Mistletoe Mystery (13 page)

“All of us!” said one woman, whose name Philly could not
remember.

“I guess you’d all better take a number then.”

At that moment the track changed to a slower song.
To
Know Him Is To Love Him
.

“Saved by the bell,” said Matt, taking the woman into his
arms, and dancing her gently around the room. Philly tried to ignore the pang
of jealousy. After all, the woman was in her late forties, albeit very
attractive. The other guests partnered up, mostly with the ladies having to
partner each other, due to a lack of men. Those who managed to dance with Matt
and Puck, who were the youngest and best looking men in the room, looked very
smug indeed.

“If you don’t mind, Miss Sanderson, I’ll sit down now,” said
Mr. Graham.

“Oh, of course,” said Philly, feeling guilty because all her
attention had been on Matt and not her dance partner. “I haven’t overdone it,
have I? I don’t want you to be unwell.”

“No, lass, you’re doing alright. It’s a long time since I
danced with a pretty young woman. It’s made my day. I’m just not as young as I
used to be. One and a half songs is my limit nowadays.”

“Between you and me,” Philly whispered, “I’m worn out too.
So we’ll both have a rest.”

Mr. Graham went to sit down, and Philly was about to go and
do the same when Matt caught her arm.

“Not so quick, Miss Sanderson.” He had somehow lost his
partner, and pulled Philly into his arms, sweeping her around the floor. “You
can spare one dance with the headmaster, whilst we plot and scheme our torrid
affair.”

“I thought I told you to stick to the script.”

“You also told me I could improvise. I’m ad-libbing
disgracefully.”

“You are a disgrace. I wonder how you ever got to be a
headmaster.”

“I lied my way into the job.”

Philly became serious for a moment. “Did you?”

Matt laughed. “Hey, remember we’re supposed to be having fun
here. This is a cosy mystery weekend, not … what’s that programme with all the
miserable people you Brits love so much?”

“Eastenders?”

“That’s the one. Eastenders.”

“I played a stallholder in that once. ‘A paaand of apples
and pears’,” Philly intoned in her best East London accent. “Get yer jellied
eels and custard right ‘ere.”

“Jellied eels and custard? I think I’ll pass on that one.”

“It was something like that. I forget. They did consider me
as a love interest for one of the Mitchell boys, but considering their wives
and girlfriends have a life expectancy of about thirty, I refused.”

“I don’t think they actually kill them though, do they? The actress
just goes on to better things.”

“You don’t know the BBC’s attention to detail,” Philly
quipped. “Anyway, to some people death is appearing on I’m a Celebrity. I
haven’t sunk quite that low yet. Well…” she looked around her and wondered just
where on the list an actress at a murder mystery weekend came. Probably
somewhere below Z.

“You’re doing okay,” said Matt, pulling her closer. The song
had changed again, to Buddy Holly singing
That’ll Be The Day
, which was
a little more up tempo, but they still danced close together. “You’re a
fantastic hostess, you know. Everyone likes you, and you genuinely care about
making people happy. I saw you with Mr. Graham. He’s smitten, as they all are.
As
we
all are.”

“I don’t think Mr. Scattergood likes me,” said Philly,
trying to ignore the hammering in her heart. “He thinks I should be flogged for
owning this house.”

“He’d have to get past me first. Besides, I think he’s the
kind of guy who says things for effect. I wouldn’t take too much notice of
him.”

“I just want things to go well,” Philly said. “Not to be
rich, but to make enough to keep the house and to live on, so I’m not dependent
on anyone.”

“That’s a good goal to have, but …”

“What?”

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to turn to others for help,
sometimes.”

“I know that. This is why I’ve got Meg and Puck to help me.”

“You don’t just have them, Philly.”

She struggled to ignore the inference in his word, telling
herself that they meant nothing. “They have their own lives, you know? I can’t
expect them to stay forever. Puck could be one of the best actors in Britain.
If not that then a celebrity chef. And Meg really should be a supermodel. Yet I
sometimes feel as if I’m holding them back, by expecting them to do all this
for me to the detriment of their own careers. I can’t even pay them.”

“Sometimes people only want what they already have. Good
friends, a roof over their heads and love. The latter being the most important
thing. Regardless of what you want for your friends, they don’t need to chase
any other dream, because they’re already living a dream with each other. Anyone
can see that.”

“Yes, it must be nice to find that kind of love. One that
fulfils all your needs.”

Matt stiffened. “You speak as if you’ll never find it.”

“I… I don’t know. I just wish things weren’t so
complicated.”

“Then we’ll just have to un-complicate them.”

“How do we do that?”

Before Matt could answer, they heard a cry from the hall,
which sounded like ‘
Bon Dieu’.

“Philly!” Meg ran into the ‘gym’. It was supposed to be a
scene where, Meg, now acting as one of the other teachers, came in to tell them
that Dominique could not be found anywhere. This made what she actually said
all the more surprising.  “Monsieur De Lacey has fallen down the stairs.”

“What?” It took Philly a moment to realise it was not an
ad-lib.

Philly, Matt and Puck rushed to the hallway, closely
followed by curious guests.

De Lacey was sitting awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs.
“I tripped on the carpet runner,” he explained, his face flushed with pain. “My
ankle, I think it is broken.”

“Let me see,” said Puck. When De Lacey looked unsure, Puck
said, “Don’t worry, I’m the chief First Aider here. I know what I’m doing.” It
was a requirement of running the mystery weekends that they had someone
qualified in First Aid techniques.

“It’s certainly badly bruised,” said Puck after he had
examined De Lacey’s foot.  “I can’t feel any breakages. Still, we’d best
get you to the hospital for an X-Ray. Matt, can you drive us there, whilst I
take care of Monsieur De Lacey?”

There was no real reason for Matt to drive – Monsieur De
Lacey was not in any mortal danger after all. Philly got the distinct
impression from the look her friend gave her that Puck was taking Matt with him
so that she and Meg would not have to worry about keeping an eye on the attic
area whilst they were out of the house. Or at least not have to worry that Matt
was going to search it, whilst they were busy elsewhere. It was hard to say if
one of the guests had an interest in it.

For his part, Matt did not appear to see anything strange in
the request. “Sure, no problem.”

Philly watched from the door as the three men drove away.
Meg stood next to her, and put her hand on Philly’s shoulder. “It’ll be
alright, love, don’t worry.”

“I hate to sound selfish,” said Philly, “and I really do
hope Monsieur De Lacey is okay, but what if he sues, Meg? He said the runner
was loose. It’ll break us completely.”

Philly and Meg walked back to the stairs, where the group of
guests were already examining the scene of the crime. One might easily have
come to the conclusion that this event was more exciting to them than the
pretend drama of Monique’s disappearance.

“There’s no loose runner that I can see,” said Mr.
Graham.  The other guests murmured in agreement. The old man took a
digital camera from his pocket. “I’ll get evidence for you,” he added, patting
Philly on the shoulder kindly. “If you ask me, lass, the mon-sewer didn’t want
to admit he had a bit too much of the falling down water last night.”

Chapter Eleven

“Try not to worry too much, dear,” said Mrs. Cunningham,
patting Philly’s arm. I’m sure Monsieur De Lacey will be fine.”

“I hope so,” she replied. Philly and Meg had somehow managed
to improvise the next piece of the fictional drama before Philly took a group
to the kitchen to prepare lunch. The Saturday lunch group were making pizzas,
with much hilarity ensuing as they tried to spin thick wads of dough on their
hands. Philly, Puck and Meg had arranged most of the meals accordingly, so that
the guests had fun with preparing the food rather than thinking they were being
forced to supply their own meals. Only Saturday evening’s dinner would be a
little less complicated, as it was a traditional Christmas meal, complete with
turkey and roast pork, with an alternative of spinach and goats cheese tartlets
for the vegetarians in the group. Puck had left instructions to be sure that
the turkey crowns and pork loins were put in the oven in plenty of time.
Thankfully all the guests in that rota had to do was prepare the vegetables,
roll bacon around sausages, make the bread sauce and put the Christmas puddings
on to steam.

“Everyone could see it was an unfortunate accident,” said
Mrs. Cunningham. She was busy chopping tomatoes and mushrooms for the pizza
toppings, whilst Philly grated a block of cheese. “I don’t know if the good
monsieur was drunk or hung over, but I don’t think your carpet runner had
anything to do with it.”

“I feel really selfish, worrying about that,” said Philly.

“But you’re not a selfish girl, anyone can see that.”

“That’s very kind. Thank you.”

“Oh this really takes me back,” said Mrs. Cunningham. “Not
the kitchen duties. They weren’t in my remit. But being in this house. It’s
amazing the things you remember. School assemblies – they were in the ballroom,
of course, it being the largest room in the house. The chatter of the girls. I
can almost hear it. Even the night time walking about.”

“Did you sleep here? I thought you lived in the vicarage.”

“Oh I did live in the vicarage. But it was part of my
contract that I spent at least one night a week here, to give other teachers a
night off from having to listen out for the girls.”

“Were you here the night Dominique went missing?”

“Erm…” Mrs. Cunningham thought about it for a moment.
“Actually, no. I came into work the next morning – I was a bit late because I
had a doctor’s appointment – that was when I learned I was having our son,
Michael.” She smiled at the remembrance. “Anyway, I found everyone searching for
her because she had not turned up for assembly, and missed her first lesson.
Sometimes girls did, you know, because they wanted to get out of doing a
particular class. Usually because they had forgotten do to their homework. So
we didn’t worry too much at first. Only as the day wore on, and there was no
sign of her did we call the police in. One thing you could be sure of with
Dominique is that she turned up for meal times.”

Philly lowered her voice a little. “I can’t remember where I
heard it, but someone mentioned that a young lad called Harry was arrested here
around that time.”

“Oh yes. I’d almost forgotten about that. Harry … erm.” Mrs.
Cunningham frowned. “Oh I would pick now to have a senior moment, wouldn’t I? I
forget his surname. He was found with money on him and claimed some man and
woman had given it to him.”

“Was it when Dominique went missing?”

“Let me think. Yes, it was near that time. But not the same
night, obviously, otherwise I’m sure the police would have connected it. If
that’s what you’re thinking.”

“You don’t think Dominique might have been involved with
Harry then?”

“I doubt it. As I’ve already told you, she was a girl
without grace. Not that it’s entirely impossible. But I’m pretty sure Harry was
locked up when Monique went missing. Not only that but he was a bit younger, if
I remember rightly. Oh what was his surname?”

“I heard,” said Philly, lowering her voice even further to
be sure that no one else heard, “that Mrs. Bennett was his sister. Irene. Does
that ring a bell?”

“Oh yes, now you come to mention it. I remember her too.
Such a sweet little girl. Their parents owned the local shop. But Harry was a
bad lot. Left home at fourteen, not long after being arrested here, and was
nothing but trouble for them. I wonder what happened to him.”

“He went to Australia and became a successful businessman.”

“Really? How wonderful. That is good to know. I don’t think
he has anything to do with Monique’s disappearance. Let me ponder on it for a
while and see what else I can remember. Being here has been a great help to me.
Seeing the rooms, and soaking up the atmosphere. It seems that this house has
never changed. It has a way of …”

“What?” said Philly, even though she already knew the
answer.

“Inspiring devotion, even to those who don’t live here, but
merely come here to work. It’s almost as if it’s a living breathing creature.
But it’s hungry too. Always hungry.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Philly.

“Oh you must know, dear. It soaks up money like a sponge. When
it was rented out to the school, the agreement was that we were responsible for
the upkeep during our tenure. It cost a fortune, to keep the roof fixed. It was
always raining or snowing in somewhere. Then there was the heating bill.”

“Oh tell me about it,” said Philly. “We just run around a
lot when we don’t have guests.”

“I’m sure your godmother meant well in leaving it to you,
but it is a big burden for a young woman. The occasional murder mystery
weekends are a wonderful idea, but … well I hope you don’t mind me saying this,
they won’t help in the end. The older the house gets, the more you’ll have to
do to it. And it’s quite ancient in places now.”

Philly would not have felt comfortable discussing such
things with other guests, but she had come to think of Mrs. Cunningham as a
friend. “I know. And because it’s a Grade II listed building, it generally
costs more. That’s if we can even find the artisans with the skills to keep it
maintained.” Philly smiled sadly. “You talk of being devoted to the house, and
I am. But sometimes I think I hate it too. Oh, listen to me. I’m sure that’s
only as a result of Monsieur De Lacey’s fall.”