The Suitcase In The Attic

by Daphne Neville

  “We’d love to,” Hetty hastily replied, “but what is it used for now?”

  “It’s a holiday let and has been since May. Come on, I’ll show you round.”

  They entered the building by a side door flanked by large terracotta pots containing pelargoniums, trailing lobelia and begonias.

  “So are you the housekeeper?” Lottie asked as she gazed around the brightly lit interior.

  “Yes, and I love coming out here. It’s the favourite of all my little jobs. It’s so peaceful and for a few hours I like to pretend I live here.”

  The downstairs was open plan with kitchen and dining areas towards the back and a sitting area at the front with breath-taking views of the sea.

  “Does it get battered much by the sea in winter?” Hetty asked, looking from the large triple glazed window onto the slipway below.

  “If the wind is in the southeast, yes. But the prevailing wind in Cornwall is from the southwest so it doesn’t fare too badly.”

  Lottie pointed up towards the mezzanine floor. “I assume up there are the bedrooms.”

  “That’s right. There are two of them, a double and a twin. Come and take a peep.”

  Lining the wall of the staircase were several framed black and white pictures of men standing alongside their lifeboats.

  Hetty gasped. “Are these pictures of the Pentrillick lifeboat crews?”

  “Yes, although I doubt if everyone who ever served on the lifeboat is here.”

  “Are there any from the 1940s?” Hetty eagerly asked.

  “Two,” Tess pointed to the pictures in question, “this one was taken in 1941 and the other in 1949 just before the boathouse was closed down.”

  Lottie gasped. “Wow, do you think David might be on one of them, Het?”

  “That’s what I’m hoping. The trouble is I didn’t bring my reading specs with me. Did you, Lottie?”

  Lottie shook her head.

  “Damn.”

  “Do you have a phone with you?” Tess asked.

  Hetty nodded. “I never go anywhere without it as you never know when it might be needed.”

  “Then take a photo of the photo,” suggested Tess, “then when you get home you can zoom in on it to get a better look.”

  “Good thinking,” Hetty eagerly fumbled in the large pocket of her cardigan for her phone. She then took several photos of the 1941 picture but only two of the 1949 as they knew by then David was already missing.

  “We’ll study these closely when we get back,” said Hetty excitedly as she tucked the phone back into her pocket. “We know what David looks like because there was a picture of him with Peter in our attic.”

  Lottie shared her sister’s enthusiasm. “It’ll be interesting to see what his fellow lifeboat men were like and one of them might even be the mystery man who drove the hearse for the Berrymans.”

  “Oh, how I wish these chaps could speak to us,” sighed Hetty, as she waved her hand at the pictures, “they would be able to answer so many of our questions.”

  Tess folded her arms. “Well someone around here today must know something or you wouldn’t keep getting strange things happen to you. I heard that someone had tampered with the brakes on your car the other day and it’s common knowledge that Simon Berryman was poisoned while visiting the area.”

  “And don’t forget the letter bomb,” Lottie added.

  Tess’s jaw dropped. “A letter bomb.”

  Lottie grimaced. “Damn, we agreed not to let anyone know about that.”

  “I won’t say a word,” muttered Tess.

  “Really,” chuckled Hetty.

  Tess’s shoulders slumped. “Well, I’ll try not to.”

  “Oh, it doesn’t matter,” laughed Hetty, noting the look of disappointment on Tess’s face, “tell who you want. It won’t really make any difference, and Sid, Basil and Mark know anyway because they were there when we received it.”

  “And Grace,” Lottie added.

  “Yes, of course. Grace too.”

  “So what exactly happened?”

  Tess listened intently while the sisters told of the morning the letter bomb had arrived with the post.

  When they arrived back at Primrose Cottage, Kyle’s van was parked by the garage and upstairs he along with Zac and Emma were busy painting the walls and ceilings of one of the new bedrooms.

  “My goodness, you don’t waste any time,” said Hetty, seeing that the larger of the two rooms was nearly finished.

  “Rollers are so quick. We’d still have a long way to go if we’d used brushes.” Zac lifted the ten litre tub and poured more paint into the tray.

  Hetty shook her head. “I don’t get on with rollers. The only time I ever used one there was more paint on me than on the wall and as for using them for ceilings…it’d be impossible although I see you’ve managed alright.”

  Lottie nodded. “Same here. It must be an age thing.”

  “Or we don’t have the knack.”

  “Is that the phone I can hear?” Emma asked.

  Lottie put her head round the door. “Yes, it is,” she then went downstairs and Hetty followed.

  When Lottie answered the phone there was no-one there.

  “Here we go again,” she snapped and slammed down the receiver.

  In all they received another three calls and all within a space of fifteen minutes. As before the fourth ended with heavy breathing and then a scream. However, to the surprise of the sisters, the police came round soon after. They had traced the calls to the old red phone box in the village.

  In the evening Hetty plugged her phone into her laptop so that they could look at the pictures of the lifeboat men. In the 1941 photograph the crew were wearing life jackets, sea boots and flat caps. The 1949 crew wore long mackintoshes and sou’westers.

  “There’s David,” Lottie pointed to the young man second from the left.

  “Well spotted. I wonder if my Old Jimmy the hearse driver is on this too. I’m quite familiar with his looks now.”

  Lottie tutted but said nothing.

  Hetty picked up a magnifying glass and looked at the picture in more detail. “Oh no,” she laughed, as the magnifying glass scanned the bow of the boat, “Oh no. Oh dear. You’re never going to believe this, Lottie. You see Old Jimmy is on the picture but there’s no way he’s the hearse driver. Old Jimmy is the lifeboat.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Seeing the Goliath brought a lump to Hetty’s throat. Much of the wood had rotted leaving gaping holes. Where paint was still visible it had flaked and faded but the name on the stern was as clear as the day the boat was new.

  “Do you think you’ll ever restore it?” Lottie asked Tristan Liddicott-Treen. “I know it was your father’s project and he’s no longer with us but it seems such a shame to let it deteriorate further.”

  “I whole heartedly agree,” replied Justin, rubbing his hand along the gunwales, “especially since you’ve told me about the suitcase in your attic. To be honest, woodwork isn’t a skill I possess but I know a man who is extremely talented and so I shall ask him to restore it for me.”

  “That’s cheered me no-end,” said Hetty, “Thank you.”

  “It’s the least I can do and perhaps when it is fully restored and seaworthy I can take you ladies out for trip along the coast.”

  “Wow,” gushed Lottie, “that would be wonderful. I’d love to see Pentrillick from off-shore.”

  Hetty and Lottie along with Grace were in one of the outbuildings in the grounds of Pentrillick House viewing the boat following its discovery by Bernie the Boatman. Afterwards, they wandered down to the café and while sitting by the lake drinking coffee, Luke Burleigh walked by, hands in pockets, whistling a tune not at all familiar to the three ladies.

  “Does that chap not like you two?” Grace asked, a puzzled look on her face.

  “Humph,” snorted Hetty.

  Lottie smiled, amused by her sister’s taciturn response. “Let’s put it like this, we don’t exactly see eye to eye
but what makes you ask that, Grace?”

  “Well, it’s just he was glaring at you in the pub the other night which I thought was a little strange.”

  “Was he?” Lottie pulled a face.

  “He’s probably heard on the grapevine that we’ve been asking questions about him,” growled Hetty, watching Luke until he was out of sight.

  Lottie laughed. “Well it was hardly on the grapevine, Het. It was his wife you were grilling and she no doubt told him.”

  “So who is he then?” Grace asked.

  “Luke Burleigh,” growled Hetty, “he lives a few doors away from us in Blackberry Way at Fuchsia Cottage. He’s renting it from Tommy Thomas because Tom hasn’t lived there now since he married Kitty and moved into Meadowsweet with her.”

  “Meadowsweet is where Kitty already lives and has done for donkey’s years,” Lottie added to put Grace in the picture.

  “I see. So what does this Luke chappie do?” Grace asked.

  “Apparently he’s a science teacher,” scoffed Hetty, “He’s not been in the area long and comes from Rochdale.”

  “And his mother’s maiden name was Berryman,” Lottie added, “but she’s not one of the Cornish Berrymans from down here.”

  “His mother was a Berryman and he’s a science teacher,” gasped Grace, “Oh my goodness me.”

  Hetty frowned. “Why has your face gone all pink?”

  “Has it?” Grace touched her rosy cheeks.

  “I just told you he’s not related to our Berrymans,” said Lottie, emphatically, “so there’s nothing to get excited about. And we know it’s true because Het asked his wife, Natalie, didn’t you, Het?”

  “Yes, when I was at the hairdressers.”

  “Humph, well I reckon he’s up to no good,” blurted Grace. Her brows tightly knitted.

  A vacant look crossed the faces of both Hetty and Lottie.

  “Explain,” demanded Lottie.

  “Well, you tell me he’s a Berryman and he’s also a science teacher.”

  “That’s right, but so what?” Lottie drained her coffee mug and placed it by her feet.

  “Well, if you take his occupation and his name and mix the two, then I’d say you have a pretty lethal combination.”

  “What on earth are you on about?” Hetty was clearly baffled.

  “Mumbo jumbo,” snapped Lottie.

  “Oh come on, use your brains, girls,” spluttered Grace, “I’m referring to the letter bomb. It must have been made by someone with a little or a lot of scientific knowledge. I mean most people wouldn’t have a clue about explosives, would they?”

  “Good point,” Lottie agreed, “but surely such things can be Googled, meaning anyone could have done it.”

  Hetty’s jaw dropped. “No, Lottie. I think Grace has hit the nail on the head. I’m going to ring the police as soon as we get home. I think surely Burleigh has some explaining to do.”

  “I hear young Luke Burleigh has been questioned by the police regarding the letter bomb you received,” chided Kitty, when she and Tommy called round in the evening with some tomatoes grown in their greenhouse.

  “Oh, they do look nice, thank you,” said Hetty, “but how do you know about Luke?”

  “Because he told us,” Kitty replied, “We just dropped some tomatoes in to him and Natalie as well. I’m not sure whether he was amused by the incident or cross. I find him difficult to make out.”

  “I hope he was amused,” squeaked Lottie.

  Hetty scowled. “I hope he was cross.”

  Kitty tutted. “Don’t be like that, Hetty. I think they’re a lovely young couple.”

  “Okay, so did he say anything about the police interview?”

  “Only that he’d laughed when they asked about a letter bomb. Apparently he teaches natural science. You know biology and stuff, so explosives and suchlike aren’t his thing.”

  “But his mother was a Berryman,” gabbled Hetty.

  “Yes, but he’s done a bit of family history and so could prove that his mother has no connection with Cornwall whatsoever.”

  Lottie bit her bottom lip. “Oh dear, I think we must avoid him for a while.”

  “We’ll blame Grace,” chuckled Hetty, conscious that her face had warmed up, “she’s the one that suggested he might be responsible for the letter bomb.”

  “Hmm, we will, but sadly if Luke is in the clear we’re back to square one yet again,” muttered Lottie.

  Hetty laughed. “Yes, once again we’re face to face with the old brick wall.”

  “Perhaps David Tregear had an accident,” suggested Tommy, as they all went into the sitting room and sat down, “you know, he fell down a mineshaft or something like that. There are lots of them about and back in the nineteen forties I daresay health and safety wasn’t as stringent as it is today.”

  “But if that’s the case why were his things hidden in our attic?” Lottie asked.

  “Perhaps someone hid them to soften the blow to his mother,” reasoned Kitty, “his stepbrother, George perhaps. After all if he had cause to believe that David had had an accident then he might have thought it better to suggest he’d run away rather than have her know or believe something horrible had happened to him.”

  Tommy nodded. “Yes, good point, Kitty. And it’s worth remembering that with some of these mines it’d be difficult to retrieve a body especially during wartime when resources were stretched.”

  “Well if an accident such as you’ve suggested happened, Tommy, then someone must have been with him. Because if he’d been alone then no-one would’ve known about it, would they? Meaning, that if no-one knew there would have been no-one to cover up his disappearance by hiding his belongings.” Hetty frowned, “I hope that makes sense.”

  “It does, and if so it’s likely the person in question would have been too afraid to tell anyone because he or she hadn’t been able to save the poor chap and therefore felt guilty.” Tommy spoke with conviction.

  Hetty scowled. “But that someone would have needed to have told George in order for George to have hidden the suitcase in our attic.”

  “Either George or the hearse driver who lodged here,” reasoned Lottie.

  Hetty sighed. “Okay, so for the sake of argument let’s assume David fell down a mineshaft. Who then might have been with him to have witnessed his fall?”

  Lottie glanced at the lining paper pinned to the wall. “Perhaps it was the girlfriend.”

  “But I thought you were only guessing that he had a girlfriend,” teased Kitty.

  “Yes, we were.” Lottie looked at her sister. “Why are you scowling, Het?”

  “Oh, was I? I didn’t realise. But I was just thinking about Polly, you having mentioned a girlfriend. You see, what’s suddenly occurred to me is why she wasn’t called up during the war? I mean women of her age were, weren’t they? After all she had no children and she didn’t work in any of the categories that were exempt.”

  “Good point,” Kitty agreed, “perhaps it might be worth asking Simon when next you see him. Although I doubt that he’ll know. If I’m honest I’ve no idea what my aunts and uncles did during the war.”

  “And whatever her reason for avoiding conscription doesn’t help us solve the David mystery anyway,” said Lottie.

  “I agree and going back to what we were saying a few minutes ago, I don’t think David had an accident at all simply because if he had then why is someone trying to harm Lottie and me? Not to mention poor Simon. What’s more, I’m sure George wouldn’t have tried to deceive his stepmother like that. Remember George was Simon’s father and I think Simon is as straight as a die.”

  Lottie nodded. “Yes, you’re right and I agree. What’s more I think it might be time we accepted that we’ll never know the truth and we can hypothesise ‘til the cows come home.”

  “You want to give up?” Hetty was flabbergasted.

  “Well, unless we get a few more clues I don’t think we have a choice.”

  “I shall never give up even if it takes
me the rest of my life. Anyway, something will turn up soon, I feel it in my bones.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  On Friday morning, Hetty and Lottie drove down to Penzance to look at bedroom furniture for the new rooms. Lottie also wanted to buy fabric to make curtains for the windows even though Hetty said it would be much easier to buy some readymade. The shopping trip was a success. They found furniture they liked and placed an order. After finding fabric to her liking, Lottie bought the amount that would be needed. They also bought a huge box of chocolates which they knew to be Grace’s favourites.

  In the evening, Grace took Hetty, Lottie and Zac out for a meal at the Crown and Anchor to celebrate her fifty-ninth birthday. They had a large table booked in the dining room because she had also invited along several young people with whom Zac was friends, including Emma and Kyle. Tommy and Kitty and Alex and Ginny and the Jacksons were also guests.

  After the meal, the party returned to the bar; the youngsters went into the games area to play pool and the rest went and sat outside but there was very little warmth. The evening sun had moved round plunging the whole terrace into shade so, after they finished their drinks they decided it was too chilly to remain outdoors and went back inside.

  Sitting at the bar, Lottie observed a man who had looked in their direction on several occasions since they had come in from outside. He was talking to the garage proprietor, Vince Royale and when he caught Lottie’s eye, he left his bar stool and approached the party.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt your gathering but I wonder if you’ll permit me to meet up with you some time. The man leaning on the bar told me that you’re the people I’m looking for. It’s about the suitcase you found in your attic, you see.”

  All ears pricked up.

  “How come you know about the suitcase?” Kitty asked, knowing the young man was not a local.

  “My girlfriend told me. She started work at the Pentrillick Hotel last week and heard all about it there.”

  “Really!” Hetty exclaimed, “Are you able to tell us what happened to David Tregear then by any chance?”