The Old Bakehouse

by Daphne Neville

  Inside the cottage, the sisters sat at the table in their sitting room eating breakfast and discussing the goings-on in the village.

  “Fancy a trip to the care home?” Hetty suddenly asked

  “Who to visit? Charlie or Nellie?”

  “Both if they’re free.”

  “Yes, why not. We told Charlie we’d go back so we must keep our word. He might even have remembered something by now.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking. I also want something to occupy my mind other than Irene’s arrest. I’m struggling to come to terms with that because it makes no sense.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  At the care home they found Charlie sitting in the same chair as on the previous visit. His face lit up when he saw them and he eagerly shook their hands. As they pulled up chairs and sat down in front of him Charlie reached beneath his armchair and pulled out a photograph album.

  “I’ve kept this in here to show you because I knew you’d be back.” He opened it on the first page and passed it to Lottie who sat nearest to him; she placed it on her lap.

  “Audrey made up the album,” Charlie said with pride, “and as you can see she’d written underneath every picture the names of the people in it and the dates as well. Audrey was very meticulous.”

  “So I see,” Hetty glanced at the album where a young Charlie smiled at the camera alongside his wife, “and I have to say you were a very handsome man when you were young.”

  “Oh, don’t you think I’m handsome now then?”

  “Yes, yes, of course you are, it’s just…”

  “Only kidding,” he chuckled, “you must forgive me but I’ve spent my life pulling the legs of folks and not everyone sees the funny side.”

  When Lottie turned the page they saw a black and white picture of a group of school children posing in the playground and dated 1945. “Was that taken before or after the war ended?”

  “Just after. I remember it well because I was twelve by then that’s why I’m on the back row with the big children.”

  Hetty pointed to a young girl with dark hair. “And next to you it says Nellie who I assume is the midwife. She said she was at school with you.”

  “That’s right and the lad on the other side of me is my best mate Frank. Well I should say was because he’s dead now more’s the shame.”

  “Frank Bell,” said Lottie looking at the bright eyed boy next to Charlie, “Would he by any chance be related to Ding…I mean Douglas Bell who rings the church bells?”

  “Yep, Douglas is Frank’s grandson. He’s not here now though. Someone told me he’s gone gallivanting off somewhere or other teaching kids. Been gone a while I think.”

  “He’s back now,” said Hetty, “we saw him in the pub the other evening.”

  “He is? Good, hopefully he’ll come and see me then,” Charlie looked back at the album, “Can you spot my Audrey?”

  “Yes, but I probably wouldn’t be able to do so were the children not named,” admitted Lottie.

  “Eve,” Hetty pointed to the girl next to Audrey, “Would that be the same Eve who married Joe the baker?”

  “Yep, the very one and if you look on the front row at the little ones you’ll see her sister, Alice.”

  “Well I never,” sighed Lottie, “what a pretty little girl she was.”

  “And she still was when she grew up,” chuckled Charlie, “she were a cracker in her day and had us blokes fighting over her. In the end she married a chap from Porthleven though and so moved away. I don’t think I’ve seen her since. In fact I don’t even know if she’s still alive.”

  “Oh, she’s alive and well, we saw her not long ago and she’s still living in Porthleven although she’s a widow now.” Lottie turned to the next page of the album.

  “She is? Fancy that. I knew Eve had gone, God rest her soul because Nellie told me. She also said Eve’s little boy’s been back to the village. I bet he don’t recognise the place.”

  Hetty smiled. “Not so little now though that he’s sixty two.”

  “Is he really? Well, yes, I suppose he’d have to be. How time flies.”

  That same morning, Vicar Sam having heard of Irene’s arrest walked down to Sea View Cottage hoping he might be able to offer a few words of comfort to her daughter Martha who he realised would now be all alone in the village. To his dismay there was no-one home and so he walked down to the beach for a stroll along the shore before he returned home to the Vicarage. As he neared the sea he saw a lone figure sitting on one of the benches; she wore no coat and her dark hair was tousled by the sea breeze; when she heard his feet crunching across the shingle she turned around.

  “Martha. I’ve just been to call on you but you weren’t in.” He pointed to the back of Sea View Cottage.

  She half smiled. “No, and that’s because I’m here.”

  “Yes, how silly of me.” He walked closer. “May I?” He pointed to the empty space on the bench.

  “Of course.” Martha shuffled along to give him more room.

  “I’m very sorry to hear of your mother’s arrest. I’m sure it’s all a big mistake but if there’s anything I can do, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

  Martha looked out to sea. “At this stage I don’t think there’s much anyone can do. Not even your God. The police are convinced Mother did it and they have evidence to back up their conviction.” She turned her head and looked Sam in the eye, “As for me, I’m confused, angry and bitter even. But I can control my emotions and I’ll not let the situation wear me down. I just wish Mum was stronger.”

  “Is there anyone you can get to come and stay with you? Brothers, sisters, friends? I can’t bear to think of you having to go through this on your own.”

  “That’s very sweet but please don’t worry and yes, I do have someone. My father is on his way down here as we speak. He should be here in an hour or two.”

  “Thank goodness.”

  “He’s very level headed, you know, and I have faith he’ll be able to sort it all out. He should, he’s a lawyer.”

  Sam sighed. “That’s a relief.”

  “Yes, yes, it is.”

  “Do you want to talk about it? I mean, would it help at all?” Sam found it difficult not to fidget.

  Martha shook her head. “If you don’t mind I’d rather not. I’m trying to work it out, you see, and daft as it might sound, watching the waves as they tumble on the shore and hearing the shingle shift beneath the waves is very therapeutic and actually all the help I need.”

  “So would you rather I left you in peace?”

  “Would you think me ungracious if I said yes?”

  “No, of course not.” Sam stood. “I understand. I’ll go then but please remember if you need a shoulder to cry on or someone to talk to, I’m not far away.”

  “I’ll remember that. Thank you, Sam. You’re very sweet.”

  After gently squeezing her hand, he left. And as Martha heard the fading sound of his feet crunching across the shingle until it was no longer audible, tears began to trickle down her pale cheeks.

  Chapter Sixteen

  On Wednesday afternoon, Hetty and Lottie learned that Irene’s husband had arrived in the village.

  “His name is Jack,” declared Kitty, the informant, who had called round to see them, “I’m so glad Martha is no longer alone. I saw Sam just now and he said he went to see her this morning after he’d heard they had taken her mother away and needless to say the poor girl was and is extremely upset.”

  “Hardly surprising.” Hetty found it hard to keep the anger she felt from her voice.

  “We think Irene is innocent,” said Lottie, “and that she has been framed.”

  “There’s no question about it,” spluttered Hetty, “The two women got on really well and it’s bonkers to even think that Irene would hurt Biddy.”

  Kitty sat down. “Framed, but how and by who? I mean, there’s no doubt in anyone’s mind as to whether or not the necklace in Biddy’s hand
belonged to Irene. Both she and Martha have identified it.”

  “Someone might have one the same,” reasoned Lottie, “I daresay it’ll be mass produced.”

  “No doubt the locket is, yes, but not the picture inside it. It’s a picture of Geraldine, you see. Irene cut it from an old photograph after her mother left. The locket had been a present from her parents on her tenth birthday.”

  Hetty felt her heart rate increase. “But that’s ridiculous. There has to be a simple explanation and by hook or by crook we’ll endeavour to find out what it is. I just wish I knew where to start looking.”

  “Well, I hope you’re right,” said Kitty, “I really, really do.”

  After Kitty left, the sisters walked down to the Old Bakehouse in order to see the sitting room which Sandra had messaged the day before to say she had finished decorating. The room was cosy and warm despite its size.

  “It’s beautiful,” Lottie ran her hand over the wall, “and I love the embossed wallpaper. You have done well.”

  “Thank you, I’ve enjoyed doing it. Next job will be the dining room, but I won’t start that until Basil and Mark have finished the kitchen, and it only wants a lick of paint anyway.”

  Hetty looked at the bare solid floor. “You just need the carpet in here now to finish it off.”

  “That’s right and we’ve ordered one but before we can get it laid we need to sort out these pianos. Which one would you like, Het? They both need tuning because your old one took a knock or two during the move.”

  “I really don’t mind, so you choose.”

  “Well I think the one that was already here goes with the décor better than yours simply because it’s lighter in colour.”

  “That’s fine with me. In fact it’ll be nice to have my old one back. I was only twenty-nine when I bought it so I’ve known it for quite a while.”

  “Do you know anyone with a vehicle suitable to move it?” Sandra wondered.

  Hetty shook her head. “No but I’ll ask around and try and find the name of a piano tuner at the same time.”

  Basil who had just come in after a trip to the builders’ merchants heard what was said through the open door. “I’ll shift the piano for you if you like.”

  Sandra’s face lit up. “Would you? I’d really appreciate it if you could.”

  “No problem. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

  “Bless you. We will, thank you.”

  As Basil returned to his work Hetty noticed a gardening book on the coffee table. “Have you started on the jungle out the back yet, Sandra?”

  “Actually I have but nothing drastic. I cleared part of the area outside the French doors and was delighted to find paving slabs underneath the weeds. They might need a bit of pointing but I reckon they’ll clean up well and make a nice little patio area.”

  “Lovely, and the ideal spot for sitting out at the end of a summer’s day,” said Hetty, “because it’ll get the evening sun.”

  “That’s what Bill said. I also did a bit of weeding around a choked fuchsia and made a friend at the same time: a little robin which clearly approved of my efforts. Bill’s going to repair the old bird table when he has a day off, then we’ll be able to feed him and his friends.”

  “You’ll get hours of entertainment from it when you do. We love watching the birds on the one we have out the front, don’t we, Het?”

  “Yes, better than the television most days.”

  “Talking of birds, how is Biddy doing?”

  Hetty frowned. “She’s coming along fine but what does that have to do with birds?”

  Sandra looked sheepish. “Nothing I suppose. It’s just that on the night she was attacked I had to go outside to get my phone from the car and that wretched raven was on our roof again.”

  The sisters stayed at the Old Bakehouse for a cup of tea and then made their way home. As they passed Sea View Cottage on the other side of the road they saw an unfamiliar car parked alongside the one they knew belonged to Martha.

  “That must be Irene’s husband, Jack’s car,” Hetty pointed to the black BMW, “Shall we pop over and introduce ourselves?”

  Lottie was hesitant. “Do you think we ought? I mean, they might not want to see anyone. I’m sure that if I was in their shoes I’d want to be left alone.”

  “If they think Irene’s guilty then yes that might be the case but I bet you, like us, they know she’s innocent.”

  Lottie stopped walking. “I agree but as Kitty said the evidence against her is pretty solid which makes it all very awkward.”

  “Maybe but I’d like to hear what they have to say.”

  “Okay, we’ll knock but if we feel we’re unwelcome I suggest we leave at the first possible opportunity.”

  “Yes, I’ll go along with that.” Hetty looked both ways along the street to ensure that it was safe to cross.

  Martha answered the door and to Lottie’s relief she seemed genuinely pleased to see them. “Please come in. It’s good to see friendly faces.”

  An elderly man stood as Martha led them into the sitting room.

  “Dad, these two ladies are Hetty and Lottie. Remember I was just telling you about them. It’s Lottie’s son and his family who are now living in the Old Bakehouse.”

  He stepped forward and shook hands with the sisters in turn. “Delighted to meet you both. I’m Jack Hewitt.” He waved his hand towards the sofa, “Please sit down.”

  “Thank you,” said Hetty, “I hope you don’t think it rude of us to call at what must be a very difficult time for you both.”

  Jack shook his head. “No, not at all. Talking helps us try and make sense of all this and as you can imagine we’re one hundred percent sure that Irene is innocent.”

  “Would you like a cup of tea?” Martha asked.

  Lottie shook her head. “No thank you, we’ve just come from Bill and Sandra’s and had one less than an hour ago.”

  Martha sat down in the fireside chair opposite her father.

  “How is Irene faring?” Lottie felt her voice tremble.

  Jack plumped up the cushion behind his back. “She seems reasonably okay. Like us she knows she’s innocent and has faith that the truth will come out eventually. Although God only knows how we’ll be able to prove it.”

  “Oh, that’s good to hear,” Lottie felt there might be a glimmer of hope, “that she has faith the truth will come out, I mean.”

  “Has she been charged yet?” Hetty asked.

  Jack shook his head. “No, but we’re expecting she will be any time now. They can only hold her for so long.”

  “But surely she must have an alibi,” reasoned Lottie.

  Martha sighed deeply. “Sadly she doesn’t. It was my turn to cook the dinner on Monday evening and so Mum decided to go for a walk to get some fresh air and work up an appetite while I was busy in the kitchen. She told the police and me that she just walked through the village and then on the way back she sat down on a bench in the churchyard for a while which was sheltered from the wind. She found the graves of her maternal grandparents over there the other day, you see, and said it made her feel in touch with her roots. She was back within the hour of leaving, I can vouch for that and she vows that she didn’t go anywhere near the beach.”

  “And did she seem normal when she got back?” Hetty asked.

  Martha was hesitant. “Not normal as in how she was before we came to Pentrillick but I suppose she was much the same as she’s been since we learned of her mother’s fate.”

  “And she doesn’t have any reason to want Biddy dead anyway,” scoffed Jack, “I mean, no way was Biddy involved in the death of Irene’s mother so there’s no motive there at all. And as for suggesting she wanted a bigger share of the inheritance, well, that’s absurd. We’re not short of a bob or two and the dear soul isn’t motivated by money anyway.”

  “We believe she was framed,” blurted Martha, “as Dad said there’s no way Mum would have tried to kill Biddy or anyone else for that matter and it’s daft
to say she would. What’s more, she liked Biddy, after all they are half-sisters.”

  “Yes, I suppose they are,” conceded Hetty, “I hadn’t thought of that and for what it’s worth we think Irene was framed too.”

  “So, what do you think happened?” Lottie asked.

  “We think the person who attacked Biddy broke in here, stole Mum’s necklace and then placed it in Biddy’s hand after he or she thought they had killed her.”

  Lottie gasped. “That would mean it was premeditated.”

  Jack nodded. “Exactly.”

  “But surely you’d know if someone had broken in,” reasoned Hetty.

  “Not if they used a key,” said Martha, “You see, the key to the house was left under a flower pot by the conservatory door at the back of the house when we arrived and so whenever we went out we left it there so we wouldn’t lose it and the chances are that someone knew that.”

  Hetty’s jaw dropped. “We stayed here for a holiday a few years ago before we moved to the village and the key used to be left under a plant pot out the back then too. Of course the cottage belonged to someone else then, I can’t remember his name but Brett Baker, the current owner, didn’t buy it ‘til earlier this year.”

  “Do you know Brett?” Lottie asked, “It’s just that the cottage is usually empty when he’s not here.”

  Martha shook her head. “No, we saw an advert on-line and booked our stay here through that. The advert said the cottage was available for a few weeks in the winter which was ideal. In fact we rang the agents this morning and asked them if we could extend our stay yet again. We’d already done it once, you see. They said yes because no-one will be here ‘til the owner comes down at Christmas.”

  “I see. So going back to the necklace. You reckon someone got in using the key you’d left beneath the plant pot and then stole it?” Hetty reiterated, “Necklace that is, not the plant pot.”