“No, I didn’t. I expect the family didn’t know what to make of it, so they just kept it quiet.”
“Yes, I guess they did,” Penny replied.
“And besides, I expect they were afraid of what folk would say. People will talk, you know, Penny. Still, we’ve got to move with the times, I expect.”
“It’s true that times have changed,” said Penny, “but even so, it took a lot of courage on her part to come back to this small town, unsure of what kind of reception she would get.”
“True. Well, I must let you get on. I’ll see you tonight at the dinner.”
Fifteen
Joyce Devlin, wearing the same olive green dress with ruching and cap sleeves that she wore every year to the Llanelen agricultural show’s gala dinner, greeted Penny and Victoria with a friendly hello as they entered the function room of the Red Dragon Hotel. At her side stood her ruddy-faced husband, Dev, looking out of place and uncomfortable in a navy blue suit that fit him as if it had been borrowed for the evening from a bigger brother.
“So pleased you could make it,” Joyce said, extending a tanned, freckled hand. “Do go in”—she waved a hand toward the centre of the room—“and I hope you enjoy the evening. I’m sure you’ll see lots of people you know.”
Silver trophies and plates, returned by last year’s winners and polished in readiness to be presented to those who had earned them this year, were arranged on a draped table along one wall. Although ribbons and rosettes had been handed out on the day of the show, the top awards, including Best in Show, were presented at the banquet. Because the winners were named at the show, there were no surprises, but the organizers felt that handing out awards at the banquet gave the top winners a little extra recognition, added purpose and focus to the evening, and ended the event on a high note.
Penny and Victoria paused to admire the prizes, then moved deeper into the room.
Round tables seating eight, covered with dark green cloths, were grouped in front of a small portable riser stage. A centrepiece of yellow roses, complemented by bright yellow cloth napkins at each of the eight place settings, graced each table.
The tables were filling up quickly as Penny and Victoria scanned the room, searching for Mrs. Lloyd. They recognized Gareth Davies, seated at a table with a RESERVED sign in the centre of it, near the stage. He was facing away from them, one arm draped lightly along the back of the chair of the blond woman seated next to him. Gareth said something to the woman and she turned to him, then smiled broadly and leaned into him with a familiar, easy manner. Gareth raised his hand from the back of her chair and placed it lightly on her shoulder for a moment, then dropped it back onto the chair.
“I wouldn’t mind speaking to him later, if we get the chance,” said Penny. “He might be able to tell us something about how the Gaynor Lewis investigation is going.”
Victoria smiled. “He might.”
As they were about to move on, Mrs. Lloyd stood up to get their attention and waved them over to her table.
“Oh, there she is,” said Penny. They threaded their way between the almost-full tables to join her.
Florence, sitting on Mrs. Lloyd’s left, acknowledged their arrival with a friendly nod and a warm smile.
“You can sit here beside me, Penny,” Mrs. Lloyd said, indicating the empty chair on her right. “And Victoria, let’s have you over there on the other side of Florence.” Satisfied with her seating arrangements, Mrs. Lloyd sat down. “Now, as I mentioned to Penny at the Spa this morning, several members of the Women’s Guild were assigned to our table, so let me try to introduce you to Mari and Delyth.” The size of the table, combined with the volume of the background din, made conversation across the table difficult, and Mrs. Lloyd had to raise her voice to be heard. “Mari and Delyth were helping out with refreshments at the meeting, so we didn’t see too much of them.” Penny recognized them as the two white-haired women performing the washing-up after the tea service, when she entered the kitchen to retrieve Florence’s cake tin. She smiled at them as Mrs. Lloyd moved on to the attractive woman sitting next to Mari. “And of course you remember Elin Spears, vice president of the WG. She chaired the meeting we attended.”
“Of course.” Penny offered an all-encompassing smile across the table. She thought back to the exchange she’d overheard, when either Mari or Delyth had said something along the lines that Elin had spoken her kind words about Gaynor Lewis almost as if she meant them. She wondered whose side Mari and Delyth were on. Were they friends of Elin’s, or had they been friends of Gaynor’s? Or both? Or neither?
Having managed the introductions the best she could against the background noise, Mrs. Lloyd took a sip of water and turned slightly in her chair to contemplate her fellow diners. She always made an effort with her appearance, and she was looking particularly smart this evening in a cranberry brocade evening suit shot with metallic gold thread. Penny was about to compliment her on her outfit when the conversation level dropped as the guests realized the event was about to begin. Joyce Devlin and her husband, followed by a couple Penny didn’t recognize, Barbara Vickers, and Michelle Lewis, made their way to the table where Gareth and his companion were seated. Michelle’s blond hair, piled on top of her head and held loosely in place with a red plastic clip, sprouted loose strands that bobbed in time with her steps.
When the little procession reached the table reserved for show officials, Joyce’s entourage took their seats, while Joyce herself continued walking to the small stage. As she stepped onto the riser, the room quieted further and all eyes turned expectantly toward her.
“Good evening, everyone,” she said. “My name is Joyce Devlin, and it’s my pleasure to welcome you tonight to the Llanelen agricultural show’s gala dinner. Dinner service will begin in a few minutes, and following the dinner, we will have the presentation of this year’s Best in Show awards. Bottles of wine are available for purchase, along with individual drinks, at the bar. So please enjoy your dinner, and I’ll be back to speak to you later.”
Was it strange that she didn’t mention Gaynor Lewis in her opening remarks? Penny wondered. Probably not. There’d be time for that later.
“I suppose we should get some wine,” Mrs. Lloyd said.
“I’ll go,” said Penny. “Would we like red or white?”
“There’re enough of us at the table to do justice to both. How about a bottle of each?”
Penny made her way to the bar as the diners tucked into the salads that had been set out at each place. A small queue had formed by the time she reached the bar, and she had to wait a few minutes to be served. Just as she finished asking for two bottles of wine, a familiar figure came to stand beside her.
“Hello again,” said Andrea Devlin.
“Well, hi. You’re looking very smart this evening,” Penny replied, taking in the cut of Andrea’s wide-legged black trousers and the smooth, shiny fabric of her floral-patterned jacket.
“Always nice to have a reason to dress up a bit,” Andrea replied.
“And get your nails done.”
Andrea laughed and held out her arms to display her nails. “You were right about the colour. This suits me much better.”
“Good. And now here you are with nothing better to do on a Saturday night than attend the agricultural show dinner.” Penny grinned.
“I might say the same for you.” Andrea grinned back. “But yes, my niece Michelle mentioned the dinner, and as you’ve just pointed out, I didn’t have anything better to do, and there were a few extra tickets available, so I thought I’d come along. Haven’t found a place to sit yet, though. Where are you?”
“Oh, there’s room at Mrs. Lloyd’s table for you.” Penny pointed out the table just as the barman brought the bottles of wine she’d ordered. “You’ll find us right over there. You’d be welcome to join us, if you like.”
“Okay, great, thanks. I’ll just get my drink and see you in a few minutes.”
Penny returned to her seat, and after sending both
bottles of wine on their way around the table, she leaned over to Mrs. Lloyd and said, “I bumped into Andrea Devlin at the bar. The tables are full, so I invited her to join us. We’ve got an extra place.” She looked toward the bar, and before Mrs. Lloyd could reply, Penny added, “Here she comes now.”
Carrying a glass of beer, Andrea Devlin approached the table, nodded a reserved greeting to everyone, and then slid into the seat beside Penny. With Mrs. Lloyd’s help, Penny tried above the din of conversation to introduce her to the rest of the table, and when she’d finished, Mrs. Lloyd leaned forward and spoke over Penny. “Hello. I remember when you”—at this, Penny leaned emphatically on Mrs. Lloyd’s arm with her own—“when you painted the sitting room in my house on Rosemary Lane. Wonderful job you did, even though you were just, erm, young. It was one of your first jobs, I believe. In fact, I don’t think it’s been painted since. Are you still in the decorating business?”
“Yes, I am,” said Andrea.
“And where are you living now?” Mrs. Lloyd continued.
“Oh, you know. Here and there. I’m not sure, really. I’m at one of those stages in life when a change of scenery seemed like a good idea. Pastures new, and all that.” She took a sip of beer and picked up her fork, ready to make a start on the salad. “I’m toying with the idea of coming back to Llanelen to live. Maybe buying an old property and doing it up. I’ve seen a couple of places I quite like.”
“Really?” said Mrs. Lloyd. “Well in that case, it would be pastures old rather than new, wouldn’t it?” She buttered a piece of bread. “You know, Andrea,” she enunciated the name deliberately, with just the slightest hesitation, as if she’d just been introduced to her, which in a way, she had. “You might be experiencing what we Welsh call hiraeth.” She pronounced it here-eyeth, rolling the r a little, in a breathy sort of way. “Are you familiar with that?”
Andrea stabbed a couple of lettuce leaves. “I don’t know what that word means.”
“There’s no real equivalent in English, but loosely translated, it means an acute longing for a home place. A place that you yearn to return to, and when you are away from it, you feel incomplete. Not homesick. It’s deeper than that.” She offered Penny a conspiratorial smile. “We know that you don’t experience that for Canada.”
“No, I can’t say I do. But I might if I were away from Llanelen for too long. I’m happy here. This is my home, and it has been for a long time. It’s where I belong,” Penny said. “Funny you should mention this. Andrea and I were talking about it just this morning.”
They continued eating for a few minutes in silence, and then, against the backdrop of scraping cutlery, Penny asked Andrea, “How long have you been back?”
“Oh, not very long,” she said with a vague, airy wave. “I’m not stopping here in town, though. An old mate in Betws is kindly putting me up while I weigh my options. I’m doing a little decorating for him in return.”
“I expect he’s glad of that. I know I would be,” Penny replied.
“Why? Do you have some painting or decorating work that needs doing?”
“Well, no.”
“Didn’t think so. Your spa looks beautiful. Lovely colours, if I may say.”
“Oh, well, thank you. I just meant that if I did need work doing, I’d be glad to have you do it. My cottage was done up a few years ago, and the Spa was renovated even more recently. So even though I’m not in the market right now for painting and decorating services, I’m sure there’s no shortage of work in the area.”
“That’s true. I get my jobs through word of mouth and usually have two or three lined up. But that’s not my real area of interest.”
“No?”
“Not really. You see, when I was in Berlin, we worked on beautiful centuries-old properties that had been neglected or altered during the Communist years, and it was a real thrill seeing them restored. So what I really enjoy is working on older buildings. I love the paint colours, and I like working with heritage paints. And don’t get me started on vintage wallpapers.”
“But is there much of that kind of work to be had around here?” asked Mrs. Lloyd. “On old buildings, and such like.”
“There are quite a few National Trust properties in the area, if you include Liverpool and Manchester, and a few private homes, too, in need of that kind of restoration and maintenance work,” said Andrea. “But it’s not just painters and decorators. There’s a great demand for all the traditional building trades, such as carpentry, joinery, stone masonry, brickwork, and plasterwork. If you’re good at what you do, word gets around, and there’s always work available. More work than you can handle, really.”
“So with your sister Gaynor’s death, do you think you’ll stay in Llanelen, then, or had you been thinking about stopping here anyway?” Mrs. Lloyd asked. “What I’m wondering, I guess, is did that change things for you?”
“Well, I’m not sure what I’m going to do, to be honest, but obviously when Michelle—that’s my niece—called to tell me about Gaynor, well…” Andrea raised an elegant shoulder in a little shrug, leaving the rest of the sentence unspoken, and open to whatever interpretation Mrs. Lloyd chose to put on it.
“And Michelle. I’ve been thinking about her,” said Penny. “How’s she coping?”
“I’m not sure, really. She’s got a lot on. She’d been planning a move before all this happened, and, well, with her daughter to worry about, it’s an emotional and stressful time. Her partner left a little while ago, so Gaynor had been helping out with the child minding. If nothing else, Michelle will miss that.” Andrea’s tone was neutral, and she spoke without a trace of the bitterness in her voice that Penny had heard when Andrea had discussed Gaynor during her manicure that morning.
Before Penny could respond, servers moved around the table, removing the salad plates and setting the entrées in front of them. She had chosen the vegetarian option, stuffed portobello mushrooms with rice and maple-glazed carrots.
“Not having the lamb, Penny?” Mrs. Lloyd asked.
“I couldn’t possibly. I like them in their fields but not on my plate.”
“Well, that certainly sets you apart around here, surrounded as we are by hardworking farmers raising the finest Welsh lamb for the nation’s dinner tables.”
Penny laughed lightly. “True, but I just can’t eat lamb.”
When dinner was over, plates cleared, coffee and tea poured, and chairs pushed back from the table as the diners made themselves comfortable, preparations for the prize giving began.
Joyce Devlin returned to the stage and Barbara Vickers positioned herself beside the trophy table. Just as Joyce unfolded a piece of paper, Elin Spears excused herself and headed for the exit. Joyce glanced down at her from the stage as she passed below her. Penny sensed a sudden change in the atmosphere, although she couldn’t tell if it was because the prize giving was about to start or because the audience anticipated that Joyce might be about to tackle the elephant in the room and say something about the death of Gaynor Lewis. Reading from the paper, Joyce opened her remarks with a brief but somewhat impersonal tribute to Gaynor Lewis. She concluded by saying, “And a fierce competitor she was, until the last. She would have been so proud to know that her splendid marmalade won the last competition she ever entered.”
“And how did that happen, I’d like to know,” muttered Mrs. Lloyd. Florence shot her the stern, hushing look often used by mothers in church.
As Joyce wrapped up her comments about Gaynor’s untimely death and prepared to present the awards, Elin returned to the table.
Interesting, thought Penny. I wonder if she really had to go to the loo or if she ducked out so she wouldn’t have to listen to Joyce say nice things about Gaynor in death, when neither one of them had liked her in life. Still, that happens when someone dies. A dark curtain of politeness descends to hide misdeeds, misunderstandings, and transgressions once thought unforgivable. And there are certain polite conventions to be observed. After all, Joyce had to say somet
hing about Gaynor, and it had to be positive.
Penny refocused her attention on the presentation of awards. “And the winner of the Bodnant Silver Salver for Best in Show, floral exhibits, once again is Heather Hughes.” Heather was given a hearty round of applause, as she was every year, when she stepped forward to accept the trophy. Mrs. Lloyd had been right when she’d remarked that the same people won year after year.
“Moving on now to the animal husbandry awards,” Joyce continued. “The show committee is delighted to present the highly coveted Countryside Cup to our very own Haydn Williams, in recognition of his outstanding contributions to the breeding and rearing of Welsh mountain sheep right here in Llanelen.”
Haydn made his way from the back of the room and accepted the cup, an elaborate creation with a silver sheep on top. He hoisted it in front of the crowd, who acknowledged it with good-natured clapping and shouting, then returned to his seat.
“The award for Best in Show in the poultry category, and this includes ducks, chickens, turkeys, and pigeons, goes to Carwyn Lewis for his Silkies,” Joyce announced.
Elin rose from the table and stepped onto the stage, where she shook hands with Joyce and accepted a silver trophy.
“Why is Elin Spears up there accepting his award?” Penny asked.
“Because she’s his partner, and Carwyn couldn’t make it tonight,” replied Mrs. Lloyd. “That’s why we had an empty place at our table. It was meant for him. I’m not sure why he’s not here, though.” She adjusted her handbag in her lap. “Perhaps he thought Joyce would have to say something about Gaynor, and he just didn’t want to be here for that, so he offered to mind little Macy so that Michelle could be here.”
Elin returned to the table, carrying the silver cup by its two handles. She set it down at her place and threw everyone at the table a satisfied smile on Carwyn’s behalf. A few minutes later, she herself was called back to the stage to accept the Best in Show award for her prizewinning rosette cake.
When the remaining awards had been presented and everyone congratulated, a last rush of conversation broke out as the event wound down and people prepared to depart.
The Marmalade Murders Page 12