The Secrets of Palmerston House

by Phillipa Nefri Clark

  Chapter Twenty-four

  “How strange.” Christie frowned as she put her phone onto the kitchen table.

  Martin looked up from his coffee. “That was short.”

  “She hung up on me.”

  “Did the phone drop out?”

  “No. She said she couldn’t talk and hung up. Sounded so upset.”

  “Probably just had a client there.”

  Christie shook her head. “Even so, there was something in her voice... I might drive down and make sure she’s alright.”

  “You worry so much about everyone.” Martin took Christie’s hand. “Let’s go check on Daphne.”

  “Thank you. I’ll let the others know whilst you finish your coffee.” Christie leaned across and kissed Martin’s cheek, then stood. “I think they’re outside still.”

  Since arriving back from their trip to Green Bay library, Thomas had been outside with Martha. Christie saw them walking around the vegetable garden before Martin arrived, taking her attention with his concerns about George. Now she hurried out, her thoughts with Daphne rather than the curious information she and Thomas came home with. Somehow she felt it was all connected, though she didn’t know how. Not yet.

  Martha and Thomas sat on the bench near the orchard. Intent on their own conversation, Christie politely coughed as she got close to alert them.

  “Did I hear Martin’s voice, dear?” Martha smiled.

  Christie noted how tightly Martha gripped Thomas’ hand and knew he must have shared his worries with her.

  “Yes, you did. Are you okay, Auntie?”

  “Course she is. Just loves holding my hand.”

  “I’m so sorry. I really, truly am.”

  “Whatever you are talking about, you’re being quite silly.” Martha shook her head at Christie. “You are not responsible for the actions of other people. Never have been, so get over yourself.”

  Thomas and Christie stared at Martha, mouths open. Then, she laughed. “Heard the term on the radio and always wanted to use it.”

  “Well, I will think about getting over myself, but in the interim, Martin and I are going to check in with Daphne.”

  “Daphne?”

  “I called her to see if we could get together to have a talk about... umm—”

  “Bernard Cooper. I already talked to Martha about our suspicions.”

  “Oh. Daphne has had a bit to do with him, so I called to see if Martin and I can drop by to talk about it all. She was really upset and said she couldn’t talk to me. Hung up in fact. So, we’re going to see if she’s okay.”

  “Shall we come along?” Martha got to her feet.

  “Not yet. I’ll update you once we see if she’s okay. What if I ask her and John to join us for dinner? I’ll grab some takeaway so no need to cook or anything.”

  “Rubbish. I have a basket full of winter vegetables and will whip something up in no time.” Martha held her arms out and Christie hugged her. “Take care, darling.”

  “I will. You are a rock star. Seeing as you like modern terms.” Christie grinned. “I’ll phone. So, go inside before it cools down too much.”

  “Best time of the year.” Thomas picked up Martha’s basket.

  “You say that no matter what the season.” Christie reminded him.

  “As long as there is food, it is the best time of the year.”

  ***

  The digital clock on Daphne’s desk counted every second as though it were an hour. No phone call. Where are you, John? She checked the landline was working, then her mobile. Had it really only been two minutes since she’d left the message? A pile of wet tissues filled the rubbish bin near her feet. For some reason, the tears refused to stop. Her hands still shook so hard it was difficult to dial the phone, but she had to try again.

  “You’ve reached John Jones but I’m not at my phone, so please leave a message and I’ll return your call as soon as I can.”

  Beep.

  “Love, please call me the minute you get this. Please, please be okay. I love you. It’s Daph.”

  She hung up. He knows it’s you. Now her head was thumping so hard she couldn’t think straight. Bang. Bang. Bang.

  “Daphne! Are you in there?”

  It wasn’t her head, it was Trev at the front door. She flew to unlock it. “Have you—”

  “There’s nothing, Daph. Come and sit down, you look ready to fall down.” Trev took Daphne’s arm and guided her behind the counter to her seat. “I’ll get you some water.”

  “Don’t leave me, please.”

  “Okay.” Trev squatted beside her. “You’ve tried calling John?”

  Daphne nodded, her throat suddenly constricting too much to speak.

  “He didn’t answer? You said earlier he was with a client so probably wouldn’t answer the phone. Right?”

  She nodded again and grabbed Trev’s hand. “Find him.” It was barely a whisper.

  “I will, but I’m not happy about leaving you alone.”

  “Trev? Is everything okay?” Christie, followed by Martin, hurried through the front door. Daphne looked up, fresh tears pouring down her face. Christie ran to her side and threw her arms around her. “What’s happened?”

  Trev straightened to make room for Christie. “Someone phoned Daphne a few minutes ago and told her John’s been in an accident.”

  “No!” Christie squeezed Daphne tightly.

  “Thing is, there’s been no reports, no call outs, nothing at all. I reckon it’s a mistake.”

  Martin pulled his phone from a pocket and dialled. He listened and then hung up. “John’s voicemail. How long since you’ve spoken to him?”

  “Half... half an hour.”

  “I’ll get you some water.” Christie sped into the kitchen.

  “He went to River’s End Heights to show someone a house. If you can stay with Daphne, I’ll go for a drive now.”

  Christie came back with a glass of water. Daphne sipped at it, spilling some over herself. She reached for more tissues but the box was empty. Martin handed her a clean handkerchief. “I’ll come with you, Trev.”

  “We’ll be fine. You two go and we’ll ring when we hear from John.” Christie took the handkerchief and dabbed the wet spot on Daphne’s top. “Which will be any second now.”

  With a nod, Trev stepped around the counter. “Appreciate the company.” He led the way out and in a moment it was just Christie and Daphne. The patrol car, lights flashing, did a U-turn and disappeared up the road.

  Daphne checked her mobile phone. Nothing. “I’m sorry I couldn’t talk when you called.”

  “You should have told me. I knew something was wrong, not that anything is, but you know what I mean.”

  “He’ll be alright. He will.”

  “Of course. But what did the caller say? Who was it?” Christie perched on the edge of the desk.

  “I don’t know, although the voice was a bit familiar. He didn’t say. Except John was in an ambulance and I should go to the hospital.”

  “Doesn’t make sense. It would take at least twenty minutes for the ambulance to get here, let alone turn around with a patient and head back. I didn’t hear any sirens, did you?”

  “No, and that’s the only thing giving me some hope. But why would anyone say that?”

  “Mistaken identity, although Trev said there’s been no reports of anything. Oh, look! There’s John now.”

  Daphne’s heart leapt and she pushed herself onto her feet, peering through the window. It was his car. And... John! Somehow she got to the front door and flung it open and there he was. John. Puzzled, but not hurt at all.

  “I got your messages, doll. Whatever is wrong? You’ve been cry—”

  The rest of his sentence was buried as Daphne launched herself at him.

  ***

  From the window in his room, Bernie watched the police car – lights flashing – speed past in the direction of River’s End Heights. He chuckled, quite pleased to see the police officer busy worrying about someone
else for a change. His grin turned into a frown when it reappeared a moment later, lights off, following a car he recognised as belonging to John Jones. He sucked on the dregs of a water bottle, crumpled it and tossed it onto the floor.

  On the bed were waterproof pants attached to braces, with built-in boots. A thick water repellent jumper. Beanie. Alongside these, a long tool with a net on one end and a hook on the other. Elbow length waterproof gloves completed the gear he would use in a few hours, once the house was quiet and pesky Charlotte asleep.

  He needed to eat. Early as it was, he put on a coat and slid his wallet into a pocket. At the last moment he pulled the diary from under the mattress. He locked his door and went downstairs.

  As he closed in on the main street, Bernie spotted the police car parked outside the real estate agency, along with John Jones’ car and the Lotus. He slowed, tempted to wander past and see what was going on inside. The lights were blazing and there were a number of people around the counter, but that was all he could see. It wasn’t worth the risk of being caught looking in.

  He pushed the door of the pub open to music and laughter, the smell of hops and early dinners. His stomach growled. This was a good idea. Refuel for his watery nocturnal excursion. He’d been here before, usually having a meal at the counter where the conversations around him reminded Bernie of his mother. She’d always worked in bars and, even as a little kid, he’d learnt to do his homework at one end whilst half listening to adult subjects. A person learns a lot from listening.

  Tonight there was no hurry so he dropped into an empty booth. From here he could see the police car. A movement caught his eye... was someone in the doorway watching the pub?

  “Greetings, world renowned photographer.” Lance stood beside the booth, eyebrow raised in readiness for an order.

  “Lance. Dunno about world renowned. But thanks.”

  “Never undersell yourself. Or so my dear old mother always said. So, a beer? Or would you like some wine tonight? I can highly recommend either the award winning chardonnay from the coastal winery up the road, or the equally wonderful warm climate cab-sav from the foothills.”

  “Not a big fan of white wine.”

  “You are missing out. Our very own Christie Ryan is a big lover of the vintage. But I respect a man who loves a red, so will return with one in moments.”

  “Actually, if it is such a favourite, I’ll give the white a try.”

  Lance beamed, then hurried away.

  Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Let’s get inside her head. It is a whole lot more fun to see them implode than to just take everything they love away. Bernie took out the diary. Some wine, dinner, perhaps dessert. Plenty of time to reread Harry’s notes and finalise his plan of action.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  The dining room in the cottage was ablaze with light and the table filled with food. Martin had brought in the extra chairs from the garage for Angus and Elizabeth. Daphne sat beside John, her face still pale despite Christie insisting on redoing her make-up. Trev was in the middle with Martha and Thomas at the end nearest the door.

  “But shouldn’t we have invited Charlotte and George?” Martha asked as she offered a plate of homemade bread rolls to Trev.

  “George is better left out of it for now.” Martin filled wine glasses. “We talked earlier.”

  “Do I need to visit him?”

  “Tomorrow, Thomas. He was heading home for an early dinner and a good book. He’s okay.”

  Elizabeth frowned. “I’m really not sure about this dinner. Not that it isn’t lovely, Martha. And thank you for inviting us. But bringing us together to discuss one of my guests behind his back feels rather... odd. At the least.”

  Angus smiled at her. “I do love your integrity. But look at it this way... if there is something peculiar going on, wouldn’t you rather know?”

  “Well, yes. So perhaps Charlotte should be here, then.”

  “Charlotte won’t discuss Bernard Cooper.” Trev said. Christie opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, and he gave her a curious look.

  “Thomas and Christie went to Green Bay library this afternoon to follow up on Bernie’s conversation with Elizabeth about the trunk.” Martin finally sat. “What did you discover?”

  “More what we didn’t discover!” Thomas put down his fork. “To bring everyone up to speed, we drove there today after an odd series of events. Last night whilst we were out, someone had a wander through the cottage.”

  There was a collective gasp.

  “A break-in?”

  “Not sure, Trev. The attic window was open but nothing was moved or taken.”

  “So what does this have to do with Green Bay library?” John slipped an arm around Daphne’s shoulder. “I’m not following.”

  “We pondered why anyone would bother to climb up to the attic, through the window and down the ladder to the cottage but not take anything. Then I remembered Elizabeth mentioning a comment Bernie made. About the trunk.” Christie smiled at Elizabeth. “It occurred to me the trunk might be of interest to him in some strange way.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “He was quite specific actually. Said he’d found out about the trunk at the library, as part of the original furnishings brought from England to Palmerston House.”

  “And that,” Thomas commented, “is what troubles me greatly. There is nothing there about it. Nothing at all.”

  “But a bit about Harry Temple, who built the house,” Christie added. “Mostly rumours, but quite interesting. There’s mention of him telling Eoin Ryan he’d kept a record of what he called the ‘theft’ of Palmerston House, in a diary. Although his family left town, he lingered, thrown off the estate more than once for trespass.”

  “But what on earth does this all have to do with Bernie?” Elizabeth turned to Angus. “He seems such a nice young man.”

  Up until now, Daphne hadn’t spoken. But now, with tears brimming again, she couldn’t contain herself. “There’s something wrong with him. Something sinister and not at all good. And I’m a decent judge of character, aren’t I John? I knew Derek Hobbs was bad news, and as for that Rupert man... don’t get me started! Bernard Cooper upsets people. He upsets George and... and...”

  “Look, there’s a lot of speculation going on tonight.” Trev looked around. “I’m not about to let anyone disrupt this town again and I’ve already got some investigation underway. At this point, there is no proof Bernard Cooper has done anything other than be offensive and disrespectful, but I’m watching him.”

  “As we all should be.”

  “No, Thomas, you shouldn’t. What I’ll do is ask each of you to drop by the station tomorrow and we’ll have a chat about your concerns and anything you want to raise with me. But leave the police work to me. Please. Okay?” He stared directly at Christie.

  She had no theories. Not yet. But although she smiled at Trev and nodded, her mind worked overtime and she longed to get her hands on a big piece of paper to create a mind-map.

  ***

  “I’ve made some wonderful friends here, good people with kind hearts.” Charlotte, wearing pyjamas, sat cross-legged on her bed, phone in hand. “You’d really like them, Mum.”

  “I am so happy, darling. Although I miss you so much.”

  Charlotte closed her eyes. I miss you too. I miss the real you. She forced brightness into her voice and opened her eyes.

  “There’s such a nice beach. Not a lot of people visit here so most days, you can walk its length with barely another footprint in the sand. There’s an old jetty where you can sit and watch the fish swimming below amongst the seaweed.”

  “I like fish. What did you have for dinner?”

  “Dinner? Oh, I made a toasted sandwich. Cheese and tomato.”

  “You made it? Darling, you should always get a grown up to use appliances like a toaster.”

  “Mum, I’m quite grown up now, remember? I moved out of home when I went to university.”

  “Why did y
ou go?” The pitch of her mother’s voice rose. “And why do I live here? All by myself!”

  “You’re not alone, Mum. There’s lots of lovely people there with you. Maggie looks after you.”

  “Maggie? I need to find her. Maggie!”

  “Mum, calm down. If you press the button beside your bed, Maggie or someone will be there in a minute. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Charlotte stood, then paced the room, heart racing as she calmed her own voice. “Did you press the button?”

  “Maggie! Maggie, where are you?”

  “Mum, I’m going to hang up and ring Maggie. She’ll be there in a minute. I love you.”

  “No, don’t go. Don’t leave me here. I don’t like it here. Charlotte, you must get Daddy to bring you here right away. He’ll know what to do and I want to cuddle my little girl.” Sobs followed the plea.

  “Shh, Mummy, it’s okay. You’ll feel better in a minute, I promise. Sorry.” Charlotte disconnected the call and immediately dialled the clinic, stopping near the window as the phone rang.

  “Lakeview Care. Maggie speaking.”

  “Maggie, I’m so sorry, it’s Charlotte Dean.”

  “Hello, Doctor. How are you?”

  “I’ve managed to upset Mum and she won’t press the button to call you. Would you check her for me, please?”

  “Hang on. Lee, pop in to see if Mrs Dean is okay. Thanks. Okay, I’m back, Lee is running up there right now. What happened?”

  “The usual. Thinks I’m a child and Dad is still around. All about being abandoned.” Sure, Mum, you were the one left alone. “Do you think she’s deteriorating?”

  “She’s on some new medication and was going quite well. But... well, sometimes a familiar voice or face is enough to set them back.”

  “Will you message me once she’s settled for the night? And send me through what she’s on.”

  “Of course. Are you coming back to Queensland soon?”

  Charlotte stared at her reflection in the window. Was she? Why would she... nobody to go home to now. “I’m a bit caught up right now but maybe later in the year. I’ll let you know.”