After the weeds were cut down, Zac raked them up and carried them to the compost heap at the bottom of the garden.
“So what shape do you want the pond to be?” he asked as he picked up the tin of paint.
“I think ovalish,” said Lottie, “Do you ladies agree?”
“Definitely,” they replied in unison.
Zac then slowly marked out the shape as instructed by the three ladies.
In the evening, Hetty, Lottie and Zac went to the Crown and Anchor for a meal. As they neared an empty table, Hetty pointed out a notice pinned to the French doors which led out to the sun terrace; it was about a raft race.
“Sounds fun,” she said, as she pulled out a chair from beneath the table.
Lottie nodded. “As long as the weather’s good.”
Zac laid his phone on the table before he sat. “Fingers crossed it will be. It’s only the second year the village has had one. Emma and Kyle were telling me about it the other day. Apparently they’re in the process of making a raft so they can enter.”
Hetty looked puzzled. “How come we didn’t see it last year then? I mean we were here on holiday in August, weren’t we?”
“Because they had it at Easter last year but decided to go for August this year because there will be more people around.”
“I see.”
“So what sort of raft are your friends making?” Lottie asked.
“I don’t really know because I’ve not seen it yet but they’re going to be dressed as pirates. They’ve asked me to join them and so I probably shall.”
“How exciting,” said Hetty, as she picked up the menu, “if you do take part we shall definitely come and watch it.”
“Well, I think I’d like to see it whether Zac’s in it or not,” chuckled Lottie, “It should be very entertaining if the rafts are all homemade.”
“Which they have to be,” Zac stated, emphatically. “It’s in the rules of entry.”
Chapter Seven
On Monday morning Hetty and Lottie took out their sun hats from the cupboard underneath the stairs ready to wear for a visit to the charity shop. Before they left they took mugs of coffee up to the workers in the loft and told them they’d be away for an hour or so but if they needed anything Zac was out in the back garden with Emma making a start to the pond.
“Any luck with your investigations?” Basil asked, as he nodded towards the area in the attic where the suitcase was found.
“Yes, we’ve made a little headway,” Hetty responded, “and that’s why we’re off out. We’re going down to the charity shop to ask Maisie and Daisy if they know anything about a family called Berryman and a Simon Berryman in particular. We’ve learned that the Berrymans used to live in the village, you see, and through marriage they were related to the Tregears.”
“Not only did they live in this village,” Lottie added, “they lived in this house.”
Hetty nodded. “That’s right, they did.”
“Perhaps they’re the folks that had skeletons in their closets,” chuckled Sid.
“Shush Sid,” urged Hetty, “Lottie and I have agreed to forget about that silly Scrabble game. Anyway, I’m sure it meant nothing.”
“What’s a closet?” Mark asked.
“A cupboard,” chuckled Basil.
“Or closet can also mean someone is doing something secretly,” lectured Lottie, “A closet smoker for instance would be someone who smoked but claimed they didn’t.”
Mark frowned. Hetty patted his shoulder and then turned to her sister.
“Don’t confuse the lad, Lottie.”
“Sorry, Mark. Ignore me I’m inclined to waffle.”
“So what makes you think the old dears in the charity shop will know anything about the Berrymans?” Basil asked.
“Because according to Kitty one of them has a brother who was friends with a young Berryman who lived here.”
“I see.”
“Berryman, not heard that name before,” said Mark, as he took a packet of nails from the toolbox, “and I’ve lived here all my life.”
Basil gave Mark a friendly poke. “You mean all nineteen years of it.”
“Yeah, okay, not long I suppose.” He grinned, “I wish you’d tell me how old you are, Baz.”
“I’m as old as my tongue but older than my teeth.”
Hetty laughed. “I had an aunt who always said that when I tried to find out her age.”
In the corner Sid stooped to measure a piece of copper pipe for the shower room radiator. “So what did these Berrymans do?”
“They were undertakers,” Lottie calmly stated.
Sid fell backwards, laughing.
Hetty frowned. “What’s so funny?”
“Berryman,” chuckled Sid, wiping tears from his eyes, “what an appropriate name for an undertaker.”
Grace Dunkerley, enthused by the idea of seeing dragonflies, took a mug of coffee which she had made in her guest room out into the garden of Tuzzy-Muzzy and sat down on a wooden bench which overlooked the well-established pond. While she was there, a man in his late-forties came out and stood on the opposite side.
“Any fish in here do you know?”
“Yes, I’m told there are Koi Carp,” disclosed Grace, “I’ve certainly seen movement amongst the water lilies but sadly as yet no fish.”
“Koi Carp, in that case I shall sit here and hope to see one or two.” He sat down on the path which ran round the pond.
“I’ve not seen you before,” commented Grace, “have you only just arrived?”
The man nodded. “Yes, we got here last night. We being the wife and I.”
“Oh, I didn’t see you at breakfast but then I was the first down so must have missed you.”
“You would have because we were the last. In fact we only just made it.”
Grace smiled. “Well had you been late I’m sure Chloe wouldn’t have turned you away.”
“That’s good to hear.” He sprang to his feet and walked round to Grace and held out his hand. “My name’s Malcolm, Malcolm Jackson.”
Grace shook his hand. “Grace Dunkerley,” she said.
“May I?” he asked, pointing to the empty space on the bench.
“Be my guest,” Grace moved along so that he had plenty of room.
Malcolm sat down. “Lovely spot this, I’m so glad we found it on our internet search. We knew we wanted to come to Cornwall but didn’t have any idea where as neither of us had ever been here before. I must admit it’s even better than we expected.”
“Cornwall or the guesthouse?”
“Both, not that we’ve seen much of Cornwall yet.”
“You’ll love it especially if the weather is kind. And there are all sorts of interesting places to visit. Not that I’ve been around much yet.”
“Yes, we thought we’d go over to that Saint Michael’s Mount place this morning. It looks rather intriguing and I should imagine in the moonlight it could double up for Count Dracula’s castle.”
Grace laughed. “Yes I daresay it could.”
Malcolm looked at his watch and tutted. “Dear, dear, she said she’d only be ten minutes. The wife that is. She’s gone up to our room to change and put some make-up on and she’s already been gone half an hour.”
Grace smiled. “But there’s no rush, you’re on holiday so have all the time in the world.”
“True, but I’m a school teacher and so I’m used to working by the clock.”
“A teacher, eh, so what’s your subject?”
“History and I love it. That’s one of the reasons I want to go to the Mount and of course and any other historic places while we’re here.”
“Does your wife teach?”
Malcom shook his head. “No but she is at the same school as me. She’s the school secretary.”
“That’s convenient. For travel I mean.”
“Yes, it is.”
“And do you have children?”
“Two girls, both in their teens. Seventeen and ninetee
n. They’re currently on holiday in Ibiza but I don’t want to dwell on that fact.”
“Hmm, I sympathise.”
“How about you. Any children?”
“No, I’ve never been the maternal kind.”
Malcolm nodded. “Yes, we’re all different and have different aspirations, I suppose.”
“I’ve got to know the two ladies who live next door,” Grace pointed towards Primrose Cottage where the roof was just visible over the top of a camellia. “They discovered an old suitcase hidden beneath floorboards in their loft recently. Its contents should interest you. They appear to have belonged to someone who disappeared during the Second World War. They’re trying to find out something about him so that would be right up your street.”
“Really. Now that does sound interesting. Perhaps you could introduce me to them sometime.”
“Ah, there you are,” said an elegantly dressed woman with not a hair out of place as she appeared from the other side of flowering shrubs, “I’m ready now.”
Malcolm stood up. “Good, but before we go, Belinda, let me introduce you to Grace. She’s also a guest here.”
Belinda held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Grace.”
“Likewise.” After the handshake, Grace quickly hid her hands behind her back conscious of the contrast between her own short clipped nails and Belinda’s immaculate talons, which she deemed worthy of a place on an advertisement board for nail polish.
The visit to the charity shop proved fruitful. It was Daisy whose brother was friends with Simon Berryman and after hearing about the suitcase, Daisy rang him on her mobile to see if he knew where Simon was now. To the delight of Hetty and Lottie he was still in Cornwall and living on the outskirts of Truro. Daisy’s brother was even able to provide a telephone number and an address.
Afterwards Hetty and Lottie walked along Pentrillick’s main street, busy with holidaymakers sauntering along the pavements in small groups, laughing, chatting and seemingly enjoying the pleasant spell of good weather.
“Funny seeing people walking through the village in swimwear and skimpy summer clothing, isn’t it, Het? I mean, people wouldn’t walk around half dressed back home in Northants but it’s quite the norm here.”
Hetty laughed. “Yes, I see what you mean and I must admit I do notice it this year whereas last summer when we were holidaymakers ourselves I thought nothing of it.”
“Precisely. Anyway, shall we pop in for a coffee?” Lottie asked as they approached Taffeta’s Tea Shoppe, “then we can mull over what we’ve learned today and decide what our next move should be.”
Hetty agreed. “Yes, I must admit seeing inside Taffeta’s place always cheers me up.”
“Oh dear, I didn’t know you were feeling miserable.” They stopped by the Tea Shoppe window.
“I’m not, it’s just a figure of speech.”
The café had been refurbished since Taffeta had taken over the business earlier in the year. Gone were Chloe’s floral curtains and the bright yellow paint on the walls. Three walls were now pink and the fourth was papered with multi-coloured bows in all shapes and sizes on a white background. The curtains were in a fabric of the same design as the wallpaper as were the tablecloths. Only the floor was unchanged.
Taffeta dressed much like her décor. She had long blonde hair, tied back in a ponytail held together in a large taffeta bow. She wore a black knee length skirt part covered with a frilly white apron, and a chiffon blouse fastened at the neck with a large taffeta bow. The colours of her blouses varied from day to day and always matched the bow in her hair.
No-one knew much about Taffeta but many doubted it was her real name. All that was known was that she was in her late twenties, was married to Anthony Pascoe, a local lad from Penzance and the couple had met two years previously when Taffeta was on holiday in Cornwall and that they had married soon after. They bought the café because Taffeta had always fancied having her own business, and they lived in the flat over the tea rooms. Anthony was a financial advisor with an office in Penzance and was red-hot at cricket.
But whether or not the locals liked Taffeta’s ribbons and bows all agreed that she had a warm personality, worked hard and ran the business efficiently. She employed two part-time staff: Tess Dobson, who lived in the village and had done so for many years, and Daisy’s granddaughter, Tulip.
After leaving the café Hetty and Lottie walked down to the beach where they bought ice creams and sat on one of the benches to eat them. The tide was low and several people were in the sea. On the water’s edge children paddled and jumped in and out of the waves, laughing and giggling if the water splashed their faces. Much of the sand and shingle was taken with sunbathers, children building sandcastles and picnickers eating food from wicker baskets or takeaway fish and chips; while out at sea, Bernie the Boatman was chugging away from the shore with half a dozen anglers in his boat.
“It’ll soon be a year since we first set foot in this village as holidaymakers,” said Hetty, “What a lot of water has gone under the bridge since then.”
Lottie smiled. “And who’d have thought on that first day that we’d end up living here. Strange how things work out.”
“Isn’t it just.”
In the back garden of Primrose Cottage, Zac and Emma were busy digging a hole for the pond. The earth they removed they tossed onto a heap to be spread around the garden when the job was finished.
“Keep up the good work,” shouted a familiar voice.
Zac looked round to see Sid approaching along with Basil and Mark. All were carrying lunch boxes.
“Do you mind if we come and watch you while we eat our lunches?” Sid chuckled as he sat down on a garden bench.
“You can give us a hand if you like,” suggested Zac, wiping his sweaty forehead on the back of his hand.
“I might just do that,” said Sid, removing clingfilm from his sandwiches, “you both look a bit hot and flustered.”
“We feel it too,” sighed Emma, laying down her spade and straightening her back, “I think we ought to have a break, Zac.”
“Okay, you sit down and I’ll go and make us all a mug of tea.”
“No, no, I’ll do it,” Emma stepped out from the hole, “It’ll be nice to get indoors and out of the sun.”
Zac sat down on the grass, removed his shoes and tipped out soil from each one.
“Found anything interesting?” Basil asked, as he sat down beside Sid.
Zac grinned. “A button, several pieces of broken china and an old coin but I can’t quite make out what it is.”
Basil held out his hand. “Chuck it here.”
Zac threw the coin which Basil caught and turned over in his hand. “Ah, it’s an old farthing. They ceased to be legal tender in the year I was born.”
“When was that then?” Mark asked, legs crossed as he sat on the grass near to Zac.
“1960.”
Mark chuckled and wagged his fingers. “So you’re fifty seven. I knew you’d let it slip one day.”
Emma brought out mugs of tea on a tray and placed it down on the grass. She then sat down near to Mark who was closing up his lunch box having gobbled down his sandwiches and chocolate bars.
“Can I do some digging?” he eagerly asked, as he took a sip of his tea, “I rather fancy digging for treasure.”
“Be our guest,” grinned Zac, “but if what we’ve found so far is anything to go by I don’t think there’s much chance of finding treasure.”
“Thanks,” Mark sprang to his feet and jumped into the hole.
“If you dig the hole deep enough you can put the old plaster from your ceiling in the bottom,” suggested Basil, “It’d be one way of getting rid of it.”
Sid agreed. “You’ll need to break it up though, but a good stamping on it when it’s in place should do the trick.”
“That’s a good idea,” said Zac, “I’ll see what the ladies think when they get back.”
After digging for ten minutes, Mark struck something soli
d and excitedly dug away the earth to see what he had found. To his dismay it was an old rusty knife. In distain he tossed it aside. Sid picked it up.
“It’s a kitchen knife and would have been a beauty in its day. Look it has a bone handle.” He showed it to Basil who brushed away some earth to reveal Sheffield just legible on the blade.
“Someone must have been really fed up when they lost that,” tutted Basil.
Sid polished the handle on the sleeve of his shirt. “Someone must have been really careless as well. I mean, surely something of this size wouldn’t be easy to lose.”
“I dunno,” said Basil, “I’ve lost garden tools before now and thought I’d never see them again and then they’ve turned up a few years later when I’ve been digging over the garden or transplanting things. In fact I lost my mum’s favourite trowel once when I were a lad and she was not best pleased.”
When Lottie and Hetty arrived back at Primrose Cottage they were astounded to find Zac and Emma had almost finished digging out the pond.
“Just the marginal shelf to do that Grace said about,” stated Zac, “unless you want the pond any deeper. Although we’ve already gone down deeper than you said because Basil suggested putting the old ceiling rubble in the bottom to get rid of it.”
Lottie glanced at the unsightly heap of old plaster. “Oh, well done, Basil: that’s an excellent idea. We were wondering what to do with it. I must compliment him when I next see him.”
“Anyway, it looks fine to me,” agreed Hetty, “but we’ll ask Grace what she thinks when we next see her.”
“Talk of the devil,” laughed Lottie, as Grace walked round the side of the house, waving. “Is it alright if I join you?” she called.
“Of course, of course. Come and tell us what you think,” gushed Hetty, “Do you think they’ve dug deep enough?”
“Oh yes,” said Grace, as she reached the side of hole, “you must have been working flat out to get all this done in one morning.”
“We did have a bit of help,” confessed Emma, “Mark was keen to find treasure and so did a bit of digging during his lunch break.”
The Suitcase In The Attic Page 5