The Old Bakehouse

by Daphne Neville

  Lottie frowned. “But what about the birth certificate? It clearly states that Joe and Eve were the parents.”

  “The baby’s birth was registered by Cyril Johns who was Eve and Alice’s father so he made sure it said what he wanted it to say.”

  “So Eve, who Norman believed to be his mother and the person who murdered Geraldine Glover, wasn’t his mother at all.”

  Nellie shook her head. “No, she wasn’t, Alice was and strictly speaking she still is.”

  “But he’s still the son of someone guilty of attempted murder, isn’t he, because his birth mother, Alice, tried to murder poor Biddy?” Lottie reasoned.

  “Oh what a tangled web we weave when we practise to deceive,” sighed Hetty.

  Nellie smiled. “So true.”

  Lottie still looked puzzled. “I’ve one more question, Nellie, and you probably can’t answer it anyway. But who was Norman’s real father? Because it’s just occurred to me that if it wasn’t Joe then he’ll not be entitled to a share of Joe’s legacy.”

  Nellie smiled. “Oh, but he will be because the name of the father on the birth certificate is quite correct. Joe Williams was Norman’s father. I don’t know whether anyone else knew but Alice told me herself one day when I went to see her. She was a very attractive girl and was crazy about Joe even though he was twenty one years her senior but she had to keep her feelings under wrap. Of course Joe didn’t feel the same way about Alice or Eve either if you ask me. In fact Eve herself told me that she married Joe to get away from her father and Joe married her so that he’d have someone to help run the business.”

  “So almost a marriage of convenience,” said Lottie.

  “Yes, I suppose it was but don’t get me wrong I believe they were fond of each other but it wasn’t love. There was only ever one true love in Joe’s life.”

  “And who might that have been?” Hetty asked.

  “Why Geraldine of course. She was a Trelease back then and Joe was besotted with her. They were childhood sweethearts, you see, but when they got older Geraldine’s father put his foot down and forbade her to continue with their courtship. The Treleases were a well-to-do family, you see. They made their money in mining and thought themselves a cut above everyone else, especially Geraldine’s father, who was a terrible snob. Poor Geraldine, if she couldn’t marry Joe then she didn’t want anyone.”

  “But she did marry,” said Hetty.

  “Yes, she did and that was because when war broke out, Joe joined up and met and married Cicely on the rebound. On hearing this Geraldine realised all was lost and so married someone or other Glover. I can’t remember his name but he was a big noise in the Royal Navy. Fate is so cruel though because two days after Geraldine married Glover, Joe’s wife died in childbirth and so he was footloose and fancy free again, until he married Eve some nine years later that is.”

  “Of course,” whispered Hetty, remembering the Christmas card concealed inside the lining of Geraldine’s handbag. “It all makes sense now. Because Joe and Geraldine’s relationship was forbidden they continued to meet in secrecy even after she had married the Glover chappie and he had married Eve.”

  Nellie’s eyes twinkled. “Yes, and in a funny sort of way I don’t blame them.”

  Lottie glanced towards the school photograph taken in 1945. “So in a short space of time, Joe lost Geraldine, Eve and Norman. No wonder he closed the shop and never baked another loaf again.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The following afternoon, as the sun slowly sank behind the tower of St Mary’s Church, Geraldine Glover was finally laid to rest and because Joe Williams was the last person to be buried in the graveyard it so happened that her final resting place was beside the man who she had loved long ago.

  As Vicar Sam conducted the graveside service, watched on by a lone raven from the turrets of the church tower, Norman, his hand held tightly by Jackie, wept for the wrong done by the woman he thought to be his mother who had taken him from his father when just a small boy of two. Seeing his tears choked Irene and so after she had dropped petals onto her mother’s coffin she too took his hand. “Please don’t torture yourself, Norman. You’re in no way to blame for what happened. It was a long time ago.”

  “That’s what I keep telling him,” whispered Jackie.

  “But my moth…that woman Eve… was a murderer and she killed your poor mother.” Norman sobbed as he looked down at Geraldine’s coffin, “I think it’s only just hit me. Until now I would have said she didn’t have a bad bone in her body.”

  “Yes, but had it happened today it would be regarded as a crime of passion,” said Irene, kindly, “We know it wasn’t premeditated and my mother did appear to goad Eve as the letter sent to your Aunt Alice proved.”

  Norman sighed. “Aunt Alice! My real mother! Whatever’s going to happen to her?”

  “I think,” said Irene’s husband, Jack, “that she’ll be treated leniently and her counsel will plead guilty with diminished responsibility. After all these have been the most extraordinary of circumstances.”

  “How can you both be so kind to me when it was my aunt…mother who framed you Irene for Biddy’s assault?” Norman felt humble.

  Irene stood on tip-toe and kissed his cheek. “Because I am innocent and I am now free. The misery and anger I felt is a thing of the past and my sympathy now lies with you, dear Norman…dear brother.”

  Slowly everyone left the churchyard and made their way to the Crown and Anchor where a lavish buffet was laid out in the dining room. Outside it was dusk and the glow of the fire was a welcome sight in the hearth of the village pub.

  In the games area the youngsters were making the most of what little time they had with Jackie before she returned home to Dawlish. Nearby Vicar Sam was shaking hands with Irene Hewitt who he was pleased to see, although a little pale, was in relatively good spirits after her spell behind bars.

  “Your vicar’s a handsome bloke,” remarked Jackie, as she watched him circulate amongst the mourners.

  “Well if you come and live here you might be able to marry him,” giggled Vicki, “We’re seriously thinking about it ourselves but have to admit he might be a bit too old for us. Still we can always dream.”

  Vicki’s comment caused Jackie to spill her drink. “I don’t think I’m the sort of person a vicar would marry, do you?” She laughed at the notion.

  “Why not?” Kate asked. “You’re kind and jolly. You like people and people like you.”

  Jackie pointed to her spiky hair, the studs on her earlobes and the tattoos on her fingers. “Anyway,” she said, “even if I did look the part I’d have competition because I reckon your vicar is rather taken with Martha Hewitt.”

  Near to the fire sat Biddy and Geoff Barnes. Biddy looked well considering her ordeal and her husband was very attentive. After Biddy had drained her glass of white wine she opened up her handbag and took out a packet of cigarettes.

  “Oh no. You’re not going outside in the cold surely?” Geoff scolded, “Not after what you’ve been through.”

  Biddy stood up and smiled. “No, Geoff, I’m not,” she then crossed to the fire, threw the packet into the flames and returned to her seat. “I shall never smoke again and that’s a promise. Having looked death in the face I now know the true value of life.”

  “It’s weird, isn’t it,” said Irene, as she stood beside the table where sat Hetty and Lottie, “when I first arrived in Pentrillick I had no idea where my mother might have gone and nor did I know who my real father was and now the two lie side by side. I like to think they are happy with the way it’s all turned out. I know I have peace of mind now.”

  Hetty smiled. “Yes, but isn’t it sad that in years to come when we’re all dead and gone that anyone wandering around the churchyard reading the tombstones will have no idea of the connection between Geraldine and Joe.”

  “No, but then some things are best left quiet.”

  “It’s probably a silly thing to say but you were no doubt pleased t
o get your mother’s handbag and shoes back?” Hetty had noticed at the funeral that Irene was holding her mother’s bag.

  “Oh, I was delighted, thank you, and I shall keep and treasure them always, except for the Christmas card, that is. I no longer have that in my possession because I asked that it be placed in Mother’s coffin.”

  “Really?” Hetty was surprised, “I thought you’d want to keep that.”

  Irene shook her head. “I did for a while but then I realised it was never meant for my eyes and therefore wasn’t something I felt entitled to keep. I took pictures of it inside and out beforehand though so I have something to remember it by. And I don’t know whether you noticed when at the church but I had a heart shaped holly wreath made for Mum just like the one on the card.”

  As she spoke her husband Jack came up behind her and slipped his arm around her waist. “I’ve just been talking to young Jim. I think at the moment he’s completely overwhelmed with everything.”

  Irene smiled. “I’m not surprised. A lot has happened in the last few weeks and to be honest it’ll be nice to get home and back in a routine of some kind.”

  “So when do you go home?” Lottie asked.

  “Tomorrow and in spite of what I just said I’ll miss the village and especially its inhabitants. You’ve all been very kind.”

  Hetty looked out towards the sun terrace where through the steamed up glass doors Martha was just visible talking with Vicar Sam. “And I suppose Martha will be going home with you.”

  A broad grin swept across Irene’s face. “Yes, she will but I daresay she’ll be back on many occasions over the coming months and I like to think Sam will pop up to Bath too whenever he gets the chance.”

  “Are you suggesting there might be something between them?” Hetty optimistically asked.

  Irene smiled. “It’s not for me to say but I’ve never seen Martha’s face light up as it does when she sees Sam.”

  Over by the piano, Bill and Sandra looked with interest at a framed map of Pentrillick, newly acquired by the licensees, and familiarised themselves with certain locations.

  Bill put his arm around his wife’s shoulder. “It’s nice to be able to say this is a map of the village we can call home, isn’t it?”

  “Absolutely and I feel quite proud, especially as we live in one of the village’s oldest buildings. What’s more I think we’ve done pretty well in the few weeks we’ve been here. We’ve got the place done up, you’ve settled down in your new job, the girls are happy at school and look forward to earning some money waitressing and Zac starts his plumbing apprenticeship in January.”

  “And you might be going to work at the care home,” Bill added, “Have you decided one way or another yet?”

  Sandra nodded. “Yes, I think I’ll definitely take the job. According to your mum and Auntie Het the residents are very nice and I’ve had a chat with Natalie and she really enjoys her work. What’s more, Diane is lovely too so I’d have a nice boss.”

  “If you’re at work though it means poor Crumpet will be left all alone.”

  “Well, the hours I work will be irregular but if it happens that I’m working when there’s nobody home, Ginny said to drop him round at the antiques shop and he can keep her company ‘til someone gets back and collects him.”

  “Right,” said a photographer from the Pentrillick Gazette, “I know this is not a joyous occasion but as you’re all gathered together can I have a picture please of all the newfound siblings for December’s edition.”

  Irene and Biddy sat down side by side and held hands; behind them, Larry, Harry, Lucky Jim and Norman put down their pints of beer and linked arms.

  “Say cheese,” said the photographer.

  “That’ll be an edition to keep,” said Lottie.

  “Yes, weird, isn’t it? They all arrived here looking for something of their past and in doing so have all found each other.” Hetty felt quite emotional.

  A little later as Hetty returned from the Ladies she cast her eyes across the bar and the couples in particular stood out. Biddy and Geoff, Irene and Jack, Bill and Sandra with arms linked, happy with their new found home. Behind the bar Ashley Rowe whispered something to Alison, his wife and she laughed. Zac, in the games area sat close beside Emma as they watched Jackie play pool with Douglas. Martha and Vicar Sam discreetly held hands. Kitty and her husband Tommy discussed church matters with Debbie and her husband, Gideon. And over by the piano, next door neighbours, Ginny and Alex chatted with Daisy and Eric. Hetty felt a sudden pang of wistfulness and thought of what might have been had she found Mr Right and settled down with him. But then it passed. The feeling of melancholy evaporated. Hetty smiled. She had no regrets nor did she envy any of her friends old and new. In fact at that moment she realised that she was as happy as she had ever been.

  Over the roof tops of Pentrillick, a fresh breeze blew up from the sea and swept the grey clouds across the dark sky hiding the stars and the brilliant new moon. Twixt telegraph poles and lamp posts the brightly coloured Christmas lights swayed above fallen leaves as they danced and swirled along the main street towards the Old Bakehouse where Vicki’s bunch of mistletoe bobbed and tapped against the bright yellow front door.

  On the window ledge sat the robin who frequented the Old Bakehouse garden and he watched as a sprig of mistletoe snapped and broke free; as it fell he plucked it from the air and attempted to fly but the wind was too strong and the mistletoe fell from his beak and blew into the road. The robin gave chase and once more attempted to fly but yet again failed.

  On top of a chimney the lone raven flapped his wings and croaked loudly. The robin hopped aside as the big bird swooped down and clasped the mistletoe firmly in its beak; together the two birds then flew over towards the church where the leaves and petals of the freshly laid flowers, piled high on the grave of Geraldine Glover, fluttered and jiggled in the wind.

  From the roof of the church porch, the two birds watched as a wreath broke free and tumbled onto the grave of Joseph Percival Williams. Others followed until all wreathes were evenly spread across the two graves like a huge floral blanket. The raven then took flight and dropped the mistletoe onto the bed of flowers where it settled in the middle of Irene’s heart shaped holly wreath. And as the two birds flew away to roost, the wind dropped, the grey clouds dispersed and the stars in the dark night sky returned and twinkled brightly around the brilliant new moon.

  THE END