“Pardon?”
“Would you like a bottle of soda water, or a splash from the syphon?” Jess elaborated.
“Oh, just a splash from the syphon will be fine. That was a delicious cup of coffee, by the way. I particularly liked how you put the design in the foam. Very nice. I do like pretty things.”
“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it. That’ll be £3.75 please - thanks very much.”
As he waited for his change, Richard’s eyes came to rest on a snow globe paperweight that Charlotte kept on the bar to stop the newspapers blowing around. “Well, I’ll be ... I haven’t seen one of these in years.” He shook it up and watched the snow swirl around in the glass dome with a childlike fascination.
“Here’s your change. Can we help you out with the chair?”
He dragged his eyes away from the snow globe. “If one of you could hold the door open, I’d be much obliged.” He pulled on his hat and gloves. “You ready, Trevor? You take the front and I’ll take the back. Right, Ma, we’re off. Hold on tight.”
With a little tipping and tilting, Richard and Trevor managed to manoeuvre the chair back out of the door. They’d only just set off when Ava, Harriett, Betty, Leo and Harry came back into the café, their faces pink with cold.
“Oh, it’s nice to be out of that wind. It cuts right through you.” Harry went straight to the heater and held his hands up to the flames.
“How about five hot chocolates to warm you up?” said Jess.
“Ooh, yes,” said Betty, “and as it’s so cold, I think I’ll have a splash of coconut liqueur in mine, please. Purely for therapeutic purposes, of course.” She winked at Jess.
“Ooh, that sounds good,” chorused Ava and Harriett. “We’ll have the same.”
“And I’ll have a tot of rum with mine, please,” said Harry, as he and Leo rearranged the furniture so they could all sit around the heater.
“Make that two of them, would you, Jess?” Leo stuck his thumb in the air.
Charlotte waved to the group of friends through the hole in the kitchen wall. She appreciated that, come rain or shine, they never failed to visit the café at least once every day.
Having lived in St. Eves all their lives, they knew there were plenty of other places they could visit but they always favoured Charlotte’s Plaice, bringing friends and family when they visited, and recommending it to tourists as a great place to go.
They were Charlotte’s favourite customers and she loved them to bits.
“You’ll never guess who’s just been in for coffee, Ava,” Jess said as she placed the tall cups of frothy chocolate on the table.
“You’re right, I’ll never guess.” Ava shook her sugar sachet before tearing off the end. “Go on, just tell me.”
“Maureen, Trevor and Richard Slade.”
All five of them stopped talking and gawped at Jess.
“You’re kidding,” said Harry.
“No, honestly, they were sat right there on that table, not five minutes ago. You probably saw them walking up the marina as you got here.”
“Maureen was the person in the wheelchair?” asked Ava.
“Yes, that was her.”
“Good heavens, I haven’t seen her out and about for donkey’s years. After she lost Bill, she turned into a recluse. She stopped going out and wouldn’t answer anyone’s calls, so I understand.”
“What did she do before her husband died?” Charlotte had come out of the kitchen to join the conversation. “Did she work?”
“Oh yes.” Ava stirred her chocolate and sipped a spoonful of foam. “She and Bill owned a very successful property business for years but when his health began to deteriorate - he had very weak lungs, you know - they made a decision to give it one more year and then sell the business while they were still young enough to enjoy their lives.
“They already had a villa in Spain which they were planning to visit more often and they wanted to go on a cruise but, before they could sell up, the boys were arrested and they had to put all their plans on hold.”
“Ah.” Charlotte nodded. “Mrs. Slade mentioned that they’d recently got back from a month in Tenerife.”
Ava continued with her story. “Anyway, Bill had a fall at home just after the boys were put away. Three days later, he had a seizure and went into a coma - he never regained consciousness and died in hospital a month later. I heard that Maureen blamed his death on the stress of the trial.”
“How terrible.” Charlotte frowned.
Ava sniffed. “Yes, well, you shouldn’t feel too sorry for Bill Slade. Years ago, before you were a little dot and he became a ‘respectable’ businessman, he was quite a force to be reckoned with around here for a while. I mean, compared to gangsters these days he was about as dangerous as a newborn lamb but, at the time, the protection racket he ran with his bunch of heavies had a lot of the community worried for their safety.”
“Protection racket?”
Harriett nodded and took up the story. “Yes, I seem to recall it ran for about three years. Bill demanded £5.00 every week from every business owner. It doesn’t sound a lot now, but back then, it was a small fortune. If they didn’t pay up they’d wake up next morning to find their front door had been forced open during the night, or their car headlights had been smashed, or their tyres had been slashed. That was just the first warning, of course. If they failed to pay up a second time, the warnings became more serious.”
“Ooh, yes!” said Betty. “D’you remember when Ethel Granville was woken up in the middle of the night by the police because her haberdashery shop was on fire? Earlier that day, she’d refused to pay Bill Slade’s thugs and, even though there was no evidence against them, Ethel was convinced the blame lay squarely with them.”
“So what happened after that? Did she pay up?”
Betty nodded. “Yes, she did. She was too scared not to. And she never had any more problems. That was the thing - when they paid up, the problems went away. Bill Slade saw to that.”
“Did anyone ever get as far as a third warning?” asked Jess.
“Well, funny you should say that,” said Ava. “There was a chap, Andrew Dibble, who used to run a fishing tackle shop in the town - it’s a photographic shop now. Anyway, he refused to hand over any money and one night, he was attacked on his way home from work. And he wasn’t just pushed against a wall and roughed up a little. Oh no, they worked him over good and proper. He was in hospital for weeks and by the time he was well enough to go back to work, he’d lost so much trade to a rival business, he went under. Nice man. He died last year.”
“Oh, that’s awful!” Charlotte was fuming. She hated bullying or intimidation of any kind and stories like this made her blood boil. “So how was Bill Slade able to get away with it for so long? Didn’t anyone go to the police?”
“They would have loved to, dear, but everyone was too fearful of repercussions. They were just so relieved that, a few years later, when Bill became a ‘respectable’ property developer, the racket fizzled out, along with any evidence of it. Seemed like he wanted to leave that life behind him and the traders were only too happy to let bygones be bygones. Bill never bothered them again and neither did his heavies.” Ava scooped the last of the foam from the bottom of her cup and dabbed her mouth with a serviette.
“So, all things considered, it was hardly surprising when the three boys found themselves on the wrong path,” said Betty. “With a father like that, what do you expect?”
As Charlotte listened to the chatter about the Slade family, she resolved to give Maureen Slade and her sons a very wide berth.
ººººººº
“So what have you already organised?” Sitting at the breakfast bar in Charlotte’s kitchen Jess whizzed through another pumpkin, its innards spilling into the large container in which Charlotte was collecting the flesh for soup.
Charlotte flicked to the relevant page in her ever-present notebook as she cooked dinner.
“Um, the church and Reverend Daly, the hymns,
the music for the church, the invitations, the order of service, the guest list, the marriage license, The President for the reception and the bridal suite for the night of the wedding, the sit-down meal, the evening buffet, the cake, the rings, the band and disco and the photographer and video guy.”
“And what’s left to organise?”
Charlotte turned over the page. “Right, let’s see ... okay, the flowers, my dress, your dress, Laura’s dress, shoes for all the above, Nathan’s suit, the best man’s suit, Garrett’s suit, the cars, various gifts and the favours”
She closed her notebook and smiled an uneasy smile.
Jess smiled back. “Look, stop worrying. Once you’ve got your dress sorted out, I’m sure you’ll feel much more relaxed. Anything else that needs doing, you only have to shout and Laura and I will do whatever we can to help. You know we would have been happy to help right from the start, but you were adamant that you and Nathan wanted to do most of the organising yourself.” She grabbed Charlotte’s hand. “Stop frowning - everything’s going to be fine. I promise.”
Charlotte was grateful for the reassurance. “I know it will be. It’s just that time’s run away with me and I’ve left it so late to organise stuff. I’ve got pre-wedding jitters, that’s all.”
“Well, ask Nathan to back you up. He has been helping with the arrangements, hasn’t he?”
Charlotte shook her head. “Not really, no ... he’s been so busy he hasn’t had time. He booked the church, though, and made sure that Reverend Daly’s going to be taking the service, which is a huge weight off my mind, but apart from that, I’ve done it all myself.”
“Well, why don’t you ask him to get more involved?”
Charlotte shook her head. “I’m not sure I can ask him. He really has got a lot on his plate at the moment.”
Jess switched off the pumpkin gutter, her face a picture of incredulity. “What d’you mean, you’re not sure you can ask him? It’s his wedding too, y’know. He should be involved. You know what some men are like - he probably thinks that because you haven’t said anything, you’re happy to arrange everything.
“You’ll need to tell him that you need help and what you want him to do. And, incidentally, you’ve got a lot of your plate too. He’s not the only one.” Jess was at her most indignant.
“Hmmm, you’re right, I suppose.” Charlotte doodled hearts and flowers on her notepad. “I’ll ask him when he gets back. I mean, I’ve done most things, but there are some things he could take off my hands. The cars, for example.”
“And the suits,” said Jess. “Him and Garrett are going together to get those, aren’t they?”
Charlotte smiled another nervous smile. “Yes. And to be honest, I’m a bit worried about it. I mean, I know I said I didn’t want to see what Nathan was going to be wearing until the day of the wedding, but I’m kind of wishing I hadn’t now.”
“Why?”
“Because when I asked him last week what type of suit he might like to get married in, he said the white one John Travolta wore in Saturday Night Fever was really cool.”
Jess giggled. “Charlotte, he’s only kidding!”
“Hmpf, well he’d better be because, I swear to God, Jess, if he’s waiting for me at the top of the aisle in a 1970’s disco suit, I’ll kill him.”
Jess pondered the situation for a few minutes. “I’ve got it! Laura and I will go with them! That’ll be another thing you won’t have to worry about. And after we’ve been dress shopping next Saturday, you’ll be able to cross all the dresses and the shoes off your list, too. And if it helps, Laura and I can help to organise the flowers and the favours. That just leaves the gifts and I’m sure you and Nathan will be able to find time between now and the wedding to go out together and buy them.”
She took a glug of wine. “Voila! Problem solved!” she said triumphantly as she placed a gutted pumpkin to one side and started on the next. “God, I’m good! I should hire out my services.”
Charlotte grinned. “Thank you. I feel better already, just having talked to you about it.”
“You’re welcome. After all, what are bridesmaids for? So, you’ve decided to stay at The President after all?”
“Yes, although I was dead against it to start with.” Charlotte removed a couple of hake fillets over from the frying pan before adding a knob of butter, a squeeze of lime and a handful of chopped parsley to the pan juices. “To be honest, I didn’t see the point. I mean, we only live two minutes walk from the hotel, so booking the bridal suite seemed like such an unnecessary expense. I know it’s included in the cost of the total reception package, but even so, it seemed so extravagant.
“Nathan was insistent, though, that he didn’t want us to do anything but relax and enjoy our wedding night and he knew that if we came home, we’d only end up getting involved in something or other. He’s right, too, we probably would. Anyway, the end result is that we’re staying and, to tell you the truth, I’m quite looking forward to it now.”
“Good for you. You deserve the best wedding day, Charlotte. Don’t ever think you don’t. There! I’ve finished.” Jess peered inside the final pumpkin before lining them up on the kitchen counters.
“Thank you, you’re an angel! I can’t believe how quickly you got through them - that tool’s amazing. I must remember to get one for next year,” said Charlotte, taking two warmed plates from the oven. “Right, wash up, dinner’s ready. We can work our creative magic on that lot afterwards.”
Chapter 3
The entire marina had been transformed into a graveyard for the Halloween celebrations.
As it was Saturday, Charlotte’s Plaice was closed for usual business and the awning had been bedecked with trailing cobwebs, rubber spiders hanging from invisible threads, skeletons propped up in corners and a row of glowing pumpkin heads along the top of the terrace, casting eerie shadows from their carved features.
All along the marina, atmospheric dark purple and green lights had been strung from every possible lamp-post, tree and road sign and a hundred headstones, carefully fashioned from polystyrene by the local arts and crafts group before being painted grey, had been randomly positioned along the marina front.
As Charlotte made the final adjustments to her costume, Jess called out to her from inside the ladies room. “You ready yet?”
Charlotte took one last look at herself in the mirror and giggled. “Yes, I’m ready.” She settled herself on a barstool.
“OK, I’m coming out.”
The door to the ladies room opened and, as soon as they caught sight of each other, they began to laugh until the tears were pouring down their cheeks.
“Oh, stop, stop! My sides are aching!” Jess leaned against the wall and clutched her ribs.
Charlotte pointed, barely able to speak. “Your ... your nose ... is hanging off!” she wheezed. “Ohmigod!, I can’t breathe!” She fanned her face and turned away from Jess in the hope that the laughter would abate, but every time she turned back, they started all over again.
It was a while before they mustered enough self-control to be able to admire each other’s costumes. Jess’s sported a stuffed, felt witches broom sewn into it, which protruded from the back and front of her dress and Charlotte’s had a rubber bat sewn to the shoulder of her cloak and a stuffed, felt black cat to the side. They each sported a long rubber nose and chin, blacked out teeth, a matted wig and the obligatory black, pointed witch’s hat.
“Right, well we haven’t got time to stand around,” said Charlotte. “We’d better get on with it.”
“Okay, just give me a minute.” Jess repositioned her nose again which had moved half an inch down her face. “Right, I’m ready.”
“So ... if you can set up the trestle table on the terrace and put the gas stove on it, please. The four-ring burner, not the double one, please, and I’ll finish the soup and the punch, put the toffee apples on a tray and check the paella. It’ll only need another ten minutes or so, so it can finish cooking outside.”
Thankfully, the evening was a little warmer than it had been of late and as Charlotte wrote a chalkboard advertising her punch, Paella, toffee apples and bubbling cauldron of pumpkin soup, she watched Lavender and Marigold Burridge frantically sweeping the snow and slush off the marina front and into the sea before it froze hard in the dead of night.
“Come along, Marigold, chop chop!” Lavender’s plump cheeks gleamed rosy pink from between a yellow bobble hat that was pulled down past her eyebrows and a matching scarf that was pulled up over her mouth.
“I’m going as fast as I can, Lav,” puffed Marigold, her breath coming in misty blasts, a solitary glistening drop hanging from the end of her rather prominent Roman nose.
Marigold and Lavender had been born and bred in St. Eves. Spinster sisters in their mid-sixties, they both still lived in the large home in which they had been born, and which had been left to them by their deceased parents. It was rumoured that neither woman had ever been involved in a romantic relationship preferring instead to devote their lives to the St. Eves Ladies’ Association, of which they had both been members for over forty years.
Enthusiastic members of the community, they always showed their support for local events, helping out whenever they could, and tonight was no exception. They’d volunteered to clear all signs of snow from the marina before the Halloween fair got underway.
“Why don’t you stop for a while, you poor things,” said Charlotte. “Come and have a cup of pumpkin soup. No charge.”
At the mention of a break from sweeping, with food included, the Burridge sisters downed brooms immediately.
“I must say, this is jolly decent of you.” Lavender took off her Wellington boot in order to rearrange her twisted sock before gratefully accepting a cup of soup from Charlotte. She put her nose into the steam coming off the soup and inhaled deeply. “Mmmm, what’s the spice I can smell?”
“Coriander. It goes very well with pumpkin, I think.”
“It’s delicious.” Marigold wiped her nose on her mitten and took a cautious sip from her cup.
“Thanks. You’re welcome to another cup later if you come back this way and there’s any left. We’ll be here till the food’s finished and the last of the trick-or-treaters has gone to bed,” said Charlotte, “and judging by the number of people milling about, I think it’s going to a busy night. I was just saying to Jess that ... oh wow! Look!”
Pumpkins, Peril and a Paella (A Charlotte Denver Cozy Mystery Book 4) Page 3