“Okay. Well, we’ll look after your mum. Most of the time she is so sweet and we all want what’s best for her. Perhaps if you don’t call for a few days? Let her settle down again. I’ll message you the information.”
“Thanks. I mean it, Maggie. I appreciate you and the staff.”
“Well, you take care.”
The phone disconnected. Charlotte dropped the phone onto the table. With a deep, sad sigh, she crossed to the door, checked it was locked, and turned off the light. Then she wandered back to the window, leaning her forehead against it. Why? How cruel was life, to take more than the mind but also the personality. It won’t happen to you too. But only time would tell.
Someone was walking – or staggering – towards Palmerston House. Charlotte peered at the figure, then ducked down as she realised it was Bernie, and he was looking in her direction. Surely he couldn’t see her up here? Yet in spite of his apparent inability to move in a straight line, his gaze was unwavering.
He closed in on the fountain and stopped there, both hands on it. Then he leaned closer and drank from one of the outlets.
“Are you serious?”
Bernie stayed there for a moment or two, then continued to the house. His stagger improved but clearly he’d been drinking. At least he’d be quiet tonight and, for that, Charlotte was grateful. Elizabeth and Angus were out and the last thing she needed was to babysit the man. Or deal with him trying to intimidate her.
Charlotte slipped into bed. Footsteps approached. Bernie was outside her door. She watched the light under her door shadowed by feet. The door knob turned. “Come out and play.” It was barely above a whisper but shivers rushed through Charlotte and she pulled the blankets higher. A moment later, he stumbled away.
This had to end. No more implied threats. Invading her personal space. Testing her integrity. She couldn’t live like this anymore. Tomorrow, she’d visit Trev. Throw herself on his mercy and understanding of how she’d had to follow her sworn duty to keep confidentiality. Especially since the last time. Charlotte stared at the ceiling. She was done.
Chapter Twenty-six
Trev let himself into his house, not bothering to put on a light as he locked the door behind himself. Tonight had proved interesting and there was a lot to digest. Much as he appreciated his friends wanting to assist, the only person he actually needed some help from was Charlotte.
If only. Trev sighed, opened the fridge and took out a beer. Charlotte was so clever and so intuitive. He knew in his gut if this situation was about anyone else, she’d be at his side helping. Instead, she spoke in riddles and refused to accept he would protect her, no matter what. Even if she had to break a confidence, nobody would ever know about it. Not from him.
The phone rang as he took his first sip. He glanced at the clock as he answered. “Trev Sibbritt.”
“I should hope so!”
“Hi, Mum. You okay?”
“Yes, dear. I called a bit earlier but it went to your message machine.”
Trev took the phone with him to the bedroom, piling pillows against the bed head. “Sorry. Was out tonight.” He pulled off his boots.
“With a nice young lady?”
“Several. But none in the way you hope for.” He leaned back and stretched his legs out on the bed, taking another sip of beer.
“Pity. Anyway, I’ve decided it’s time.”
“For you to stop worrying about my love life?”
“Never going to happen. No. Time to take a step back.” Her voice suddenly changed tone. There was a tinge of sadness.
“Are you selling the bookshop?”
“I don’t want to. Not yet. But young Braden finished his degree and has a wonderful job offer in Melbourne. Such a smart boy. And once he goes, well...”
“What about reducing the opening hours?”
“Not really viable. Saturday is such a big trade day here and Monday is perfect for ordering, so I really should stay open six days.”
“So, hire someone new.”
“I have an idea. And I’d like your opinion. In fact, I need it.”
“I’m listening, Mum.”
“What I want to do is bring in a person who will love the shop as much as I do. Someone with a bit of a quirky nature and eye for detail, a love of books and ability to talk to people. You know what I mean... understand them. But they need to be strong and tough inside. To find ways to increase business. I’d like to train them up and gradually let them take over. With view to selling to them when the time is right.”
“Sounds good. Anyone in mind?”
“Nobody. I don’t know where to find a person like this. There’s the apartment upstairs vacant so if they aren’t local, this might suit someone looking for a change. Someone who needs a fresh start.”
Beer bottle almost at his lips, Trev paused. Someone who needs a fresh start. Was that what Charlotte tried to do by coming to River’s End last year? She’d left Queensland where she’d practised as a psychiatrist. Walked away – he thought – from any family up there. Yet she’d not looked for a job here, or found herself a house. Most of the time, she wandered along the beach, helped Elizabeth, and... read books. Always a book in her hand or bag.
“Darling?”
“Sorry. I have a... a friend. She reads a lot. Was just thinking about books.”
“I see.” She chuckled. “Well, if she would like to move to my gorgeous little town and sell books, then bring her up for a visit. I promise not to match make.”
“Wouldn’t matter. Don’t think she sees me that way.”
“Sad to hear. Unless she has potential for me, in which case, that’s life.”
“Thanks, Mum.”
“My pleasure. But seriously, would she be interested?”
Would she? Why would I tell her? I want Charlotte here. Where I can see her and talk to her and take her to lunch sometimes. But would this make her happy? Unease settled in his chest.
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Well, ask her. See if she’d like to meet me. Okay?”
“I’ll think about it. At the moment, I don’t believe she likes me very much. Had to set some rules today about a case.”
“A case? Is she a bit of a detective?” His mother laughed. “Exactly what this town needs, my darling.”
“Fine. I’ll ask her. But don’t expect me to drive her to meet you.”
“How else am I supposed to get you to visit?”
A few minutes later, the conversation ending on a pleasant note, Trev put his empty beer bottle onto the bedside table and stared upwards. Charlotte and his mother would love each other. Charlotte needed something, but whether it was a new start he didn’t know. What he did know was the thought of her being three hours away almost broke his heart.
***
Lance swept the floor of the bistro. He enjoyed this time of night, with the customers all gone, well fed and happy. Most of the lights were off and he hummed as he cleaned, stopping to straighten a chair or blow out a candle.
In the last booth he found a book wedged between the cushions. He dropped it onto the table and tidied the seat. Invariably something was left behind. Usually glasses, keys, or a phone. Not very often a book.
Actually, a diary. He picked it up and moved into the light for a better look. Leather bound, it was old and worn. The date 1853 was etched into it. Very old indeed. Lance frowned, working out who’d been in the booth tonight.
Earlier it was the photographer staying at Palmerston House. Bernie. But after dinner, he’d moved to the bar to keep drinking and talking to Lance. There’d been a group of four, who only stayed for mains. Then a couple. Out of them he only knew Bernie, but he hardly seemed like the diary type.
He opened the cover. The writing was old-fashioned, heavily slanted with loops and curls, but eventually he made out a dedication. “For my husband Harry. With love from Eleanor.” He shrugged. Could be anyone. He’d drop it into Trev in the morning and let him sort it out.
***
“Morning, off to the mountains again so soon?”
“Palmerston House, actually.”
“What!”
“Sounds as though Bernie Cooper fell into the pond overnight.”
“Is he—”
“Unconscious. Got to go.”
“Wait, I’ll come with you.” Before he could stop her, Christie climbed in the front seat. “I’ll go to the salon later. Do you need sirens?”
Trev grinned and turned onto the road. “No. And don’t touch anything.”
“Oh. Not even the—”
“Do I need to arrest you?”
Within a couple of minutes they turned into the driveway of Palmerston House and Trev stopped outside the front steps. “We can go around this way.” Christie led Trev to one side of the house and though a rambling garden until they reached the path to the pond. They ran until the path opened up and then stopped. “Where are they? Angus!”
“Over here.”
Trev forged ahead in the direction of Angus’ voice, to the left side of the sprawling pond. Amongst heavy reeds, Angus and Elizabeth stood back as Charlotte monitored Bernie.
Trev squatted beside her. “How’s he doing?”
“He’ll live.” Her voice was flat. “Came home drunk last night and must have decided to go for a swim. Or fish.”
Christie joined them. “Hey, Charlotte. What on earth is he wearing?”
“Waterproof pants and boots. Goodness knows how long he’s been here so they probably stopped him freezing.”
“Who found him?”
“I did.” Elizabeth stepped closer, hands tightly entwined. “Made an early morning cup of tea and came to sit under the tree. But I heard a sound... a moan. He was a bit further into the water and groaning so I helped him up to here but then he became unconscious.”
“We thought it best to call an ambulance and you, Trev, rather than drag him out anymore. In case there’s injuries.” Angus touched Elizabeth’s arm. “Why don’t you go and change now? Get out of your wet clothes.”
“I’m fine for a bit longer.”
“Do you think he’s hurt?” Christie leaned closer, wrinkling her nose at the alcohol fumes from Bernie’s open mouth. “Or just inebriated?”
“His breathing is fine and pulse is a bit slow. Typical drunk response.”
“Do you know where he was last night?” Trev glanced at Charlotte.
“Nope. And don’t care. He staggered down the driveway after ten when I was about to go to bed. Heard him come upstairs and... and go to his room.”
“And what? You hesitated.”
“Don’t, Trevor.”
Christie dropped to her knees and put a hand on Charlotte’s arm. “I’ll sit with him. Your arms are freezing. Go and put something warm on.”
Trev started taking off his jacket, but Charlotte jumped up and shook her head. “I’m fine. Thanks, but I’ll get my own jacket.” She ran off before he could answer, and he stared after her. Christie couldn’t work out if it was frustration or sadness on his face, deciding it was both and almost time for her to have a good talk to Charlotte.
Bernie moaned and his eyes flickering open. “Not... there.”
“Keep still, mate. There’s an ambulance on its way.” Trev squatted again. “Do you know where you are?”
“No sign of it. Searched everywhere.”
“No sign of what?”
Trev helped Bernie as he struggled to sit, finally getting him right out of the water where he slumped against a tree, legs outstretched. Bernie gazed around, eyes focusing on Christie.
“Thief.”
She thought she hadn’t heard him right. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“You should be sorry.” He snarled at her, his hands shooting out to grab her leg, but she jumped back, almost ending up in the pond herself.
Trev steadied her, then spun back to Bernie. “Watch yourself.”
“Thief. You and your whole family. Thieves.”
“Look, I don’t know what you think you know, but once you are sober, we can have a chat.” Christie stepped closer.
Bernie rolled onto his hands and knees and forced himself up, leaning against the tree. Angus drew Elizabeth away, putting her behind him.
“I’m sober. Where is my key?”
“What key?”
“You or your kind stole it. None of you belong here and I’m going to prove it. Get you all evicted.”
Elizabeth gasped and put a hand to her mouth.
“Might let you stay. You’re nice.” Bernie directed this to Elizabeth.
“Did you think the key was in the pond?” Christie inched toward Bernie. “What’s so special about it?”
“Are you stupid? Or think I’m stupid? It belongs to me and once I have it, you won’t know what’s hit you. Thief.” He stepped toward Christie, arms outstretched and just as Trev charged between them, Bernie fell flat onto his face.
Chapter Twenty-seven
The wail of a siren cut through the stunned silence in the small group.
Charlotte jogged back wearing a thick jacket. “Did you kill him?”
“You sound hopeful.” Christie found her voice. “He keeled over after accusing me of stealing a key from him.”
“Oh.”
“Oh, indeed.” Trevor checked Bernie’s pulse. “It is time to explain how you know him and what you know about him.”
“Dear, what does he mean? Did you know him before Palmerston House?” Elizabeth pulled out of Angus’ embrace. “He tried to attack Christie.”
Charlotte went white and sank to the ground. Trev was at her side in seconds. “Breathe. We’ll talk later, okay. But breathe.” He reached his hand out and, without looking up, Charlotte grabbed it.
Angus and Elizabeth went to the bench under the oak tree.
Christie sat beside Bernie.
“I’m so sorry.” Charlotte’s words were whispered.
“Will you talk to me? Be straight with me?” Trev squeezed her hand and she turned wide eyes to him. “I’ll need a statement, Charlotte. This is beyond keeping patient confidentiality now. He would have hurt Christie if I wasn’t here and he wasn’t so inebriated.”
Charlotte held on to him like a lifeline. “I’ll tell you everything I know. He shouldn’t be like this. Aggressive.”
“Yet you know he was extremely unpleasant to Jess, and George. Daphne cannot stand him.”
“I... I’m sorry.”
Voices approached along the path. Trev leaned closer to Charlotte. “We’ll talk soon, okay?”
She nodded as he released her hand and stood to greet the paramedics.
Christie got up to make way for them. “He’s been checked by a doctor. Just needs a good dose of reality.” She pulled a face at her humour and went to Charlotte, reaching out for her. “Come on, let’s get you inside and have some coffee.”
In the kitchen, Christie filled the kettle whilst Charlotte stood behind a chair. “Sit.” Christie glanced over her shoulder. “Pull the chair out and sit in it. I’ll have a coffee ready in a min.”
By the time Christie carried two cups to the table, Charlotte was in the chair, arms wrapped around herself in spite of still wearing the jacket. “Come on, hands on the cup and sip slowly.”
“I should be looking after you.” Charlotte slowly did as Christie suggested. “Are you okay?”
“Me?” Christie joined her and took a quick sip of coffee. “It takes more than a drunk and very confused man to worry me. And I moved a whole lot faster than he did. But I would like to know what he was going on about. Do you know?”
“He thinks he is the descendant of Harry Temple.”
“Ah. But I don’t have a key to Palmerston House. And what d
oes the trunk have to do with it?”
“Trunk?”
“Is that why you were at Harry’s grave?”
“Oh. Elizabeth mentioned something about it. My understanding was Harry left River’s End a short time after losing Palmerston House. The story I know is about him following his family and going on to lead a life somewhere in far north New South Wales. Which is where Bernie grew up, believing the story his mother told him.”
“You knew who he was?” Elizabeth walked into the kitchen and around the table to face Charlotte. Her eyes were red and puffy. “All this time, you knew a madman was in my home and you said nothing?” The shaking of her hands gave away the emotion she fought to control.
Christie jumped up and put an arm around her shoulders. “We’ve all had a bit of a shock this morning, Elizabeth. Where’s Angus?”
“He’s with Trev. I’ll make some tea. I need to be doing something.” She smiled very faintly at Christie “I’m upset.”
“I am terribly sorry, Elizabeth.” Charlotte played with her cup, eyes down. “It’s my fault completely.”
“But how do you even know Bernie? Why on earth wouldn’t you be honest with me from the beginning?”
Charlotte pushed her chair back as she got to her feet. “I’m... I’m so sorry.” She ran out of the kitchen. Straight into Trev, who steadied her.
“Hang on. Where are you going?” He stared at her face. “Don’t cry.” His voice softened.
“Everyone’s just a bit on edge, Trev,” Christie said. “Come back in, Charlotte. Elizabeth is okay, she’s not angry. Coffee, Trev?”
Trev’s eyes hadn’t left Charlotte’s. “Thanks, but I might take Charlie to the station for a chat. Okay?”
Charlotte nodded.
“Be nice to her, Trev. She had a job to do.”
“I’m always nice, Christie.”
Better be. Christie returned to the kitchen where Elizabeth hadn’t got any further with making tea. “I seem to be telling people to sit down a lot today, so don’t argue and I’ll make a pot of tea.”
“But I am angry.” Elizabeth sat, her hands drumming on the table. “I heard what you said to Charlotte, but I am so upset with her. Is Bernie some sort of criminal?”
The Secrets of Palmerston House Page 16