Claire's Candles Mystery 03 - Coconut Milk Casualty
Page 16
But Claire and her father pulled up outside HM Prison Manchester with time to spare. They held hands and waited in silence until the crowd of visitors started flowing through the front door.
“Nice to see you again,” the friendly woman from her previous visit said when they were in the queue at the desk. “Glad we didn’t scare you off.”
The woman behind the desk was just as snappy, but Claire wasn’t nervous this time, so she seemed less frightening. She and her father went through security together, and it wasn’t long until they were in the little holding pen with the windows into the visiting room. Alan kept his eyes glued to the floor, but this time, Claire looked inside. She saw Pat.
He waved.
She waved back.
The door buzzed and she entered, but her father remained behind.
“Isn’t he coming?” Pat asked as Claire sat across from him.
“We’re swapping at halftime,” she said, glancing back at her father. “Guards said it wouldn’t be a problem. There are some things a daughter shouldn’t witness, and this is one of them.” She pulled the envelope of photographs from her pocket and slid them across the table. “Said this wouldn’t be a problem either. They’re from your cottage. I didn’t know what to do with them.”
Pat pulled out the photographs and flicked through them, his smile growing with each familiar image. The final one was the picture of Pat and Nick in Vegas.
“Trip of a lifetime,” he said, smiling fondly. “You should make sure to go, at least once.”
Claire thought about mentioning the fact that the trip had unintentionally started the ball rolling for the deaths of Nick and Joey. Still, in the same way she and her family weren’t responsible for Pat’s mistakes, he wasn’t accountable for Agnes’.
He didn’t need another burden.
“I’m sorry, Uncle Pat,” she said, able to look at him now. “I’m sorry for accusing you of having my shop sprayed. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he replied, flicking through the pictures until he landed on the shot of them together by the sea. “I had an uncle once. Your gran’s brother, Jacob. Uncle Jack, we called him. He died before you were born, but your father and I loved him like we did our own father. If he’d done what I did, I’d never be able to reconcile it. The fact you’re here is enough for me.” He paused and looked up at her with a tight smile. “Will I see you again?”
“Let’s see how things go.”
“That’s good enough for me,” he said, glancing at the large clock on the wall. “Now, there are ten minutes left before you swap, so I want to hear all about this candle shop of yours.”
Claire spent the next ten minutes indulging him with every detail. The perfect image she’d once had of her uncle no longer existed, but he was still Pat, mistakes and all. She wasn’t sure how often she’d write or visit, but she couldn’t abandon him forever. He’d leave the prison in a body bag, and he knew that. When the guard announced the halfway mark, she left him smiling, and that had to be enough.
“You’ve got this,” she said to her dad as she passed him in the waiting room.
Claire kissed him on the cheek. Rather than lingering to watch, she waited outside, once again leaning against the wall under the hot sun. Ten minutes later, her father emerged, pale and with a shakier step than usual. Claire imagined she’d looked the same after her first visit, but she could already see her dad had pulled out the thorn. Whenever he got around to visiting again, it would be easier. He joined her against the wall and looked up at the sky.
“This place is punishing him enough,” he said after a minute’s silence. “He doesn’t need it from us too.”
“Mum won’t mind watching the shop,” Claire said, looping her arm through his and walking in the opposite direction of the parked car. “And I know a place where the drinks are cheap and the music is loud.”
As they walked down the street, the hot summer sun above them, Claire knew the monster had been dragged out from under the bed, and she could barely remember why she’d been so scared of facing it in the first place.
AFTER ONE RASPBERRY vodka and lemonade each, they returned to the car and drove back to Northash. Claire took over behind the counter, and her parents stuck around, neither having anything else to do on a quiet Monday. By closing, Janet had organised all the receipts into a system even Claire vaguely understood, and which made more sense than stuffing them in a shoebox, and Alan had put together a bookcase in the flat above the shop.
Back at the cottage, Claire found Ryan in the garden. He’d set up two easels, and he and Amelia were on little stools, painting a landscape of the garden in front of them. Amelia’s looked exactly as a nine-year-old’s work would look, but Ryan’s watercolour was so subtle and picturesque, Claire couldn’t believe he’d ever doubt himself.
“Sally dropped this off earlier,” Ryan said, slapping a file on the counter before walking over to fill up the kettle in the kitchen. “She thinks your uncle’s cottage is the perfect fit for me.”
“It is,” Claire replied, deciding not to tell him she’d thrown Sally off the scent and then changed her mind and asked her to approach Ryan with the idea. “It has three bedrooms, it’s slap bang in the middle of the village, and, now that all the furniture has been cleared out, it’s ready and waiting.”
Ryan made a face. “And two people were murdered there.”
“Jane was murdered in my flat,” she reminded him, grabbing a cup and setting it next to his. “Em and Ste will be back from their narrowboat trip next week. Get her ‘round to sage the spirits away. Worked a treat in my place.”
“And you’re okay with it?”
“You need a house more than I need to be mad at my uncle,” she said as he scooped coffee into the two cups. “Besides, how many houses do you know of that come with a casino in the basement?”
“Good point,” he said with a laugh. “It would be nice for the kids to have their own rooms.”
“Also comes with a cat,” she said hopefully. “That’s if you want Pickles? Sally has been feeding him every day, but he’ll only go to the shelter if you say no.”
“Nice subtle emotional blackmail there,” he said with a badly concealed smile, peering into the garden at his daughter as she continued to paint alone. “Amelia did say she wanted a cat.” He clapped his hands together. “Right, you’ve convinced me. I think I’ll call Sally and get the ball rolling.” He pulled his phone from his tight jeans. “And while I do that, go and change out of your good clothes. You’re coming to paint with us, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”
“Good clothes?” Janet remarked as she rushed into the kitchen and pulled a gammon joint out of the fridge. “I don’t know how you can tell the difference, dear.”
Leaving her mother to start on dinner and Ryan to call Sally, Claire hurried upstairs. In her bedroom, she was surprised to see Domino and Sid sniffing at a gift-wrapped oblong in the centre of her bed. There was a small tag, and she recognised the writing at once: Had this finished for your opening, but I was a shy idiot. Hope you like it. R x
Claire ripped back the paper, her heart fluttering. From the label, she knew it would be a painting, but when she saw the subject of it, she had to sit down on the edge of the bed to fully absorb it.
Ryan had created a delicate and beautiful rendition of the front of Claire’s Candles in watercolour, complete with sign and summer window display. She rested the silver frame against her chest, and there she stayed until Domino and Sid’s prowling around their food bowls tore her attention.
After feeding them and changing into some clothes she didn’t mind covering in paint, Claire ran downstairs, only to be drawn to the front door by a repetitive banging. Across the garden fence, a young man was hammering a ‘FOR SALE’ sign into Graham’s front garden while Graham watched on. He caught her eye and took a step back into the house.
Seconds later, he walked out, his hands deep in his pockets.
<
br /> “Claire?” he called, walking up to the fence. “Can I have a word?”
“Sure.”
Graham inhaled deeply, his eyes on the grass.
“I know,” Claire said, deciding to spare him the embarrassment of having to confess. “I know you sprayed my shop.”
“You do?” He shuddered. “Claire, I was drunk, and it was a moment of pure madness. I thought doing something . . . anything . . . I thought it would help, but it only made me feel worse. I wanted to tell you in the car, but I couldn’t get the words out. I’ve been a coward.”
“You’ve been human.” She looked past him, towards the sign. “Moving somewhere nice, I hope?”
“I-I haven’t decided yet.” He frowned, clearly confused by Claire’s dismissal of the graffiti. “I can’t stay in this house, in this cul-de-sac. Too many ghosts. I need a fresh start where people don’t have that look in their eyes.”
“I know the look.” She offered a sympathetic smile. “I hope you find that fresh start, Graham.”
Inside, she passed the living room, doubling back when something new on the mantlepiece caught her eye. Or, rather, something old. Taped back together in four pieces, the Christmas morning, 1966, photograph of Alan and Pat had been placed back where it had always sat – exactly where it should be.
Despite what Pat had done, the happy memories were real, and that’s all they had now.
“Thank you,” Claire whispered to Ryan, kissing him on the cheek before sitting on the stool behind the easel he’d set up between them. “I love it.”
Ryan blushed and smiled, simply continuing with his painting.
Under the clear blue sky, Radio Four drifted through her father’s open shed door while her mother clattered in the kitchen. Even though another storm was forecast for that night, it was as perfect an evening as could be – and an excellent reminder of why Claire hadn’t rushed to move into the flat above the shop just yet.
Claire glanced at Ryan as she made first contact with the paper with watery green paint. He gave her an encouraging nod, and her heart skipped a beat. She had to tell him how she felt, she knew that, but she had a painting to butcher.
She’d weather that storm another day.
For now, she would enjoy the sun.
I hope you enjoyed another trip to Northash! If you did, DON’T FORGET TO RATE AND REVIEW ON AMAZON!
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ALSO BY AGATHA FROST
Claire’s Candles
1. Vanilla Bean Vengeance
2. Black Cherry Betrayal
3. Coconut Milk Casualty
4. TBA
Peridale Cafe
Book 1-10 Boxset
1. Pancakes and Corpses
2. Lemonade and Lies
3. Doughnuts and Deception
4. Chocolate Cake and Chaos
5. Shortbread and Sorrow
6. Espresso and Evil
7. Macarons and Mayhem
8. Fruit Cake and Fear
9. Birthday Cake and Bodies
10. Gingerbread and Ghosts
11.Cupcakes and Casualties
12. Blueberry Muffins and Misfortune
13. Ice Cream and Incidents
14. Champagne and Catastrophes
15. Wedding Cake and Woes
16. Red Velvet and Revenge
17. Vegetables and Vengeance
18. Cheesecake and Confusion
19. Brownies and Bloodshed
20. Cocktails and Cowardice
21. Profiteroles and Poison (NEW!)
Table of Contents
Title Page
Contents
Copyright
About This Book
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Also by Agatha Frost
Introduction from Agatha Frost
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Afterword
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Also by Agatha Frost