Aunt Bessie Enjoys (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 5)

by Diana Xarissa

  “It is,” Bessie agreed. “But that’s between her and her children. We can only do our best to make her happy.”

  Margaret lived near the others in a small two-storey house that looked tired to Bessie. They climbed a couple of stairs to the front door, with Doona carrying the basket and Bessie carrying the cake. Doona knocked. After a few minutes, the door opened slowly.

  “Ah, Bessie, you came,” Margaret sounded both pleased and surprised. “And you brought your young friend as well.”

  Margaret let them in and Bessie glanced around as she followed Margaret down the short hall. There was a tiny formal sitting room that was nearly empty of furniture and looked immaculately clean. Next came an equally clean dining room with a small table with two chairs on either side of it. They stopped in the kitchen, which was still original from when the house had been built in the forties.

  Bessie set the cake down on the small counter and then gave Margaret a hug. “This is for you,” she told the woman, gesturing to the basket that Doona as still holding. “Happy birthday.”

  Margaret flushed and then shook her head. “Oh, no, you shouldn’t have. I mean, I didn’t invite you because I expected you to bring presents. I can’t possibly accept.”

  “Of course you can,” Bessie said with a laugh. “It’s been put together especially for you.”

  Margaret looked as if she wanted to argue further, but then it seemed curiosity got the better of her. She peeked into the basket.

  “Oh, my goodness,” she said as she studied the contents. “Bath salts and candles and chocolate and wine and, oh, my goodness, but I can’t.” She burst into tears.

  Doona, still holding the basket, looked helplessly at Bessie, who pulled Margaret into a hug. “There, there,” she said soothingly. “I just thought you deserved a small treat, that’s all. It isn’t much and I certainly didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  It was several minutes before Margaret could speak. Doona eventually found a small space where she could put the basket down and then she found a tissue box and handed several to the sobbing woman.

  “I am sorry,” Margaret said once she’d stopped crying. “I never, that is, crying, I just don’t, oh, dear.”

  “It’s fine,” Bessie assured her. “It’s been a very difficult time lately, hasn’t it?”

  “It has,” Margaret agreed. “And I don’t know that it’s going to get any better, at least not soon.”

  “Why ever not?” Bessie asked.

  Margaret glanced at Doona and then looked back at Bessie. “The police seem to think I’ve had something to do with all these sudden deaths,” she whispered. “As if I would want anything bad to happen to anyone.”

  “I’m sure the police don’t suspect you,” Bessie said soothingly. “They just have to question everyone that might know anything, that’s all. Three sudden deaths from a very small group of people looks strange, even if some of the deaths were accidental.”

  Margaret nodded, but looked unconvinced. “Anyway, let’s not talk about sad things,” she said. “I want today to be a happy day.”

  “I hope it is,” Bessie told her.

  “Me, too,” Doona added.

  “So let’s have some tea and scones,” Margaret suggested. “I’ve everything all ready.”

  Bessie and Doona sat down at the tiny kitchen table while Margaret began to set out the food.

  “We could eat in the dining room,” she said. “But this is so much friendlier.”

  “This is lovely,” Bessie assured her. “Dining rooms are too formal for birthday parties.”

  Margaret giggled. “I’m seventy-four and I’m having my very first ever birthday party,” she told them. “It’s silly.”

  “Surely your husband made a fuss on your birthday when your children were small,” Doona said.

  Margaret flushed and pressed her lips together for a moment before she replied. “Jonathan didn’t think birthdays were for celebrating,” she replied. “He didn’t like to make a fuss over me, or the children for that matter.”

  “What a shame,” Bessie said. “Didn’t the Raspberry Jam Ladies celebrate birthdays?”

  Margaret shook her head. “Elinor didn’t feel they were something to celebrate, either. Well, she always made a huge fuss over Nathan’s, but his was special, you see. We were adults and we weren’t meant to care about such things.”

  “Didn’t any of you do anything for one another?” Doona pressed the point.

  “Oh, no, such things were against the bylaws,” Margaret answered.

  “Bylaws?” Doona asked.

  Margaret flushed. “Here, there’s tea and scones and everything.”

  Bessie and Doona joined her at the counter and fixed plates from the bounty that Margaret had laid out.

  “Everything looks delicious,” Bessie said as she selected from scones, biscuits and finger sandwiches.

  “You must have spent hours getting all of this ready,” Doona said.

  Margaret shrugged. “It’s not a big deal,” she said shyly.

  The trio sat down with their food and Margaret poured the tea. They ate silently for a few minutes before Doona picked the conversation back up where it had left off.

  “I’m sorry, but did you say something about bylaws?” she asked their hostess.

  Margaret looked down at her plate and then chuckled. “It’s silly, really. And I can’t believe I’m hesitant to tell you as there’s only me and Elinor left to care, but we always tried to keep everything that happened in the group private.”

  “As you say, though, it hardly matters now,” Bessie told her.

  “Indeed,” Margaret smiled. “Yes, we had bylaws. You can probably guess who drew them up.”

  “Elinor,” both Bessie and Doona said at the same time.

  Margaret laughed. “Yes, well, it’s sad, really. She’s such a clever woman and from what I’ve heard she was an excellent teacher, and then she met Nicholas. I don’t know if you remember him, Bessie, but he was altogether wrong for Elinor. Unfortunately, by the time she realised that, they were married and it was too late.”

  “What was wrong with him?” Doona asked.

  “Oh, he was charming and he certainly swept Elinor off her feet, but then he was very fond of that sort of thing. Elinor was probably the first woman to make him work hard for her affections, which made him determined to get her. Once he married her, he lost interest, of course, but then Nathan came along and she didn’t much care what Nicholas got up to, anyway.”

  “What did he get up to?” Doona wondered.

  “Oh, mostly he just flirted, but he was particularly cruel about it. He would deliberately flirt with Elinor’s friends. I think he resented the fact that he’d worked so hard to win Elinor’s heart and then she turned out to be merely human after all,” Margaret replied.

  “What a creep,” Doona said, shaking her head. “Poor Elinor.”

  “Did he actually have affairs as well?” Bessie asked.

  Margaret shrugged. “There were all sorts of rumours and I’ve no doubt that Elinor believed them, but I don’t know anything for sure. I can’t imagine Elinor minded if he did, though. She was only interested in Nathan.”

  “Presumably she was interested in the jam ladies as well, if she wrote bylaws for you,” Doona suggested.

  Margaret laughed. “Well, yes, I mean at least a little bit. Elinor loved organising all of us. My goodness, we had rotas for just about everything, from whose turn it was to buy biscuits to who was hosting the next play-date for the children. We weren’t supposed to meet up with one another outside of the group and we were never ever to buy presents for one another for any occasion.”

  “Why on earth not?” Doona demanded.

  “Fairness and equality were of the utmost importance. If I bought a little something for, say, Agnes, then all of the other women might feel left out. And Agnes might feel like she had to reciprocate and maybe she couldn’t afford to do so. Times were tough in those days, of course, and finances
were a real concern for all of us, so the rules made sense, even if they were a bit strict,” Margaret explained.

  “And you never celebrated your birthdays,” Bessie said sadly.

  “No, although we all went out to dinner as a group the year the last one of us turned forty. After a couple of bottles of wine, though, a few things were said that shouldn’t have been and we never repeated the experience.”

  “I can’t believe you had bylaws,” Doona said, shaking her head.

  “We had bylaws and lists of rules and rotas for everything. We were all expected to take turns hosting everyone’s children for many years, but that started to get difficult after a while,” Margaret said, her expression thoughtful. “Young Nathan was quite a challenging child and he could be cruel when he didn’t get his way. After a while some of us got together and told Elinor that we didn’t want to keep having all of the children at once.”

  “I bet that didn’t go over well,” Doona said dryly.

  “No, Elinor was very upset. Thinking back, I think his afternoons with the other jam ladies may have been the only break she really got from Nathan. And she really needed time away from him. He was very demanding. But my priority at the time was my own children and I wouldn’t have Nathan making them miserable week after week.”

  “I never realised the group was so well organised,” Bessie said. “You always just seemed like a group of good friends.”

  Margaret laughed. “And we were never that,” she replied. “Peggy hated Joan, Elinor and I never got along, no one approved of how Nancy raised her kids. Oh, goodness, the list is endless. The only reason we stuck it out as long as we did is because Elinor wouldn’t let anyone leave.”

  “What do you mean, she wouldn’t let you leave?” Bessie asked.

  “Oh, it wasn’t anything formal. Elinor’s too clever for that. But if you missed a meeting or two, she’d come over ‘to check on you’ and tell you how worried everyone was about you. It was subtle pressure, but the pressure was always there to make it to every meeting and be a good little group member.”

  “Emotional blackmail,” Doona muttered.

  “Remember that in the fifties and sixties life was very different,” Margaret continued. “Once you got married, you were married for life, no matter how bad things were. The other women were a lifeline in a way, even if I didn’t like all of them. Most of our husbands worked long hours and some of them travelled as well. There we all were, struggling to raise small children in a tiny village. As much as we grumbled about one another, at least we had each other.”

  “And the Raspberry Jam Ladies outlasted all of your marriages,” Bessie pointed out.

  “I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right, of course,” Margaret chuckled. “Of course, we also could never quit because we were always somewhere on some rota for something. I actually did plan to quit once, but it was my month for bringing biscuits. Once that month was over, it was my turn to have the kids for an afternoon. After that, Joan’s little one got sick and we all rallied around her.” Margaret shook her head. “So I just kept going along. All of us did.”

  She got up to clear away the dishes and Doona jumped up to help. They quickly cleared everything and then Doona brought over the cake box and opened it carefully. She slid the cake out of the box and set it in the middle of the table.

  “Oh, you’ve had them write on it and everything,” Margaret exclaimed when she looked at it. Her eyes filled with tears again. “’Happy Birthday, Margaret,’ she read off the top of the cake. “I’ve never seen that on a cake before, well, not on one for me, anyway.”

  Bessie and Doona exchanged looks. “Never mind,” Bessie told her. “It’s pretty but it will taste better than it looks.”

  “Oh, but can I take a picture before we cut into it?” Margaret asked.

  “Of course you can,” Bessie told her.

  Margaret rushed out and Bessie could hear her climbing up the creaky stairs. She was back a few minutes later, clutching an old camera. “I hope this still works,” she said. “It’s ever so old.”

  After she’d taken several photos, the others insisted that she be the one to cut into the cake. Margaret cut very generous slices, carefully putting them onto fancy china plates that she insisted were just right for a party.

  “I never use them,” she told Bessie and Doona. “They were a wedding present from my mother-in-law and I’ve been saving them for something special ever since.” She shook her head. “What a waste. I should have used them every day and if they got broken or damaged, too bad. Life’s too short to save things for special. Every day is special.”

  The cake was delicious and very much enjoyed. Bessie and Doona insisted on taking care of the washing up, while Margaret spent a few minutes looking through the goodies in her basket.

  “My goodness, I think I shall have truffles and biscuits instead of dinner tonight,” she announced as she studied each small container. “I can soak in the bath with them and have a glass of wine and then have another piece of cake for pudding.”

  “That sounds like the perfect evening to me,” Doona told her.

  With the kitchen tidied and the rest of the cake back in its box, Bessie sat down next to Margaret.

  “I know everything that’s happened has been upsetting,” she began. “But do you have any idea what’s going on?”

  “You mean everyone dying?” Margaret asked.

  “Yes, I mean everyone dying,” Bessie answered patiently.

  “Well, we all have to die sometime,” Margaret said with a shrug. “After the lovely time I’ve had today, I think I should be quite content to go any time now.”

  “But you don’t want anyone to get away with murder,” Doona suggested.

  “I suppose,” Margaret said. “But Joan and Agnes both had accidents, Elinor said so. Only poor Nancy was murdered and that was probably an accident in a way, too.”

  “In what way?” Bessie asked.

  “Well, Elinor said that someone was probably trying to kill someone and poor Nancy got the wrong jar of jam.” She glanced around and then leaned toward Bessie to whisper. “I think it was that Joe Robinson what did it. He had the booth next to ours and everyone knows he’s having an affair with his wife’s sister. I reckon he brought the jam and put it on our table while he was setting up and then Nancy and Agnes got there and found it and he was stuck.”

  “Do you think he was trying to kill his wife or her sister?” Doona asked.

  “Maybe he didn’t much care,” Margaret shrugged. “Maybe he just wants rid of one or the other of them.”

  “It’s an interesting theory,” Doona said. “I hope you’ve passed it along to the police.”

  “Oh, no,” Margaret said, looking surprised. “I’d hate to cause trouble for Mr. Robinson. He just lives down the street and he’s ever so helpful. He cuts my grass for me all summer long and won’t take a penny for it, either.”

  “If it wasn’t him, who else might have poisoned the jam?” Bessie asked.

  “Well,” Margaret giggled. “I did tell Agnes that I reckoned it was one of us trying to finally get rid of Elinor after all our years of complaining about her.”

  “Really?” Doona asked. “Which one of you?”

  “Oh, I couldn’t say,” Margaret replied. “It’s in the bylaws. We aren’t allowed to say anything critical of one another to anyone. Even if I knew who did it, I couldn’t tell you or the police. The rules are very clear.”

  “You have rules that require you to shield murderers?” Doona asked incredulously.

  “Well, they weren’t designed for that, obviously, but Elinor wanted to make sure that we weren’t gossiping about each other, so she made it a rule that we can’t talk about one another, especially in a bad way.”

  “Surely she never intended it to extend to murder,” Bessie said softly.

  “Knowing Elinor, she considered it,” Margaret replied. “There are rules for everything and I swear Elinor planned for every single thing that coul
d ever happen.” Again, she glanced around and then lowered her voice. “There are even rules for what to do if a third world war were to break out,” she told the others.

  Doona laughed, but Bessie nodded. “I’m sure that seemed like a real possibility in the aftermath of the Second World War,” she said.

  “Perhaps,” Margaret said. “But I think Elinor just enjoyed sitting around planning for disasters. We had drills, too, you know.”

  “What sort of drills?” Doona asked.

  “Emergency evacuation drills from wherever the group was meeting,” Margaret replied. “We used to meet in the meeting room of the church and it was up a flight of stairs. Elinor used to have us practice climbing out the window in case of emergency.”

  “Oh, good heavens,” Doona exclaimed. “That just isn’t normal.”

  “She wanted up to be safe,” Margaret said. “At least now we meet on the ground floor, so when we have our drills we just have to hobble outside and back again. I can’t imagine going out a window now, at my age.”

  “Why didn’t the group ever let in any new members?” Bessie asked. It was a question she’d wondered about for many years. She’d known more than one young mum in the area who’d wanted to find a similar group where she could make friends.

  “We talked about it in the beginning,” Margaret told her. “Especially when some of the others had more children and met more mums. Elinor didn’t like the idea. She didn’t want the group to get too big and unmanageable. We did have one or two mums come to a few meetings over the years, but none of them ever stayed for long. I think we all knew each other too well and the group was too, well, insular, for anyone else to feel welcome.”

  “I don’t suppose any of the mums that only came once or twice are still around and harbouring resentment towards the group?” Doona asked.

  “I shouldn’t think so,” Margaret answered. “I mean, it wasn’t like we didn’t let them in. They came for a few meetings and then just stopped coming. And we’re talking about something that happened maybe forty years ago. I can’t believe any of them even remember the group.”