The Patron of Lost Causes

by Mark Daydy

  They each took a seat at the wrought iron outdoor table.

  “Will you go after Frankie?” Lucy asked.

  “No,” said Billy. “He’s a waste of time and effort. He’ll disappear back down the sewer.”

  “Why does he hate you so much?” Nick asked.

  “His jail term was for theft of an antique silver dinner plate. I’d stupidly told people I was buying it and left it with a valuer – a proper one. Then it went missing. Frankie thought I’d given his name to the police, but I didn’t know he’d stolen it. Of course, I’d already put out the word that I was onto the rat who nicked my chalice, even though I had no idea.”

  Lucy understood.

  “So, Eddie believed – wrongly – that you were closing in on him. To keep you off the scent, he got Frankie arrested for the silver plate to make you think Frankie was also behind the chalice theft.”

  “Yeah, it did make me think Frankie possibly took the chalice, but I moved on. He came after me a while later, saying I’d given him up to the police and demanding two grand in compensation. I explained that he should depart forthwith and if I even heard his name again, I’d end his days with immediate effect. The little coward ran off and that was that. To be honest, I wasn’t interested in getting bogged down in a pool of scum inhabited by the likes of Frankie and, as I now know, Eddie.”

  Lucy thought of her aunt. “Libby won’t want to know any of this.”

  “She chose the wrong man,” said Billy. “Ray was a good ‘un, Eddie was a lazy loser.”

  “Great photo,” said Lucy. “With the car.”

  “He drove for a rich man. It was an expensive sport. Still is, of course.”

  “He got to name the car though.”

  “Only for the last race of the season. It was booked in for a respray, so why not. It was around that time I introduced him to Libby. There’s a picture of her sitting in the car, but I don’t know what became of it.”

  “That I would love to see,” said Lucy.

  “Well, all’s well that ends well,” said Nick.

  Lucy could only marvel at Billy. “To think the Howards now pay you rent.”

  “Poetic,” said Nick.

  “I’m a good landlord,” said Billy. “I would never hold someone’s family background against them.”

  Lucy appreciated the irony.

  “You’re retired now, I expect,” said Nick.

  “Yeah, kind of. My son-in-law runs it these days. I’m under doctor’s orders to put my feet up and avoid stress – so thanks for the home invasion, harassment, and police investigation.”

  “I’m really sorry,” said Lucy. “And that’s on behalf of all the Howards.”

  “It’s okay. The Howards’ rent pays my retirement income, so in a way the Howards are looking after me. We can’t do without each other.”

  Lucy rose to her feet.

  “Keep well,” she said. “And I promise to stay out of your life.”

  “Yeah, well, you can stay in it a bit longer,” said Billy. “I need you to get on a ladder and clean the paint off my security cameras.”

  32. So…

  Lucy brought the hire car to a halt outside Libby’s house. This would be the first of her little chats with family members. Before heading home, she would see Eleanor and Jane too. The healing needed to begin, and Lucy would be the first to say sorry.

  “Ten days ago, I came back to Sussex for Libby’s birthday. She was wondering why her chalice wasn’t real.”

  “And now you have the answer,” said Nick.

  “My grandad Tommy Holt always said behind every antique, there’s a story. He used to say look for it because it makes all the difference. He said it applied to people too.”

  “Maybe he was hoping one day you’d take a closer look at the Howards.”

  A few minutes later, they were in the lounge with Libby, sipping tea and munching on chocolate fingers.

  Libby had news.

  “My landlord’s been in touch,” she declared.

  “On a Sunday?” said Lucy.

  “Yes, the man at their office said they were about to buy smaller properties in new areas to expand the business. One of the places they’ll be buying a cottage or bungalow is Selsey.”

  “Isn’t that where…?” But Lucy didn’t get a chance to finish.

  “…My best friend lives? Yes. The landlord was calling me on the off chance I might fancy a change. And, you’ll never believe this, but the rent would be specially discounted for my inconvenience!”

  Nick laughed. “What a lovely landlord you have.”

  Lucy was happy for her aunt. Maybe now wasn’t the time for truth.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t find out much about Eddie and the chalice,” she said.

  “Oh, that’s alright,” said Libby. “You’re a regular Saint Jude – our very own patron saint of lost causes.”

  “I’m really not a saint.”

  “You never got to the bottom of who gave Eddie the chalice, but you never stopped trying.”

  “Yes, well, the most likely explanation is that Eddie simply trusted too many people.”

  “It’s all water under the bridge now, but it’s ended well. I couldn’t be happier.”

  “That’s the main thing.”

  “Of course, Eleanor’s decided against writing up the family history, but I expect it’s for the best.”

  “Hmm… on other matters, I’d like to sort out Ned’s future. Could I buy him from you?”

  “I think that’s a sensible solution,” said Libby. “But what price should we place on a genuine Victorian rocking horse. Didn’t you tell me they go for five thousand?”

  “Only the very finest,” Nick interjected.

  “I could go to two thousand,” said Lucy, hoping Libby wouldn’t ask for more.

  “Nonsense,” said Libby. “I won’t accept a penny.”

  Lucy was taken aback. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Thank you.”

  Libby turned to Nick. “But I would like to get some money for the chalice… if you’re still interested. Six hundred?”

  “Oh, er… call it five-fifty?”

  Lucy avoided Nick’s gaze. She had just cost him fifty pounds.

  *

  After tea, Lucy left the car at Libby’s and headed for the High Street on foot with Nick.

  “Will you ever tell Libby the truth?” he asked.

  “Probably… possibly… but I want her to move to Selsey first.”

  “Ah, the Howard pride. She’d no doubt refuse her landlord’s help if she knew Billy was behind it.”

  “Once she’s settled there, I’ll ask Jane what she thinks. No rush, though. I think we’ll put Libby’s happiness first and foremost.”

  Nick’s phoned pinged. While he dealt with a text, Lucy looked back on her Sussex adventure. Nick getting involved by saying he knows a man… not on his official list…

  Her asking if they could discuss Aunt Libby… Him smiling and saying they had discussed little else.

  Him holding an impromptu auction just for her. “What am I bid? A bone china Queen Elizabeth the Second coronation cup and saucer. Do I hear one pound?” And her feeling a fool but wanting to break through her wall of reserve so badly.

  Him advising that you never phone if you want information. It’s far better to see the whites of their eyes. You’ll spot a lie straight away.

  Her saying she and Ned went after the bad guys. And him simply saying, “Tell me more.”

  Him saying to the property guy… “If you could give me the address, my wife and I would like to get on with the rest of our weekend.”

  Her wondering if he went to bed dressed like Scrooge…

  Nick tucked his phone away as they headed into the heart of the town.

  “Where will you store the horse?” he asked.

  “I’m not keeping him.”

  “No?”

  “I just need to make a quick call.”

  She c
alled Virginia.

  “I’ve got Rocinante for you. He’s all yours, back where he belongs. Shall we arrange a delivery time?”

  “Lucy, I’m overwhelmed. My old Rocinante. We must have covered thousands of miles together. I can’t take him back though.”

  “But he’s yours. You must.”

  “No, he’s yours now. It doesn’t matter if he’s called Ned. As long as he’s with someone who loves him, that’s all that matters.”

  “He spent thirty years in a garage under a sheet.”

  “But you’re going to change all that.”

  Lucy thought about that for a moment.

  “Yes. If you’re sure… then, yes, I am.”

  She ended the call as they reached the High Street.

  “It looks like I’m keeping him.”

  “Then he’ll live at the shop with a sold tag on his ear. You can come and visit him.”

  Lucy didn’t answer.

  “Um… on other things,” said Nick. “I didn’t see Jane last night.”

  Lucy felt a jolt.

  “Was she ill?”

  “No.”

  “Were you ill?”

  “No.”

  “Did the restaurant burn down?”

  “No.”

  “I see.”

  “I’m sorry things got messed up. I wish they hadn’t.”

  “That’s life, I suppose.”

  “I wasn’t looking for a relationship. That door was bolted shut. It’s just… you kind of opened things up again. I realized I wasn’t happy on my own…”

  “I left. I wasn’t planning to come back.”

  “But Ned had other ideas?”

  “That horse interferes far too often.”

  “He’s got quite a pedigree, hasn’t he.”

  “Yes, built by Henry Stafford in 1943… during the War… what a brilliant grandad he must have been.”

  They stepped aside to let a family with three children through. The smallest child was riding a bicycle with stabilizers.

  “Remind me of Ned’s owners again.”

  “It’s just a list of children between six and eight years. Except those are such special years when we still believe in magic. The impossible is the everyday. I’ve got all the dates and all the names. Virginia, Ray, Billy, Sylvia, Eleanor, Libby, Richard, me, Jane, Simon, Keith, Libby’s garage, and now me again.”

  “That’s what I call a five-star provenance.”

  “Well, he’s not technically an antique.”

  “Twenty years from now, he will be. And you’ll have the whole story, all the names, and all the dates. It’s an antique collector’s dream.”

  “I’ll never let him go again. Now I have Virginia’s blessing, he’s staying with me.”

  “But you will let him go one day. It’s decided by Time. We can’t alter that. The only bit we can affect is what comes next. Today. Tomorrow. Next week.”

  “Yes… I’ll write down Ned Rocinante’s story. The true version.”

  “Do you think Ned Rocinante has more adventures lined up?” Nick wondered.

  But Lucy had her future mapped out, planned, decided. It was back home, back to work, back to her comfortable existence.

  They had arrived at Taylor’s Antiques.

  “What about the future,” Nick asked, pausing at the door.

  “The scary one or the easy one?”

  “The scary one.”

  “It depends…”

  “On what?”

  “People.”

  Something had changed. Not in the world. In her.

  They went inside to the tinkle of the bell above the door.

  “Hello, you two,” said Fay, peering up from a magazine. The shop was empty of customers.

  “Almost closing time,” said Nick. He reached for the open/close sign and turned it over.

  “Coffee?” Fay offered.

  “Yes please,” Nick and Lucy chimed together.

  Fay went out the back, leaving Lucy to wonder what Nick might say. Would she end up being the fool once again?

  “How about over there for the horse?” He was pointing to a good spot below a window. “He’ll make that section look more interesting.”

  “Great,” said Lucy.

  “I’m glad you’re keeping him. All those wonderful memories…”

  “We used to go after the bad guys,” she reminded him.

  “Every day a great adventure?”

  “Yes, like Don Quixote riding Rocinante. Those two have reminded me that adventure is the spice of life. I’m not very good at it, but…”

  “…but Don Quixote teaches us that there is worth in all of us, regardless of who we are or where we come from.”

  “Yes.”

  “…and that if we follow antiquated beliefs, we might not find the best way for ourselves.”

  “You’ve read it.”

  “I have a first edition upstairs.”

  “Hey, if you had a first edition of the world’s first ever modern novel, you would be the richest man in England.”

  “True – maybe it’s a copy. I wondered why there was a Penguin on the spine.”

  She wanted to be with him.

  “Are you really interested in adventure?” he asked.

  “I told you, I’m not very good at it.”

  “I’ve seen the photo of you and Ned. You looked pretty good at it back then. In my opinion, you never really lose it. It’s just a question of practice.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “A client of mine has acquired a painting – an 1899 Ferdinand Roybet called ‘The Drunken Cavalier with Two Maids’. It’s not one that’s come to light before and I think it might have been stolen from an estate near Chichester thirty years ago. I said I’d try to find out a bit more before we talk to the police. Would you be interested in helping me?”

  “Me?”

  “Yes… intrepid, inspiring you.”

  “Well… they say behind every antique, there’s a story.”

  “Yes, they do.”

  “So…” she uttered.

  “So?”

  “I suppose I could take some more time off work. A week or two.” Her heart pounded. This was the moment. “Should I get a room in Camley so that I’m nearer?”

  He smiled with such warmth as he held his arms open.

  And despite all the fears and doubts, all the likely upheaval, Lucy placed her trust in him. And stepped into his embrace. Into a different future.

  THE END

  Thank you for reading The Patron of Lost Causes. I hope you enjoyed it.

  I must be honest – I enjoyed writing it so much, I’m half-tempted to write a second book with Lucy, Nick, Jane, Fay, Fast Frankie and happy-chappy Detective Inspector Crawford all embroiled in a new adventure. And I would love Lucy to find that photo of Libby in the racing car.

  What do you think?

  Why not let me know by posting a review of this book on Amazon. Hopefully, you’ll find some kind words for a small, independent author who doesn’t have a multi-national corporation backing him.

  Here’s the link for my UK readers: amazon.co.uk/patron of lost causes

  And here’s the link for my U.S. readers: amazon.com/patron of lost causes

  To leave a review, just scroll down and click the button marked ‘Write a customer review’.

  And you’ll find all my books here:

  UK readers: amazon.co.uk/Mark Daydy - All Books

  U.S. readers: amazon.com/Mark Daydy - All Books

  Thanks again!

  Best wishes,

  Mark

 

 

 
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