Aunt Bessie Enjoys

by Diana Xarissa

  Agnes gasped, and even Elinor looked shocked.

  “Trying to grab the valuables before her brothers arrive, no doubt,” Elinor said scathingly.

  “She’ll be wanting to get the house on the market,” Agnes whispered. “She’d been nagging her mother for years to sell it. Now, with the market going higher and higher every day, she’ll be even more eager to get it listed.”

  “Nancy didn’t want to move?” Bessie asked.

  “Nancy loved that house,” Agnes answered. “She moved in right after she and Frederick got married and all four of her children were born in their bedroom. There was no way she was ever going to sell it.”

  “I feel the same way about my cottage,” Bessie said. “It’s home and it always will be.”

  “There’s a time and a place for sentiment,” Elinor said coolly. “But I don’t think bricks and mortar deserve such devotion. I made a good profit when I sold my house last year and my new little flat has all the modern conveniences.”

  “Of course, your house had bad memories in it,” Agnes said.

  Elinor bristled. “I wouldn’t agree,” she said sharply. “And I don’t want to discuss it.”

  “Where is your new flat?” Bessie asked, anxious to change the subject.

  “I’m just a few streets over from here,” Elinor told her, rattling off the address. “I’m in number 608, which is the top floor. I have wonderful views.”

  “It sounds lovely,” Bessie said. “Although I love my cottage, I wouldn’t mind a few modern conveniences.”

  Elinor laughed condescendingly. “Yes, well, I have to say I love the covered parking, the grocery delivery service, the unlimited hot water, the built-in microwave….” She waved a hand. “I could go on, but I suspect you don’t have any intention of moving, do you?”

  Bessie shook her head. “I don’t, but it all sounds very nice.”

  “Yes, well, we won’t keep you,” Elinor said. “I’m sure you’ve things to do, and I’m going to make Agnes some nice breakfast.”

  “I had breakfast,” Agnes said.

  “I’m sure you did,” Elinor said, patting the woman’s arm. “But I think you probably could do with a little bit more to eat, couldn’t you? I thought you might like a nice bowl of oatmeal.”

  “I don’t like oatmeal,” Agnes said in a petulant voice. “I’m fine anyway, and I think you should go away.”

  Elinor shook her head. “Now, now, darling, that isn’t any way to talk to me. I’ve made a special effort to come to see you. The least you can do is invite me in for a chat.”

  Agnes opened and then closed her mouth. After an awkward moment, she finally sighed. “Sure, come on in. Bessie, why don’t you come in as well?”

  Bessie hesitated for a moment, but as she was certain that Elinor wanted her to refuse, she couldn’t resist the invitation. “I can only stay for a few minutes,” she said as she walked into the house.

  As soon as she was across the threshold she wrinkled her nose. The house had a musty smell that suggested it hadn’t been cleaned in a while.

  “Agnes, when did you last vacuum?” Elinor demanded as she strode into the house.

  “Oh, it’s been a few days,” Agnes admitted sheepishly.

  “A few days?” Elinor asked, looking around pointedly.

  Bessie did her own looking around and sighed. The front door opened right into a small sitting room and it didn’t appear as if it had been cleaned in weeks or even months. There were plates with half-eaten biscuits on them piled haphazardly on tables and Bessie counted four teacups balanced on top of the piles of books and magazines that were scattered around the room.

  “I should have insisted on coming inside last night, shouldn’t I?” Elinor asked. “I can’t believe the state of this room.”

  “I haven’t been feeling well for a few weeks,” Agnes said. “I just haven’t had the energy to clean.”

  “You should have called me,” Elinor told her. “I would have come and helped you.”

  “I hate to bother people,” Agnes said, looking at the floor.

  “I’m surprised Nancy didn’t do something,” Elinor said as she began collecting dishes and cups.

  “She hadn’t been here in a while,” Agnes said quietly. “She was quite busy lately with her own life.”

  A knock on the door startled them all. Agnes crossed over to it and opened it.

  “Joan? What brings you here?” she asked.

  “It’s my turn to check on you,” Joan replied.

  “Join the club,” Agnes muttered as she pulled the door open. “Come on in then, you may as well.”

  Bessie smiled at Joan as she took a few steps into the room. “We’ve all been checking on Agnes today,” she said.

  “I see that,” Joan answered, looking from Bessie to Elinor and back again. She frowned. “But what’s that smell?” she asked.

  “Our Agnes hasn’t been keeping up with her housework,” Elinor said. “I think we’re all going to have to lend a hand.”

  Bessie glanced at her watch. “I only have a few minutes before I’m meant to be meeting Sarah,” she said. “What can I do that will be the most help in the least amount of time?”

  “Oh, no, dear, I didn’t mean you,” Elinor said. “I meant Joan and myself. We’ll have to call Margaret as well, of course. And Agnes, you’ll have to help.”

  “Of course,” Agnes said. “Or you all could just go and leave it with me. I’m sure I can handle a bit of cleaning on my own.”

  “It will do us all good to help,” Elinor said firmly. “And you’re clearly not up to it, anyway.”

  “I’m happy to help out as much as I can,” Bessie tried again.

  “That is kind of you,” Elinor replied. “But really, you go and help Sarah. That can be your good deed for the day.”

  Bessie opened her mouth to protest, but Agnes caught her eye and shook her head.

  “I’ll walk you out,” she told Bessie, taking her arm.

  Bessie said quick goodbyes to Elinor and Joan and then let Agnes lead her to the door. Once Bessie was through it, Agnes followed her and shut the door behind them.

  “It’s no use arguing with Elinor,” she told Bessie.

  “But you shouldn’t have to put up with her,” Bessie argued.

  “She means well,” Agnes insisted. “And besides, the house is a mess. If she wants to spend her day cleaning my house, why should I stop her?”

  Bessie grinned. “I suppose you have a point there.”

  Agnes sighed. “I haven’t been at all well,” she told Bessie. “I simply haven’t had the energy to clean. If Elinor and the others can get the house back into shape, I’ll be really grateful.”

  “Are you okay, though?” Bessie asked, looking into Agnes’s eyes.

  “Not really,” Agnes sighed. “But there are some things in life that simply can’t be fixed.”

  Before Bessie could reply, the front door swung open.

  “Now, Agnes,” Elinor said brightly, “we aren’t going to do all of the work. In you come.”

  Agnes gave Bessie a hug and then dashed back inside her home.

  “Thank you so much for coming to check on Agnes,” Elinor told Bessie. “But really, she’s our problem, not yours. I think the fewer people bothering her the better at the moment.”

  She turned and was back inside the house, pushing the door firmly shut before Bessie could choke out a reply. Bessie considered knocking on the door and telling Elinor a thing or two, but she decided against it. All of the ladies were under considerable stress at the moment. She’d have to try to be extra patient with them until the murderer was caught.

  Chapter Five

  Bessie headed back down to the pavement and turned towards Nancy King’s house, which was further down the same street. As she walked, she spotted Sarah Combe’s car as it drove slowly past her. Bessie felt a sudden knot in her stomach as she headed towards the woman.

  As Bessie approached Sarah’s car, she gave herself a mental s
hake. She’d recognised the woman driving, but she’d been surprised at how old she looked. Sarah had to be getting close to fifty, but Bessie had somehow still been thinking of her as the young woman she’d last seen some thirty years earlier. By the time Bessie reached the car, Sarah had parked and was getting out.

  “Ah, Bessie, you haven’t changed a bit,” Sarah said as she shut the car door behind her. “I can still remember sneaking over to your cottage for a biscuit while my brothers chased each other up and down the beach.”

  Bessie smiled. “You’ve changed a lot,” she said honestly. “I still think of you as a little girl.”

  Sarah grinned and then gave Bessie an awkward hug. When she moved away, Bessie took a moment to study the other woman. Sarah hadn’t been a small child and she wasn’t a small adult. At least three or four inches taller than Bessie, she carried more weight on her sturdy frame than was healthy for her.

  Her hair was shoulder-length and cut in a bob that was expertly coloured so Sarah appeared to have not yet begun to go grey. She was expensively dressed in carefully casual clothes that Bessie recognised as coming from the island’s premier fashion boutique. Bessie didn’t shop there herself, but she often window-shopped there with Doona, who also couldn’t afford to buy more than an odd item when they had their annual sale.

  “I hope I don’t look too much older,” Sarah said with a frown.

  Bessie shook her head. “I was thinking of you as a teenager, or even as a small child,” she told her. “You’re definitely older, but you don’t look anywhere near your age.”

  Sarah smiled and seemed satisfied with that. “Let’s get inside and see what needs doing, shall we?” she asked.

  “I didn’t realise the police were done with the house,” Bessie remarked as the pair walked slowly up the short path to the large bungalow.

  “They’ve told me I can’t go in the kitchen,” Sarah said. “But I’m more interested in mum’s bedroom. I want to make sure everything of value is safe. I’ve heard about burglars who break into houses where they know someone has just died to steal all the valuables.”

  Bessie nodded. It was as good an excuse as any she’d heard for clearing out someone’s home. Bessie just hoped Sarah’s brothers would believe it when they arrived.

  Sarah pulled out a key and let them into the house. She switched on a light and Bessie stood blinking in the entryway. The curtains were drawn, and the room was fairly dark, even with a light on.

  “Mum had the curtains drawn when I arrived Tuesday morning,” Sarah said. “I figured it was probably best to leave them that way. I’m hoping it discourages the nosy neighbours.”

  As her eyes slowly became more accustomed to the light, Bessie looked around the room. If she’d thought Agnes’s home was a mess, she had no words to describe what she now saw.

  “Was your mother unwell?” Bessie asked before she could stop herself.

  Sarah frowned. “I can’t believe she was living like this,” she said. “I didn’t really notice the mess on Tuesday, because I was really just looking for mum. This is terrible.”

  Bessie looked at used cups and plates and even a dirty pan that were scattered across nearly every flat surface. There were newspapers spread across the floor and piles of books in every corner. Bessie could see a layer of dust seemingly everywhere.

  “Maybe she didn’t have as much energy for cleaning so she only cleaned the rooms she used most,” Sarah suggested.

  It certainly looks like she used this room a lot, Bessie thought but didn’t say.

  Bessie glanced towards the back of the house. She could see crime scene tape blocking the entrance to the small kitchen.

  “Let’s see what her bedroom looks like,” Sarah continued.

  Bessie followed Sarah down the short hallway to the bedrooms. She couldn’t stop herself from glancing into each one. The first one they passed, apparently a guest room, looked as if it hadn’t been used in many years. There was a thick layer of dust covering everything from the bed to the small desk in one corner.

  “This was my room,” Sarah said, stopping and flipping on the light. The room wasn’t large, but it looked like it would have been comfortable if it had been clean. “The boys had to share a room, since the house only has four bedrooms, but as I was the only girl, I had my own space.”

  “Did all three boys share?”

  “They did,” Sarah said. “They were in here.”

  She opened the door to the next room along the corridor and flipped on the light. Bessie glanced around the nearly empty space.

  Sarah frowned. “Mum got rid of most of the furniture in here a long time ago,” she told Bessie. “There used to be three beds, all crammed together for the boys.”

  “It isn’t a very large room,” Bessie commented. “It must have been a tight fit.”

  Sarah laughed. “I was always jealous because they got to share and always had someone to talk to when they couldn’t sleep and someone else there if they had a bad dream. Of course, they were always jealous because I had my own room. Nothing makes children happy.”

  Bessie smiled at her. “What did your parents use the fourth bedroom for?” she asked curiously.

  “My father insisted that he needed an office at home,” Sarah told her. “I don’t ever remember him actually using it. He wasn’t home enough to actually need it. But no matter how much my brothers begged, he wouldn’t let them use the room.”

  She opened the next door off the hall, again switching on the light. Bessie glanced inside at the completely empty and windowless room. It was by far the smallest of the rooms she’d seen with only carpeting and bare walls to look at.

  Sarah shook her head. “I didn’t realise mum got rid of everything in here as well,” she said. “I wonder when she did that.”

  “It looks like there is some water damage in that corner,” Bessie commented, pointing to the ceiling. There was a large wet patch on the ceiling and part of the way down the wall beneath it.

  Sarah walked over to take a closer look. “It looks like the roof might be leaking,” she said. “I’d better get someone to come and take a look at that. I want to get the house on the market as quickly as I can. People won’t be interested in buying it if the roof leaks.”

  “From what I’ve heard about the property market at the moment, I’m not sure people will care,” Bessie said.

  Sarah shrugged. “I need to talk to my brothers and see what they want to do, I guess.”

  The last bedroom was the largest. Sarah opened the door and switched on the lights. The curtains were drawn and the room felt dark and dreary, even with the lights on. This room, at least, was fairly clean and tidy.

  “The police have been all through here, of course,” she told Bessie as they waited for their eyes to become accustomed to the dim lighting. “They took mum’s appointment diary and a few other papers that were on her desk. I guess I’ll get them back one day.”

  Bessie looked around the large room. There was a large bed in the centre of the space, with small bedside tables on either side of it. A large wardrobe took up most of one wall and opposite it was a small desk with a chair. There were a few sheets of paper and a handful of pens on the desk, but nothing else.

  “Did your mother have a computer?” Bessie asked.

  “Mum? No way,” Sarah laughed. “She couldn’t figure out how to work a mobile phone. She wasn’t interested in technology.”

  Sarah walked over to the small desk and opened the top drawer. Bessie tried to wander over to join her in a casual manner. She didn’t want to appear too nosy, but she was curious what Nancy kept in her desk.

  The top drawer looked exactly like the one in Bessie’s desk in her cottage. It was full of pens, pencils, scraps of paper with seemingly random numbers scribbled on them, pads of sticky notes, rubber bands and what looked to be hundreds of paper clips. Sarah ran her hand through the junk, as if rummaging around for something. After a minute, she shook her head.

  “It’s all the same
junk I have in my desk at home,” she told Bessie.

  “Me, too,” Bessie admitted.

  Sarah sat down in the small chair and pulled open the top drawer of the three that ran down one side of the desk. Inside were sheets of stationery and matching envelopes. Bessie felt a pang as she recognised the uniquely coloured sea green paper. She’d never really thought about it, but all of the Raspberry Jam Ladies used different coloured stationery. Bessie probably had notes from every one of them tucked up in boxes at home. She loved to keep written correspondence, and Nancy’s notes would take on new meaning for Bessie now that she had passed away.

  Sarah sighed. “I have hundreds of notes from mum over the years,” she told Bessie. “Even though we haven’t didn’t really get along for much of the time, she often wrote me notes. I don’t know what to do with this stationery. There’s no way I can use it.”

  “I don’t think you need to worry about that for today,” Bessie said soothingly. “No one is going to break in and steal stationery. Maybe one of your brothers would be able to find a use for it.”

  Sarah shuddered. “I would hate to get a letter from them on this paper,” she told Bessie. “It would feel like something from beyond the grave.”

  Bessie leaned over and pushed the drawer shut gently. “You mustn’t let yourself get upset by such things,” she told Sarah. “There’s going to be a lot to go through in the days to come.”

  “I know,” Sarah sighed. “But for today, I just want to make sure nothing of value has been left lying around. I think I’ll make Fred and James do the actual clearing out of the house. Neither of them will see any sentimental value in anything.”

  “What about Adam?” Bessie asked.

  “What about him?” Sarah shrugged. “We haven’t heard from him since he left at eighteen,” she told Bessie. “That’s another thing I was hoping to find in mum’s desk. An address for my baby brother.”

  She took a deep breath and then pulled out the middle drawer. Inside were a few folders that Sarah took out and laid on the desk. The first was labelled “banking,” and as Sarah flipped through it Bessie could see what must have been several months worth of bank statements.