“Anyway, I am glad you decided to move here,” Mona told her. “I wasn’t sure you would, but I did think you were the most likely out of all of my sister’s children.”
“Is that why you left me everything?”
“It’s one of the reasons. Another is that you’re the only girl. I wasn’t sure I wanted a man moving into my flat. I’ve never lived with a man.”
“I have. It’s overrated,” Fenella drawled. “That’s why I always kept my own little house when Jack and I were together.”
Mona laughed. “And you want to write a book about Anne Boleyn? Is that what I heard you say?”
“Yes,” Fenella nodded. “I’ve always been fascinated by her story. I want to try writing it as an autobiography so I can really get inside her head, at least how I imagine it to be.”
“I hope I’ve left you enough money to support yourself for a very long time,” Mona said.
Fenella frowned at the implied criticism. “I don’t expect it to be a bestseller,” she said. “But I think it will be an interesting exercise in historical fiction.”
Mona nodded, but didn’t reply.
“I don’t suppose you can find a way to talk to her?” Fenella said after a minute.
“Talk to who?” Mona asked.
“Anne Boleyn.”
Mona laughed. “You really don’t understand how this ghost thing works,” she said. “I wouldn’t have the slightest idea where to find the woman, and even if I could find her, why on earth would she want to speak to me? Even if she did, I doubt we could understand each other. I believe she only spoke French and Latin, and my French doesn’t stretch much beyond a few polite phrases.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Fenella frowned. “So can you talk to any other ghosts?”
“I don’t know,” Mona told her. “I haven’t bumped into any yet to ask. I wasn’t certain I would be able to talk to you, but clearly I can.”
“Yes, and I can see you. Am I the only one who can see you?”
“I don’t know that either. I’ll stop in tomorrow morning around nine, shall I, when the lovely inspector is here. We’ll see what he says when I make my appearance.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Fenella said. “We don’t want to scare the poor man.”
“I promise I won’t shout ‘boo’ at him, okay? But it would be good to know if everyone can see me or if it’s just you.”
“Yes, I suppose it would. What happened when Alan Collins and Suzy whatever her name is were here?”
“Do try to pay attention, dear. It’s Suzy Monroe. Anyway, while they were here, I hid and just watched them. I don’t think they could see me, but I’m not sure, as I was trying not to be seen.”
Another knock on the door stopped Fenella from continuing with her questions.
“Peter? It was Peter, wasn’t it?” Fenella asked her neighbor who was back on her doorstep.
“Yes, Peter Cannell,” he replied. “I was just starting to put a meal together and I suddenly had a thought. You probably haven’t been here long enough to do much in the way of shopping. Can I take you out for a nice dinner somewhere?”
“Tonight?”
“Yes, say in thirty minutes or so? I know it’s short notice, but as you’ve only just arrived, I thought it was worth asking. If you’re busy or you’d simply rather not, that’s fine; just let me down gently, please.”
Fenella smiled at the man, who really was quite attractive. “I’d love to have dinner with you,” she said, feeling almost as eager to get out of her apartment as anything else.
“Excellent, I’ll be back in thirty minutes to collect you. No need to change, you look lovely just the way you are. I wasn’t planning on going anywhere terribly posh or anything.”
Fenella nodded and then shut the door. She turned around and then jumped a foot in the air as she nearly ran into Mona, who was standing right behind her.
“He couldn’t see me,” Mona said sadly.
“That’s just as well,” Fenella replied. “You might have given the poor man a heart attack, just walking up behind me like that.”
“Do I look alive?” Mona asked.
Fenella looked at her for a moment as she tried to work out her reply. “Not exactly,” she said eventually. “You look, I don’t know, slightly out of focus or a little bit less than solid or something. It’s hard to explain, but you don’t look quite right.”
“Am I monochromatic?”
Fenella laughed. “No, you’re in full color, although the colors seem a bit muted, which may be part of what makes you look different. It’s really hard to explain.”
“So I gather,” Mona said dryly.
“Have you tried looking in a mirror?”
“I have, but I can’t see myself.”
“Really?” Fenella asked.
“I’ll show you in the bedroom. You need to get ready for your date, anyway.”
The pair walked into the spacious master bedroom. Fenella stopped in front of the full-length mirror that was mounted on one wall. Mona walked up behind her.
“I can see you in the mirror,” Fenella told her.
“How odd,” Mona said. “I can see me now too, but I couldn’t before.”
“That is odd,” Fenella said. “Not as odd as you even being here, but still strange.”
Mona nodded and then studied herself in the mirror. “I definitely need to change my appearance,” she said after a moment. “I look far too young and this dress isn’t terribly flattering.”
Fenella wasn’t really listening. She was busy sorting through the large wardrobe where she’d hung the clothes she’d brought with her. She hadn’t brought much besides jeans, T-shirts and sweaters. As she wasn’t planning to look for paid employment, she hadn’t bothered to bring much more than one or two plain suits.
“You can’t go out with Peter looking like that,” Mona said now as she crossed over and sat on the bed. “You need to put on a dress and do something with your hair and makeup. You look as though you were caught in the rain.”
“I was caught in the rain,” Fenella snapped. “Sorry,” she added quickly. “I’m just snappish because I can’t find anything to wear. I didn’t think about dating when I was packing my bags.”
Mona sighed. “We have so much to talk about,” she said. “But for now, why don’t you try the other wardrobe?”
Fenella glanced at the wardrobe on the opposite wall. When she’d started to unpack, she’d discovered that it was jammed full of her aunt’s clothes.
“I’m not sure that we’re the same size,” Fenella said hesitantly, glancing at her slender aunt. And I’m sure I don’t have the same taste in clothes as a ninety-one-year-old woman, either, she added to herself.
“I wasn’t this thin in later life,” Mona told her. “And I have several classic outfits that should suit you.”
Fenella was surprised to find that her aunt was right. She quickly found several dresses that were probably many years old but were such classic styles that they would still be stylish. If Fenella was honest, they were much more stylish than anything she’d ever owned.
She felt odd about changing clothes in front of someone else, even a ghost, so she took her favorite of the dresses into the en-suite bathroom to try on. It was a little bit tighter than Fenella would have preferred, but it fit and it looked great on her. She turned and looked at herself from every angle.
“You don’t mind me borrowing this?” she asked Mona as she walked back into the bedroom.
Mona looked at her and smiled sadly. “I’ve no use for it,” she said. “And it definitely suits you. That’s one of the dresses that Timothy made for me.”
“Timothy?”
“He was the local tailor in the fifties and sixties,” Mona explained. “Mostly he did alterations, but he was a brilliant designer and he made gorgeous clothes when you could talk him into it.”
“Well, I love this dress,” Fenella admitted. “I suspect you’ll get tired of seeing me in
it.”
“There are quite a few more dresses by Timothy in the wardrobe,” Mona assured her. “You won’t have to wear the same dress on your next date with Peter.”
“What makes you think there will be a ‘next date’?”
“Ghostly intuition,” Mona said.
Fenella wasn’t sure if her aunt was teasing or not, but she didn’t ask. Instead, she focused on fixing her hair and makeup and then transferred what she’d need from her sensible handbag into a much smaller little black bag that was also in Mona’s wardrobe.
“Have a lovely dinner,” Mona said.
“Thanks,” Fenella muttered, suddenly painfully aware that this was her first “first date” in ten or more years. When the knock on the door came, her stomach lurched and she suddenly remembered how much she’d always hated dating.
“You look stunning,” Peter said, smiling. He hadn’t changed, but he’d been wearing a business suit both times he’d come to her door. As she locked up her apartment behind her, Fenella got a whiff of expensive cologne. It was woodsy and spicy and she loved it. Perhaps the evening wasn’t going to be a complete disaster.
“As the rain has stopped, at least for the time being, I thought we might just walk a few doors down to one of my favorite places,” he said as they walked to the elevators.
“That sounds good,” Fenella agreed easily. Some fresh air sounded wonderful after the rather strange day she’d had.
When they reached the sidewalk in front of the building, Peter offered his arm. Fenella took it and murmured “thanks” as he turned and led her down the road.
“I should have asked before we got this far,” he said as he stopped in front of one of the large hotels along the promenade. “Do you like Indian food?”
Fenella smiled. “I like just about every kind of food,” she told him.
“Let’s go in, then,” he suggested.
The restaurant was right inside the front door of the hotel, and Fenella was glad she’d changed as she looked around the room. It was much fancier than she’d been expecting from Peter’s invitation. Peter was clearly a regular and the pair was rapidly escorted to a small table in a quiet corner of the nearly empty dining room.
“It’s not very busy, but it is a Tuesday night,” Peter remarked as the waiter handed them menus.
“Is it?” Fenella asked. She shook her head and then laughed. “Sorry, I haven’t really been paying attention to what day it is lately. Of course it’s Tuesday.”
Peter suggested a bottle of wine and Fenella couldn’t think of any reason to object.
“So what would you recommend?” she asked as she studied the menu, squinting slightly in the dimly lit room.
“Everything is very good,” Peter said.
Fenella sighed, as that wasn’t a very helpful answer, but then Peter followed up with several suggestions, including advice on the level of spiciness of each dish, that helped immensely. By the time the waiter had completed the necessary ritual with the wine, Fenella had decided what to order.
“So, tell me all about you,” Peter invited once the waiter had taken their order.
“I’m really rather dull,” Fenella replied. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself, instead?”
“Let’s take turns,” Peter suggested. “I was born on the island in nineteen-sixty-four and I’ve lived here ever since, aside from five years at uni. Your turn.”
“I was born on the island a few years after you were,” Fenella replied. “My family moved to the US when I was two and I lived there until yesterday.”
“I didn’t realize you were born here,” Peter exclaimed.
The wine flowed and the food was every bit as delicious as Peter had promised. By the end of dinner, Peter knew most of Fenella’s life story and she’d heard all about his successful business and less successful personal life.
“We should have pudding,” Peter suggested as the waiter cleared away their plates.
“Pudding?” Fenella echoed. “The British use the word pudding to mean dessert of any kind,” Jack’s voice droned in her head.
“Even though it’s an Indian restaurant, they have typical British puddings,” Peter told her. “The sticky toffee pudding is especially good.”
Intrigued, Fenella agreed to try it. As they waited for their sweets to be delivered, Peter gave her a curious look.
“I’ve been waiting for you to bring it up, but you haven’t,” he said. “I understand you found a body today?”
Fenella looked down at the table and then at her wine glass. There wasn’t much left in it, but she swallowed it down. Once she’d put her glass back on the table, Peter took her hand.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “That was inconsiderate of me. Clearly, you didn’t bring it up because you don’t want to talk about it. Just forget I even mentioned it, please.”
“It’s fine,” Fenella said. “I’d just put it out of my mind, you see. But if you’ve heard about the body, you probably know as much as I do.”
“I heard that it was Alan Collins,” Peter said, making the statement sound like a question.
“It was,” Fenella replied. “Or at least it was the same man who’d introduced himself to me as Alan Collins this morning.”
“Where did you meet him?” Peter asked.
“He came to my door, wanting to persuade me to let him list my apartment with him,” Fenella explained.
The arrival of their puddings meant that Peter released her hand, something that left Fenella feeling both relieved and disappointed. A few bites of the sticky toffee pudding made her feel much better.
“This is gorgeous,” she said after her third bite.
“I’m so glad you like it,” Peter said, beaming. “But I didn’t know you were interested in selling your flat.”
“I’m not,” Fenella assured him. “Mr. Collins was just being optimistic, I guess.”
“And opportunistic,” Peter said. He sighed. “As sorry as I am to hear about his death, I can’t say that I liked the man.”
“”Did you have business dealings with him?” Fenella asked.
“Occasionally,” Peter answered. “And they never went well,” he added.
“Was he very successful?” Fenella wondered.
“He did okay,” Peter replied. “When he first came to the island, he was mixed up with a few unsavory characters, but he managed to avoid any criminal charges himself. He’s been teetering on the edge of strictly legal ever since.”
“He sounds lovely,” Fenella said sarcastically.
“What always surprised me most about him was his success with women,” Peter told her. “He wasn’t attractive or particularly intelligent, but he nearly always had a beautiful woman on his arm. I’m surprised he didn’t ask you out, actually, or maybe he did?”
Fenella shook her head. “I certainly didn’t notice anything attractive about him,” she said firmly. “If he had asked me out, I would have said no.”
“Most women did, the first time he asked,” Peter told her. “And then, over time, he seemed to worm his way into their affections.” He sighed deeply. “In the interest of full disclosure, I should tell you that my ex-wife was one of his short-term conquests.”
“Your first wife or your second?” Fenella asked, feeling surprised.
Peter laughed. “My first wife wouldn’t have given him the time of day,” he said. “She’s rather, well, anyway, it was my second wife that I was talking about.”
“I am sorry,” Fenella said, wondering if Alan Collins was the man Peter’s second wife had left him for. There was no polite way to ask, but Fenella was trying to find an almost polite way when Peter solved the problem for her.
“We were already apart, anyway,” he said. “Shannon left me for, well, a business rival who had just sealed a very large deal. He took Shannon on a cruise around the world with the profits from the deal, but they’d only been gone about a month when something went wrong and he had to come home. He and Shannon didn’t last long aft
er that.”
“I don’t even know what to say to that,” Fenella confessed awkwardly.
Peter laughed. “Yeah, well, it was what it was, I suppose. Anyway, once she got back and I made it clear that I wasn’t interested in rekindling our relationship, she began to date just about anyone and everyone. Alan Collins was just one of the many men whose company she’s enjoyed in the last year or so.”
Fenella shook her head. “I can’t imagine,” she said. “He was short and badly dressed and odd. What did women see in him?”
“I asked Shannon that once,” he told her. “She said that he was just so grateful when she agreed to go out with him that she kept saying yes so she wouldn’t hurt his feelings.”
The waiter came back with the bill before Fenella could work out a suitable reply to that. Once Peter had paid, waving away any suggestion from Fenella that she should contribute, they got to their feet.
“It’s a nice night for a walk on the beach,” Peter suggested as they left the restaurant.
It was cool, but dry, and there was barely any wind. Fenella was quick to agree. They strolled across the road and down the promenade to the nearest stairs to the beach. The tide was out, and to Fenella there seemed to be miles of sand stretching out in front of them. She slipped off her shoes as they sank into the sand and then frowned at her tights. There was no way to remove them now, but she wished she could.
They walked for a short distance and then Peter sighed. “I’m not wearing the right shoes for this,” he said.
Fenella looked down at his expensive black dress shoes. “You could take them off,” she suggested.
“Or we could go home and change into more comfortable clothes and then have our walk,” Peter said.
“Or we could just call it a night,” Fenella replied. “I’m more tired than I realized, anyway, and that half a bottle of wine is making me even more sleepy.”
“Are you sure?” Peter asked. “I’m really enjoying your company.”
“I’m having a lovely time,” Fenella answered. “But I’m not quite acclimated to the time change yet. I think I need some sleep.”
Arrivals and Arrests (An Isle of Man Ghostly Cozy Book 1) Page 5