“If the bears were identical how did the boys know whose was whose?” Lottie asked.
“Good point and it must have been because of the tie. Peter’s bear has a blue tie whereas this chap’s is red.”
“I see and do you by any chance know the name of this bear? Several of us have made suggestions such as Fred, Pilchard, Saffron Bun and Old Jimmy but it’d be nice to know what David called him.”
Simon chuckled. “Well, none of those names ring a bell but then I was probably never told his name. I’ll put my thinking cap on later and see if a name springs to mind.” He looked down at the suitcase. “Meanwhile, I think I’ll have a look through this.”
Simon sat the bear on the table and then knelt down on the floor. He lifted up the case lid and after shuffling through the contents he picked out the wooden boat. “Goliath, I’d forgotten all about Goliath until you showed me the photo the other day. This must have been carved by Peter Tregear because I remember going with Grandma Florence to put flowers on his grave and she told me that he was a carpenter before he went to war. In fact, I’ve just remembered, he worked at the undertakers too, making coffins I suppose.”
“Ah, so that might be what brought the two families together,” said Hetty.
“More than likely,” Simon turned the boat over in his hands. “I’m really impressed with this. It’s beautifully carved.” He stood the boat on the table and a smile crossed his face. “Dad took me out in Goliath once but he said that he didn’t have sea legs like the fishermen. Probably something to do with his flat feet.” He looked at the sisters, “Have you had any luck finding out what happened to her? She can’t be far away because if David went missing in 1942 it must still have been around in the fifties for me to remember it.” He groaned. “What am I talking about? The fifties were sixty plus years ago so the boat might be long gone.”
Hetty chuckled. “It’s easy to lose track of time. Lottie and I are past masters at it. As for the boat, we’ve asked a friend of ours who does fishing trips in the village to investigate. Hopefully he’ll be able to come up with something.”
Simon frowned. “It’s funny but a strange fuzzy memory is coming back. I was in the hallway here playing with a model car. Mum and Dad were in here talking and when I heard mention of David and Goliath my ears pricked up but their conversation didn’t make sense. You see, Mum said something about David being dead and I was confused because I knew through teachings at Sunday school that David slew Goliath the giant with his sling and so he didn’t die. Of course I realise now they weren’t discussing a Bible story at all but must have been talking about David and his boat, Goliath.” He chuckled. “And I suppose I must have got my wires crossed somehow and the death they referred to must have been Peter and not David. After all I was very young.”
“And Peter died seven years before you were born anyway,” said Sheila, working out in her head details of the Tregear/Berryman family tree, “so you wouldn’t have known him at all.”
“Absolutely,” Simon agreed, “and as Mum died just before my seventh birthday I must have been very young when I overheard them talking.”
Lottie nodded. “Yes, it’s very easy to get childhood memories muddled. I used to think I could remember war planes flying overhead as a youngster but of course I couldn’t have because I wasn’t born until seven years after the war ended. My memory was no doubt confused by the many black and white war films that were on the television back in those days.”
“Ah, those were the days,” chuckled Simon, “black and white television and all of two channels. Although I actually remember when there was only one channel.”
Hetty groaned. “So do I but let’s not dwell on that fact as it makes me feel really old.”
“Is your father still with us?” Lottie asked, calculating there was a slim possibility George Berryman might still be alive.
“Sadly not. He died in 2007 when he was ninety years old and although he was living in Penzance at the time we had him buried here in Pentrillick alongside Mum because that was his wish.”
Hetty tutted. “You know Simon’s father is no longer with us, Lottie. Remember, we saw his grave yesterday.”
Lottie’s face reddened. “Oh yes, silly me.”
Simon smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m finding it hard to keep track and I’m familiar with some of the names so it must be a really confusing for you.”
“And as we established the other day, your father never remarried,” commented Hetty.
“That’s right and in a funny sort of way I’m glad he didn’t because I don’t think I would have liked to have a step-mother.”
Sheila smiled. “Your father had a step-mother and from what I’ve gathered Florence was very nice.”
“Yes, she was.”
Lottie having recovered her embarrassment said: “I was just thinking. Whereabouts in the village was the undertakers business? I don’t recall seeing anywhere that might have been a chapel of rest and so forth.”
“That’s because it no longer exists. After Granddad died, Dad closed the business down and sold it to a property developer who demolished the original building and built a couple of semi-detached bungalows on the plot. I can’t blame him because it was in a prime position along the main road overlooking the sea.”
“Anywhere near Sea View Cottage?” Hetty asked.
Simon laughed. “Yes, very near. Right next door in fact. Granddad used to live at Sea View but sold it a couple of years after he married Grandma Florence because he wanted to invest some money into her hotel. You know, up-date it and so forth and I suppose it was some of that money he gave to Dad for a deposit to buy this place.”
“Well I never,” exclaimed Lottie, “It seems we’re following in the footsteps of your family. We stayed at Sea View Cottage for a holiday last year and that’s how we came to discover Pentrillick. And now we’re living in the house your parents owned. Quite spooky, I think.”
Just after Simon and Sheila left to return to Tuzzy-Muzzy, Basil appeared in the hallway and asked the sisters to come and see the conversion progress before they finished work for the weekend. Hetty and Lottie happily followed Basil up the stairs and were delighted with what they saw. The stud walls were all in place and plastered and so there were now three rooms and a small hallway in the attic instead of a large void.
“And the shower room is all finished,” said Lottie, running her hand across the smooth wall panels.
“Not quite,” Sid held up a small cardboard box, “The taps for the wash basin aren’t any good. They didn’t have the ones I needed in stock so I tried these but I’m not happy with them so I’ll come back and fit the right ones when they come in. Hope that’s okay.”
“Yes, that’s fine,” agreed Hetty, “because we won’t use the shower room until the whole job is completely finished.”
“And there isn’t a door yet anyway,” Lottie chuckled.
Basil pointed to three doors leaning against a wall. “We’ll be doing the doors on Monday and then starting the wardrobes on Tuesday. They shouldn’t take long so by the end of next week we should be finished here too.”
“Lovely, and then we can paint the walls,” said Lottie, “I’m really impressed by your efficiency…all three of you.”
“Me too,” Hetty added.
That evening, Hetty and Lottie received four more anonymous phone calls. As before, there was no-one there for the first three but on the fourth there was heavy breathing followed by a piercing scream.
“Do you think we ought to report it?” Lottie asked her sister.
Hetty shook her head. “No, I’m sure it’s just kids larking around. They’ll get bored eventually and do something else equally childish and pointless.”
“Hmm, hopefully you’re right. It might be worth asking around though to see if anyone else has been getting them.”
“No, really I think it’s better if we say nothing because if whoever is doing it hears people talking about the calls then they’ll be inspired
to continue with their silly behaviour. So much better to keep mum.”
“Yes, I can see your logic and I think you’re right.”
Zac was up bright and early on Saturday morning, eager to meet up with his friends to prepare for the raft race which was to commence at midday. He left Primrose Cottage just before nine dressed as a pirate, and walked off down Long Lane, swishing his cardboard sword and saying ‘Ahoy, there me Hearties’ and ‘Shiver me timbers’.
His great aunt and grandmother seated in the kitchen eating breakfast, looked wistfully after him as he left the house.
“Oh to be young again,” sighed Hetty, “I’d love to take part in the raft race. It sounds fun.”
“Yes, it does but I think it’ll be just as enjoyable to watch and at least we’ll keep dry.”
“True, falling into the sea fully clothed certainly would put a damper on it in more ways than one.”
Just before eleven, Hetty and Lottie, along with Grace, Simon and Sheila walked down to the village. The weather was fine although a little dull but at least the wind was light which would be beneficial to the raft race participants.
Where shall we watch?” Grace asked, as they reached the bottom of Long Lane.
“I think the pub’s terrace will be as good as anywhere and we should get a good view from up there.”
Simon licked his lips. “I’m game for that. I rather fancy a pint because I put too much salt on my poached eggs this morning.”
“Ugh, I don’t think I could face a drink this early,” muttered Hetty, “I might have a coffee instead.”
“You usually have a drink in the morning on Christmas Day,” Lottie reminded her.
“Yes, but that’s different. I’ll stick to coffee.”
“Me too,” agreed Sheila.
“What killjoys,” laughed Grace, “This is a special occasion so I shall have a glass of wine and I insist on paying for you all to have whatever you want. What would you like, Lottie?”
“I’ll have a wine too, please but better make it a dry white as the red is too strong for daytime.”
While Grace went to the bar to get the drinks along with Sheila to help carry them, the rest of the party went out onto the terrace where already a large crowd was gathered. Amongst them was Taffeta, dressed in jeans and T-shirt with not a bow in sight. Hetty was surprised both by outfit and her presence.
“Have you closed your tea shop for the day?” she asked.
“No, my hubby’s looking after it for a couple of hours, bless him. He often does on a Saturday to give me a break. I think he rather enjoys it because he likes meeting people. Anyway, I’ve got to cheer on the girls.”
“Which girls are they?”
“Nicki and Karen from the hairdressers,” Taffeta giggled, “they’re mermaids. They asked me to join them but I said I was too fat to be a mermaid.”
“Too fat!” exclaimed Hetty, “there’s more fat on a greasy chip.”
Hetty turned her head when Grace and Sheila arrived with the drinks and she heard Grace address someone whom she clearly knew.
“Hetty, Lottie,” she beckoned, “come over here and meet Malcolm and Belinda who are also staying at Tuzzy-Muzzy. Simon and Sheila have already met them because I introduced them this morning during breakfast. Malcolm is the history teacher I told you about the other day. And this is his wife, Belinda.”
“Oh I see, pleased to meet you,” said Hetty and Lottie. They shook hands in turn while, Grace and Sheila handed out the drinks.
“Likewise,” gushed Malcolm. Belinda smiled sweetly.
“Grace told me that you recently found an old suitcase in your attic dating back to World War Two and also a little about the person to whom it must have belonged. I’d love to see it if that’s alright as it sounds fascinating.” Malcolm’s eyes shone with enthusiasm.
“Of course, we’d be delighted to show you,” said Hetty, “the more people that see it and cast an opinion the better chance we have of finding out what happened to David Tregear our mystery train driver-cum-fisherman.”
Lottie laughed. “Next time Grace comes to see us you must come with her and that will probably be tomorrow as she’s a frequent visitor, I’m pleased to say.”
“Two boats with lots of flags on have just positioned themselves a short distance away from the shore,” gushed Sheila, excitedly, “So something’s happening.”
Simon took several gulps of beer. “I daresay the boats will mark the spot where the rafts have to get to before they turn round and come back.”
“In which case the race might be starting soon.” Lottie looked at her watch, “Yes, it’s nearly twelve. Let’s get a bit closer, we don’t want to miss anything.”
Lottie moved closer to the railings to get a better view and the others all followed.
There were ten rafts in the race and every single one was bizarre. Most were built on empty oil drums; some had a wooden bottom and others it wasn’t possible to see what they were based on.
“Where’s your Zac?” Grace asked, casting her eyes along the beach where the rafts were lined up at the water’s edge.
“He’s with the pirates,” gabbled Lottie, feeling proud of her grandson. “And on the raft of hippies with a tent, is our plumber Sid. He’s the chap strumming a guitar.”
Grace looked surprised. “Really. I wouldn’t have put Sid down as being musical.”
“He’s not,” chuckled Hetty, “He told us he can’t play for toffee so we must be thankful that we’re far enough away from him to hear his tuneless plonking.”
“What about the Father Christmases on a sleigh?” asked Sheila, “Who are they?”
Hetty finished her coffee and placed the cup and saucer on the floor away from the many pairs of feet. “Well, I can’t recognise any from here but if I remember correctly they’ll be members of the Christmas Wonderland Committee. And the mermaids in the giant shell are Nicki and Karen the hairdressers with some of their friends. Taffeta was just telling me.”
“Oh to be young again,” said Sheila, “we didn’t do things like this in my day but then I’ve never lived near the coast.”
“Are you not from Cornwall then?” Hetty asked.
“Yes, but I’ve always lived in and around Truro and it’s not the same as being somewhere like Pentrillick.”
“Looks like they’re off,” Simon placed his glass of beer on the table behind him to free up his hands in order to clap and cheer.
The noise from spectators on the beach was quite deafening, especially when the first raft capsized and its vampire rowers were plunged into the water where they tried to scramble back on board. They did not succeed. Their coffin shaped raft snapped in half and the two sections drifted back towards the shore. Most other teams did not fare much better and overturned one after another.
Sid and the hippies won the raft race. Zac and his friends came third. A team of monks came second and the rest did not complete the course.
“Oh dear, I’ve not laughed so much for ages,” chuckled Malcolm, wiping his eyes, as six soggy Santas dragged their broken sleigh onto the shore and emptied water from their Wellington boots, “I’m so glad you told us about it, Grace.”
Grace nodded. “Yes, I certainly think we chose the right month to be here on holiday.”
“Anyone fancy another drink?” Lottie asked, draining her empty glass as they all wandered back into the bar. “I’m paying.”
“I shouldn’t really but I’d like another,” giggled Grace, already feeling a little light-headed, “but I actually feel in a party mood.”
“Me too,” Simon picked up his glass.
Sheila tutted. “But you’ve not finished that one yet,” She pointed to the half full glass in his hand.
“I know but I had to put it down so I could clap.” He quickly downed the rest of his pint. “Finished now.” He put the empty glass on the bar just as Alison began to load up the glass washer. Simon glanced at the row of beer pumps. “I think I’ll have a Guinness this time because t
hat beer tasted a bit funny.”
“I’m not surprised,” laughed Sheila, “the amount of mints you’ve eaten this morning to get rid of the taste of salt.”
“Malcolm, Belinda, would you like a drink?” Lottie asked.
“That’s very kind,” said Malcolm, “I’ll have a half of Doom Bar, please.”
“Tonic water for me, please,” smiled Belinda.
With drinks in hand the party moved over towards a table by the fireplace where a wooden tub filled with dried hydrangeas hid the empty grate.
Simon placed his glass on the mantel piece while everyone else took a seat and to make sure there were enough chairs he borrowed a spare couple from a nearby table. Just as he was about to sit, the colour suddenly drained from his face. He groaned and put one hand over his mouth and with the other he clutched his stomach. “Oh my God. I feel sick,” He doubled up in obvious pain.
Sheila leapt from her seat and grabbed his arm. “Simon,” she screamed.
“Help me,” he slurred. He then fell forwards and collapsed onto the floor.
Chapter Ten
On Sunday morning, Hetty and Lottie still feeling shaken by Simon’s sudden illness, went to church. They left Primrose Cottage at eight thirty for the service which began at nine o’clock, leaving Zac fast asleep on the settee having been out until late the previous evening at a post raft race party.
After the service they spoke to Kitty who had played the organ and she asked if there was any news regarding the condition of Simon Berryman.
Hetty answered. “Yes, Sheila rang last night to say he was stable and that it was suspected he was suffering from food poisoning.”
“Which makes us a little suspicious,” blurted Lottie, “because when we were in the pub he mentioned that his beer tasted funny.”
Kitty frowned. “But if the beer was off, which I doubt because Ashley is very fussy about looking after his beer correctly, then others would have been ill too because the pub must have been busy yesterday.”
The Suitcase In The Attic Page 8