Aunt Bessie Invites (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 9) (21 page)

“The doctors keep telling me that he’s going
to go any time now.
 
They’ve been
saying that for two years.
 
When
that policewoman was here, questioning him, they were worried he’d have a heart
attack, but he just keeps hanging on.
 
I hate seeing him so ill, but I can’t imagine how awful it will be to
lose him.”

“I’m sure Inspector Lambert didn’t mean to
upset your father,” Bessie said.

“I don’t know about that,” Fenella said
bitterly.
 
“He told me she accused
him of murder.”

Bessie gasped.
 
“That’s shocking.”

Fenella shrugged.
 
“Of course, it might not be true,” she
sighed.
 
“That’s just how my father
remembered it.
 
He couldn’t remember
who
she thought he’d killed, though.
 
He was all mixed up and for a while he
thought that she’d said he’d killed Eoin.”

“No wonder he was upset,” Bessie said.

“Did he mention anything to you about the
body or the police?” Fenella asked.

“He said they’d been to see him,” Bessie
told her.
 
“And he said that Jacob
Conover wasn’t a nice man.
 
He also
told me that you wanted to be a nurse.”

Fenella stared at her for a moment and then
gave a shout of laughter.
 
The
waitress delivered their cakes then, looking nervously at Fenella as she put
them on the table.

“Sorry,” Fenella said after she’d taken a
bite and washed it down with some tea.
 
“My father doesn’t remember his name or my name half the time, but he
remembered that?”
 
She shook her
head.
 
“I tried for years to persuade
him to let me go to nursing school as soon as I was old enough, but he wanted
me to stay and help with the farm.
 
He thought I ought to get married and have lots of children who could
carry on with the family farm, no matter what I wanted to do.”

Bessie patted her hand.
 
“I’m sorry,” she said.
 
“It was such a different time, wasn’t
it?
 
Children today don’t realise
how much more influence our parents had in our lives than today’s parents do.”

Fenella nodded.
 
“I ended up marrying Eoin to make my
father happy,” she told Bessie.
 
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I fell in love with him and we’ve had a good
life together, but marrying him was never my first choice.”

“I’m sorry,” Bessie said.

“It surprises me that my father remembered
that,” Fenella said thoughtfully.
 
“At the time I didn’t think he took my plans at all seriously.
 
Maybe he was listening, even as he was
saying no.”

“Maybe he regrets saying no,” Bessie
suggested.

“How different my life would be if I could
do it all over again,” Fenella said with a sigh.

“I think we’d all make different choices if
we could go back,” Bessie said quietly.
 
“But as soon as you start doing things differently, everything changes.”

“I’m not sure that would be a bad thing,”
Fenella said.

Bessie noticed the tears in the other
woman’s eyes.
 
“But you do love
Eoin,” she reminded her gently.

“And he loves me,” Fenella said.
 
“I’ve never had any reason to doubt
that.”

Bessie couldn’t think of a suitable reply
for that, so she sipped her tea and ate her pudding.
 
The other woman did the same.
 

“I’d better go and see my father,” Fenella
said after a few minutes.
 

“It was nice to talk with you,” Bessie
said.
 
“You and Eoin should come for
Thanksgiving dinner on Saturday.”

Fenella shook her head.
 
“Thank you, but we’re going to have
company,” she told Bessie.
 
“Nicholas and Sarah are coming across
to see
us.”

“How nice,” Bessie exclaimed.
 
“Eoin must be delighted.”

Fenella shrugged.
 
“He reckons they’ve heard he isn’t well
and are coming over to make sure of their inheritance,” she said.

“Surely not,” Bessie said.

“I don’t know.
 
We’ll see when they get here, I
suppose.”

“Nicholas hasn’t been on the island for
years, has he?” Bessie asked.

“Not since he turned eighteen,” Fenella told
her.
 
“He couldn’t wait to get off
the island, of course, but he settled down eventually.”

“I wonder if he remembers Jacob Conover,”
Bessie said thoughtfully.

“I shouldn’t think so,” Fenella said
quickly.
 
“He would have still been
in his teens when the man was here.
 
I’m sure he didn’t pay any attention to him.”

Bessie nodded.
 
“Teenagers can be incredibly
self-absorbed, can’t they?” she laughed.

“Anyway, they arrive on Wednesday.
 
I just hope they don’t stay for too
long.”

“Didn’t you tell me that they had
children?
 
Are they bringing any of
them across?”

Fenella shook her head.
 
“Their oldest, Ned, is staying behind to
run the farm.
 
The others are
scattered around the country and apparently don’t have any interest in
visiting, at least not at the moment.”

While she was answering Bessie, Fenella rose
to her feet.
 
“Must go,” she
muttered.
 
She walked off, pausing
at the door to wave to Bessie before leaving the small café.
 
Bessie paid the bill and then headed out
into the reception area again.
 
She
dug out her mobile phone and rang her taxi service.
 

“We’ll send Dave,” the dispatcher told
her.
 
“He’s just dropping someone at
the Sea Terminal.”

Bessie disconnected and smiled.
 
Dave would make up for her having to put
with Mark on the drive down.
 
He was
at the nursing home only a few minutes later and the pair chatted happily all
the way back to Laxey.

Chapter Eleven

The next day, Monday, Bessie took a shorter
than normal walk along the beach.
 
She needed a few things from a grocery store and she didn’t really fancy
taking a taxi to the nearest store.
 
At breakfast, when she realised she was out of
bread,
she’d decided that she’d simply walk up the hill to the small corner store at
the top.
 
The girl who worked there
was rude and difficult, but the store was convenient.

She waved to Thomas, who was still working
hard on the cottages, and then returned home to collect her handbag.
 
The walk up the hill was somewhat
challenging, but the walk home would be easier.
 
A buzzer announced her arrival as she
pushed the door open.

She smiled when she spotted the woman behind
the till.
 
“Anne?
 
But I thought you were done with working
here,” she said, happy to see her friend there, rather than the grumpy young
woman whose father owned the store.

“I thought I was as well,” Anne Caine replied.
 
“But I’m bored sitting at home and they
were short-handed, so I said I’d come in for a short time to help out.”

Bessie smiled.
 
“You worked too hard for too many years
to be able to just sit home and relax, I think.”

Anne nodded.
 
“I’ve read dozens of books and
magazines, cleaned the whole house from top to bottom at least three times and
completely reorganised every drawer and wardrobe.
 
I’m not used to not having to work.”

“But I’m so happy for you that you don’t,”
Bessie replied.

Anne had worked for all of her adult life to
support her son and her husband, who was much better at holding down a seat at
the pub than a job.
 
Not long after
her husband left her, an unexpected inheritance had transformed her and her
son’s fortunes.
 

“How’s Andy doing?” Bessie asked.
 
She was very fond of Anne’s son, who had
gone across in September to start studying at a culinary college.

“He’s good,” Anne told her.
 
“He’s already learned a lot, and he’s
very excited about everything they teach.
 
He isn’t just learning about cooking and food prep, he’s also learning
how to run a business and how to find good staff and all sorts of useful
things.
 
When he finishes, in two or
three years, he’ll be ready to open his own restaurant.”

“And I’m sure it will be a huge success,”
Bessie said happily.

“I am, too,” Anne said.
 
“Actually, Andy rang me last night.
 
He said you’d invited him to your
Thanksgiving feast.”

“I did,” Bessie agreed.
 
“I don’t know if he can get the time off
to come, but I’d really love to see him.”

“He’s coming,” Anne told her.
 
“He said he was going to ring you today
to let you know for sure.”

“That is good news,” Bessie exclaimed.
 
“And you’re coming as well, aren’t you?”

“Oh yes, thank you again for asking me,”
Anne replied.

“You’re both welcome to bring a friend, if
you’d like,” Bessie said.
 
“I don’t
know if you or Andy are seeing anyone at the moment.”

Anne laughed.
 
“I’m not,” she said emphatically.
 
“Jack is doing his best to hold up the
divorce.
 
He thinks he can get some
money out of me, but as it’s all in Andy’s name, that isn’t likely.
 
Anyway, I won’t be considering a new
relationship until the divorce is final.”

“I’m sorry Jack is giving you trouble,”
Bessie said.

“It’s hardly surprising,” Anne replied with
a shrug.
 
“He was never anything but
trouble.
 
When I think back now…” she
trailed off and shook her head.
 
“Never mind, Andy’s doing great and he’s happy,” she said.
 
“That’s what matters most to me.”

“I’ll have to ask him, when he rings, if
he’ll be bringing a guest,” Bessie said.
 

“He might be,” Anne told her.
 
“There is a girl at school that he seems
to be quite taken with.
 
He said
something about trying to persuade her to come across with him.”

“That’s interesting,” Bessie said.

Another customer walked into the store,
interrupting the conversation.
 
Bessie grabbed a basket and made her way around, gathering what she
needed.
 
By the time she was
finished, the other woman was gone.

“Are you going to be here regularly again?”
she asked as Anne rang up her purchases.

“For the next few weeks, I will,”
Anne
answered.
 
“The owner’s daughter has exams at college.
 
Apparently she needs time off to study
and then time off to take them.
 
I’ll
be working weekdays here until she returns.”

“That’s excellent news,” Bessie said.
 
“I can start shopping here for bread and
milk again.”

Anne smiled.
 
“Just about everyone who has come in has
seemed happy to see me back,” she told Bessie.
 
“I’m pretty sure it has less to do with
me and more to do with how miserable the owner’s daughter is, but it still
makes me feel appreciated.”

“You were a fixture here for so many years,”
Bessie said.
 
“The shop never felt
quite right when you were gone.”

“It’s much nicer now, knowing I don’t have
to be here,” Anne confided.
 
“After
all those years of struggling to pay the bills and keep food on the table, it’s
nice to know that if I get tired of being here, I can quit and go back to
sitting at home with a good book.”

“And if you run out of books, you can come
and see me,” Bessie told her.
 
“I
have shelves full of excellent books and I’d be happy to lend you as many as
you’d like.”

“I might just take you up on that,” Anne
said.
 
“In January, when the
holidays are over, maybe.”

“I’ll see you Saturday,” Bessie said
cheerfully.
 
“Or maybe even sooner,”
she added as she headed out the door.

Having her friend back behind the counter in
the corner store improved Bessie’s mood immeasurably.
 
She’d always appreciated being able to
pop up the hill to pick up things she needed, and now she could do so again for
a few weeks without having to deal with the surly girl who had replaced Anne.

Back in her cottage, Bessie put her shopping
away and then listened to her answering machine messages.
 
A couple of friends had rung to
double-check the arrangements for Saturday and John Rockwell had left a message
asking her to ring him back.

Bessie took care of the easy calls first,
giving
one friend
directions to the restaurant and
confirming the time with another.
 
Then she rang John at police headquarters.

“Laxey Neighbourhood Policing, this is
Doona, how may I help you?” the familiar voice came down the line.

“Hello, Doona.
 
It’s Bessie.
 
John asked me to ring him back.”

“I’ll connect you,” Doona said.
 

Bessie decided that someone must have been
nearby or else Doona would have taken the time to chat for a bit before putting
her through.
 
Although she couldn’t
prove it, Bessie suspected that Anna Lambert was within earshot.
 

“Good morning, Bessie,” John’s voice came
down the line.
 
“I was hoping I
might buy you lunch today,” he said.

“I’d like that,” Bessie replied.
 
“Where and when?”

“How about if I collect you at half eleven?”
John suggested.
 
“I thought we might
drive over to Lonan so I can try out that little place you were so fond of.”

“Oh, that does sound good,”
Bessie
said with enthusiasm.
 
The small café had only been open for a
few months, but it had already developed a reputation for excellence.
 
They specialised in creating sampler
plates with small portions of a variety of dishes.
 
Bessie’s favourite part was that they
did the same for pudding.

“I’ll see you around half eleven, then,”
John told her.

Bessie spent the rest of her morning going
through the papers from the Manx Museum.
 
She worked carefully on transcribing each document, leaving spaces in
her transcription for words she couldn’t quite work out.
 
She found that after going through the
whole of the first document once, that when she started it over again, she
could read more than she’d originally thought.
 
Marjorie had called it “getting your eye
in,” so that you began to pick out the distinct way the letters were formed in
each document.
 
At eleven, she put
her work away, satisfied that she’d accomplished more than she’d expected.

After changing into a brightly coloured
jumper and a long skirt, Bessie combed her hair and added a bit of makeup to
her face.
 
She powdered her nose and
added a swipe of lipstick, sticking her tongue out at herself when she’d
finished.”

“You’ll never be beautiful,” she told her
reflection.
 
“But you’ve managed
with what you have for this long.”

She knew that, in her youth, she had been
considered rather pretty, if not exactly beautiful, but she’d never really
worried about her looks.
 
There was
little point in fussing over them now, she thought.

John was right on
time
.
 
Bessie was watching for him, and as he
pulled into the parking area for her cottage, she let herself out and locked
the door behind her.
 
She crossed to
the car as he emerged.

“How are you today?” he asked as he gave her
a quick hug.

“I’m well,” Bessie replied as John took her
arm and escorted her to the passenger side of the car.
 
“How are you?”

“I’m well, also,” John assured her.
 
He opened her door and then helped her
into the vehicle.
 
When she was
safely inside, he pushed the door shut and then climbed back into the driver’s
seat.

“I’ve heard so many good things about this
place,” John told her as he drove.
 
“But I haven’t had a chance to try it yet.”

“I’ve only been there once,” Bessie
replied.
 
“But it was excellent and
I keep meaning to go back.”

“It isn’t in the most convenient of
locations,” John said.

“No, Lonan wouldn’t be my first choice if I
wanted to open a restaurant,” Bessie said.
 
“I’m not sure why they chose it.”

“Who are they?” John asked.

“Oh, let me see if I can remember,” Bessie
said.
 
She thought for a
minute.
 
“George and Mary Quayle
invested in the business,” she told John.
 
“It’s owned by a young couple from across who were looking for a small
town where they could have their own restaurant and maybe start a family.
 
The names will come to me in a
minute.”
 
She sat silently, trying
to get herself to remember.

A few minutes later, John pulled into the
small car park for the café.
 
As he
slid his car into the last available space, Bessie clapped her hands.

“Dan and Carol Jenkins,” she said
triumphantly.
 
“He’s the genius in
the kitchen and she handles the front of the house.”

“I really should have come by and introduced
myself before now,” John told her.
 
“Lonan is my responsibility as much as Laxey is, but there are two
excellent constables here who do a great job keeping everything under control.”

“I’m sure they’ll be delighted to meet you
today,” Bessie said.
 
“That is, if
we can get a table.”

She and John were approaching the café and
Bessie was surprised to find a short queue in the doorway.
 
She smiled politely at a few people she
recognised as she and John joined the end of the line.

“It looks like they aren’t having any
trouble with their out-of-the-way location,” John remarked.
 

“No, clearly not,” Bessie agreed.

A moment later Carol Jenkins appeared in the
doorway.
 
She looked tired but happy
as she surveyed the small crowd.

“My goodness, where have you all come from?”
she exclaimed.
 
“You must have heard
that Dan is doing a pie special today, haven’t you?”