by Jan Ellis
“Amen, Vicar.”
Eleanor and Philip sat silently for a moment, thinking about the events of the past, while Joshua tipped the last of his tea into a saucer and placed it on the ground for Clarence.
When the slurping had finished, Joshua turned to the vicar. “Did you bring my letter as I requested?”
Philip nodded. “Here it is.” He handed over the brown envelope Joshua had brought to him some weeks before.
Joshua took it and tore it into pieces. “I shall be writing another one, but not for a while yet as I’ve changed my mind about dying. First I’m going on holiday. If that old rogue Harold Greaves can find himself a lady friend, a handsome chap like me won’t have any difficulties.” He smiled, an expression as unexpected as it was joyful.
Joshua got to his feet and handed a large house key, a lead and a bag full of dog paraphernalia to Philip. “Look after Clarence for me, will you? He’s had a bath.” He bent down to pat the dog. “I’m off on a cruise, young sir, and I’m afraid you’re not allowed to come.” There were tears in Joshua’s eyes when he straightened up. “That there’s my only friend.”
“Nonsense,” said Eleanor, welling up. “I’m your friend. And so is Philip here. And so is Harold,” she added, with a little less conviction.
“Eleanor’s right,” said Philip. “And I think you’ll find there are lots of folk who want to be friends with you. In fact, I’ll prove it.”
“And how are you going to do that then?”
“Just you wait and see.”
Chapter 37: Two Weeks Later…
It was one hour to party time and everything was almost ready. The event was going to be held outdoors, so Graham and Malcolm had been around the garden tidying up the weeds, deadheading and generally sprucing the place up.
Tables were set up across the lawn, each one with a crisp white tablecloth and a jam jar filled with summer flowers in the centre. Eleanor and Connie – with a modicum of help from Joyce – had done the best they could with the lived-in part of the house, and the kitchen had been scrubbed to within an inch of its life. Now the beautiful old crockery and silver cutlery shone in the sunlight.
“Where do you want this lot?” asked Joe, carrying a tray of glasses across the lawn.
“Take them over to the marquee, love,” said Eleanor. “The bubbly should be nicely chilled by now.”
Daniel, who was setting out chairs, came over to his wife. “Have you seen the cake? Maureen has done a fantastic job.”
“I have,” said Eleanor, chewing her lip. “I hope we’ve done the right thing asking her to make it in the shape of a ship, given his thoughts on the matter.”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll love it.”
* * *
When the taxi drew up outside Combemouth Manor, the driver laughed. “Are you having a party?”
“No, I’m not.” Joshua frowned as he climbed out of the cab. “What’s going on here then?”
From the driveway he could see the vicar’s pastel-coloured bunting crisscrossing the lawn and draped across the front of the house. A dozen café tables were set out and small bunches of flowers had been tied to the back of each chair. “The blasted vicar is using my garden for a wedding reception, the cheeky bugger!”
“I’ve always said they’re rascals in Combemouth,” said the taxi driver, a Waterborough man.
“Whoever the bride and groom are, they’re in for a nasty surprise if they think they’re going to get away with this,” said Joshua, turning puce with indignation.
“They’ve chosen a nice day for it, mind you.” With that the driver spun the car around on the gravel and left, leaving Joshua to take in the perplexing sight. Grumbling, he picked up his case and began stomping down the side of the house towards the kitchen, then stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed the front door was wide open. Not only that, but the weeds had been cut back and someone had placed a bay tree either side of the steps.
“What the heck…?”
At that moment, Clarence came hurtling across the grass towards his master, delirious with joy. Joshua picked him up, making the dog squeak with happiness. “Where’s that vicar then, young sir?”
“I’m over here with your friends.”
When Joshua turned around, Philip and a host of smiling faces appeared from behind the shrubbery where everyone had been hiding.
“Welcome home, Joshua,” said Eleanor, stepping forward to hug her grumpy friend. “And Happy Birthday.”
“Well, I’ll be…” Joshua’s emotion went from surprise to happiness as he took in the small crowd around him.
Joe, Georgie and Anton began handing out glasses of champagne as people Joshua hadn’t seen for years came up to greet him and wish him well.
“I hope you like what I’ve made for you, Joshua,” said Maureen nervously, as Eleanor led everyone over to the marquee.
Inside, Joshua bent over to examine Maureen’s creation more closely, then scratched his head thoughtfully. The cake was constructed in three layers and decorated with a beautifully crafted figurehead, two rows of cannon and sugar paste sailors scrubbing the decks and shinning up masts. “I reckon if we cut off the main mast, that will be the Santa Ana gone for good.” Joshua picked up a sailor from the foredeck and gobbled him up. “All that stuff about the ghost ship being a harbinger of doom and death is poppycock. As you can see, I’m fit as a fiddle and twice as sprightly.” He winked flirtatiously, turning Maureen’s cheeks quite pink.
Just then Harold stepped forward, a solemn expression on his face. “I must apologise for believing those terrible rumours about the Pinkhams,” he said quietly. “It was unforgivable and I am truly sorry.”
Joshua grasped his old schoolfellow by the hand and shook it warmly. “You were not to know any different, Harry.”
“But we know the truth now,” said Philip, “so let’s raise our glasses to wish Joshua a very happy eightieth birthday and to say thank you to his grandfather, John Able, for his generous gifts to this town.”
Joshua smiled, tears coming to his eyes as he took Eleanor’s hand in his. “And thank you, missus, for everything.”
“It’s my pleasure,” she said, as everyone drank a toast to Joshua’s health, happiness and new life.
THE END
Author’s Note
Books are a team effort and my thanks go once again to Helen Huckle for reading through early drafts; to Gillian Mawrey for her sharp editorial eye; to Richard Mawrey QC for his inside knowledge of the Victorian penal system and ghostly goings-on; to Lucy Deakin, who kindly allowed me to share the exploding-dress incident, which I only exaggerated the teeniest bit. Although I am very rude about one particular librarian in this book, my local library was invaluable when it came to researching facts and fiction about the southwest coast of England. Libraries – like bookshops – are to be treasured.
I have received unstinting support from authors and hard-working bloggers, not least Karen Aldous, Anita Chapman, Catherine Ferguson, Rachel Gilbey, Sophie Hedley, Wayne Herbert, Linda Hill, Samantha Tonge, Hannah Ward, Neats Wilson and Yasmin Wilson. Thank you all!
Finally, huge thanks go to Liz Small, Ron Grosset and the team at Waverley Books for bringing ‘The Bookshop by The Sea’ series so beautifully to life.
Jan Ellis
@janellis_writer
www.janelliswriter.com
www.waverley-books.co.uk
[email protected]
The Bookshop Detective
published 2017 by Waverley Books, an imprint of
The Gresham Publishing Company Ltd.,
Academy Park, Building 4000, Gower Street,
Glasgow, G51 1PR, Scotland, UK.
Text copyright © 2017 Jan Ellis
Jan Ellis has asserted her rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by
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ISBN: 978-1-84934-445-6
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