A poem that I wrote on our drive here.” She shut her eyes and then cleared her throat. “I’ve called it The Drive;

  Long

  Tedious

  Tiring

  Inspiring

  Trees

  Dogs

  Soil

  Snails

  Biscuits

  Darkness.”

  She sat back and took a sip of tea.

  Janet looked at Joan and then smiled brightly. “That was lovely,” she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. It wasn’t much different to her tone when she’d told her class of eight-year-olds how talented they all were when they’d had their first attempt at writing a poem.

  “Thank you,” Molly said. “But I’m quite exhausted. I think I might just go and lie down for a bit.”

  “She’s always worn out after she has these creative bursts,” Fred told them.

  “Are you a poet, too?” Janet asked. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she was sorry she’d asked. What if he wanted to share something with them as well?

  “No,” he said. “I’
m a sculptor. I work with natural materials.”

  “Like marble?” Janet asked.

  Fred laughed. “Like soil and twigs and rocks,” he told them.

  “How interesting,” Janet managed to say. She didn’t dare look at her sister. She could only hope that the couple had paid in advance. She couldn’t begin to imagine where their income came from.

  “So, do you have a telly?” Fred asked as the sisters tidied away the tea things.

  “I can show you to the television lounge,” Janet offered.

  “Great. I’ll just hang out there until Molly’s feeling better. Then we can head out and explore Doveby Dale. I’m sure it will be inspiring.”

  With the man happily settled in with the remote in hand, Janet headed back to the kitchen to make sure Joan didn’t need any help.

  “Well, we could always try putting a copy of one of her poems on the wall, instead of a painting,” Janet suggested as Joan started the dishwasher.

  “I couldn’t even manage to say anything,” Joan said with a shudder. “It was just so, well, incomprehensible.”

  “I’m almost afraid to ask what Fred’s sculptures look like,” Janet replied.

  “Maybe they’re both really famous and we just don’t realise it,” Joan said.

  “Maybe,” Janet said doubtfully. “At least it will make us feel better to think that,” she added.

  “They paid cash in advance,” Joan told her. “Just in case you were wondering.”

  “I was, rather,” Janet admitted.

  It was a couple of hours later when they heard footsteps on the stairs. Molly wandered down to where the sisters were reading in the sitting room.

  “Where’s Fred?” she asked, sounding disoriented.

  “He’s watching telly,” Janet told her. She showed the woman into the next room, and Molly sank down next to her husband on the long sofa.

  “We should go out,” Fred said, glancing at Molly. “I’m hungry.”

  “I’m not,” Molly replied with a yawn. “I’d rather just stay here and watch telly.”

  Janet excused herself and returned to her book. A few minutes later the couple emerged.

  “Where can we get a quick meal?” Fred demanded.

  Joan gave him directions to the nearest café. As soon as the guests were gone, she started making dinner for herself and Janet. They were still eating when they heard the front door open.

  “I’ll go, you eat,” Janet told Joan.

  “We’re back,” Molly said brightly as Janet walked into the sitting room.

  “If you’re in for the night, I’ll put the chain on the door,” Janet said.

  “I don’t think we’re going anywhere else tonight,” Fred replied. “We’re just going to watch some telly and relax.”

  Several hours later Janet insisted that Joan head to bed. “I’ll wait up in case the guests need anything,” she said. Janet was surprised when Joan actually agreed. Clearly her sister was exhausted.

  After another hour, Janet decided to check on the Nicholsons. In the lounge, Fred and Molly were both fast asleep. Molly was snoring gently. Janet considered her options and then sighed. She’d have to wake them.

  She picked up the remote from the floor. It must have fallen out of Fred’s hand. After switching off the telly, she knocked loudly on the door. The guests both sat up quickly.

  “Good evening,” Janet said. “I wanted to make sure you were both okay and found you asleep. Surely you’ll be more comfortable upstairs.”

  “I wasn’t sleeping,” Fred said grumpily. “I was watching telly.” He glanced at the now black screen and frowned.

  “It was a long day,” Molly said. “The drive took ages.”

  “Yes, well, why don’t you both head up to bed?” Janet suggested.

  “Yes, let’s,” Molly said. She got to her feet.

  “I wanted to watch the rest of the programme,” Fred protested as Molly pulled him up.

  “It’s probably finished,” Molly said. “Let’s get some sleep.”

  Janet took a moment to tidy the lounge behind them, hoping they’d be tucked up in their room before she got upstairs. Their bedroom door was just closing as Janet reached the top step. She let herself into her room with a sigh of relief. Having guests was a strange mix of excitement, tension, stress and chaos. She wasn’t sure whether she liked it or not.

  Chapter Nine

  Janet was up, showered, dressed and ready to help her sister make breakfast before eight the next morning.

  “They said they’d probably be up around nine,” Joan reminded her as Janet paced around the kitchen. “You should have slept later.”

  “I will tomorrow,” Janet said. “Except they’ll probably be up early tomorrow.”

  It was nearly half nine when the couple came down the stairs.

  “Full English breakfast?” Joan asked them when they appeared in the kitchen doorway.

  “Oh, I just wanted coffee and maybe some toast,” Molly replied.

  “We’re vegetarian,” Fred said.

  “An omelet?” Joan suggested.

  “I know some vegetarians eat eggs, but we don’t,” Fred told her.

  “Beans over toast?” Janet asked.

  “Just toast is fine,” he replied. “And lots and lots of coffee.”

  Joan nodded. She’d made coffee earlier; now she poured some into mugs for the guests. Janet got busy at the toaster, filling two toast racks as quickly as she could.

  “I have several jams and marmalades. What do you prefer?” Joan asked.

  “Nothing for me, thanks,” Molly said. She took a bite of her dry toast and washed it down with coffee. “This is good.”

  “I’m fine as well,” Fred said.

  Joan set a fresh pot of coffee brewing. After a moment Janet excused herself. There was no point in her watching the couple eat and nothing she could do to help Joan with the coffee. She made her way to the library and pulled the books away from the panel they’d not managed to open. For several minutes she worked on sliding it in every direction, but it simply wouldn’t budge. When she heard movement in the sitting room, she put the books back and locked up the library.

  “They’ve gone for the day?” she asked Joan, who was just shutting the front door.

  “Yes, off to soak up inspiration from the dales, I gather.”

  “If all they’re going to want is toast and coffee every day, breakfast will be easy,” Janet remarked.

  “Indeed,” Joan said. “Easy and boring.”

  Janet grinned. “You can make me an omelet every morning, if you get bored.”

  Joan laughed. “I’m not that bored,” she replied.

  Back in the kitchen, it only took a moment for them to tidy up.

  “Maybe we should get some different types of bread,” Janet said thoughtfully. “If that’s all they’re going to eat.”

  “That isn’t a bad idea,” Joan replied.

  They headed to the closest grocery store, and Janet selected several different loaves of bread while Joan picked up a few other little things.

  “That’s quite a collection,” Joan said when she rejoined Janet.

  “There were so many different choices and they all looked and smelled wonderful,” Janet replied. “I got a little carried away.”

  “Let’s just hope Mr. and Mrs. Nicholson like a bit of variety,” Joan said.

  As they drove slowly through Doveby Dale, Janet suddenly pulled into the car park for the small row of shops.

  “Did we need something here?” Joan asked.

  “I thought we could see if the chemist is open,” Janet replied. “And maybe meet Matthew Rogers.”

  “I’m glad your brain is working,” Joan said. “I’ve been so preoccupied with worrying about our guests that I forgot all about Michael’s little problem.”

  Janet knew that wasn’t strictly true. Even when Joan was fussing over the guests, she had been preoccupied.

  They made their way along the pavement and Janet was happy t
o see that the shop was open when they arrived. A soft buzzer sounded as they made their way through the door. After a moment a man walked out from the back of the store to greet them.

  “Good morning, ladies, although it might be afternoon by now. I’ve rather lost track,” he said with a bright smile.

  Janet smiled back. The man was younger than she’d expected, probably in his thirties, with blond hair and blue eyes. If she’d been thirty years younger, she might have found him attractive.

  “What can I help you with today?” he asked.

  Joan looked at Janet and Janet found herself caught in the same lie yet again.

  “I just need some headache tablets,” she said.

  She heard Joan smother a laugh as the young man turned and showed her to the appropriate display. As Janet followed, she glanced around and wondered to herself why she hadn’t requested any one of the thousands of other products in the shop. She shook her head at her own stupidity as she walked past facial tissues, cosmetics, shampoo, soap, and the myriad of other things such stores carried. In front of the tablets, she made the same choice she always made.

  “We tried to stop in last week, but you were shut,” Joan said as the man rang up Janet’s tablets.

  “We had a small staffing issue,” the man replied.

  “Oh, really?” Joan remarked. “We were quite used to Mr. Carter. He always took good care of us. I do hope he’s okay.”

  “He needed a bit of surgery, that’s all,” the man replied. “He should be back in another month or so.”

  “And will you be here until he returns?” Joan asked.

  Janet looked over at her sister, feeling slightly stunned. All this chattiness was very out of character. Joan was focussed in the man behind the counter.

  “I should be, yes,” the man said. “I’m Matthew Rogers, and I’ve been sent from the head office to cover for Mr. Carter until he’s well enough to return to work.”

  “There have been ever so many different people in here,” Joan said in a confiding tone. “It’s quite disconcerting to find a new man here every time we come in.”

  “Yes, well, that’s why I’m here,” Matthew said soothingly. “I shall be in place for the foreseeable future.”

  “I’m quite sure the man who was here last week gave me some rather bad advice,” Joan said. “I had a cold, you see, and he suggested some sort of over-the-counter medicine that didn’t help in the slightest.”