by Jan Ellis
“How marvellous! You wouldn’t happen to have portraits of a John Able or a Violet Makepeace would you?”
Kevin’s eyes alighted on the clock, which showed nearly 5pm. “We’re about to close, I’m afraid. Perhaps you could come back another time?”
Eleanor’s face dropped. “I’m not sure when I’ll be able to come back. Couldn’t you take a very quick look at your records? I can tell from how easily you found my photograph how efficient your filing systems are. Please?” With that she clasped her hands together in supplication, gave Kevin her warmest smile and hoped for the best.
It worked. “Very well, but if I can’t find anything in the next ten minutes I’m afraid you will have to come back.”
“Sure,” said Eleanor, nodding eagerly. “And I can help you look, if you like.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Kevin opened a cupboard beneath the counter and brought out a number of index card boxes. Slowly, he flicked through the cards while Eleanor tried to hide her impatience. “Well, I can tell you now there’s nothing under A for Able.”
“How disappointing,” said Eleanor, drumming her fingers on the counter as Kevin slowly opened and closed the other boxes until he found M–O. She had her heart in her mouth as Kevin dug out a card.
“However, you’re in better luck here. It seems that a Mrs Violet Makepeace (née Bennett) did have several portraits done with us over a period of many years.”
“Would I be able to see them, do you think?” Recognising that Mr Seaside Snapper was clearly in a hurry to shut up shop and go home, Eleanor tried bribery. “I’ll buy lots of copies, of course.”
Kevin looked wearily at the clock once more, then turned the sign on the shop door to “Closed”. “You’d better come through to the office,” he said, showing Eleanor into a room at the back of the shop. “If you’d like to sit there one moment, I’ll see what I can find.”
Eleanor watched impatiently from a hard plastic chair as Kevin lifted down two large boxes from a row of packed shelves, placing the index card with Violet’s details on the table in front of him. He then pulled out a selection of photographs, carefully placing a tick beside each number on the card.
When Kevin had finished, he called Eleanor over. “These are all the photographs we have of your lady, taken before and after she married.”
“Fabulous – thank you so much!”
On the table were over a dozen photographs of Violet taken during her long life and showing a change from a slight child to the rather buxom author described by Frederick Williams. In one or two, she stood next to a thin-faced man who must have been her husband. In another, she sat with a dimpled child on her lap. Eleanor eagerly scanned the pictures then gasped and brought her hand to her lips as she picked up a small photograph in an oval cardboard frame.
Kevin spoke kindly. “You’ve found the one you were looking for, I gather?”
All Eleanor could do for a moment was nod, too overwhelmed to speak. “Yes, I think I have.”
* * *
By the time Eleanor arrived home, she was buzzing and thrilled by her successful day.
Daniel poured his wife a glass of wine and listened as she told him what she’d learned from Kevin Dipton about the fishermen photo. “And I’ll have to call Mr Williams in the morning and tell him about the photographs Kevin found of Violet Makepeace.”
“Speaking of calls,” said Daniel, “the vicar left a message for you to ring him.”
“Did he say what it was about?”
“No, but it didn’t sound urgent.”
“I’m pooped from all the running around, but I’ll definitely call him tomorrow.” Eleanor smiled at her husband and grasped his hand. “But that’s enough about my day, what have you been doing?”
“As it happens, I’ve had rather a good day, too.”
“Tell me more.”
“I have been speaking to my contacts in the planning department and guess what?”
“What?”
“They’re going to give our attic conversion the thumbs up, so we’ll be able to start work on it properly very soon.”
“At last! That’s great news, Dan.” Eleanor threw herself into his arms. “This is turning out to be a very positive day indeed.
* * *
At lunchtime the next day, Eleanor dashed round to St Cuthbert’s to tell the vicar what she’d discovered from Frederick Williams and Kevin Dipton.
“There was a hostel set up by one Alfred Pinkham, Esquire?” Philip laughed. “That is very interesting. Meanwhile, I’ve been doing some detective work of my own and I think you’ll be pleased with what I’ve discovered.”
“Tell me, I’m agog!”
“Well, I was disappointed not to find proper records for the stained-glass window and the inscription, so I got in touch with my boss to see whether he had any bright ideas on how we might trace the donor.”
Eleanor smiled. “Your boss?”
Philip chuckled. “Not the Almighty. I think He has more important things on his plate at the moment. No, I went to see the bishop – he owes me a favour. Anyway, he couldn’t help specifically with our window, but he was able to lend me a book about the work of Gideon Smith.”
“And he was…?”
“Smith was the artist who made our St Brendan, remember?”
“Ah, I remember now. And what did you find out?”
“Only this,” said Philip, opening the book and turning it towards Eleanor.
“Ooh, there’s a photo of the window in our church. What does the text say?”
“It says quite a lot – Mr Smith was clearly not a man to trust with your secrets. The donor wanted to remain anonymous, as we know, but Gideon told the author of the book everything about the commission. Here, I think you should read it for yourself.”
“Now I’m intrigued.” As she read, a contented smile spread over her face. “Well, what do you know?” And, although Eleanor thought it probably wasn’t the done thing to exchange a “high five” with a vicar, she did it anyway.
Chapter 33: A Difficult Meeting
It seemed to Eleanor that all roads led to Combemouth Manor, so the next day she went to see Joshua Pinkham, hoping he could answer the many questions she had swirling around in her head.
Eleanor found him in one of the sitting rooms, Clarence lying in a patch of sunlight by his feet. Having already experienced Joshua’s reluctance to talk about his family or anything to do with the past, Eleanor decided to begin with what she hoped would be the easy stuff.
“I’ve checked the valuation of the Bible and the other books you sold me and I’ve definitely underpaid you.” Smiling, she handed Joshua an envelope with the extra cash in it. “I didn’t know whether you would like this or whether I should give it to the vicar.”
“Vicar.”
“Although, if you have changed your mind and would like to keep the Bible, I’d be delighted to return it to you.”
Joshua drummed the arms of his chair impatiently. “I thought I’d made it plain that I don’t want it back.”
“Okay then, if you’re sure.” Now Eleanor had to move on to more difficult ground. “I also wanted to thank you for the beautiful tea caddy.” Joshua harrumphed, but said nothing. Emboldened by this, Eleanor went on. “I love it, but I don’t think I can accept the beautiful pendant or the handwritten verse my father-in-law found in there with it.” She took the paisley silk bag containing the locket from her handbag and presented it with the envelope.
Joshua hesitated for a moment before shaking his head. “I don’t take back things I’ve sold and I don’t take back gifts neither.”
Eleanor spoke gently, convinced more than ever that Joshua couldn’t have known what was in the tea caddy. “But, Joshua, surely the locket is an important family heirloom? There’s a photograph of a girl inside, do you see?” She carefully prised open the locket to show him the picture, but he barely glanced at the image before looking away.
“I don’t know nothing about no girl
.”
“Well, I think I can help you there.” Eleanor grinned, pleased with her discoveries. “She is Violet Makepeace – you know, the lady who wrote children’s books as VE Bennett? She was married to one of the publishers who owned my bookshop.”
Joshua frowned as though trying to recall Violet’s name but said nothing, so Eleanor went on. “The thing is, I think she might have written a story based on a court case I’ve been following about a local lad called John Able, who was royally stitched up by Lily – who was really Violet – back in the 1870s. I may be completely wrong, but there are loads of similarities and the book is dedicated to ‘J. A.’, which I’m guessing stands for John Able.” Eleanor smiled. “Sorry, I’m gabbling.” Joshua didn’t return her smile, instead staring fixedly at the ground as the grandfather clock noisily chimed the quarter.
Eleanor took a deep breath and continued. “Because the locket came from the cupboard hidden behind your bookcase, I thought you might be able to tell me if there was a link between Violet, John Able and your ancestors.” When Joshua didn’t answer, Eleanor thought he might not have understood. “What I mean is, I don’t suppose your forebears would have kept a photograph of Violet locked away in a special place if she wasn’t important to them. Do you see? And there’s more.”
Eleanor moved her chair closer to Joshua, eager to share what else she’d found out. “The vicar has discovered that your grandfather, Alfred Pinkham, paid for one of the stained-glass windows at St Cuthbert’s. Isn’t that exciting? And the verse in the tea caddy is the same as an inscription under the window, but I haven’t figured out the reason for that yet.”
Joshua still didn’t respond, instead gathering Clarence into his lap and silently stroking the dog, so Eleanor continued. “Your grandfather was such a modest man he didn’t want his name recorded, but Philip managed to find a reference to him in a book. Oh, and Alfred also established a hostel for sailors in need of help. You must be very proud of him.”
At this, Joshua turned towards Eleanor. “I have nothing to say on the matter.” He then closed his eyes, signalling very clearly that their one-sided conversation was over.
“Never mind.” Eleanor sighed, surprised and quite disappointed not to receive any help unscrambling the puzzle. As she stood up to leave, she remembered one last thing. “Oh, I nearly forgot. There was something else.” She drew the gold ring from her pocket and held it out for Joshua to see. “This was on a ribbon pushed down the spine of your Bible where it was being used as a bookmark, I think. It may be an earring, but I’m not sure. It certainly seems an odd size and shape for a wedding ring. In any case, it’s yours.”
Eleanor had been turning the ring in her palm so, when she looked up, she was alarmed to see the change that had come over Joshua’s face. His normally florid complexion had taken on a grey tinge and she feared he was having a heart attack. “Good heavens! What’s the matter Joshua? Don’t try to stand,” she said, rushing towards him.
“First the ship and now this. I knew I was right,” he grumbled, getting to his feet. “I shall be dead in a fortnight.”
“Dead? Whatever do you mean?”
“Eighty. I shall never see eighty. All this worry you’re bringing to my door – you’ll be the death of me.” And with that he crashed out of the room with Clarence at his heels.
Flustered, Eleanor remained open-mouthed for a moment then ran after them along a wide corridor into the study where Joshua stood shaking by the window. “I’m so sorry to have upset you,” she said, laying a hand on his arm.
Joshua shook it off roughly. “Leave me be.”
“Are you sure you’ll be okay? Can I bring you some tea? Shall I call a doctor?”
Joshua banged the desk with the flat of his hand, making Clarence’s ears twitch in alarm. “In heaven’s name, woman. Why will you not do as I ask?” With that, he turned and strode out of the room with surprising vigour, leaving Eleanor feeling embarrassed and cross with herself for angering her new friend.
* * *
Back at Dan’s house, she plonked herself down at the kitchen table with a sigh. “Well that went well – not.”
“What happened?”
“Pour me a stiff gin and I’ll tell you.”
Daniel made two G&Ts then carried them up the steps to the high garden behind his house to which Eleanor had retreated. “So tell all.”
Eleanor puffed out her cheeks wearily as she watched people on the distant promenade taking an evening stroll. “God, it was awful. It started badly and gradually got worse and worse.” She swirled around the ice and lemon in her glass then licked her cold finger. “Joshua was not happy when I suggested he’d made a mistake in giving me the locket and poem then went completely nuts when I showed him the ring.”
“What do you mean by ‘nuts’?”
“Nuts as in he changed colour, accused me of attempted murder, then basically threw me out.”
“Oh dear. That does sound bad.”
“You can say that again.” Eleanor sighed wearily.
Dan gently nudged her knee with his. “Don’t look so glum, El. You tried your best.”
“I’m worse than glum! Joshua’s convinced I’m going to kill him.” She took a large swig of gin. “I’ve made such a mess of things and I want to put them right, but I don’t know how to go about it.”
Daniel squeezed her hand encouragingly. “It’s not all bad though, is it?”
“Isn’t it? How do you make that out?”
“Well, it seems to me that Joshua’s extreme reaction proves your theory’s right: there is something that links Violet, John Able and the Pinkhams.”
“True.” Eleanor perked up immediately. “But how do I persuade Joshua to tell me what the connection is when he now hates me?”
“And is about to turn up his toes.”
“Not funny.”
“Sorry!” Daniel raised his hands in submission. “I was only trying to cheer you up.” He smiled. “Perhaps Harold could have a word. After all, they were friends in their youth.”
“Ha! Our lovely Harold is convinced the Pinkhams of yesteryear were pirates and murderers who would drown a man for a farthing, so I’m not sure he’s the right man for a mercy dash.”
“Maybe you should send in the vicar to talk to Joshua.”
“I think that’s guaranteed to finish him off.”
Daniel sighed. “Well, my darling, those are my best suggestions. Other than that, you can always go back and face his wrath or…”
“Or I leave him to die, with only a Yorkshire terrier in a leopard-skin onesie for company.”
“Joshua is not going to die, you silly thing.”
Eleanor brushed away a tear. “You didn’t see him, Dan. When he saw the ring he went so pale, it was as if he’d seen a ghost.” She dabbed her nose with a napkin. “There’s nothing for it – I’ve caused the damage so I’ll have to go back and put it right.” Sniffing, she set down her empty glass and rose to her feet.
“I honestly don’t think it’s a good idea to go back now – especially after a large G&T.” Dan took her hands. “Let’s have supper. You can always go and see him in a day or so.”
“But he might be dead by then!”
“Trust me.” Daniel lifted her chin gently with his fingers. “He might still be cross, but I can guarantee he won’t be dead.”
Eleanor chewed her lip nervously. “Okay. I’ll leave him in peace for a while, but then I must go and apologise even if I’m not entirely sure what I’ve done wrong.”
“Perhaps you rattled a few skeletons that Joshua believed were firmly buried.”
“Or perhaps he didn’t know about Violet, John and the rest of it.” Eleanor thought back to the afternoon. “From the look on his face, I’m not convinced Joshua knew the St Brendan window was his grandfather’s gift.”
“But why would an act of charity upset him so much?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
* * *
After Eleanor had
driven away from Combemouth Manor, Joshua went into his study and picked up the red briefcase that had been lying untouched on the desk since it was unlocked a week before.
Putting the bulky case under his arm, Joshua opened the French doors and stepped out into the walled garden. He pushed away the roses and peonies that fell across the path, threatening to trip him up, and settled on a bench at the far end among the lavender. It was always known in the family as Grandpa’s thinking bench, and Joshua had carried on the tradition of seeking out its faded blue seat whenever he had anything serious to contemplate.
He laid the briefcase on the bench and bowed his head in thought. Clarence sat trembling on the ground, his head tipped to one side as though waiting to see what his master would do next.
Joshua turned and scratched the dog’s tiny head with two rough fingers. “Well then, young sir, I reckon now’s as good a time to do this as any, don’t you?” He picked up the tiny animal and put him on the seat beside him then, with a heavy heart, he unfastened the clasp and opened the briefcase.
Chapter 34: Big Preparations
Eleanor didn’t go back to see Joshua the next day or the day after because things were too busy at the shop and she felt guilty due to the amount of time she had taken off. Although Erika, Connie and Joe were more than capable of keeping the show on the road, Eleanor was usually at the shop six days a week. Recently, however, she had been nipping out rather a lot to pursue the John Able case and see Joshua. Now, though, it was all hands on deck.
It was the day of Bill’s launch and the bookshop was a hive of activity. Erika was taking care of customers while Eleanor and the others concentrated on making sure everything was ready for the party.
By mid-afternoon there was still a lot to be done, including giving the place a good clean. Work had started on converting the attic and Daniel’s small team of helpers were constantly trooping through the house and shop so there was a thin layer of dust everywhere, which Eleanor was doing her best to ignore.
“Do you want me to come back later with my Marigolds, dear?” asked Connie.
“That’s a kind offer, Mum, but I’ve decided to take the Quentin Crisp approach to dusting.”