Rosemary Aitken

by Flowers for Miss Pengelly

  The girl saw them looking and said politely, ‘I’m sorry, we don’t open until half past ten. That’s five minutes yet.’

  Blanche was disappointed and about to turn away but Mr Broadbent was made of sterner stuff. He smiled at the waitress in his most winning way. ‘Now that is a pity – since I’ve been here before, and I was strongly recommending your buttered toast and jam.’ He kept on smiling but did not move an inch.

  The girl looked at him with more interest. ‘Oh yes, sir, I remember.’ She glanced around, as if someone might observe, then gave a skittish laugh. ‘Well, seeing that it’s you, sir, and you’ve been before! The owner isn’t here till later on, but I could make an exception for a few minutes I suppose.’

  And a moment later he was guiding Blanche into the shop. ‘Thank you, young lady!’ he murmured to the girl. He looked around the room. ‘Would it be possible – that table over there, in the little alcove at the back?’ He dropped his voice. ‘This lady and I have business to discuss – a tricky matter of an inheritance – and naturally we should prefer to be discreet.’ He tapped one pudgy finger against his fleshy nose as though the waitress was a co-conspirator. ‘I am sure that we can rely on you to see that we’re not overheard?’

  The girl was clearly flattered by this show of confidence. She coloured prettily and led the way towards the table he had specified. She got the chairs down, set them round and spread a table cloth. ‘Will it be tea and buttered toast and jam for two, sir?’ she enquired and when Josiah told her that it would she pottered off to get it straight away.

  Blanche looked at her companion as he hung up their outdoor coats. He was not handsome – very far from that – but it was obvious he had a way with him. ‘Charm’, that was the word that she was looking for. No doubt in his profession it was a requisite but it was pleasant all the same. A charming male companion who was buying her some tea. It was quite the most exciting moment of her life – especially sweet, because she knew that Pearl would disapprove.

  Her host had sat down opposite by now and was smiling at her across the table cloth. ‘What did I tell you? They’re most obliging here. Now then, my dear Miss Blanche Weston, what is it you sought me out to say? It’s obvious that you must have had something on your mind; I can’t believe you merely desired my company.’

  Oh but I did, Josiah, she murmured inwardly, but aloud she said, ‘There was a little matter which occurred to me. The man you came about. I believe there was a railway ticket in his coat. I don’t know if you were aware of that.’ There! She had remembered something new to offer him.

  He received it gravely. ‘Ah, yes, the ticket! We did know that, in fact. It was part of the information that the police sent on to us, and it was even mentioned in the papers, I believe.’

  She nodded. ‘That’s where I learned of it. The return half of a ticket, so they said, but so damaged by the rain that it was impossible to see where it was issued from.’

  ‘The police did not have much hope that it would lead us anywhere,’ he agreed, ‘but working on the assumption that it was Royston or his friend and that they were likely to have come from Paddington third-class, I had my own enquiries made.’ He leaned forward and murmured confidentially, ‘And I understand that a guard has now been found who thinks he may have seen the passenger. The early train, third-class carriage, the day before

  the death.’ He paused for her approval, leaning back again.

  She obliged him by saying, admiringly, ‘That was clever of him. There must have been scores of people on that train.’

  Josiah looked decidedly gratified at this. ‘He noticed him because he looked so frail and ill, appeared to have no luggage with him, sought the last compartment, spoke to nobody and seemed to take no refreshment of any kind throughout the trip – though the guard could not be absolutely sure of that because the third-class compartments were non-corridor and he could only look in from time to time when the train was at a station. However after Plymouth the man appeared to be asleep, so he left him to it and thought no more of it – until our agent spoke to him, that is. I got a wire from London only yesterday. It’s in my pocket now.’ He pulled back the collar of his jacket so that she could glimpse the yellow telegram within, but at the moment the waitress reappeared from the kitchen at the rear carrying their tray of tea and toast.

  The toast was excellent: fresh, hot and buttery and there was a little glass container full of home-made jam. Blanche was almost in an ecstasy. This was so different from their tea-time toast at home – which Pearl insisted on making personally on a toasting-fork beside their meagre fire, so it was generally tepid, undercooked and served with just a scrape of butter or of jam – never both, of course, because ‘these things don’t grow on trees’. It made Blanche feel like a naughty child to take a bit of each.

  Her host however seemed delighted by her pleasure in his treat. He even urged her to another slice, but she remembered that a lady did not ever eat too much and that polite conversation was expected at the tea-table. Besides a dreadful thought had just occurred to her. ‘So no doubt you’ll be returning to London very soon?’ she murmured, stickily.

  Josiah shook his head. ‘On the contrary, my dear Miss Blanche,’ he said. ‘It makes my task here more pressing than before. If it can be proved that it was Royston on that train, it is quite certain that he outlived his wife and therefore was entitled to inherit her estate. We can be fairly certain of the date. With all the recent railway strikes, there was a change of schedules, and it was the first day that the guard had ever worked that route. This could have implications for Miss Pengelly too – if we can discover why he wanted her. But you are quite certain that this was not the man who called?’ He had pulled out the famous photograph again – though it was getting rather creased and was no longer in the envelope.

  She took it from him and gazed more closely at the bewhiskered young hussar, smiling so proudly into the camera. Perhaps she could summon up some faint resemblance? Something that would keep Josiah here in town, to ask more questions? ‘Well, I suppose it could be,’ she said reluctantly ‘There is an outside chance.’ She found that she was shaking her head though, without intending to, so she forced herself to stop and added carefully, ‘This fellow is roughly the right height, perhaps.’

  ‘You think so?’ Josiah had a sudden look of hopefulness which made her gulp.

  She could not deceive him, she decided ruefully. ‘Perhaps a little shorter, it is hard to tell. But if so, he must have changed an awful lot since then.’

  Josiah put the picture carefully away. ‘Thank you for your honesty, my dear Miss Blanche.’

  There it was! He’d called her ‘dear’ again. She could hardly pretend that he meant anything by that – it was just avuncular friendship and concern – but it made her heart beat faster all the same. But Josiah was still speaking. She forced herself to pay attention to his words.

  ‘That young Pengelly woman told me just the same – though her mistress was displeased with her for taking time to tell me anything. It seems I’m fated to cause problems when I call.’ He gave a conspiratorial grin.

  Blanche turned scarlet. He was talking about Pearl; you could see that from his smile! She said, to cover her embarrassment, ‘Did Effie tell you anything of use?’

  He nodded. ‘One or two leads that I must follow up. She has a friend for instance, who is maid at a large house, I understand – I shall have to find her, though after my experience calling at Mrs Thatchell’s house I am not disposed to seek her out at work.’

  ‘That will be Lettie Pearson!’ she exclaimed, delighted to have real information to impart. ‘If you want to see her, you could find her at the shop – she comes in on a Tuesday with her mistress’s books to change, and she’ll be in uniform.’ Why did she turn scarlet all the time, when she was talking to this man? It was a perfectly sensible suggestion, after all. ‘Or perhaps it would be better to talk to her nearby,’ she amended hastily. ‘My sister . . .’

  He looked at her
gravely. ‘Ah, yes! Your sister Pearl. You think she would object if I came in the shop?’

  Blanche said feebly, ‘She keeps a very close eye on me, of course – she always has. As the elder sister, she feels responsible though sometimes I think she treats me like a child.’ As soon as she had said it, she realized what she’d done – made it clear that she had a personal interest in seeing him again. She wished for a moment that the tearoom floor would open up and swallow her alive. ‘I mean . . . that is . . .’ she trailed off in dismay.

  But Josiah was smiling. ‘My dear Miss Blanche, do I understand aright? I’d thought of suggesting that we might meet again – that you’d come and have another cup of tea with me perhaps, but I wasn’t sure that you’d agree, bearing in mind your sister’s attitude. Do I dare to hope that I was wrong?’

  She was turning that unbecoming shade of red again. ‘I would be very pleased to see you, Mr Broadbent,’ she mumbled awkwardly, though Heaven knew how she was going to deal with Pearl. ‘Merely for a cup of tea of course,’ she added hastily.

  He put on a comic, disappointed face. ‘But I was hoping to buy you buttered toast and jam!’

  She saw that he was teasing and it made her laugh, which helped to stifle her embarrassment. ‘Shall we say tomorrow morning, if I can get away? Or the next day perhaps, since you want to talk to Lettie tomorrow when she comes.’ It occurred to her that she might see him then in any case.

  ‘Wednesday morning, then.’ He was getting to his feet, reaching for his wallet to pay the bill. He walked over to the counter where the waitress was arranging a display of home-made buns. He dropped his voice and murmured something to the girl. Blanche found that she was straining both her ears to hear, but all he said was, ‘Wednesday morning, at about this time of day. Could you reserve that table for us, do you think?’ Then he was back to help her with her coat and walk her up the alleyway towards the town. At the top he left her and she walked home in a dream.

  Pearl was waiting in the doorway of the shop, her mouth pulled downwards in a disapproving frown. ‘Good heavens, Blanche, wherever have you been? You only went to buy a pack of matches, I believe.’

  Blanche looked at her sister, arms akimbo on the step, and something in her gentle soul rebelled. To her own astonishment, she heard herself reply, ‘And so I did, Pearl. Here they are.’ She produced them from her bag. ‘But it was a pleasant morning and I chose to take a stroll. Surely at thirty I am old enough for that?’ And leaving her sister open-mouthed, she walked into the shop.

  Three

  ‘My dear life, Effie! Stop a moment, do! I’ve been chasing after you all the way down Causeway Head.’

  Effie spun around.

  It was Lettie, panting down the hill. ‘Didn’t you see me? I was just across the road. I called out to you, as you were leaving the Westons’ shop.’

  Effie shook her head. It was true of course, the street was full of people, but she’d not seen anyone – especially not Alex, whom she had been looking for! It was quite peculiar – a month or two ago he had been on constant duty near Mrs Thatchell’s house, yet now it seemed as if he’d vanished from the earth. She’d kept a constant eye out but she’d not seen him for days. Of course, it was probably just a change of beat – she knew the roster altered all the time, he’d warned her about that – but she couldn’t help wondering if he’d ever got that note.

  Suppose that Broadbent fellow had forgotten it and Alex had spent hours waiting in the rain, wondering where she was and why she hadn’t come? He might even have supposed that she was a heartless jilt, and had not turned up on purpose – especially after what she’d said to him a month or two ago about the difference in their families.

  But she could not confide her fears to Lettie, who would only laugh and say that she should never have sent the note at all, let alone trust a stranger to deliver it. So she forced herself to give a cheerful smile and say, ‘No, I didn’t hear you. Too much on my mind. I’m in a proper rush-about today. Mrs Thatchell wants a pair of boots resoled – though the Lord alone knows why. She never uses them except to go to church.’ She lifted the cloth cover from the basket on her arm, and showed the brown-paper parcel lying there, under the silks and newly borrowed books. ‘And I want to pop into the butcher’s while I am in town, pay half a crown off Aunt Madge’s bill – shouldn’t really do it, on Mrs Thatchall’s time, but if I leave it till Thursday, I shall miss the horse-bus home. But I’ll have to look sharpish if I’m going to do it now, ’cause I’ll be wanted back.’

  Lettie gave her an old-fashioned look. ‘Haven’t got time to hear my news about your Alex then?’

  Effie was about to say, as usual, ‘He’s not my Alex!’ when it struck her that this time it might be true, so she changed it to, ‘I thought I might have seen him somewhere roundabout, but he’s obviously not on duty in this area today.’

  Lettie chuckled. ‘Won’t be on the beat much longer anyhow, if I am any judge. Friends in high places, that young man has got. The Major’s going to put a word in for him with the Chief of Borough Police – I heard Miss Caroline tell her mother so.’

  Effie sniffed. ‘Well that’s as may be, but it isn’t who you know – or not entirely. It goes on examination nowadays. He’s got to sit one very soon to go up in rank a bit: Constable First Class if he does well in it. And he’s very clever so I expect he will. Came top of all the new recruits the last time round in written work – though another lad just beat him at the marching drill, when they were judged on that.’

  ‘Pity they don’t give awards for riding horses, then.’ Lettie gave a knowing little flounce. ‘He’s marvellous at doing that, or so the Major says. Let him have his best horse when he came last week – and sent a carriage to bring him up for lunch.’

  Effie found that she was nodding, without being certain when she’d trust herself to stop. Last week – that meant Thursday, or she supposed it did. The day that Alex should have been with her! When she was sure that she could control her voice she said, as blithely as she could, ‘I haven’t seen him for a week or two, of course, with my Pa being bad.’

  ‘How’s that then?’ Lettie took a step backwards in surprise, and almost collided with a passing cart. ‘Drat,’ she murmured, brushing down her skirt, ‘I’ll be all over coal-dust if I do not look out. Why do we have to put up with that thing in the street?’

  ‘You ought to be pleased to see him,’ Effie said. ‘There was a time last year, with all those strikes and things, when coal was near impossible to get.’

  ‘But he could control it better!’ Lettie said, dabbing at the imaginary stain. ‘He’s not even bothering to hold the stupid reins!’ She frowned at the coalman as he plodded by.

  ‘Doesn’t need to lead his horse, that’s why! It stops at every customer of its own accord!’ Effie said crossly, rather irritated by the fuss. She had been talking about how Pa was ill. Wasn’t that more important than a bit of dust?

  Her irritation must have been quite obvious, because Lettie said hastily, ‘But you were saying . . . what about your Pa? What happened? Was he taken with a cough?’

  ‘Oh, of course. I forgot you didn’t know! I haven’t seen you since the accident.’

  ‘Accident?’

  ‘There was a bad rock-fall, one man died in it and my Pa hurt his leg – proper performance it has been. Splinted and all sorts, though it’s getting better now and the doctor’s going to come and tighten it, once he thinks the swelling has gone down. So naturally I’ve been down there every chance I got, and I couldn’t have met Alex if I wanted to.’ She tried to make her voice sound casual. ‘When did you see him? Thursday gone, I suppose?’

  ‘It is always a Thursday when he lunches at the house – fits in with his roster, it appears, though now and then he sends to say that he’s got other duties that week and he can’t get away.’

  Effie swallowed. ‘Other duties’ she thought bitterly. Was that how he’d come to think of her? Well, it obviously didn’t matter now. She said, too brightly,
‘Well, good luck to him. I hope that he does well in that exam, that’s all.’

  ‘If he gets promotion, will he earn enough to wed?’ Lettie was looking arch.

  ‘How would I know!’ Effie snapped. ‘We never talked of that. It wasn’t really as if he was my beau. But speaking of admirers, how is your friend Bert?’

  Lettie coloured. ‘He is very well.’

  They had been walking very slowly down along the street and she stepped aside to let the coalman past again, this time carrying a sack of coal across his back. He lifted the lid of the coal hole at the tailor’s shop nearby and began to empty

  the sack into the chute.

  The falling coal made a sudden roaring noise, and Effie had to shout. ‘You’re still walking out with him, I suppose?’

  Lettie leaned across and giggled, saying skittishly, ‘I’ll let you into a secret if you promise not to tell.’

  ‘Of course I wouldn’t!’ Effie forced a laugh. ‘Who do I know that I could talk to anyway?’

  ‘I haven’t even told my Fayther yet,’ Lettie said. ‘Lord knows what he will say. Declare he’s glad to see the back of me, I ’spect!’

  ‘You never mean to say you’re going to leave Penzance?’ The coal stopped rattling halfway through her speech and Effie found that her voice was suddenly too loud and a delivery boy on a bicycle turned round to look at her.

  Lettie put a warning finger to her lips and dropped her voice till she was almost whispering. ‘Not Penzance exactly,’ She gave a little laugh. ‘But I might leave Miss Knight – and serve her right. Bert and me are likely getting wed, what do you think of that?’

  ‘My dear Lettie!’ Effie was truly delighted for her friend. ‘Just what you always wanted! When’s it going to be?’

  ‘Sssh!’ Lettie looked up and down the street. It was full of shoppers but there was no-one nearby, and even the coalman had moved across the road and was delivering opposite, but Lettie still whispered, as if the horse might hear, ‘Don’t talk so loud! I told you – it’s secret, for now at any rate. We haven’t told a soul yet – apart from you – so nothing’s been arranged. Course, when it happens, I’ll be sure and let you know.’