“It was delicious as always,” Bessie assured him.
The trio chatted for a just a minute before Andy had to get back to the kitchen.
“It’s always such a pleasure to see him,” Bessie said after he’d gone. “I’m going to miss him when he’s across.”
“And when you’re in Douglas,” Doona pointed out.
Bessie frowned. “Yes, of course,” she muttered.
Doona insisted on driving Bessie home, even though it wasn’t dark yet. “Let’s sit on the rock and chat,” she suggested when she’d parked.
It seemed a good idea, but the beach was rather crowded with families from the area as well as the people staying in the holiday cottages. Bessie and Doona perched on the large rock and stared down the beach.
“Is it always this loud?” Doona asked after a moment.
Bessie nodded. Several teenagers were playing music on large radios and they seemed to be having a contest to see who could get their machine to play the loudest. Large family groups were having picnics and playing games and seemed to cover nearly every inch of the sand in front of the rental cottages. Several games involving balls and flying discs were taking place, and more than one such object flew past Bessie and Doona as they watched the chaos.
“It can get pretty loud,” Bessie replied as a very tall teenaged boy dashed past them to retrieve a ball. He shouted back at his friends as he threw it in their direction.
“Maybe a month in Douglas isn’t such a bad idea,” Doona said a moment later, after they were both forced to duck when a flying disc whizzed past their heads.
“It’s sounding better all the time,” Bessie replied as a large and grumpy-looking woman stomped over and retrieved her disc. She gave Bessie and Doona a dirty look as she splashed past them on her way back to her family.
“I guess I should have tried to catch it and throw it back to her,” Doona said, shaking her head.
“She needed the exercise,” Bessie whispered in reply.
“This isn’t any fun,” Doona said a moment later, as a group of small children began a game of tip all along the beach around them.
“Let’s go inside,” Bessie suggested, climbing carefully down from her seat. The pair walked quickly up the beach, trying to stay out of the way of the game.
“Okay, I think I’m beginning to see the appeal of the Douglas flat,” Doona said with a laugh as she sank into a chair at the table in Bessie’s kitchen.
“I am rather beginning to think of it as a holiday,” Bessie told her. “You know my life has been quite stressful lately. I think I need a holiday.”
“I’m not going to disagree with that; it’s the strange happenings that are worrying me,” Doona replied. “I still think Bahey should be talking to the police.”
“Maybe,” Bessie said. “But it won’t hurt for me to have a little poke around. I won’t do anything stupid, just talk to the neighbours and maybe the building manager. If I start to suspect that there really is something wrong, I’ll ring the police right away.”
“I want you to ring me every night,” Doona said sternly. “I want daily updates.”
“I think I can manage that,” Bessie said. “Although I hate when you fuss.”
“I’m not fussing,” Doona told her. “I’m just keeping an eye on you.”
And there’s another advantage to the temporary move, Bessie thought. She knew Doona meant well, but her friend had a tendency to treat her like a small child at times.
After Doona left, Bessie got ready for bed slowly. The beach was still noisy, as childish shouts were slowly replaced with more adult party sounds. She settled into bed with a book and read until she felt tired enough to sleep regardless of noise. After a restless few minutes, she slept well.
Tuesday morning was sunny and bright and Bessie enjoyed her morning walk on the beach. The only sour note was the pile of discarded drinks cans and crisp packets and the like that were scattered behind a few of the cottages. Seagulls were diving on and off the sand, chasing down the crumbs that remained in the waste. Surely people ought to know better than to leave such a mess, she thought to herself as she walked.
When she got home, she made a quick call to Thomas Shimmin.
“I know it isn’t your fault,” she told him. “But the beach is covered in rubbish and the gulls are dragging it everywhere. I don’t know what you can do about it, but I thought you should know.”
“I’ll be right over,” he assured her. “I have a very strict clause in my rental agreements about rubbish on the beach. I’ll do a spot inspection and fine anyone who has left a mess, as well as get them to clear it up.”
“I hope they won’t think I put you up to it,” Bessie said worriedly.
“No worries about that,” he replied. “I’ll tell them the Laxey Commissioners have complained. They won’t have any idea what that means.”
Bessie laughed and hung up feeling better. Thomas was a good man and if she ever did decide to sell her cottage, she would give him first refusal. Bessie stayed off the beach for the rest of the morning, concentrating on clearing up a bit of research work that she’d been neglecting. By midday, when she sat down for lunch, the beach was spotless. Mary knocked on her door just as she was finishing the washing up.
“Bessie, how wonderful to see you again,” Mary gushed after she’d given Bessie a hug. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that you might be willing to take some of my furniture for me.”
“I’m not sure about that,” Bessie said cautiously. “You should let me pay rent for it or something.”
Mary laughed. “I wouldn’t have the first idea what to charge you, and anyway, I certainly don’t need the money. Honestly, it’s such a small favour as far as I’m concerned; you really mustn’t worry about it.”
“Maybe you won’t have anything appropriate, anyway,” Bessie said.
“Wait until you see what I have,” Mary said with a smile. “I probably have more than most small furniture stores. You’ll be hard pressed to convince me that none of it will work.”
“The flat isn’t very large,” Bessie said. “I won’t need much and I guess small pieces would be best.”
“George has given me the specifications for the flat,” Mary told her, patting her handbag. “I have a tape measure as well, so we can measure everything and be certain it will fit.”
“You’re very efficient,” Bessie said admiringly.
“I do this with the children all the time,” Mary explained. “Georgie and Diane like to change their house around almost as much as George does. And I’ve already told you that Elizabeth changes her suite almost monthly. It will be so nice to think of someone using the furniture who might actually appreciate it. The children are too spoiled.”
“But how nice for them to not have to worry about buying expensive furniture pieces when they need them,” Bessie commented.
“I’m sure it is,” Mary replied. “But it also means they don’t understand the value of such things, either.” Mary sighed. “But today isn’t about complaining about my children. Are you ready to go?”
“Let me just grab my handbag,” Bessie replied. She stuck her head in the small downstairs loo and checked her hair. It looked fine, but she added a quick coat of lipstick to her lips before grabbing her bag and rejoining Mary.
“All set,” she said.
Mary was driving a large luxury vehicle and Bessie felt rather lost in the huge bucket-style leather seats.
“My goodness, I think this is the most comfortable car I’ve ever sat inside,” she told her friend.
“It is rather nice,” Mary said absently. She pulled away from Bessie’s cottage and headed north.
“I never did ask where you store all of your furniture,” Bessie said.
“There’s a huge facility in Jurby that we use,” Mary replied. “We started with two units and we now have an entire row of six. I told George we aren’t renting any more. We’ll have to start selling or donating some of our things once we fill up t
he last unit.”
Mary took the coast road into Ramsey while the two chatted about Mary’s grandchildren. From there, she headed west across the island and Bessie enjoyed looking at the farmlands and wetlands as a change of scenery.
“I don’t know why there aren’t more direct routes to places on the island,” Mary said as they followed a particularly circuitous road through the countryside.
“I suspect if someone set out to build the roads today, they’d do them very differently, but many of these roads were originally nothing more than paths through the country. In those days no one could have imagined the motor car, let alone planned for it.”
Mary laughed. “I shouldn’t be impatient, I should be enjoying the scenery.”
“And watching for wallabies,” Bessie suggested.
“Pardon?”
“Wallabies,” Bessie repeated. “There’s a small but thriving population of wild wallabies in this part of the island. Apparently a breeding pair escaped from the wildlife park and they and their descendants have been living out here ever since.”
“When did they escape?”
“Sometime around nineteen-seventy,” Bessie replied.
Mary laughed. “I was expecting you to say something considerably more recent. I guess the park has stopped trying to catch them, then.”
“I guess so,” Bessie said. “Last I heard they estimated the population as somewhere around a hundred animals. As far as I know, there aren’t any plans to try to round them up.”
“Now I feel sorry for the ones in the park itself,” Mary said. “I took my oldest grandson to see them the other day, but I didn’t realise they had wild relatives so nearby. I’d love to see them.”
“I gather they’re nocturnal,” Bessie told her. “I don’t know many people who have actually seen them in wild.”
“It’s still quite amazing,” Mary replied. “It makes me happy for some strange reason.”
Bessie smiled. “I’m awfully glad I told you, then.”
A few minutes later they turned down a long and narrow road. As the land was very flat, Bessie felt as if she could see for miles. There seemed to be nothing around anywhere. In the far distance, she could just make out several large single-storey buildings. As they got closer, she saw that each larger building was divided into several smaller, numbered sections. Each section had its own garage-style door.
“Ah, good, Jack’s already here,” Mary said as she pulled up in front of one of the buildings. Bessie looked at the large truck labeled “Island Movers” and swallowed hard. Maybe she was moving sooner than she realised.
Chapter Eight
Bessie followed Mary out of the car. “I didn’t even know this was here,” she told the other woman.
“It’s fairly new, but as everyone in the world tries to accumulate as much as they can, such facilities will be probably start popping up everywhere.”
Bessie nodded. Having “things” seemed to be the trend at the moment, even if the “things” in question were fairly useless or did nothing different from some other things you already had. That was quite different to having lots of books, of course there was absolutely nothing wrong with having lots of books.
“Let’s just start in here and work our way down the row,” Mary suggested, waving towards the first door. “I wish I could say that the units are organised in some way, but they aren’t, and I can’t for the life of me remember what’s in any of them.”
Mary pulled out a ring of keys and flipped through them. Bessie could see that they were all marked. She joined Mary in front of the first door.
“Ah, here we are,” Mary said, holding up a key. She inserted the key into the padlock on the door and unlocked it. One of the men from the moving truck quickly came forward and slid the overhead door up for them. A light flickered on inside the unit and Bessie nearly took a step backwards as she tried to take in the vast quantity of furniture that was crammed into the small space.
“There is rather a lot,” Mary said, her tone apologetic.
Bessie shook her head. “Most of these pieces look like antiques,” she said. “I can’t possibly borrow anything this valuable.”
Mary stepped forward and then wandered back and forth, looking into the room. “I think this is all the furniture from George’s mum’s place,” she said eventually. “That would make sense, since we moved back over here to look after her when she was, well, rather ill. We stayed with her for a short while, and then, when she passed away, we bought our house. George didn’t want to use any of this furniture in our new place, so we put it all in storage.”
“I see. Well, it simply wouldn’t do for me to borrow it then, would it?” Bessie asked.
Mary shrugged. “You’re more than welcome to it,” she said. “Especially that armoire at the back. I really hate that armoire.”
Bessie looked at the piece and laughed. “It is somewhat, well, ornate,” she said. “I’d rather not borrow it, thanks anyway.”
Mary nodded. “I keep trying to get one of the boys to take it. I keep hoping that their kids will destroy it. It was one of George’s mum’s favourite pieces, of course, so we can’t just get rid of it.”
Bessie looked again at the overly decorated piece. “It really isn’t to my taste,” she told Mary.
“That’s because you have taste,” Mary replied with a laugh. “Let’s move on; there will be more suitable things here somewhere.”
An hour later, Bessie was exhausted, but it seemed like Mary was just getting started. They had made it as far as the fourth unit and Mary plunged inside while Bessie looked hopelessly at the two moving men.
“You must be bored paralytic,” she remarked.
“I never complain about getting paid to stand around,” one of them told Bessie.
Bessie flushed. She hadn’t even thought about it, but of course they were getting paid, and since Bessie was the one moving, she would be the one paying their bill. She strode purposefully into the unit, determined to find what she needed and put the men to work.
“Here, Bessie, what about this?” Mary called from the back of the room.
Bessie carefully picked her way through the packed piles of furniture and boxes until she found her friend.
Mary was standing in front of a three-piece suite in a sandy brown colour that Bessie instantly loved.
“Sit down and see how it feels,” Mary suggested.
Bessie sank down on the sofa and sighed. It was even more comfortable than it looked. “It’s wonderful,” she said.
“I remember it being rather nice,” Mary said. “We had it in the little sitting room off the master bedroom suite. I can’t think why we got rid of it. It must have been when we had the new carpets laid. George insisted we replace all of the furniture when the new carpets were put in.”
“I can’t imagine getting rid of this lovely couch,” Bessie told her.
“There are matching tables and lamps,” Mary said. “I’ll have them load up the lot.”
“Are you sure?” Bessie asked. The reality of the situation seemed to hit her suddenly and she felt very nervous about borrowing all of the beautiful and undoubtedly expensive furniture.
“You’re doing me a favour,” Mary insisted. “I hate the thought of it all just sitting here going to waste. If you do decide to buy the flat, you can purchase it from us or I’ll take it all back, whatever you like, but for now, while you’re just renting, there’s no point in buying lots of furniture, is there?”
“If I do decide to buy it, I’ll have to move my furniture from the cottage there,” Bessie told her.
“Oh, I guess I thought you’d keep the cottage anyway,” Mary said.
Bessie smiled. “I can’t pay for the flat if I don’t sell the cottage,” she pointed out gently.
“Oh, of course,” Mary said, her cheeks turning pink. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
For a moment Bessie wondered how it would feel to be rich enough to have storage units full of furniture and th
e ability to buy a spare flat or two just because you wanted them. She shook her head. She wasn’t rich, but she was definitely comfortable and from everything she’d seen in life, extra money brought a lot of extra troubles.
She and Mary made their way out of the unit and the two movers headed in. While they carefully loaded the suite, with its matching tables and lamps, onto their truck, Mary and Bessie moved on to the next unit.
There, Mary found a small bedroom set that was perfect for the cosy bedroom in the flat. “There’s a bed frame, two chests of drawers, a bedside table and a wardrobe,” Mary showed Bessie. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s perfect,” Bessie said, admiring the solid oak furniture. “I just hope there’s room for it all.”
Mary took out her measuring tape and measured the pieces, making careful notes. Then she pulled out the specifications for the flat. On a piece of scrap paper, she quickly sketched the room with the furniture in two different arrangements.
“It would all fit if you arranged it either of these ways,” she told Bessie, showing her the drawings. “Or you could do something else altogether.”
“You’re very good at this,” Bessie said. “I think that’s perfect.” She pointed to one of the sketches, which seemed to best suit the room’s layout.
“That would be my choice,” Mary agreed. “You’ll get the best light from the window if you do it that way.”
The movers had joined them and now Mary pointed out which pieces to take, giving one of the men her sketch. “This is how it should be arranged in the flat,” she told him.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
Bessie and Mary moved out of the way while the two men got to work.
“That isn’t a bad dining table,” Mary said, pointing to a small table near the door. “It has four chairs that match. I think it used to be in one of the children’s rooms, although it is full-sized.”
“It looks just right,” Bessie agreed. She couldn’t help but feel as if she should have simply stayed at home and let Mary furnish the flat for her. Not only did Mary have wonderful taste, Bessie didn’t feel as if she should argue since Mary was doing her such a large favour in lending her the pieces in the first place.
Aunt Bessie Finds Page 12
