After asking Tess if she knew anything of their mystery visitor they were surprised and disappointed to hear her say that she didn’t although she was very interested. However, standing close by was Kitty who overheard what was said.
“Did I hear right?” Kitty asked, turning to face the three women, “that Lucy Lacey called at Primrose Cottage today?”
“Lucy Lacey, is that her name?” Hetty asked.
“Well, yes, if we’re talking about the same person. Lucy is in her early seventies. She’s slim, about five feet tall and a bit of a recluse.”
“She certainly fits that description although I thought she looked older than that,” said Lottie, “Do you know her then?” Hetty was eager to learn more.
“Vaguely. We were at primary school together although she’s a few years older than me. She lives at Wood Cottage a small house on moorland not far from Pentrillick Woods. Her family have lived there for generations but since her parents both died she’s been on her own.”
“Did she ever marry?” Hetty asked.
“No, she didn’t although I recall hearing she had a boyfriend many years ago but that would have been while she was away.”
“Away?” Hetty queried.
“Yes, if I remember correctly she moved to Plymouth. I don’t know why but I suppose it would have been to work. Anyway, she came home when her father died so her mother wouldn’t be on her own, but she must have been close to retirement age by then anyway because it’s got to be well over ten years ago. Her father worked at Pentrillick House in the grounds as did his father and grandfather before him. When Lucy’s father retired the Liddicott-Treens gave him the cottage as a retirement present. Of course it wasn’t Tristan who was head of the house back then because he was only a lad. It was his father. Nice man as I recall. Very kind-hearted.”
“He must have been to have given away a cottage,” spluttered Lottie.
“Well, the Laceys had worked on the estate for over a hundred years between them so I suppose he thought they’d earned it.”
“Lucky Laceys,” said Hetty.
Kitty laughed. “When we were kids we used to call her Lucky Lucy but that was because her mother sold white heather as did her grandmother and now it appears she does too.”
“Perhaps that accounts for their luck as regards the cottage,” reasoned Hetty, “the heather I mean.”
“Probably,” Kitty sighed, “Poor Lucy, I don’t think she’s ever had any real friends. Not when she was in Cornwall anyway but she always seemed happy enough. I haven’t seen her for years as she’s inclined to keep herself to herself.”
“Without doubt, that’ll be her then,” stated Hetty, as she produced the sprig of white heather from her pocket. “I bought it to bring me luck at the auditions.”
“Well let’s hope it works,” giggled Tess, amazed that any knowledge of Lucy Lacey had passed her by.
Kitty looked puzzled. “Yes, but I wonder why she didn’t come to us. I know she didn’t because I’ve been in all day.”
“She might have called at our place,” reflected Tess, “but if she did there would have been no-one at home, which is a shame because I felt I did badly tonight so could have done with a lucky charm.”
Kitty glanced around. “Ah, there’s Ginny so I’ll ask if she called at their house.”
“But surely Ginny would have been in the antique shop all day,” reasoned Hetty.
“Damn, yes, of course. But Chloe might have been in. I’ll go and ask her.”
Lottie winked and nodded towards her sister. “Perhaps she has inside information and only calls on houses where the gullible live.”
Hetty was indignant. “I am not gullible.”
Kitty returned. “She did call at Tuzzy-Muzzy and Chloe bought a sprig of heather for the same reason as you, Het.”
Hetty was just about to ask Kitty if Lucy had also read a broken biscuit for Chloe but then thought better of it. After all, the concept really was beyond crazy and she didn’t want Tess and Kitty to agree with her sister that she was gullible.
The following morning, Hetty having slept badly, arose early just as it was getting light. She made herself a cup of tea and took it into the back garden where she sat beside the pond and watched the sun rise. Before long the garden was bathed in sunshine and it felt as though it was going to be a beautiful spring-like day. But after a while she began to feel chilly and returned indoors just as Lottie came down the stairs.
“You got up early, Het.”
“I couldn’t sleep. Silly I know but I’m a bag of nerves this morning.”
Lottie laughed. “Why on earth are you getting all wound up by a part in a village play? Anyone would think you were hoping to join a West End show.”
“I know, I know it’s ridiculous but I’ve got a bee in my bonnet about playing the cook and dread being disappointed.” Hetty paced the floor.
Lottie tutted. “Cup of coffee? It might help calm your nerves.”
“Yes, please.”
As Lottie switched on the kettle, the telephone rang in the hallway. Hetty jumped and her face turned white. “That’s early. It’s not even nine yet.”
“Perhaps Robert is an early riser.”
“Or it’s a nuisance call.” Hetty half hoped it was.
The phone continued to ring.
“Well go and answer it,” Lottie urged, noting his sister was standing rigid.
Hetty cautiously picked up the receiver. It was Robert and she felt sure he must have heard her heart thumping. After greeting her briefly he offered her the part of Mrs Appleby the cook.
“I can’t believe it,” chuckled Hetty, as she put down the receiver and skipped into the kitchen, “I feel like a kid the night before Christmas. Robert sounded in a really good mood.” Hetty picked up the sprig of white heather and kissed it, “And thank you, Lucy Lacey. I’ll be forever in your debt.”
“I’m pleased for you, Het. I really am.”
“Thank you, it should be great fun. Robert said because they’re short of men he’s going to ask Vicar Sam if he’ll play the part of the police sergeant because no-one auditioned for it. He asked me if I thought he could and would do it and I said yes.”
“And very good he’d be too,” agreed Lottie, handing a mug of coffee to her sister, “after all being a vicar he’s used to an audience.”
“Exactly. Chloe got the part she wanted too as the housekeeper and Bernie is to be the gardener. He didn’t say who the other parts were going to because he’s not phoned them all yet.” Hetty grinned from ear to ear. “Apparently Brett was very impressed by the auditions so that’s a feather in all our caps.”
They walked into the sitting room and sat down at the table by the window.
“So will Brett be at the first rehearsal next week?” Lottie asked.
“No, because he and Alina are going back to London tomorrow.”
“That was a quick visit then. They only arrived yesterday.”
“Hmm, good point, so perhaps they came down because Brett wanted to have a say in the auditions.”
“And who can blame him after all he doesn’t want his name associated with a flop.”
“I’ve just remembered someone else who has been offered and has accepted a part. Marlene, she’s to be the hairstylist’s wife.”
“Really, so she’s the one who does you in.”
Hetty scowled. “Yes, I hadn’t thought of that.”
“And she’s the leading lady. Good for her because I thought she was excellent when she auditioned for the part.”
Hetty’s frowned; her verbal response was little more than a grunt.
Chapter Five
“This weather is bonkers,” chuntered Hetty, as she came in from the back garden and warmed her hands by the fire on St Patrick’s Day. “I can’t believe more snow is forecast this weekend and that we need to cover the tender plants again especially after yesterday when it was warm and spring-like. Poor birds, poor garden plants, they must be as disorientated as I
feel.”
“I assume it’s cold out there already then,” said Lottie, without looking up from her knitting.
“Cold, it’s damn near freezing despite the sunshine. Roll on summer. We deserve a good one after what we’ve had to put up with this winter.”
“Hmm, now that would be nice.”
The next morning was bitterly cold again but the sun was shining and so the sisters were happy to go to church, especially Hetty who was keen to see if the vicar had agreed to join the cast of Murder at Mulberry Hall.
After the service, Vicar Sam shook hands with his parishioners outside the church porch. When it was the turn of the sisters, Hetty didn’t mince her words. “I heard you were to be asked to play the part of the police sergeant,” she blurted, “I do hope you’ve accepted.”
A huge grin crossed the vicar’s face. “How could I refuse? Robert was very persuasive and to be honest it’ll make a pleasant change.”
“Oh, that’s brilliant. I think it’s going to be a lot of fun and I can’t wait for rehearsals to get underway tomorrow.”
“It’ll certainly be fun playing alongside Sid,” laughed the vicar, “I can’t imagine him being serious for one minute.”
“Me neither.”
“So what part is Sid playing?” Lottie asked.
Hetty chuckled. “The detective inspector.”
“Oh dear, but then it is supposed to be a comedy.”
“And you I hear are the cook, Hetty, who meets with an unfortunate end,” teased the vicar. “I hope you’re good at keeping very still and holding your breath.”
“I can assure you I shall practise until the cows come home because I’m determined not to let the side down.”
It was still bitterly cold as the sisters walked back to Primrose Cottage at a quick pace to prevent their toes and fingers from going numb. Once home, while Lottie made up the fire, Hetty boiled a kettle and poured the hot water onto the block of ice in the birdbath which stood in the front garden where it could be observed from the sitting room window.
“I was thinking about the Pentrillick House robbery while we were in church,” said Lottie, when both were seated in the sitting room with mugs of coffee, warming their toes by the fire, “and I can’t help but wonder if it was done by someone living locally. What do you think?”
“Highly unlikely because the goods would be worthless unless they were turned into cash. Professional thieves know where to dispose of stolen things and I think most folks around here are pretty law abiding. What makes you think it might have been locals?”
“I’m not sure. Probably because whoever it was knew the Liddicott-Treens were away and that they knew their way around the house.”
“But anyone could have found out they were away and remember the alarm system was deactivated and they used explosives to blow open the secure door of the room where the goods were on display. Hardly the work of petty thieves.”
Lottie looked downcast. “Hmm, I suppose you’re right. I wish we’d been around when it happened though as I should like to know more but it’s not much use taking an interest now as the scent will have long gone cold.”
“Oh, I don’t know. It wouldn’t do any harm for us to make a few enquiries after all we’re good at solving mysteries.”
“Are we?”
“Yes, of course. Well, we do our best.”
In the afternoon it snowed and once again Cornwall was a white world. Hetty, fearing the first rehearsal might be cancelled was fed up. But the following morning Kitty called round to visit the sisters with good news.
“I thought you’d like to know that tonight’s rehearsal for the play will go ahead.”
Hetty rubbed her hands gleefully as she escorted Kitty into the sitting room. “That’s excellent news. I must admit I thought it might be called off when I saw it was snowing again this morning.”
Kitty sat down. “Me too but it’s melting at a furious rate now, thank goodness, and the lane is already quite dry.”
“There’s hope for my tomato seeds yet then because I noticed this morning that some have germinated. In fact I must remember to put them on the window sill so they can get some natural light.”
“How many have come up?” Lottie asked.
“About half a dozen which is perfect because we don’t really want more than that.”
The following weekend the clocks went forward so it was quite dark when the sisters rose, determined to attend the Palm Sunday morning service at nine o’clock. When Lottie pulled back the sitting room curtains she glanced down at the seed tray containing the tomato seedlings and chuckled.
“Have you counted your tomatoes recently?” she called to Hetty who was in the kitchen.
“No, why? Don’t tell me they’ve died.”
“Far from it. There are forty three now.”
“Forty three,” repeated Hetty, as she entered the sitting room with two mugs of tea.
“Yes, and I think there are a few more peeping through.”
“Just as well we both like tomatoes then.”
Once outside they found there was a hint of spring in the air spoiled only by a cold wind.
“It’s mornings such as this that make me glad to be alive,” sang Hetty, as they walked down Long Lane, “before we know it there will be signs of life in the hedgerows, birds will be singing and the grass verges will be a blaze of colour.”
“A lovely thought,” Lottie agreed, “and thank goodness we’re on the right side of winter now. Although having said that, I do like autumn.”
“Hmm, me too. In fact all seasons have their merits and it’s only when they go on for too long that they become tiresome.”
“Yes, like this winter has.”
When they left the church after Sung Eucharist, Hetty looked a little subdued and told Lottie she was concerned about Vicar Sam, for during the service he had repeatedly looked at his watch and seem distracted. Lottie agreed.
“Is everything okay, Sam?” Hetty gabbled, unable to hide her intrigue, “It’s just you don’t seem your usual bouncy self this morning.”
Lottie nodded. “I agree and I do hope you’re not coming down with something nasty. Especially now, just before Easter.”
Vicar Sam smiled broadly. “Thank you for your concern, ladies, but I can assure you that I’m fine. It’s just that, well….”
“…Co ee,” called a singsong voice, “we’re here.”
All three turned and looked towards the church gate where a woman dressed in a chocolate brown funnel neck coat furiously waved and the man at her side smiled broadly.
Vicar Sam heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness, you had me worried you’re usually so punctual.”
“Punctual is the operative word, well nearly,” laughed the man, “We had a puncture you see on the way down.”
Vicar Sam tutted and turned to the sisters. “Hetty, Lottie, please allow me to introduce you to my zany parents, Penelope and Michael.”
Penelope squeezed Vicar Sam’s hand, pecked his cheek and then turned to the sisters. “Pleased to meet you, ladies. I assume you are members of Sammy’s congregation.”
“Yes, we are,” declared Hetty, “and it’s nice to meet you too. Are you down for Easter?”
“Yes. We’re down for a whole fortnight and we’re really looking forward to it. I just hope the weather warms up a bit. It’s been beastly cold of late.”
“Especially the ‘Beast from the East’ as the press have called it,” chortled Michael.
Sam tutted. “I’ve been quite worried, you know, because you were adamant you’d be here on time for the service and I wrote the sermon with you in mind.”
“Sorry, Sammy,” consoled Penelope, “but you can tell us the nature of your lecture later.”
“Mother, my sermons are not lectures.”
Penelope’s face indicated she thought otherwise.
“Well, we did intend to be here in time for the service,” insisted Michael, “but as I said we had a wretched puncture.
I have to admit the traffic was quite heavy too despite our early start so we probably still wouldn’t have made it. Sorry, son.”
“Did you change the wheel yourself?” asked Lottie, who had recently read about the process on-line.
Michael nodded. “Yes, I used to be a mechanic before I retired so it was a piece of cake.”
Hetty was inquisitive. “Have you come far?”
“Exeter,” Michael answered, “so not too far at all.”
“Still a two or three hour drive though.” Lottie who, as a relatively new driver, considered that quite far enough.
“So will you be staying at the Vicarage?” Hetty asked, keen to know the facts.
“Absolutely,” said Penelope, “it would be silly to stay anywhere else when Sammy has two spare bedrooms.”
“Yes, of course, anyway we’d better be off. I’m sure you’ve lots to do if you’ve only just arrived.” Hetty took her gloves from her handbag and put them on.
“And lots to talk about as well,” Lottie added.
“Yes, we have,” declared Penelope, “I want to tell Sammy about our new neighbours. I hope to see you ladies again soon.”
“Likewise. Goodbye, Sam. See you at tomorrow’s rehearsal. That’s if you can make it.”
“Oh, I’ll be there without question.”
“Rehearsal?” Penelope queried.
“Yes, I’ve been roped into the drama group’s latest play. I’m a police sergeant.”
“Oh, that I must see. When will it be performed?”
“In the summer sometime. I don’t know when.”
“The end of May,” disclosed Hetty, “half term week.”
“Ah, yes, Whit week,” said the vicar.
“Well,” chuckled Penelope, “I shall put it in my diary right now and make sure we pop back for it.”
As she searched through her handbag for the diary the sisters said farewell and left the churchyard for the walk home.
“I wonder what it is about the new neighbours that Penelope feels they must tell Sam about,” said Hetty as they walked back up Long Lane.
“You’re so nosy, Het.”
Tea and Broken Biscuits Page 4
