The Old Bakehouse

by Daphne Neville

  “If you don’t mind I’ll come back and do the other one on Monday,” said Eric, “because it could be another hour or so before Basil’s been and taken this one away and I can’t start the other because there’s not enough room.”

  “Yes, I’m sorry about that. We should have moved it before you got here. Bill and Zac put one in front of the other to give me room to decorate and we’ve never bothered to separate them. They’re both working at the moment and I don’t think I could move it.”

  “No, you mustn’t and it’d be unwise for me to try as well,” admitted Eric, “I pulled a muscle in my back the other day and I don’t want to make it any worse. But not to worry, I’m happy to come back another day.”

  “Are you sure? Of course sod’s law, normally Basil would be here doing the kitchen but he tries to avoid working on a Saturday if he can.”

  “I don’t blame him. Everyone needs time to themselves and Basil’s a good worker.”

  “Yes, he is. He’s been a godsend. I don’t know what we’d have done without him.”

  Eric picked up his jacket.

  Sandra felt a pang of guilt. “Are you really sure you don’t mind coming back?”

  “It’s no trouble at all, Mrs Burton. I’m only ten minutes away and it’s good to have a reason to come out for a stroll.”

  “Thank you, so much.”

  “Oh, and tell Hetty if moving hers puts it out of tune again I’ll pop along to Primrose Cottage and fix it.”

  Shortly after Eric left there was a knock on the door. It was Ginny.

  “I’ve had a word with everyone involved with Joe’s will and we’ve all agreed that if you’re serious about giving Crumpet a home then this would be the best place for him. Norman did show an interest, but said if it was possible, he’d rather Crumpet stayed in the village.”

  Sandra squealed with delight. “When can we have him?”

  “Today, if you like. He’s at the shop now with Alex.”

  “Well, I’ll need to get a bed for him and stuff like that, then we’ll be ready.”

  “No need,” said Ginny, “you can have the bed he has at the shop, along with a lead, doggie bags, bowls, plenty of dog food and some toys.”

  “Gosh, thank you. So may I collect him now? Then he’ll be here for when the girls get home from school.”

  “Of course, there’s no time like the present.”

  On Saturday morning, volunteers from the village with the aid of a borrowed cherry picker were busy stringing up Christmas lights between telegraph poles and lamp posts. While outside the Crown and Anchor, Ashley Rowe the landlord helped unload from the back of a lorry a ten foot tall Christmas tree which was destined to stand on the corner of the pub by the car park.

  Meanwhile, along the main street, Kate and Vicki proudly took it in turns to hold the lead of the newest member of the Burton family as they took him for a walk.

  On Saturday evening, Harry and Larry, the builders from Penzance arrived at the Crown and Anchor. Sid saw them as they walked into the bar and beckoned them over to the table where he sat with Bill and Norman.

  “Any news?” Sid asked.

  Larry sat down while his brother went to the bar for drinks. “Yes we’ve had the tests done and got the results this morning. To our amazement they’re positive.”

  “That’s good news,” said Bill.

  “Well, it is and it isn’t because it’s made us feel a bit melancholy. I mean, after all these years of wondering about our parentage we now know who our dad was but it’s too late to meet him. Having said that he probably wouldn’t have wanted to see us anyway but we could still have looked at him from afar, couldn’t we? If you see what I mean.”

  Sid tutted. “Yes, that is rough, mate, but if it’s any consolation this chap here is also Joe’s son and he didn’t know that ‘til a few weeks back. It wasn’t through the will that he found out though but we won’t go down that road because it’s rather a long story.”

  “It certainly is,” Bill agreed.

  “And of course it means that Norman here is your half-brother.” Sid patted Norman on the shoulder as a way of introduction.

  Larry reached across and shook Norman’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, brother.”

  “Not only am I your half-brother but Lucky Jim is as well. And we also have two half-sisters, Biddy Barnes and Irene Hewitt.”

  “Yeah, so we’ve been told and I believe one is in hospital recovering from a brutal attack and the other is locked up for attacking her.”

  “True, but there aren’t many people who believe Irene, the one who’s locked up, is guilty,” insisted Bill, “ourselves included and we all hope that the police will come round to our way of thinking before long.”

  “Yes, and with any luck they’ll dig a bit deeper now they’ve seen the notes that were sent out.” The tone of Norman’s voice indicated he did not really believe what he stated.

  Larry laughed. “Ah, yes, the notes: they were most peculiar but I reckon they were sent by some moron who thought it’d be funny. I must admit they made us laugh.”

  Norman chuckled. “I’m inclined to agree.”

  “Anyway, don’t forget you’re in for a few thousand pounds’ share of Joe’s legacy,” Bill reminded him, “so that should help mend a few wounds from the past.”

  “Yes, but we didn’t really come here in search of money,” said Larry, his expression doleful. “We were more interested in trying to find out who our father was. We’ve quite a profitable little business going so we make a good living. Looking for Dad was a wild shot and as it is, it’s paid off in more ways than one. I just wish we’d looked sooner.”

  Meanwhile, inside the little-used dining room at Primrose Cottage, Hetty happily played the piano and didn’t stop until her fingers ached.

  “I hope you don’t find my playing annoying,” she said to Lottie as she returned to the sitting room and warmed her hands by the fire. “Please say if it does.”

  “Far from it, Het. I find listening to you play very relaxing and getting your old piano back was one of the best things we’ve ever done.”

  Hetty sat down on the sofa and put her feet on a footstool. “Good, that’s music to my ears if you’ll excuse the pun.”

  On Monday morning, Eric arrived bright and early to tune the other piano and to his surprise he found Hetty and Lottie at the Old Bakehouse drinking coffee in the sitting room with Sandra.

  “Hive of activity here today,” he commented on hearing the sound of an electric drill.

  “Yes, that’s Basil and Mark in the kitchen,” Sandra acknowledged, “By the end of the day all the units should be in place. It’s very exciting.”

  “And the carpet is being put down in here tomorrow so you better put your skates on, Eric,” chided Hetty.

  “We’ll have less of your cheek, Hetty Tonkins. I do a thorough job and it’ll be done in an hour or two as long as you don’t start nagging.”

  “I’m pulling your leg, you muppet. Anyway, we’re looking forward to the entertainment, aren’t we, Lottie? It’s been a while since I’ve seen a piano tuned.”

  “Well, before I start you can get off your backside and make me a coffee,” chuckled Eric, “providing that’s okay with Mrs Burton here.”

  “Of course but please call me Sandra.”

  After drinking his coffee Eric lifted the lid on the top of the piano and peered inside. “Hmm, as I thought there’s a fair bit of muck in there. I think I’d better clean it out before I start tuning.”

  Intrigued as to how dirty it was Hetty also looked inside. “Cobwebs, and some of them look ancient too. Rather you than me, Eric as there might be one or two eight legged beasties still in residence.”

  “Yes, or I might even find a dead mouse. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “I hope you didn’t find one in mine,” Hetty looked aghast.

  “No, yours was as clean as a whistle.”

  “Ah, good, and might I be permitted to say you did a splendid jo
b tuning it. It’s never sounded better.”

  Eric took a bow and then continued with his work; when he was satisfied that the top part was clean he knelt down between the piano legs and fiddled with a catch beneath the keys. He was then able to remove the panel from behind the foot pedals.

  “Hello, hello, hello what have we here?”

  Intrigued by the tone of Eric’s voice, Lottie, Hetty and Sandra all jumped up to see what he had found. Covered in dust was a parcel wrapped in a faded sheet of Christmas paper. He passed it to Sandra who blew off the dust and then carefully tore the paper apart. Inside were a brown patent leather handbag and a pair of brown patent leather, high heeled shoes.

  “Surely that must be Geraldine Glover’s missing bag and shoes,” gasped Lottie, “Whatever are they doing in the piano?”

  “Goodness only knows,” Sandra picked up one of the shoes, “but Geraldine certainly had good taste.”

  “What’s in the bag?” Hetty was eager to see.

  “Only one way to find out.” Sandra unfastened the strong handbag clip and tipped out the contents onto the floor. Eric watched with interest. Amongst the items was a purse, a hand mirror, lipstick, face powder, cake mascara, a door key, a Family Allowance book bearing the name Mrs Geraldine Glover, a lace edged handkerchief and a folded piece of paper bearing a recipe for bread pudding written on it by hand.

  Hetty picked up the purse. “Old money,” she sighed, taking out two one pound notes. The change she tipped into her lap. “It’s so much heavier than the stuff we have today. It makes me feel quite wistful.”

  Sandra opened up the Family Allowance book. “Eight shillings a week. How much is that in today’s money?”

  “Forty pence,” chuckled Hetty.

  “I wonder why Joe stuffed these items in the piano instead of in the oven with Geraldine,” mused Sandra.

  “Perhaps there wasn’t enough room,” suggested Hetty, “after all Geraldine would have been a lot bulkier in the eiderdown back then than she was when we found her.”

  “But they wouldn’t take up that much room,” reasoned Lottie, “especially the shoes. I mean, why didn’t he leave them on her feet?”

  Hetty tipped the coins back in the purse. “Goodness only knows but I’m glad they’ve turned up because now we’ll be able to pass them on to Irene. Well, we will when she gets released.”

  “If she ever gets released,” sighed Lottie.

  On Monday afternoon, Eve’s ashes were buried in an area of the churchyard set aside for the deceased who had chosen cremation. The service taken by Vicar Sam was brief and attended only by Norman, Hetty, Lottie, Kitty and Sandra. Bill tried to get the afternoon off work but was unable to do so because several people were off sick.

  “I thought Alice would be here,” said Lottie, as they left the churchyard where a lone raven watched from the bare brown mound of earth beneath which Joe Williams lay.

  Norman wiped a tear from his eye. “Yes, I thought she might like to join us as well but when I mentioned it she went very quiet and then cried. I think the fact that she and Mother spent so many years apart has really hit home. She said she’d come and visit the grave another time though. I got the impression it’s something she’d like to do on her own.”

  Hetty tutted. “Yes, I can understand that. Families should never fall out or fail to keep in touch.”

  “And nor should friends,” said Kitty, emphatically.

  Chapter Twenty

  Inside the Old Bakehouse on Tuesday Morning, Sandra patiently waited for the carpet fitters to arrive before she took Crumpet out for a walk. Meanwhile, just down the road in his room at the Pentrillick Hotel, Norman was painstakingly going through the boxes given to him by Sandra and Bill containing his late father’s belongings. The paintings he had already looked through and told Bill and Sandra they could keep them all except for the seagulls on the beach which he wanted to hang in his Dawlish home. After looking at each item in the boxes he put them into one of four piles: items he wanted to keep, things that might interest his Aunt Alice, useful but unwanted items for the charity shop and things he considered of no use or interest to anyone. Amongst the articles he kept were a few toys and baby clothes which he assumed he might once have worn. There was also a baby’s rattle, a lock of hair in an envelope and a book of baby’s first achievements. His name was inside the book and Norman smiled to learn his first tooth came through when he was three months old and that he had taken his first step when he was ten months old. He sighed, baffled as to why his mother had not taken the book with her when she left but on reflection he liked to think that she had not done so, so that Joe would have something to remember his little son by. The son he would never see again.

  “It doesn’t have any bearing on Biddy’s assault or the mysterious messages but because of the handbag and shoes I lay awake in the night thinking about the murder of Geraldine Glover,” said Hetty, as she dried the last of the breakfast dishes and tipped away the washing up water. “I wonder if we’ve jumped to the wrong conclusion regarding her murder and it wasn’t Joe who put her body in the oven at all but someone else.”

  “But we’ve already been down that road,” reasoned Lottie, “you, Debbie and I tried for ages to come up with someone else but all agreed in the end that realistically it could only ever have been Joe.”

  “No, but there is someone else who would have been in the position to have done it.”

  “Really! Who?”

  Hetty dried her hands. “You’ll see. Get your coat on, Lottie, we’re going to ask someone a few questions.”

  “But we haven’t lit the fire yet.”

  “We’ll do it when we get back. We won’t be long.”

  To Lottie’s surprise, Hetty drove to Porthleven. “Surely you don’t suspect Alice. I mean, I see no motive there whatsoever.”

  Hetty switched off the engine as they pulled up outside the small cottage. “No, I don’t suspect Alice but I think she might know more than she’s prepared to admit.”

  When Alice answered the door she seemed pleased to see them. “Come in, come in. I made a cake yesterday and was going to freeze half of it because it’d probably be stale before I’d finished it but now you can help me eat it instead.”

  “That will be very nice, thank you,” said Lottie.

  With mugs of coffee in hand and slices of fruit cake on plates on laps the three ladies sat by the fire and commented on the dull, dark, damp days that seemed inevitable in November.

  “We saw a picture of you the other day taken at the school when you were just five years old,” said Lottie, after observation of the weather came to an end.

  “Oh, was it amongst Joe’s things?”

  “No, it was in an album belonging to Charlie Pascoe,” said Hetty, “Do you remember him?”

  “What Charlie Pascoe the builder? Yes I remember him.” The sisters noticed the colour had drained from her face.

  “He was a handsome lad,” persisted Hetty.

  “Yes, yes,” mumbled Alice. “And is…is…he still alive then?”

  Lottie placed her empty plate on the floor by her feet. “Yes, he’s in the care home in Pentrillick. We’ve been to see him a couple of times now.”

  “We wondered if he remembered bricking up the oven in the Old Bakehouse you see,” added Hetty.

  Coffee splashed from Alice’s mug onto her skirt. “And…and…did he?”

  Hetty shook her head. “Sadly not.”

  “Well, I’m not surprised after all it was a long time ago,” Alice was focussed on dabbing her skirt with a tissue and didn’t look up. “And have there been any further developments as regards the body in the oven?”

  “Other than of course we now know who the poor lady was, there haven’t and that’s why we’re here,” Hetty watched Alice over the rim of her coffee mug, “You see, I think it’s possible that Eve might have known something about it, don’t you?”

  Alice gasped. “Why would you think that?”

  “A hunch, and th
e fact we now know that Joe was the father of Geraldine’s daughter. Meaning if Eve suspected that, it would have given her a motive for murder, wouldn’t it?”

  Lottie shook her head. “Don’t be silly, Het. Eve left in January 1958 so she wasn’t around when the oven was bricked up.”

  “Ah, but did she leave in January though? We only have Alice’s word for that, don’t we?”

  Alice looked uncomfortable; she put down her mug on the hearth slate, fidgeted and kept glancing towards the sideboard. “Okay, I’ll come clean but you have to believe me that when I first met you I really didn’t know what happened back then but for some reason when you asked me when Eve left I felt compelled to lie. Probably because I knew deep down that she hadn’t gone because she’d met someone else. She never went anywhere much, you see, so she couldn’t have met someone unless he’d have been a regular in the shop but back then most of the shoppers were housewives so I thought that was unlikely. And having taken these things into consideration I thought there had to be another reason for her to have left and I was right. I suppose you’d call it instinct.”

  Alice stood up, threw the coffee stained tissue onto the fire crossed the room and took an envelope from a drawer of the sideboard. “I received this a couple of weeks back after your first visit but as you can see it was written almost a year ago. I can only assume that it must during that time have been lost in the post somewhere or other.” She handed the envelope to Hetty, “Please read it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Alice nodded. “Yes, knowing that you’ve read it will probably relieve me of the burden I’ve suffered since it arrived. And when you read it you’ll understand why.”

  “Read it out loud, Het,” whispered Lottie.

  Hetty took the letter from the envelope, unfolded it and read: