Aunt Bessie Finds

by Diana Xarissa

  “Thank you so much for coming,” Bessie replied. “I hope we can get to know each other better, over time.”

  Tammara gave Bessie an awkward hug as she walked the pair to the door. Bessie pulled it open, startling a woman who was standing on the other side.

  “Oh, my goodness,” she gasped, looking from Bessie to the others and then back at Bessie.

  “Hello, Annabelle,” Simon said brightly. “Bessie, this is Annabelle Hopkins. She lives in number three.”

  He grabbed Tammara’s hand and the pair quickly disappeared into the lift, leaving Bessie with the last of the neighbours whom she hadn’t met before.

  “It’s very nice to meet you,” she said politely.

  “Yes, well, that was very rude of young Simon,” Annabelle said sniffily. “Fancy rushing off like that.”

  “Apparently he and Tammara had plans for the evening,” Bessie explained.

  “At least that’s what they told you,” Annabelle said. She looked down her nose at Bessie, no easy feat as she was only an inch or two taller than Bessie’s five foot three.

  Bessie forced herself to smile, an effort aided by the quantity of wine that she’d already drunk. “I’ve no reason to doubt them,” she said with a shrug. “But do come in and have a drink and something to eat,” she invited.

  “Oh, yes, well, I can’t stay long,” the woman answered. She strode into the flat, leaving Bessie to follow behind her. Bessie shut the door slowly. The newest arrival was almost as thin as Ruth Ansel, and looked even more miserable. Bessie wondered if she too had come to the island to escape from the demands of her adult children.

  Back in the flat, Annabelle was shaking her head firmly at Doona. After a moment, Doona looked up at Bessie and shrugged. Bessie reluctantly joined the pair.

  “Ms. Hopkins prefers a different brand of gin for her gin and tonics,” Doona said in carefully measured tones.

  “Ah, that is unfortunate,” Bessie said, suppressing a deep sigh. “Perhaps you’d like something else, then?”

  Annabelle shook her head. “I’ll just have plain water, please. I assume you have something bottled.”

  Bessie forced herself to smile. Thanks to Mary, she had a ridiculous selection of different bottled waters for the disagreeable woman to choose from.

  “What sort do you prefer?” she asked. There was no way she was going to list all of the options, only to have the woman claim the only one she drank wasn’t on the list.

  Annabelle pressed her lips together for a moment and then named an obscure and very expensive brand, giving Bessie a triumphant smile.

  “Actually, we do have that,” Bessie replied, turning her head so that the disagreeable woman wouldn’t see the smile that rose to her own lips. Bessie dug around in the refrigerator until she found the right bottle.

  “Would you prefer a glass tumbler, rather than plastic?” Bessie asked. She herself preferred water in a glass container.

  “Yes, thank you,” Annabelle replied, looking somewhat defeated.

  Bessie got down a tumbler and then poured half of the contents of the bottle into it. “I’ll just leave this in the refrigerator for when you want more,” she told Annabelle.

  “Thank you,” the other woman murmured, taking a sip.

  Bessie ignored the face the woman made, taking a moment to refill her own wine glass. She took a large sip, feeling as if she’d earned it.

  “There’s plenty of food,” Doona suggested to Annabelle.

  “Oh, no, thank you,” the woman replied. “I never eat food I haven’t prepared myself.”

  “Do you have allergies?” Doona asked.

  “No,” was the woman’s reply.

  Bessie bit back a dozen replies before Bertie interrupted.

  “Ah, Bessie, my dear, I’m having such a good time,” he said, fixing himself another gin and tonic. “You’re going to be an interesting addition to this building, I can tell.”

  “Bessie, I’m sorry to interrupt, but we have to be going,” Marjorie told her. “Liz’s husband has just rung and there’s some small crisis at their house.”

  Bessie gave each woman a hug. “I hope everything’s okay,” she said anxiously to Liz.

  “We’re potty training,” Liz replied, rolling her eyes. “Dear hubby hasn’t quite figured it all out yet. I’m sure there’s just been another accident on the couch or something, but he’s in a panic, so home I go.”

  Bessie showed the pair out, sorry to see them leave. Now Doona and Mary were the only people at the party from outside the building. Bessie didn’t want her new neighbours to think she was lacking in friends. It was a shame that John Rockwell and Hugh were both away, she thought as she rejoined the group. She’d invited a handful of other friends as well, but it seemed like nearly everyone she knew was on holiday off the island at the moment.

  She wandered back into the party. “When I went to my postbox earlier, I had some letters addressed to Hilary Montgomery,” she said to no one in particular. “Does anyone know who that is?”

  “Hilary?” Bertie asked. “She had this flat before Linda, but she passed on well over a year ago. Why on earth would she still be getting post here?”

  “Advertisements keep coming forever,” Annabelle said. “I still get catalogues addressed to the woman who used to have my flat and I’ve lived there for two years now.”

  “These weren’t catalogues, though,” Bessie said. “It was proper post, letters with stamps. Some of them looked quite important.”

  “You should ask Nigel about them,” Ruth suggested. “He and Hilary were quite close.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Muriel said. “They were friends, that’s all.”

  “What happened to her?” Bessie asked, interrupting Ruth before she could reply.

  “She had a heart attack, didn’t she?” Ruth asked. “I’m sure that’s what Nigel told me.”

  “I know she died suddenly,” Muriel said. “But I can’t remember what happened exactly.”

  “It was pneumonia,” Bertie said. “She was fine one day and then she started coughing and two days later she was gone.”

  “I don’t remember her coughing,” Ruth said, shaking her head. “I think you’re confusing her with that woman who lived in number five for a few weeks. She was always coughing every time I saw her.”

  “Oh, her,” Annabelle said with a frown. “She was terribly ill, I think. I tried to speak to her once about the amount of noise she was making in the corridor, and she was very rude to me.”

  “Who needs another drink?” Doona asked loudly. Several people rushed towards her with their nearly empty glasses, leaving Bessie alone with Annabelle Hopkins.

  “Do you know anything about the mirror that seems to move around the building?” Bessie asked her.

  Annabelle shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Bessie thought about explaining, but decided against it. “My welcome mat keeps flipping over,” she said instead. “Any idea who might be wandering around at night playing little pranks on us?”

  “Perhaps you’re imagining things,” Annabelle replied tightly. “I can’t imagine that any of us have the time or energy to play pranks on one another.”

  Bessie didn’t argue; it didn’t seem worth it. Bertie wandered over to join them, a very full drink in his hand. It didn’t stay full for long, though. He took a large swallow and then nodded at Annabelle.

  “It’s nice to see you again,” he said. “You’ve been rather busy lately, haven’t you?”

  “I’m always busy,” Annabelle replied. “I prefer to keep busy and active. Idle hands, you know.”

  “Yes, well, there is something to be said for enjoying one’s retirement,” Bertie suggested.

  “I didn’t particularly want to retire,” Annabelle said. “I thoroughly enjoyed working and I’d go back tomorrow if there was a position open that suited me.”

  Bertie laughed. “Not me,” he said firmly. “Oh, I didn’t mind working, when I had to
do it. But the day they said I could retire, I was happy to get out.”

  “I’m curious,” Bessie said, as the conversation seemed to stop. “How long has flat five been empty?”

  “I’m not sure it is empty,” Annabelle told Bessie. “I know I hear noises coming from there once in a while and I’m sure I’ve heard the door open and close late at night. I suspect someone is using it as a little love nest for late night meetings that his wife doesn’t know about.”

  Bessie immediately thought of George Quayle, and then gave herself a mental shake. He couldn’t possibly be cheating on Mary. She glanced around to see where Mary was, but she was busy again in the kitchen and hadn’t overheard Annabelle’s comment.

  “But you’ve never seen anyone going in or out?” Bessie asked.

  “No,” Annabelle admitted. “But that doesn’t change the fact that someone is.”

  “Of course not,” Bessie replied.

  “Ah, is that the time?” Ruth said loudly. “I really must be going.” She headed for the door, leaving Bessie to rush after her to thank her for coming.

  “Oh, it was a lovely party,” Ruth replied. “Next time I’ll make sure I bring something with me that I can eat.”

  “Couldn’t you find anything?” Bessie asked.

  “Oh, there were a few things I might have tried,” Ruth said. “But I simply wasn’t sure. I’ve so many allergies and intolerances, it’s simply easier to not eat.”

  “You should have given me a list of things you can eat,” Bessie said. “Then I could have made sure I had something for you. I’ll do that next time.”

  “Oh, I’d hate to have you fuss over me,” Ruth replied, before striding off down the corridor.

  No, it’s easier to wait until it’s too late and then complain, Bessie thought to herself as she returned to the party. It seemed as if things were suddenly winding down.

  “Why don’t we walk down to the café on the corner and have a cuppa?” Muriel was asking Bertie.

  “After all that gin and tonic?” Bertie replied. “No, I think I’m overdue for a nap.”

  Muriel frowned at him, but he ignored her, turning to thank Bessie instead.

  “Great party, great gin,” he said. “Make sure you invite me to the next one.”

  “I certainly will,” Bessie promised. It was an easy promise to make, as she had no intention of having another party, at least not in this flat.

  Muriel followed Bertie to the door. “I guess I should be going as well,” she said. “Thank you for a lovely time.”

  “You’re very welcome,” Bessie replied.

  As Bessie shut the door behind them, she could hear Muriel trying again to persuade Bertie to spend some time with her. She sighed and returned to the flat.

  “That was a deep sigh,” Doona said.

  “Muriel’s trying so hard to get Bertie to do something with her and he just wants to have a nap,” Bessie explained.

  “I don’t understand women,” Bahey said. “Chasing after men like they can’t live without them.”

  Howard chuckled. “I certainly know better than that,” he said, slipping his arm around Bahey. “You’ve made it very clear you can live without me. That’s part of why I worked so hard to persuade you to let me into your life.”

  Bahey flushed. “This dating thing is stupid, anyway,” she said defensively. “I don’t think I’ll ever get the hang of it.”

  “I hope you don’t,” Howard told her. “I’m hoping you’ll just stick with me.”

  “That’s my plan at the moment,” Bahey replied, briefly resting her head on Howard’s shoulder. “But I’m not making any promises.”

  Bessie laughed.

  “Anyway, as nice as this has been, we have to get going,” Bahey told Bessie. “Howard has to ring his daughter and then we have dinner plans.”

  “Thank you for coming,” Bessie said. “We need to get together soon to talk about things.” Mary’s presence in the kitchen meant that Bessie didn’t want to discuss Bahey’s concerns at the moment.

  “Maybe you could stop over tomorrow morning,” Bahey suggested. “Come after your walk, at nine, maybe, and have breakfast with me.”

  “I’d like that,” Bessie agreed. That should give her plenty of time to think about everything that she’d heard at the party.

  After they left, Doona and Bessie helped Mary pack up nearly all of the food that remained. Bessie rang a friend who worked for one of the island’s charities for the homeless. He was delighted to learn that Mary would be dropping off several large boxes of food.

  Mary called her driver and he carried all of the boxes down to her car. Then Mary gave Bessie a huge hug. “Thank you for helping me get rid of everything,” she told Bessie. “We must have lunch next week. I’ll ring you.”

  Mary was gone before Bessie could do much more than mutter a reply. Back in her flat, Bessie and Doona stood and looked at the table that held the drinks.

  “What are you going to do with all of this?” Doona asked.

  “I have no idea,” Bessie said with a laugh. “They don’t encourage drinking at the homeless shelters, but it will take me a dozen years to drink all of this.”

  “Maybe you should have another party.”

  Bessie shook her head. “I think I need some time to recover from this one first,” she replied.

  “Well, as it’s Saturday, and I don’t have to work tomorrow, I suppose I could help you get through a bottle or two tonight, as long as I can sleep it off on your couch.”

  “I don’t know how comfortable the couch is for sleeping,” Bessie replied. “But I’d love it if you’d like to stay. This place doesn’t really feel like home, at least not yet.”

  Doona sat down on the couch and then lay down across it. “It’s pretty darn comfortable,” she said as she sat up. “I don’t think I’ll have any trouble sleeping, especially after a few drinks.”

  The knock on the door startled Bessie. She pulled it open and tried her hide her surprise as she greeted the man on the doorstep.

  “Mr. Green, how kind of you to stop by,” she said.

  “I was gonna try to get up here earlier,” he said. “But I got busy with stuff. Anyway, if the party isn’t over, I brought mum up as well.” He nodded towards the lift, and Bessie could see the wheelchair inside it.

  “Oh, good heavens, bring her in,” Bessie exclaimed. “Most people have left, but there’s still plenty of food and lots of drink.”

  Nigel looked as if he was going to say something, but after a moment he turned and walked over to the lift. He pulled the wheelchair from the lift and turned it around, pushing it towards Bessie’s door.

  “Hello, Mrs. Green,” Bessie said when they’d reached her. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

  The woman in the chair blinked and gave Bessie a blank look. She was covered in blankets, leaving only her head visible, but Bessie got the impression of a very small and frail woman. She had long grey hair that was matted and tangled as if it hadn’t been brushed or washed in many months. Her eyes were seemingly unfocussed as they gazed towards Bessie.

  Bessie ushered the pair into her flat. She quickly introduced Doona to the new arrivals. “There’s a lot of food left; just give me a minute and I’ll put some out,” she told Nigel.

  “Oh, I’m fine,” he told her. “I just wanted to stop by and make sure that you felt welcome in your new home, that’s all. I can’t stay long. Mum will need her nap.”

  Bessie smiled. “Well, at least have a drink,” she suggested. She gestured towards the “bar” and watched Nigel’s face.

  “Wow, that’s some selection,” he said with an excited look on his face. “I suppose I could have one drink.”

  Doona joined him at the table and the two began to discuss the choices. Bessie took advantage of the opportunity to try to talk with Margaret Green.

  “Mrs. Green, it’s very nice to meet you,” she began again.

  The other woman tipped her head and looked at Bessie. After a momen
t, she grunted.

  Figuring that was all the encouragement she was going to get, Bessie continued. “I understand you moved to the island from across. I do hope you’re enjoying life here.”

  After a moment, the other woman nodded slowly.

  “I understand you sometimes sit in the foyer; perhaps you’d like me to take you for a walk one day,” Bessie suggested.

  “Oh, mum can’t walk,” Nigel called, walking over to join them. He had a tall drink in his hand, but Bessie couldn’t guess what was in it.

  “I thought I could push her chair,” Bessie told him.

  “Oh, well, I don’t know,” the man replied, doubt in his voice. “Mum likes to stay close to me, don’t you, mum?”

  The woman in the chair definitely shook her head, which made Bessie smile. “Everyone likes a change of scenery once in a while,” she told Nigel. “We should plan something soon.”

  “Yes, well, we’ll see,” he replied cautiously.

  “I was going to ask you about Hilary Montgomery,” Bessie said.

  “What about her?” Nigel asked, looking nervous.

  “There was some post for her in my postbox,” Bessie explained. “I didn’t know what to do with it.”

  “Oh, that sort of thing happens all the time,” Nigel said. He took a long sip of his drink. “Just leave it in the box or give it to me and I’ll talk to the postman the next time I see him.”

  Bessie nodded. “Did you say that number five is empty?” she asked. “One of the guests said she sometimes heard noises coming from there.”

  Nigel frowned. “People should mind their own business more,” he said grumpily. “The flat belongs to someone. What they choose to do with it is their business.”

  Bessie shrugged. “I guess people are just curious,” she replied.

  “Curiosity killed the cat,” Nigel replied.

  The woman in the chair made a noise that had everyone looking at her.

  “What’s that, mum?” Nigel asked.

  She made another noise, but Bessie couldn’t make words out of the sounds.