Tea and Broken Biscuits

by Daphne Neville

  “I know but I can’t help it. Anyway, if they’re here for a fortnight I’m sure the opportunity will arise for me to find out.”

  Chapter Six

  On Wednesday evening, Gideon Elms said goodbye to Debbie, his wife of forty years, and then left their home in St. Mary’s Avenue for the short walk to the church for the weekly choir practice. Tucked beneath his arm was a box of assorted broken biscuits given to him by the vicar’s mother who thought it would be nice for him to share them with the choir when they had tea and coffee after the practice.

  Gideon and Debbie were relatively new to Pentrillick having moved to the village the previous October following Gideon’s retirement from working as head groundsman at a public school. The couple had at first been a little apprehensive about making new friends in the autumn of their years but the church had made them feel welcome and both were very fond of Vicar Sam. Kitty Thomas had also become a good friend; she was the church organist and when she learned that Gideon could also play they had agreed to take it in turns to play at the services. Furthermore, Kitty, on learning of Gideon’s erstwhile occupation, suggested should he be interested that there was a part-time vacancy at Pentrillick House for a gardener. And Gideon, keen to keep active, applied for and to his delight was awarded the job.

  As Gideon approached the church he saw Hazel Mitchell who he recognised as a cook who worked at Pentrillick House, standing at the bus stop. He wished her a good evening and then climbed the steps and walked along the church’s gravel path, his fingers crossed hoping that choir practice, the last before Easter, would go smoothly and quash all qualms he’d had a few weeks earlier when the new anthem he and Kitty wanted the choir to learn looked an impossible task.

  As he stepped into the church and looked across the empty pews in the fading light of day, it appeared that he was the first to have arrived. However, as he closed the door and switched on the lights, he heard a noise coming from inside the vestry and saw a sudden flash of light.

  “Is that you, Kitty?” Gideon called, as he removed his cap and walked towards the vestry where a long red curtain hung from its archway entrance. The noise stopped abruptly but no-one answered. Confused by the lack of response he pushed aside the heavy curtain and entered the area where the choir’s cassocks and surplices hung from two rows of pegs alongside a tall cupboard. To his surprise no-one was there but an ancient chest containing old books and other items no longer in use was open and some of its contents were scattered across the floor. Gideon was puzzled. He scratched his head. Who had opened it and why? Filled with curiosity, he stepped forward to take a closer look and was further surprised when he saw a mobile phone lying on the floor. As he reached out to pick it up he was distracted by a faint sound in the main body of the church; a squeak similar to the noise made by the squeaky ball much loved by his dear old dog who had died shortly after his retirement. Gideon stood perfectly still and listened, but all was silent. And then suddenly he heard it again, another squeak. Simultaneously, the phone on the floor rang and its screen flashed. From the corner of his eye, Gideon saw the heavy curtain move; a gloved hand appeared and slowly pulled aside the dark red fabric. In a flash a brilliant light shone into his eyes. Gideon shrieked in alarm. Blinded by the brightness he dropped the box of biscuits and with arms across his face backed away from the light. Desperate to know who held the torch, he attempted to open his eyes and as he blinked he caught a whiff of scent or aftershave. And then everything went black as something hard and heavy crashed down upon his head.

  “Listen, there’s another one.” Hetty put aside the book she was reading and sat up straight. “Did you hear that, Lottie? The siren I mean. That’s the third one I’ve heard in the last five minutes and they all appear to be down in the village.”

  Lottie glanced up from her knitting. “Yes, I did but I daresay it’s nothing to get excited about and if it is we’ll no doubt hear when we next go out.”

  “When we next go out!” Hetty stood up. “That’s all very well but I want to find out now.” She walked towards the door: “Something must be visible from upstairs so I’m going to take a peep from my bedroom window.”

  Lottie chuckled to herself as her sister ran noisily up the stairs and across the floor of her room. However, her curiosity was also raised when she heard her sister scream.

  “Goodness me, come up here and see this, Lottie. There are lots of blue lights flashing along the main street.”

  Lottie put down her knitting and joined her sister.

  “Whereabouts do you think that is?” Lottie asked, as they both hung their heads from the open window, “It’s tricky to make it out when it’s nearly dark.”

  “Somewhere near the church and Sea View Cottage, I reckon. Look you can just make out the outline of the church tower in the street lights.”

  “You’re right. Oh dear, there must have been an accident of some sort.”

  “Let’s go down to the pub and see if we can find out what’s going on.”

  Lottie looked reluctant. “But if there’s been a nasty accident I don’t think I want to know.”

  “But it might not be an accident. It might be a robbery of some sort. Remember, you said you’d like to be able to solve the mystery of the Liddicott-Treens’ burglary at Pentrillick House. Well, now’s your chance, There might be a connection.”

  “And pigs might fly,” scoffed Lottie.

  Hetty closed the window. “You don’t want to come with me then?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Good, let’s get our shoes on.”

  When they reached the bottom of Long Lane they cast their eyes along the main street but because of a bend it was not possible to see as far as the emergency vehicles.

  “Shall we walk a little way along?” Hetty took a few steps towards the bend.

  “No.” Lottie was adamant. “I don’t want to see anything horrible, Het. It’d be insensitive, not to mention very bad manners.”

  Hetty’s shoulders slumped. “Yes, you’re right. I must try and curb my inquisitive nature. Anyway, hopefully someone in the pub will know what’s going on.”

  Inside the Crown and Anchor tongues wagged and voices were raised as all tried to establish the reason for the emergency vehicles. After buying drinks, the sisters sat down and eagerly listened to the excited chatter.

  “There’s an ambulance as well as the cop cars,” announced someone with whom Hetty and Lottie were not acquainted, “I saw them on my way here and there were lights on in the church too.”

  “Well that would be because it’s choir practice night,” said Bernie the Boatman. “My wife was a bundle of nerves when she went off tonight. She’s worried you see that she’ll get the harmony wrong in the piece they’re doing for Easter. Gideon told ‘em they had to get it right tonight. Poor Veronica.”

  “She’ll be alright,” remarked Sid, “she’s got a smashing voice.”

  “Yes, I know that but she’s not used to singing the harmony.”

  As he spoke, a man about five foot six in height with rugged features and nicotine stained fingers entered the pub. He wore a shabby leather jerkin over the top of a dark green fleece top and a knitted woollen hat which he removed as he approached the bar.

  “Rum do back there,” he croaked, as he lay down his hat on a stool, “I hope the poor sod’s not dead.”

  He sat down and ordered a pint of cider while he tried to catch his breath. The bar went quiet and everyone moved a little closer to hear what he had to say.

  “Are you talking about whatever’s going on up the road, Pickle?” Bernie asked.

  He nodded. “Yes, some poor bloke’s been attacked.”

  “Ah, so that’s what all the commotion up the road’s about?” said Marlene, the drama group’s leading lady, as she entered the pub with her husband, Gary.

  “So he’s Pickle,” whispered Hetty behind her hand, “We’ve seen him on several occasions, haven’t we, Lottie?”

  “Yes, and little did we reali
se he’s Pentrillick’s notorious poacher.”

  “Any idea who it is? The bloke who was attacked, I mean.” Ashley, the landlord asked.

  Pickle took a sip of his drink. “According to some bystanders it’s that chap Gideon who plays the organ and he was attacked in the church. It was poor old Kitty Thomas who found him.”

  Everyone gasped.

  The colour drained from Hetty’s face. “Poor Kitty. Poor Gideon.”

  “Gideon,” shouted Marlene, as she removed her faux fur jacket and draped it over a stool, “What Gideon our next door neighbour?”

  “Well, there’s only one Gideon as I know of in the village,” said Pickle. “Does your neighbour play the organ in the church?”

  Marlene nodded. “Yes.”

  “That’ll be him then.”

  “Oh dear, he’s a miserable sod but I wish him no harm.” Marlene looked genuinely upset.

  “Are you alright, Het, because you look awful?” Lottie asked.

  Hetty didn’t speak but from her handbag she took the sprig of white heather.

  Lottie gasped. “You’re thinking about what Lucy said.”

  Hetty nodded.

  Marlene sat down heavily on a stool. “Why would anyone attack Gideon and in the church of all places? Is nothing sacred anymore?”

  “Don’t look like it,” agreed Bernie.

  The door opened and Luke Burleigh and his wife Natalie who lived in a cottage along the main street walked in.

  “In case you’re wondering,” said Luke, noting that everyone in the pub seemed to be in a joint conversation, “it looks as though Gideon’s going to be alright. He’s gained consciousness and has been taken off to hospital.”

  “You sure?” Ashley asked.

  Luke nodded. “Yes, we’ve just been up to Meadowsweet to fetch Kitty’s husband, Tommy, because she was asking for him. Don’t know whether or not you know but it was Kitty who found Gideon and needless to say she’s pretty upset.”

  “Any idea what happened?” Pickle asked.

  “Not for sure but word has it he might have disturbed a burglar because one of the choir boys said the brass candlesticks on the altar have gone missing.”

  Hetty looked at the sprig of white heather and laid it on the palm of her hand. “I see yellow tulips in a shaft of sunlight. I see a lady cooking and she will get hurt. Other people will get hurt. Some will be deceitful. Things will go missing. Nothing will make sense. But you dear lady shall be unhurt for the lucky heather will protect you and your family.” She looked at Lottie, “Gideon is hurt and the candlesticks are missing.”

  Lottie shuddered. “Yes, I must admit that is a little uncanny.”

  “Very uncanny.” Hetty sat in a daze.

  “But it must be a coincidence.” Lottie was determined not to be beguiled.

  Hetty didn’t answer.

  “It’s a little unnerving as well,” Lottie persisted, “The attack, I mean, not Lucy’s um…er…reading. I mean, who on earth could do such a thing?”

  Hetty just sat quietly her eyes transfixed on the heather.

  “I suppose we could always try and find out, Het.” Lottie hoped the suggestion would jolt her sister out of the trance.

  The dazed look on Hetty’s face began to fade and her mouth opened into a smile. “But how on earth do you propose we do that, Lottie? We haven’t been near the church so have no more to go on than anyone else in this pub.”

  “Well I suppose we could question Gideon when he comes out of hospital…”

  “…Oh Lottie, don’t be silly. He won’t be able to tell us anything that he’ll not have told the police.”

  “It’s not like you to be negative, Het.”

  “I’m not being negative. Am I?”

  “Yes you are.”

  “Humph, well that won’t do.” Hetty picked up her glass and took a large gulp of wine. “Okay, we’ll try and find out who did it and perhaps at the same time we’ll see if we can shed some light on the theft at Pentrillick House. After all you said you’d like to know more about it and if I’m honest, so should I.”

  Lottie smiled. “That’s the spirit.”

  “But I must admit I don’t hold out much hope. What’s more it’s nearly Easter and the family will be here tomorrow so we won’t have much time to go probing into crimes past or present.”

  “There’s no rush, Hetty. It can be our summer project along with the play of course.”

  Hetty thought again of Lucy’s prediction. She shuddered and then dropped the sprig of heather back into her handbag.

  Chapter Seven

  The following day was Maundy Thursday and across the country schools broke up for the Easter holiday. In a quiet Northamptonshire village, after a bus had dropped off the school children, the Burton family put the last of their luggage into the boot of their car and were ready to leave their home for the drive to Cornwall.

  “Say goodbye to the peace and quiet,” laughed Lottie, several hours later when they heard the family car pull up on the driveway.

  “I’m actually looking forward to a bit of noise and disruption,” admitted Hetty, waving to the family from the sitting room window. “Remember how quiet it was when Zac went home after spending the school holiday with us last summer. It took us both quite a while to get used to the silence.”

  “I remember it well but there was only one of him and he doesn’t have a high-pitched voice like the girls nor does he get overexcited.”

  “Perhaps they’ll have quietened down a bit now they’re fifteen.” Hetty was hopeful.

  “I very much doubt it because in my opinion the older they get the more racket they make. Until they get to be about twenty that is, after that they seem to settle down.”

  “Are you speaking from experience?”

  Lottie laughed. “Yes, I’ve a very good memory of what you were like.”

  “Cheeky.”

  Albert barked sensing strangers were approaching the house. Hetty picked him up while Lottie opened the door. Two teenage girls tumbled in.

  “There’s Albert,” screamed Vicki. The dog leapt from Hetty’s arms on hearing his name with tail wagging nineteen to the dozen, “bagsy I hold the lead first when we take him for a walk.”

  “That’s not fair, you always get in first,” snapped her twin sister, Kate, “you wouldn’t have even remembered him if I hadn’t mentioned him in the car.”

  Hetty winked at Lottie. “I see what you mean.”

  “Stop arguing, girls, and say hello to your grandmother and great aunt,” ordered Bill, as he hugged the two ladies in turn. The girls did as they were asked.

  “Good journey?” Lottie asked.

  “So, so,” said Sandra, “we’ve passed through quite a few showers but the roads weren’t too busy.”

  “Probably because Easter’s early this year.” Lottie closed the door as they took off their coats.

  “What about your luggage?” Hetty asked, noting they were all emptyhanded, “If I were you I would get it in while it’s fine.”

  “Good idea,” agreed Bill, “Give us a hand, please, Zac.”

  “Can we explore?” Kate eagerly asked, as she hopped from foot to foot.

  “Yes, off you go,” sighed Lottie, “You’re both in the twin room in the loft conversion next to your mum and dad.”

  Kate raced up the stairs closely followed by Vicki and an over excited Albert.

  “Go quietly,” shouted Sandra, “you’re not at home now.”

  “I see one of the twins has had her hair cut,” remarked Hetty, as the girls disappeared round the corner at the top of the stairs.

  “Yes, Vicki has,” said Sandra, “she got it cut last week because she was fed up with having long hair. I think it looks rather nice.”

  Hetty smiled. “I couldn’t agree more and now for the first time in years I’ll actually be able to tell them apart.”

  “Yes, I have to agree,” Sandra confessed, “Having identical twin daughters can be hard work at times.”


  Bill and Zac brought in the luggage and laid it in the hallway; amongst the bags and suitcases was a huge bunch of yellow tulips. Sandra picked it up. “These are for you ladies. I spotted them at a service station and thought how bright and cheerful they looked.”

  Lottie took them from her daughter-in-law. “Thank you, Sandra, they’re beautiful.” She nudged her sister who appeared too shocked to speak. “Yes, yes, they are,” mumbled Hetty, “Thank you, dear. I’ll find a vase for them.”

  More squeals followed from upstairs.

  Lottie nodded to Hetty. “I’ll make a pot of tea, it looks like Sandra could do with a cup.”

  Hetty gazed at the yellow tulips. “She’s not the only one.”

  In the evening, after the family had settled in they all went down to the Crown and Anchor for a meal where many were debating the whys and wherefores of the attack on Gideon Elms the previous day.

  “Have the police found the weapon that poor old Gideon was hit with?” Bill heard someone ask as he waited at the bar to order their food.

  “No,” came the reply, “but word has it that it might have been a candlestick because the pair on the altar are both missing.”

  Bill reported his hearing to the family.

  “A candlestick,” Lottie repeated, “that seems very likely because they’re quite a weight and we’ve heard whatever was used was a blunt and heavy instrument.”

  “Or maybe they’re just missing because they were stolen,” reasoned Kate, who was getting more and more intrigued by the mystery, “they’d be worth a fortune if they’re real gold.”

  “I think they’re more likely to be real brass,” chuckled Bill.

  “Was anything else taken?” Sandra asked, “other than the candlesticks, that is.”

  “Not that we’re aware of,” conceded Lottie, “but it’s early days yet and no doubt we’ll get a lot more information once it gets into the right hands.”

  “Namely Tess,” chuckled Hetty, looking towards the bar where the lady in question was pouring drinks.

  “Tess?” repeated Sandra.