Mistletoe Mystery (14 page)

“I don’t think that’s all, dear. The talk amongst the guests
is that there’s something going on between the headmaster and the games
mistress. They all think it’s part of the play, but I’m not so sure. I think
you have doubts.”

Philly nodded. “I just don’t think that I’m ready for a
relationship, with everything I have to do here.”

“I don’t think that’s it either, but I shan’t press you for
details. At least not with people in listening distance. Remember that if you
ever need a friend, you can talk to me. Young people sometimes think us
wrinklies know nothing of love and sex. But the truth is, you didn’t invent it
in the twenty-first century. We discovered it in the nineteen-fifties.” Mrs.
Cunningham’s kind eyes twinkled.

“I thought Philip Larkin said it was invented in
nineteen-sixty three.”

“Oh, he was a few years out, that’s all. But as an ex
English teacher, I am glad to hear you know your Larkin!”

The men arrived back during lunch. Philly went into the hall
to meet them, having only managed to chew a little bit of pizza.

Monsieur De Lacey had a crutch. “Nothing is broken, as your
good friend Puck said earlier,” he said, taking Philly’s hand in his.
“Mademoiselle, I am desolated to think that you blame yourself for this. I am a
clumsy old man, and it was entirely my fault. Monsieur Puck, Monsieur Matt,
thank you for helping me. Now I am hungry, and I think I smell pizza, yes?”

“Are you staying?” asked Philly. “Not that you’re not very
welcome to. I just thought you might prefer to leave. We don’t have a lift,
unfortunately.”

“Please, do not fret. I am able to take the stairs one at a
time, and I would not want to miss my Christmas dinner.”

“We’ve saved you all some pizza,” said Philly, relief
sweeping through her. “I promise that not too much of the dough was dropped on
the floor.”

“That’s very comforting,” said Matt, reaching down and
kissing her cheek. Yet she could not help noticing that Matt and Puck exchanged
serious glances. There was no time to ask them what was wrong, so she simply
led them to the dining room, where Monsieur De Lacey’s return was greeted with
happy cries of welcome from the other guests. He may not have broken his foot,
but his fall went a long way to breaking the ice amongst the guests, giving
them something to discuss over their meal.

The rest of the afternoon was taken up with more improvised
drama, as the hosts and assembled guests worked their way through several
different motives for Monique’s disappearance. The guests seemed to be thinking
in terms of Russian spies, and the race for space. It did cross Philly’s mind
to wonder why such spies – and a French one at that – would be in a British
boarding school, when the race was clearly between Americans and
Russians.  However, Matt’s presence did add some authenticity to the idea,
so she did not argue. He was handsome enough to be an astronaut, though why he
would be working as a headmaster was less plausible.

“Maybe I’m CIA,” he said, when Philly mentioned her
misgivings to him. She had a strange desire to make the solution plausible.

“Yeah, that works. But why here?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I just followed my heart.”

“Hmm. And just happened to be where you needed to be when
there was international intrigue.”

“Hey, if it works for Bruce Willis, it works for me.”

“Do you own a white vest?” said Philly with a grin. “Because
we’re not doing this plot if you don’t.”

“Of course I own a white vest. It’s required of all American
heroes. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s written in the constitution.”

The panic of the morning had subsided, as Monsieur De Lacey
happily joined in again, albeit from the comfort of whatever armchair was
handy. He seemed to be enjoying himself, not least because a few of the ladies
took it upon themselves to pander to his every whim, bringing him coffee and
other drinks when he requested them. And sometimes, it seemed, even before he
thought of it himself.

The Bennetts and Mr. Graham, treated it with amusement, as
did the Cunninghams. Only Stan Scattergood harrumphed and complained about the
bourgeoisie.

“I bet he’s on jealous because he’s not being waited on hand
and foot,” said Meg, whilst the four friends were in the kitchen, making
afternoon tea.

“He’s certainly milking it,” said Puck, who seemed,
unusually for him, to be in bad sorts.

“You can say that again,” said Matt.

“Are you two alright?” Philly asked them. “You’ve both been
a bit quiet since you got back from the hospital.”

“Yeah, we’re fine,” said Puck. “It’s just that… well, we
don’t think De Lacey fell down the stairs.”

“But he’s got bruises, hasn’t he?”

“Oh yeah, they’re there. But … well, I’m not an expert at
First Aid, not having had chance to use my skills, but Matt had misgivings.
Perhaps you should tell them, Matt.”

“I’m not much of an expert either,” said Matt. “But it
seemed to me that the bruises weren’t new. They’re recent, but they came up far
too quickly from the time he fell down the stairs. We wondered if De Lacey hurt
himself elsewhere, before coming here, and decided to try to blame you,
Philly.”

“So he could sue me, you mean?”

“Maybe.”

“But he said in front of everyone that it wasn’t my fault.
That’s a bit silly if he’s trying to get a fortune out of me.”

“I don’t know.” Matt shrugged. “Perhaps he realised that we
guessed what he was up to, so he changed his mind.”

“We’re wasting our time on the Monique thing,” Meg said.
“Maybe we should be investigating the mystery of De Lacey’s foot.”

“I’m guessing the butler did it,” said Puck.

“I think it’s more likely Mr. Scattergood,” said Philly.
“They don’t like each other very much.”

When they had finished preparing the tea, Matt picked up the
tray of tea things and left the kitchen. Philly was just about to follow him
with the plate of cakes, when Puck stopped her.

“About Matt,” he said.

“What about him?” said Philly, fearing that Puck had found
out something she would prefer not to know.

“Nothing. That’s just it. He seems a straight up bloke and a
good friend. Last night when we were searching the attic, he was genuinely
furious that you’d been frightened so badly. I was half afraid that if we did
find someone, Matt would punch the guy’s lights out. I can’t work it out,
Philly. I can’t work him out.”

“But I heard…”

“I know, sweetheart, but now I’m wondering whether you
misunderstood.”

“It was pretty clear, Puck.”

“Then there must have some other explanation.  If there
isn’t, I can’t help thinking that it takes a very dangerous man to have fooled
us all the way he has.” Puck sighed. “Sorry, I meant to set your mind at rest,
but it doesn’t look as if I have.”

“Let’s just get this weekend over,” said Philly. “Then I’ll
worry about Matt.” If her friends could not even make up their minds if he was
a bad guy or not, what hope did she have of coming to a decision?

As she walked to the drawing room with the tea cakes, she
began to look forward to the weekend being over, and having the house to
herself again. Or at least to herself, Puck and Meg. Opening her house up to
paying guests was fine for helping to pay the bills, but not so good for her
nerves. As well as Monsieur De Lacey’s fall, there were a dozen other things to
worry about, along with the minor complaints and requests that the guests had,
such as the loo in their en suite not flushing properly or simply wanting extra
tea bags and milk for their rooms. It would be easier if she could employ
chambermaids to help with cleaning the rooms and changing the bedding, but it
was mostly left to Philly and her friends.

There barely seemed to be a minute when she had time to stop
and think about what was happening, not just with Matt and De Lacey but also
with the prowler in the attic. So she slowed down a little, figuring that a few
seconds late with the cakes would not make a difference.

She felt certain the noise was not just a rat. Someone had
unlocked the door and could be heard hunting around in the attic when she and
Meg climbed the stairs. If only they had not dithered so much. They should have
gone straight in there and confronted the person, before they had time to hide.

Where had they gone afterwards? Had they somehow managed to
get out of the room whilst Philly, Meg and Matt were on their way downstairs?
Perhaps hiding in one of the upper rooms. No, that could not be it, as Puck had
come from his room and was waiting at the top of the staircase when they went
down. He went straight to the attic with the key that Philly secretly handed to
him as she passed. As far as she knew there had not been a moment when the
attic door was unattended, until Puck locked it after he and Matt had searched
for the prowler.

So whoever it was must have been hiding somewhere in there.
But where? Matt and Puck had searched, but maybe they did not search
everywhere. After all, the light bulb was not very bright, and did not reach
into every corner. There were also many big trunks. It was possible the prowler
hid in one of those.

Reaching the drawing room, Philly put the plate of cakes
down. “Help yourself,” she said, rather more brusquely than she intended. “If
you’ll excuse me I need to … erm…yes. Sorry.”

Let them think she desperately wanted the loo, she thought
as she dashed out of the room. What she really wanted to do was get a look in
the attic. Darkness would be falling soon, and she did not like the idea of
going up there late at night. Not least because she did not fancy encountering
another warm, furry rat.

There was something spooky about the attic, even in daytime.
It had not always felt like it, but due to the events of the night before,
Philly felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle as she unlocked the door.
Of course, no one could be in there now, unless the intruder had spent the
night locked in. It was doubtful. All the guests had been at lunch, apart from
Monsieur De Lacey, who had been at the hospital with Puck and Matt. The only
alternative being that a stranger had come into the house, which did not bear
thinking about.

Philly grinned to herself. “Of course,” she muttered, wryly.
“It’s so much worse for the intruder to be from outside, rather than be someone
sleeping under my own roof.” On the other hand, it was better. Because it would
mean it was not Matt.

She wondered if she should have it out with him once the guests
had gone. Find out exactly why he wanted to get into the attic. Thinking about
it fortified her. It would be much better to get things out in the open, rather
than coping with the doubts and fears which assailed her. Even if it did mean
definitely getting her heart broken. It might be painful, but anything had to
be better than the limbo in which she existed at the moment. At least then it
would be over and she could get on with getting over him.

As she went over the options in her mind, one moment thinking
she would talk to Matt, and the next shying away from the idea like a
frightened kitten, she searched the attic for signs that someone had been up
there. It was not easy, considering that she had hunted around either on her
own or with Puck and Meg. They had not exactly been methodical in their search
patterns, simply lifting things up and casting them aside.

As Philly passed the dormer window, she felt an icy draught,
and drew her arms around herself. Even with a thick sweater on, she was cold.
The attic had no heating, having been used for nothing but storage, but
normally the heat from the rest of the house rose and kept it pleasantly warm.

Looking closer, she saw that the dormer window was slightly
open. She was sure Matt and Puck said it was fastened tightly. She went to look
and opened it wider, looking out. It was then that she realised the window was
directly over the kitchen. Stretching out as far as she could, Philly looked
down and saw a clear patch of roof where the snow had slid down onto the ground
below. But the rest of the snow was still on the roof and had clearly not
thawed, as Puck suggested.

Looking to either side, Philly saw that on the left hand
side of the window, there were long ridges in the snow, where someone had
obviously been perching outside the window.

Chapter Eleven

“Philly? Philly, where are you?” Matt’s voice called up from
one of the lower floors.

“I’ll be down in a minute.” Philly closed the window and
fastened it tight. As she turned, she was sure that she saw a thin stream of
light coming from somewhere in the corner of the attic. She had not noticed it
before, and she was eager to investigate. Matt’s presence stopped her. It would
be much better to check it out when she was alone, in case it was something to
do with him wanting to get into the attic.

“We need the key to the wine cellar,” said Matt, much closer
than she imagined. He stood resting against the attic doorframe. “What are you
doing up here?”

“Someone was on the roof,” she said, feeling that there was
no harm in telling him that much. “That’s what dislodged the snow. They left
the window open slightly.”

“Impossible. It was fastened when Puck and I checked last
night.”

“Then they must have hidden somewhere until you’d gone.”
Philly was about to tell him about the stream of light, but again decided to
keep it a secret. Until she knew what she was dealing with, she would only
share things with Matt that he already knew about. “In one of the trunks,
maybe.”

“We checked everything. Do you doubt me, Philly?”

Now that was a question and a half, thought Philly. Where to
begin with answering it…

“I’d better come and see to the wine, I suppose. We’ll talk
about it later when the guests are settled down for the evening.”

“Okay, but I do want an answer to that question eventually.”