“Okay, but we’ll need somewhere to stay and I’ll need someone to feed Muffins.”
“I’ll get Mum to pop in and feed the cat after all she’s only next door so it won’t be any bother.”
Jackie picked up her mobile phone and looked for accommodation. “Brilliant. There’s a hotel in the village and it has vacancies. Shall I book us a twin room? It’d be cheaper than two singles.”
“That’s fine with me if you don’t mind sharing.”
“Of course I don’t mind sharing.” She laughed. “It might raise a few eyebrows. On the other hand the people who run the hotel will probably think you’re my dad.”
Norman chuckled. “Granddad more like.”
The chance of anyone thinking the two were related was very slim. Norman had blue eyes, he was tall, overweight, clean shaven and white haired. Jackie on the other hand was petite. She had short spikey jet black hair, multiple ear piercings and tattoos on her fingers. Her eyes were brown and she looked younger than her twenty-two years.
Norman and Jackie arrived in Pentrillick just after eight o’clock on Friday evening and after they had booked into the hotel they took a walk through the village hopeful of finding the Crown and Anchor, a pub of which Jackie had read details on her phone. On the way they passed the Old Bakehouse and noticed that the estate agent’s board outside indicated the property was for sale and under offer.
“Hey, this is probably where your dad did his baking many years ago,” said Jackie, pausing to peer in through a downstairs window, “it looks pretty rundown and creepy.”
Norman stepped out onto the road to get a better view of the property. “You could well be right and if you are, I wonder how long ago it stopped being a bakery.”
“Be interesting to find out.”
Norman stepped back onto the pavement. “Can you see anything through there?”
“Not really. There’s a net curtain in the way and the only bit I can see through is at the end where it doesn’t quite meet the wall.” Jackie moved to another window but again her view was obstructed by another net curtain.
“Well, hopefully someone in the pub will be able to tell us a bit about the old place.”
They resumed their walk.
“Providing we can find the pub,” giggled Jackie, “there’s no sign of it yet.”
“Be patient,” laughed Norman, “we’ve only come a few yards.”
They eventually found the Crown and Anchor at the far end of the village on the left hand side of the road opposite a narrow lane.
“Cool,” shrieked Jackie, as she opened the pub door, “you must be able to see the beach out the back. A pint of lager while watching the sea sounds right up my street.”
“In the summer maybe but not on a chilly evening in September.”
Inside the pub, Tess Dobson was working in the bar alongside licensees Ashley and Alison Rowe. Norman asked Tess for two pints of lager.
“I wonder, umm, do you know anything about the Old Bakehouse?” he inquired, as Tess placed the full glasses on the bar, “I see it’s for sale and I’m curious to know how long ago it used to be a bakery.”
“It hasn’t been a bakery in my lifetime,” Tess conceded, “and as far as I know it stopped selling bread back in 1958.”
Norman handed Tess a ten pound note. “Two years after I was born then, that is a long time. Any idea what happened to the chap who was the baker back in those days? I have reason to believe his name was Joseph Percival Williams.”
“Yes, that’s right. We all knew him as Joe but sadly he’s no longer with us.” Tess handed Norman his change.
“Not surprised about that as I daresay he’d be a ripe old age if he were still alive.”
“Well, he did live to a good age. He was ninety-nine and lots of us thought he’d make it to a hundred and we planned to get a birthday card sent to him from the Queen. It’s funny you should be asking about him though because he only passed away the other day and his funeral is next Monday.”
“Are you alright, Norman?” Jackie asked as Tess moved on to serve the next customer, “You’ve gone awfully pale.” Jackie took Norman’s arm and guided him towards a table near to closed French doors which led out onto a sun terrace. She then fetched the two glasses of lager from the bar.
“I can’t believe he was still alive until a few days ago.” Norman picked up his glass and took several gulps, “If only I’d known about him earlier I could have met him, if he wanted to meet me, that is. Now it’s too late. Although if I’m honest I didn’t in my wildest dreams expect him still to be alive anyway.”
“We must stay for an extra couple of days,” Jackie was touched by the tears welling in Norman’s eyes, “and we’ll go to his funeral. At least there you might learn something about him. Someone might even have a picture and if not there’s bound to be one on the order of service thing.”
As Tess served the next customer, she suddenly began to wonder why the chap who bought two lagers and who she had never seen before had wanted to know about the Old Bakehouse and Joe in particular. So when Hetty approached the bar Tess told her of the request and nodded over to the table where Norman and Jackie sat.
“Hmm,” mused Hetty, instantly intrigued, “leave it with me, Tess and I’ll see if I can find out who they are.”
After purchasing two glasses of wine, Hetty approached the table in question.
“Sorry to bother you but the lady behind the bar just told me that you were asking about Joe Williams and the Old Bakehouse. I didn’t know the gentleman because I’ve not lived in the village very long but I do know a bit about the bakehouse because my nephew and his wife are in the throes of buying it.”
Norman’s face lit up. “I’d love to hear anything you can tell me. Anything at all.”
“Then come and sit with us. We’re over by the fire.”
As they reached the table and took their seats, Hetty rested her hand on Lottie’s shoulder.
“I’m Hetty by the way and this is my twin sister, Lottie,”
“I’m Norman and this young lady is my next door neighbour and good friend, Jackie.”
Hetty frowned. “Norman, not Norman Williams by any chance?”
“Well, actually, yes, I am.”
“Good heavens, so you must be Joe and Eve’s boy.”
Norman’s jaw dropped. “You know about me then?”
“Only since your father died,” admitted Lottie, “before that we knew nothing about the Old Bakehouse or its history. We hadn’t even heard of Joe.”
The sisters then proceeded to tell Norman how his mother had left his father allegedly for someone else when he was just a little boy of two and how after their departure Joe never baked another loaf again and eventually went to work at Pentrillick House.
“So did he continue to live in the Old Bakehouse?” Jackie asked.
Hetty nodded. “Yes, he died there in fact and was discovered by Karen and Nicki who work in the hairdressing salon next door. They knew something was wrong because his little dog kept barking. They went inside and found him dead in his bed.”
“So he died in his sleep,” sighed Norman, “at least that’s a nice way to go.”
Jackie looked alarmed. “What happened to the little dog?”
“I’m not sure,” admitted Hetty, “Perhaps someone from the solicitors’ office is looking after him until a new home can be found.”
“I heard it was one of the executors,” said Lottie, “whoever they might be.”
Jackie looked at her next door neighbour. “Well whatever, you must have him, Norman. It’ll be nice for you to have company now your mum’s gone.”
“Yeah, maybe. I’ll look into it although I doubt if Muffins will be impressed and really it might be best if the poor dog stayed in the village.”
“Muffins?” queried Hetty.
“Norman’s cat,” Jackie replied.
“I see.”
“So going back to your family, I assume your mother came from down here,”
surmised Lottie.
Norman nodded. “Yes, that’s right. Her maiden name was Johns.”
“Any idea if she had any siblings and if so might they still be living?”
“She had a sister called Alice who I believe was the younger of the two. They weren’t close, in fact as far as I know they’ve not seen each other for donkey’s years and I’ve never even met her. They did exchange Christmas cards though and Aunt Alice used to send me money for my birthday when I was young. I believe she’s still alive because Mum definitely had a card from her last Christmas.”
“Really! Any idea where your aunt lives?” Lottie asked.
“Yes, in Porthleven wherever that might be.”
“Porthleven, that’s near Helston so not far from here.”
“In which case I suppose I ought to look her up and tell her that Mum’s dead because no-one else will have told her.”
“She might like to come to your dad’s funeral as well,” suggested Jackie, thoughtfully, “after all, years ago Joe would have been her brother-in-law.”
“By the looks of it he still was ‘til the day he died because Mum and Joe were never divorced: of that I’m one hundred percent certain.”
Chapter Four
On Monday afternoon the church in Pentrillick filled up rapidly as mourners gathered to bid farewell to the village’s oldest resident; after the service they made their way to the Crown and Anchor where the executors of Joe’s will had made arrangements for a buffet to be laid on. However, before Norman and Jackie left the churchyard they looked along the rows of graves hoping to find the final resting place for Joe’s parents and any other members of the Williams family from back along. It was Jackie who found their graves alongside a drystone wall. While Norman slowly read the inscriptions on his grandparents’ tombstones, Jackie looked further along the row. When she spotted another grave marked Williams she stopped and then called out to Norman. “This must be where your father’s younger brother is buried. The one Hetty and Lottie told us about who was killed during the war when he was just a teenager.”
“And he’d have been my uncle, not that I would ever have known him even if we’d have stayed here as he died quite a few years before I was born.” Norman sighed. “I wonder what he was like. I wonder what they were all like.”
Not far away were the graves of Eve’s parents, Betty and Cyril Johns. Norman was overcome with emotion. “Mum’s mum and dad. Joe’s mum and dad, all buried here and I never knew any of them. Or at least I did when a tot but being just two when we left I don’t remember them. I can’t believe that my roots are here in a village which until a few days ago I’d never even heard of. I feel quite moved by it all but it’s nice in a way because it gives me a sense of belonging.”
Jackie linked her arm through his. “Don’t be miserable, Norm. I’m sure your mum had her reasons for leaving and although we’ll probably never know what they were I’m sure she had your best interest at heart.”
“Yes, I suppose so but why did she never tell me the truth? I can understand as a child but not in these recent years. And why didn’t she tell me after Oscar died? I mean he wasn’t my dad but she let me go on believing he was.”
“I suppose she didn’t want to upset you,” Jackie chuckled. “Anyway, whatever, you can say with hand on heart that you’re a Cornishman now. You couldn’t say that a few weeks ago.”
That made Norman smile. “Yes, both my parents were Cornish so I really am a Cornishman. Fancy that. I’d better start practising the accent.”
He noticed Jackie wince when he attempted the dialect. “Okay, perhaps not then.”
As they walked away from the graves of Eve’s parents they passed by an area where small headstones, close together and relatively new, predominantly occupied a patch of ground.
Norman stopped walking. “This must be where peoples’ ashes are buried. “Do you think Mum would like it if I brought her here? After all this is where she came from and her parents are here.”
“I think that’s a lovely idea. Much better than her being on the shelf in your pantry.”
Norman chuckled. “Yes, not the best of places to rest. I must have a word with the vicar if he’s in the pub. I can’t see as there would be any objections because her roots are here and she was married in this church. Probably even baptised here too. Joe might not be too glad to see her back though but this spot is quite a distance from where he’s buried so if they were prone to argue a lot they’ll be far enough apart.”
Inside the Crown and Anchor, Hetty, Lottie, their friend, Debbie, and Kitty sat around a table near to the piano sipping wine and discussing the funeral. “I suppose Norman will be entitled to proceeds from the sale of the Old Bakehouse,” Kitty glanced at the door as he entered the bar with Jackie, “after all I don’t think he has any other living relatives.”
“We did mention that to him,” said Hetty, “but he seemed reluctant to do anything about it. He said if his father chose to leave him anything then he’d be grateful but he wasn’t prepared to poke his nose in as Joe may well have left everything to someone he’s not aware of. What’s more, Norman doesn’t think Joe knew where he and Eve were living as there had never been any correspondence between him and his mother. Not that he’s aware of anyway.”
“So, is Norman paying for the funeral?” Debbie glanced across the bar to where Norman and Jackie were now chatting to Vicar Sam.
Lottie shook her head. “No, he looked into it apparently and was told by the solicitors handling the will that payment will come out of the estate.”
“I wonder which solicitors are handling it,” Kitty mused.
“You know who they are but I can’t remember what they’re called,” said Hetty, “Remember, they have an office in Penzance where Kyle works.”
“Of course, silly me. That’s how you got to know who the estate agents were.”
“That’s right and hopefully Kyle will be able to give us a few updates as regards the will.”
Lottie tutted. “No he won’t, Het. That really would be out of order.”
Kitty looked around at the people gathered. “Is Norman’s aunt here? You said he was going to tell her about the funeral.”
Hetty shook her head. “Sadly not. He and Jackie went to see her on Saturday but apparently she has a nasty cough and so didn’t want to ruin the service which is understandable. Norman said they didn’t stay long because it was hard for her to talk and he didn’t want Jackie to catch the cold but he’s promised to come back to Cornwall again soon and see her then. I think they got on quite well so it’ll be nice for him to know that he actually has a living family member down here.”
“Who is that young woman with Norman?” Kitty nodded towards Jackie, “I mean, surely she’s not his girlfriend.”
Hetty smothered a smile. “No, of course not. Apparently, they live next door to each other and Jackie, that’s her name, used to pop in and help Norman with his mother Eve in the last few months of her life. She lives with her parents and the families have always got on well. Jackie told us she’s known Norman for quite a few years now.”
“So if Norman and his late mother live next door to Jackie, and Norman and Jackie are neighbours, does that mean Norman still lived with his parents until his mum died?” Debbie asked.
Hetty laughed. “You make it sound really confusing, but yes, that’s right.”
“So Norman has never married?”
“No, and as he’s sixty-two now it looks like he’s a confirmed bachelor.”
“Seems a bit odd to still be living with his parents when in his sixties though, don’t you think?” Debbie recalled how she had craved independence when several decades younger than Norman.
“Well I suppose if they all got on alright there wouldn’t have been any reason for him to move away and Norman’s father, or should I say the man he always thought was his father, died several years ago anyway.” Hetty laughed, “What’s more, he probably didn’t want to forgo his mum’s cooking.”
“Yes, she was Eve and she died a few weeks back.”
Debbie tutted. “Well whatever, I think it was very cruel of this Eve woman never to have told Norman who his real father was.”
Hetty nodded. “I’m inclined to agree because had she done so Joe and Norman could have met up. Kitty reckons they’re quite alike in looks and manner, don’t you Kitty?”
“Very much so and of course I knew Joe when he was the same age as Norman.”
“Poor Joe,” sighed Debbie, thinking of the erstwhile baker, “So he died all alone knowing that he had a son out there somewhere but he knew nothing of his whereabouts or even if he was still alive.”
“He also had another child,” Lottie reminded them, “don’t forget about the baby born to his first wife who was adopted when a few weeks old.”
“Good point,” acknowledged Hetty, “I wonder if he or she knows anything of his or her biological parents.”
When the October edition of the Pentrillick Gazette came out, villagers were astounded to read an announcement by the executors of Joe Williams’ will. It read as follows –
We, the executors of the last will and testament of the late Joseph Percival Williams hereby let it be known as instructed by said Joseph Percival Williams that one calendar month after a buyer has begun proceedings to purchase the Old Bakehouse, Pentrillick in the County of Cornwall, that an advertisement shall be placed in the Pentrillick Gazette and other local newspapers requesting all offspring of said Joseph Percival Williams, be they legitimate or illegitimate, put forth their names to partake in a share of the final sum, after expenses, raised from the sale of the Old Bakehouse and other monies included in the estate. Applicants shall be required to take a DNA test to prove authenticity. As instructed the closing date for claims shall be at midnight on the last day of the month, approximately six weeks after completion of sale; therefore, said date and time is to be midnight on the thirtieth day of November 2018. Applicants must apply in person to Tremayne, Watts and Braithwaite, Solicitors, Trevithick Rd. Penzance.
The Old Bakehouse Page 3
