“Just in time for tea,” Bessie told him.
“Perfect,” Spencer replied.
“Unfortunately, I don’t have any milk to go in it,” Bessie said with a frown. “I wonder if Bahey is home and could lend me some?”
Bessie made the quick trip down the hall, knocking on both Bahey’s door and Howard’s, but neither was at home.
“No time like the present to meet the neighbours,” she muttered to herself as she knocked on the door to number nine, which was right across the hall from Howard’s flat. After a few moments, the door opened slowly.
“I’m not interested,” the woman who looked out said flatly. “And how did you get in here anyway? We’re supposed to have security.”
“Oh, but I’m not selling anything,” Bessie said, feeling a bit flustered by the unexpected response to her knock. The woman had opened the door with a security chain in place, so Bessie could only just see a tiny sliver of a rather thin and unhappy looking older woman.
“I’m Elizabeth Cubbon,” she said. “I’ve just moved in to number ten and I was hoping you might be able to lend me a small amount of milk so I can have a cuppa.”
“Never touch it,” the woman replied. “No tea or coffee or dairy products. Try her next door. She’ll eat anything.”
Before Bessie could reply, the door was shut firmly in her face. “That went well,” Bessie muttered to herself, turning to the next door in the hall. No one answered her knock there, so she tried the final door, number seven. After a few moments, she could hear movement inside the flat. It was at least a minute later that the door finally opened.
“Ah, Bessie, wasn’t it?” Bertie Ayers smiled out at her. “Are you moving in today, then?”
“I am,” Bessie told him. “Actually, I’ve just finished and I was going to have a cuppa, but I don’t have any milk. I don’t suppose you could spare a little bit?”
“Oh, I’d love to come over for a cuppa,” Bertie told her. “Just let me find the milk and I’ll be right over.”
He shut the door in Bessie’s surprised face. She shook her head and then turned and went back into her own flat. Her new neighbours were turning out to be rather interesting.
Bessie smiled at Spencer when she walked back into her flat. “Milk is on the way,” she told him. By the time she’d filled the teapot, someone was knocking on her door.
“Ah, Bertie, do come in,” Bessie said, as she pulled the door open.
“I brought the milk,” he told her. He held up a pint container.
“Excellent,” Bessie replied. “This is my friend, Spencer,” she told him when they’d reached the kitchen. “He helped me move in.”
“Oh, I didn’t realise you had company,” Bertie said, looking flustered. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“Oh, goodness, no,” Bessie laughed. “We were just going to have a quick cuppa before Spencer has to get back to Laxey.” She poured the tea and everyone added milk and sugar to taste.
“I have a date tonight,” Spencer told Bertie. “But I was happy to help out Aunt Bessie.”
“Oh, she’s your aunt. That makes sense,” Bertie said.
“She isn’t really my aunt,” Spencer replied. “Everyone in Laxey calls her Aunt Bessie, though.”
Bertie frowned. “Why?”
“Since I never had children of my own, I’m sort of an honourary auntie to many of the children in Laxey,” Bessie explained. “They know I always have biscuits and cakes and I’ll always listen to their complaints about their parents.”
“I do hope you aren’t planning on having lots of small children visit you here,” Bertie said. “I’m not fond of small children.”
“Oh, I’m sure things will be very different here,” Bessie said, trying not to sound as sad about that as she suddenly felt.
“Do you have children?” Spencer asked the man.
“No, I never married,” Bertie replied. “I managed to avoid getting caught and I’m not letting my guard down, even now. There are some women in this building who would like very much to be Mrs. Bertie Ayers, I can tell you.”
Spencer chuckled. “I hope I’m in as much demand when I’m your age,” he said.
“Widowed women are everywhere when you get to my age,” Bertie said, shaking his head. “And they all seem to want to get married again.”
“How unpleasant for you,” Bessie murmured, wondering who on earth would want to marry this rather odd little man.
“Oh, it’s not all bad,” Bertie said in a confiding tone. “I get a bit spoiled at Christmas time and the like. Muriel and Ruth seem to try to outdo each other and I end up with all sorts of things I wasn’t expecting.”
“Like what?” Spencer asked, clearly fascinated.
“Oh, Muriel bakes. She’ll make me a Christmas cake and mince pies and all sorts of delicious treats. I usually have Christmas dinner with her, as well. She’s a wonderful cook. Ruth, on the other hand, has allergies or sensitivities or something, so she eats only very plain food and nothing with any sugar in it. She knits or something with yarn, so I get scarves and jumpers and mittens and hats and all sorts like that from her.”
“How very kind of both of them,” Bessie said.
Bertie flushed. “I know they mean to be kind,” he answered. “But it does get rather tiresome. I only have the one head and two hands, so I don’t really need four pairs of mittens or six hats, and a dozen or so mince pies is really my limit.”
Spencer laughed. “Perhaps I need to meet them,” he said. “I could use a winter hat and some mittens, and I’ve never met a mince pie I didn’t like.”
“You’re too young for either of them,” Bertie said with a laugh. “Otherwise, I’d tell you to go for it. Although you’re not much younger than the building manager, and he seems quite keen on both ladies.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Bessie asked, trying to sound less interested than she was.
Bertie shrugged. “He just seems to spend a lot of time talking to them both, that’s all. He’s much more friendly with them than he is with me.”
Bessie finished her tea and set her cup down on the kitchen counter. “So Muriel is in number eight and Ruth is in number nine?” she asked Bertie.
“Yep, and you said you know Bahey and Howard, right?”
“That’s right,” Bessie agreed.
“So that’s everyone up here,” Bertie said. “Have you met anyone from the ground floor yet?”
“Just the building manager,” Bessie replied. “Who else is there?”
“Well, Nigel, the manager, has his mother living with him,” Bertie told her. “She’s not well, either physically or mentally, but I’m never sure which. Anyway, she doesn’t leave their flat very often and when she does, she just sits and stares into space.”
“Oh, dear, I wonder what’s wrong with the poor woman,” Bessie said.
Bertie shrugged. “Nigel might tell you, if you ask. I never have.”
Bessie nodded. She’d be sure to ask the man the next time she saw him. “Who else lives on the ground floor, then?”
“Simon O’Malley is in flat number one,” Bertie replied. “Muriel and Ruth went crazy for him when he first moved in, but he’s not much interested in the ladies. He moved here from Ireland after working for one of the big department store chains over there for many years. He did windows, or something like that.”
“Washed them or installed them?” Spencer asked.
“Neither,” Bertie replied. “He decorated them, like. The big display windows that they do up at Christmas and that sort of thing.”
“Oh, I see,” Spencer replied.
“Anyway, Mabel Carson lives next to him in number two. “She was a nurse and a midwife in Leeds and she has family here and there, so she isn’t around all that much. She seems really nice, when I’ve spoken to her.”
“I hope she’ll be able to make it to my housewarming,” Bessie said.
“Oh, slip a note under her door and she’ll probably stop by.
She’s plenty friendly enough; she’s just quite busy. It’s the one after her you probably don’t want to invite.”
“Oh, dear, who’s in number three, then?” Bessie asked.
“A lady named Annabelle Hopkins. She’s retired from the civil service and she doesn’t like anything or anyone. She could complain for England, she could. If you do invite her, she won’t like anything you have to eat or drink. Don’t take it personally. She hasn’t been happy since before the war, I reckon.”
Bessie shook her head. “Life’s too short to be miserable all the time,” she said thoughtfully.
“Anyway, Tammara Flynn lives across from Annabelle. She’s in number six. She’s Irish like Simon, and they seem to do things together quite a bit. I don’t really know her, but she seems pleasant enough.”
“What about number five?” Bessie asked, curious what Bertie would say about the flat she knew was empty.
“It’s empty,” he replied. “From what I understand, someone bought it a while back, but they haven’t moved in yet.” He shrugged. “I’m sure someone will move in eventually. I can’t imagine whoever it is can afford to have two places forever.”
“And Nigel and his mother are in number four?” Bessie checked.
“Yep, and I’m not sure how they manage it,” Bertie replied. “These flats are comfortable enough for one person, but they aren’t big enough for two.”
Bessie glanced around her compact space. “I’d have to agree with that,” she told her new neighbour.
Spencer left after he’d finished his tea. Bessie knew he was eager to get back to Laxey to get ready for his date. Bertie proved harder to get rid of. He drank his tea and told Bessie all about his life while Bessie smiled politely and tried to figure out how to get him to leave.
“Well, it’s getting late,” he said finally, just as Bessie was wondering how best to fake a heart attack. “Did you have plans for dinner?”
Bessie took a deep breath, trying to figure out the best possible response. Before she’d managed it, Bertie continued.
“I’m not asking you out,” he said hastily. “I mean, like, not on a date or anything. I just think I need to make sure you understand that. But I thought, if you didn’t have plans, maybe we could go somewhere together. I don’t have plans, you see, and I don’t really like to cook. We would each pay for ourselves, you understand. It isn’t a date or anything.”
Bessie bit back a laugh. “That’s very kind of you,” she said. “But I do have plans. A dear friend is coming over and I need to run to the grocery store and do some shopping before she gets here.”
“Oh, I’ll just get out of the way, then,” Bertie said. “Maybe we could do dinner another night.”
“Maybe,” was as far as Bessie was willing to go. “But don’t forget my housewarming on Saturday,” she told him as she walked him to the door. “I’m hoping to get to meet all the neighbours.”
“I expect most of them will turn up,” Bertie replied. “We’re all pensioners on fixed incomes, so if there’s food on offer, we’ll be here.”
Bessie laughed. “There will be food,” she assured him. “And drinks as well.”
“If you can manage a nice bottle of gin, I’d love a gin and tonic,” Bertie told her, his eyes shining with anticipation. “I haven’t had one since Christmas.”
Bessie nodded and added gin to her mental shopping list. This little gathering was starting to seem like an expensive proposition. Still, she wanted to meet the neighbours; she just hoped it would be worth the fuss and bother.
As soon as Bertie left, Bessie grabbed her handbag and headed out to the nearest grocery store. It was just a short walk away, and Bessie was quite pleased with the easy convenience of it. While she was walking, she made a quick call to Doona, inviting her dinner. She felt lucky that Doona was not only available but also happy to make the short drive to Douglas to see Bessie.
Mindful that she had to carry all of her shopping back with her, Bessie limited her purchases to things she felt she absolutely needed. Bertie had insisted that Bessie keep the rest of the container of milk he’d brought, so she bought him a replacement carton. She also bought what she needed for a simple dinner with Doona and a ready-made apple crumble.
She enjoyed her walk back to Seaside Terrace, in spite of having to carry the shopping bags. She’d have to get a taxi or a friend to drive her when she shopped for the party, though. There was no way she would be able to carry everything she needed for that, unless she made several trips.
Nigel Green jumped up when Bessie walked back into the building’s foyer. “Oh, you should have told me you needed shopping,” he exclaimed. “We have a service for that. We could have picked up everything you need for you.”
“I needed the walk almost as much as I needed the shopping,” Bessie told him. “But I might have you get me some things for Saturday. I’m having a little housewarming, or should I say, flat warming? I do hope you and your mother will be able to attend.”
“Oh, I’d love to come,” he replied, seeming overeager to Bessie. “But I’m not sure about mother. We’ll have to see how she’s feeling, won’t we?”
“Will we?” Bessie asked.
“Well, yes, of course,” he said, frowning.
Bessie smiled to herself as she boarded the lift. Back in her flat, she quickly put away the shopping and threw the beef stew ingredients into a pot. Once it was simmering nicely, she settled down to write out invitations to her flat warming.
Hoping that she was remembering all of the names correctly, Bessie wrote out the same invitation eight times and then addressed each envelope. After dinner, she would go door to door and pass them out. She’d only just finished the last one when someone knocked on her door.
“Doona, how wonderful to see you,” Bessie said when she’d opened the door.
“You sound a little desperate already and you’ve only been here since midday,” Doona replied, as she greeted Bessie with a hug.
“It’s such a huge change,” Bessie said. “I feel a little desperate.”
“Maybe you should just move back to Laxey,” Doona suggested.
“I have to give Douglas a fair try,” Bessie said firmly, as she pulled Doona into the flat. “Besides, look at the lovely furniture I’ve borrowed.”
Doona admired the pieces that Mary Quayle had lent Bessie with genuine enthusiasm. “I wish I had rich friends who would lend me things like this,” she said, running her hand across the luxurious sofa.
“I feel quite guilty about it,” Bessie admitted. “Mary is really pleased that I might be moving to Douglas for good and I feel bad that I’m deceiving her.”
“Are you certain there’s no chance of you moving for good?” Doona asked.
Bessie shook her head. “I can’t imagine living here permanently,” she told her friend. “It doesn’t feel at all like home.”
“You’ve only just moved in,” Doona pointed out. “Maybe you need to give it a chance.”
Bessie nodded slowly. “I suppose you’re right, although I’d rather figure out what’s going on that’s spooking Bahey and then go home.”
Doona laughed. “I won’t argue with that,” she told her friend. “I’m really going to miss you.”
“But you’re coming with me to the barbeque at the Quayles’ on Friday and you’re coming to my housewarming on Saturday,” Bessie reminded her. “Honestly, I think you’re going to see more of me than normal in the next few days.”
“Possibly,” Doona conceded. “But it won’t feel the same.”
“No, it won’t,” Bessie agreed.
“I thought I’d be helping you move, as well,” Doona said as Bessie went into the kitchen to start serving the stew.
“Spencer moved me over this afternoon,” Bessie explained. “He fit everything in one trip.”
“That was kind of him,” Doona said.
Something in her voice had Bessie looking at her carefully. “I thought you didn’t really like Spencer,” she said afte
r a moment.
“I don’t,” Doona said with a deep sigh. “But it turns out I like being chased. It was lovely having someone who wanted to be with me all the time, even if I did feel smothered by it.”
Bessie shook her head. “He’s not the right man for you,” she reminded her friend.
“I know that, but I miss the attention,” Doona replied. “I miss having someone, even the wrong someone. I feel like I’ve been on my own for a very long time.”
Bessie laughed. “Speaking as someone who really has been on her own for a very long time, a few years is nothing. You need to learn to be happy by yourself and then, when you least expect it, someone wonderful will come along.”
“That sounds good,” Doona said. “But there aren’t any guarantees, and I’m not getting any younger.”
“No, but if you learn to be happy on your own, you won’t care if someone special doesn’t turn up,” Bessie replied. “Anyway, you’re too special to be alone forever. Someone out there is looking for you, even if he doesn’t know it yet.”
Doona sighed. “I hope you’re right,” she said after a moment. She took a deep breath. “Okay, sorry, how are you? How are you finding the new flat? How are the neighbours? Has anything strange or unusual happened to you yet?”
Bessie laughed. “I’m not sure I can answer all of that,” she said. She set two very full bowls of stew down on the small table. “I’d offer you wine, but you’re driving,” she said.
“I’d better have a fizzy drink,” Doona replied.
Bessie got them each a can of something fizzy and brought them to the table with glasses. “Let’s eat while I try to remember and answer everything you asked,” Bessie said.
“This is delicious,” Doona told Bessie after her first bite.
“It isn’t bad,” Bessie said with a shrug. The flat’s cooktop was much more efficient than her old one at home, and Bessie had already realised that she was going to have to pay more attention to her cooking until she got used to the difference. No doubt the modern fan-assisted oven would bake very differently to her much older model at the cottage as well. She’d put the apple crumble in to warm; now she got up to check on it.
Aunt Bessie Finds (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 6) Page 15