Aunt Bessie Believes Page 8

  With a sigh, she turned and made her way back down the beach. Whatever happened, it was yet another change. It seemed like things were constantly changing on the island. She let her mind wander, thinking about how different her life had been when she had first purchased her little home. None of the other small cottages that had dotted the beach in those days were still standing. Hers was the only one that had withstood redevelopment. And one day, she supposed, her heirs would sell her cottage to someone who would be eager to tear it down and replace it with something more profitable.

  Of course, her heirs were all in America. The last thing they needed was a tiny cottage on an isolated beach on a remote island in the Irish Sea. Bessie sighed again. She was working herself into a really bad mood. And she knew that the root cause of the bad mood was nothing to do with her cottage or even the island generally. She was worried about the evening ahead. For the first time since she had met Doona, she was anxious about spending time with her. When Bessie first met her friend, a few years earlier, Doona had just come out of a somewhat bitter divorce. Now she was seemingly falling for Andrew Teare and Bessie felt anxious and unhappy about that.

  By the time Doona arrived that evening, Bessie had had a very stern conversation with herself. Whatever happened between Andrew and Doona was their business and not hers, she had told herself. She almost believed it as well.

  “Fastyr mie,” Doona greeted Bessie.

  “Fastyr mie,” Bessie replied.

  Bessie was quick to serve the shepherd’s pie she had made, not wanting to be late for class.

  “This is delicious,” Doona enthused after a few bites. “Perhaps we should get Marjorie to teach us how to say that tonight.”

  “Please,” Bessie moaned. “I can’t remember everything we’ve already learned. I’m hoping tonight will be a review session. Marjorie crammed in a lot last week.”

  “That was just to shut Moirrey up,” Doona said. “I’m sure she’ll slow things down now.”

  “I feel bad about being happy that Moirrey won’t be there tonight,” Bessie admitted after a short and slightly awkward silence.

  “I know what you mean,” Doona agreed. “I had a great time with Andrew this weekend, but I felt like I had to be really careful with what I said. I didn’t want him to know just how nasty his sister really was.”

  “Yes, I found that hard enough over dinner on Friday.”

  Doona shrugged. “Not everyone is feeling the need to tread carefully around him,” she told Bessie. “More than one person came up to Andrew while we were out and about and told him quite unpleasant things about Moirrey.”

  “How did he take it?”

  “Better than I think I would have under the circumstances,” Doona told her. “He was unfailingly polite to everyone. He just kept telling them all how sorry he was and that he would do his best to fix former wrongs once he was in a position to do so.”

  “I hope that satisfied everyone.”

  “Pretty much,” Doona shrugged again. “Moirrey hurt a lot of people’s feelings, which is something that Andrew can’t really do anything about. He really shouldn’t have to apologise for her either. Her behaviour wasn’t his fault.”

  “It sounds like you’re feeling rather protective of him,” Bessie said shrewdly.

  Doona blushed. “He’s such a terrific guy,” she said defensively. “And he’s nothing like his horrible sister. I just feel badly that so many people on this island can’t seem to see that. More than one person told him that he should be ashamed of himself for turning up now, just to claim his inheritance. He should have been here, running things and keeping Moirrey under control, apparently.”

  Bessie sighed. “I can sort of see their point,” she said.

  “I can’t,” Doona said sharply. “Although apparently Andrew can. He’s being ever so nice to everyone no matter how horrible they are to him.”

  “Well, good for him,” Bessie replied. “I’m sure most people will come around, given enough time. His reappearance has been something of a shock for everyone, and coming on the heels of Moirrey’s unexpected death, I’m not surprised that people don’t quite know what to say to him.”

  Doona nodded reluctantly. “I suppose so. Andrew says the same, that given time, everyone will accept him. I guess I’m just not that patient.”

  Bessie laughed. “I knew that about you,” she teased.

  Bessie served the jam roly-poly with custard while Doona told her about her weekend. “We did the castles mostly, although on Sunday afternoon we visited the wildlife park. I love the capybaras and Andrew enjoyed seeing the wallabies. He said it reminded him of Australia, where he spent many happy years.”

  Bessie gathered up her supplies for class as Doona cleared the table. They didn’t have far to go, but Bessie made sure they gave themselves plenty of time.

  “I forgot to mention, Hugh’s in big trouble,” Doona told Bessie as they climbed into her car.

  “Oh dear, what’s he done now?” Bessie asked with an amused smile.

  “Do you remember him telling us about using Moirrey’s bedroom as a practice crime scene?” Doona asked.

  “Yes, he was quite excited about all the things they did,” Bessie recalled.

  “Well, he got so excited that he went a little overboard,” Doona told her. “He actually sent a few of the prescription bottles over to the lab in the UK to be analysed. Inspector Rockwell got the bill from the lab today and he wasn’t pleased.”

  “Oh dear,” Bessie laughed. “I suppose such things aren’t cheap, either, are they?””

  “Not at all,” Doona grinned. “My eyes popped when I opened the bill. At least he only sent two of the bottles and not all nine. He would have been in real trouble if he’d done that.”

  “So will the inspector make him pay for it out of his salary or what?” Bessie asked.

  “I doubt it,” Doona answered. “John gave him a good talking-to and reminded him that everything that we do is paid for by hardworking taxpayers, and Hugh’s promised to be more careful in the future.”

  “John?” Bessie asked.

  “That’s Inspector Rockwell’s first name,” Doona told her. “Now that we work together every day, he has us all call him John.”

  “I see,” Bessie said. “And did you call Inspector Kelly by his first name when he was in charge of the station?”

  Doona laughed. “No way. He was, and still is, Inspector Kelly at all times. I suspect even his wife calls him that.”

  Now Bessie laughed. “Surely not.”

  Doona shrugged. “I have to say that I much prefer working with John. He’s much more relaxed and he really includes everyone in the things that happen at the station. He’s having the break room redone and he’s asked all of us what we want to see in there, for example. And he’s ever so patient with the younger constables. He’s keen on helping them learn and move up. I can tell you that if Hugh made a mistake like that on Inspector Kelly’s watch it wouldn’t have been dealt with so easily.”

  Bessie and Doona were quiet as they climbed the stairs this week. In the classroom, they took the same seats they had a week earlier. The table where Moirrey had sat seemed emptier than the rest, even though no one else had arrived yet. Marjorie was only a minute behind them, though.

  “Ah, you two are nice and early,” she said as she swept into the room. “Fastyr mie.”

  Bessie and Doona echoed the greeting and then exchanged polite chatter in the limited Manx they could remember from the previous week. They had just about run out of vocabulary when Liz arrived.

  “Oh, I’m even early,” she laughed as she rushed in. “I was smart and got the kids through their baths and into their jammies. Hubby just has to read them a story or two and tuck them up to bed this week.”

  Joney and Henry weren’t far behind, and Marjorie had them practising everything from the previous week before anyone had time for more than quick greetings. Because they had covered so much in the first session, the review took them un
til time for a tea break.

  “I really need this break,” Bessie said, feeling as if her head were spinning slightly from the volume of information she was trying to cram into it.

  “Don’t we all?” Joney asked with a laugh. “I haven’t worked this hard since university and that was more than a few years ago.”

  “What happened to the other lady?” Liz asked. “I’m sure we’re one short tonight.”

  Bessie finally broke the difficult silence that followed the question. “Of course, you don’t live in Laxey, do you, dear?” she said. “Moirrey passed away last Monday evening. I’m sure it was in the local paper, but you probably wouldn’t have recognised the name, even if you saw it.”

  “We don’t usually get the local paper,” Liz said, blushing. “Hubby gets some of the London papers at work, but otherwise we just watch the news when we want to know what’s going on. I never really thought about it. But what happened to her?”

  “She had a heart condition,” Bessie explained. “Apparently it finally caught up to her.”

  “Oh dear, that’s so sad,” Liz said. “I mean, she seemed like such an unhappy woman, but her family must be devastated.”

  “She didn’t have much in the way of family,” Henry told her. “She was the last of the Teares as such. Although her long-lost brother isn’t so lost anymore, I hear.”

  Bessie glanced at Doona, who took a huge sip of tea and kept quiet.

  “I’d love to get my hands on some of the books in the Teare family collection,” Marjorie said.

  “Really? I didn’t know Ewan collected books,” Bessie said.

  “Ewan started the collection, but Moirrey was the one who really built it up.”

  “Moirrey? I never saw her with a book in my life,” Bessie replied.

  “She didn’t buy them to read,” Marjorie answered. “I’m not sure why she bought them, actually. Ewan started collecting books on Manx history when he moved back to the island in the nineteen-fifties. For a while it was suggested that he would leave his collection to the museum when he died, but apparently that clause never made it into his will. Anyway, Moirrey wouldn’t hear of parting with any of the books her father had acquired and she seemed determined to build the collection as well. Whenever anything especially rare or interesting appeared at auction anywhere, the museum could be sure that it would be bidding against at least one other person, Matthew Barnes. Of course, he was only ever acting as Moirrey’s agent, and they outbid the museum on just about everything.”

  “That’s terrible,” Bessie said. “The museum would put the books in their library and let the whole country have access to them. I didn’t even realise that Moirrey had them and she certainly wasn’t interested in reading them herself.”

  “I’ll talk to Andrew,” Doona offered. “I’m sure he’ll be willing to donate them to the museum.”

  “We’d be happy to offer him a fair sum of money for them,” Marjorie told her. “Although a donation would be very much appreciated.”

  Doona grinned. “Let me talk to him and see what he thinks,” she suggested. “I’m sure you’ll be able to come to some sort of agreement with him. He may want to read a few of them before he gives them to you, though. Now that he’s back, he wants to immerse himself in the island.”

  “There’s a lot of great history for him to study,” Marjorie said with a smile. “Maybe he should try out this class as well.”

  “I did suggest it,” Doona laughed. “But he said he’d feel funny joining in after the first class, especially since his sister was in the class. He may well give it a try the next time you run it, though.”

  “So he’s planning on sticking around for a while?” Joney asked. “I heard he was just here to get everything sold off and then he was going back to Australia or something.”

  Doona frowned. “As far as I know he’s planning on being here for the foreseeable future,” she answered. “If nothing else, he’s busy trying to arrange a suitable memorial service for Moirrey.”

  “When is that likely to be?” Henry asked. “I mean, I expect I’ll want to go.”

  “He isn’t sure yet,” Doona answered. “Technically, Andrew isn’t allowed to do anything official until the authorities are fully satisfied that he is who he claims to be. They are working to verify his identity now, but it’s taking some time. He’ll sort out what he’s calling a celebration of Moirrey’s life just as soon as he’s able.”

  “How can he prove his identity?” Liz asked. “Is it like on telly, where they use DNA and fingerprints?”

  “I’m not sure exactly what they’re doing,” Doona answered. “He has his passport and a bunch of driving licenses from all over the world as well as papers and other artefacts from his childhood, but until they can confirm everything, he’s sort of in limbo.”

  “He’s going to struggle to get many to turn up for the service anyway, isn’t he?” Joney asked. “I mean, no one liked the woman. I suppose a few might turn up just to make sure she’s really dead, but beyond that, who’d go?”

  Liz looked shocked. “But surely everyone who knew her will go to pay their respects,” she said. “I mean, even if she wasn’t especially nice, she had to have friends, right?”

  “I’m afraid Moirrey didn’t have friends,” Bessie chimed in. “And it wasn’t that she wasn’t nice, she was deliberately unpleasant and difficult. She had nasty falling-outs with many people on the island. I can imagine that her service will be rather poorly attended. I will go, but more as a mark of respect for her father and her brother than for her.”

  “I said I plan to go,” Henry said. “But mostly because she was in this class with us and I feel bad that I wasn’t nicer to her on the night she died.”

  “You couldn’t possibly have known that she was going to die,” Bessie said soothingly as Henry looked sadly into his cup of tea.

  “I’ll probably go as well,” Marjorie said. “Because she was in the class and also because we had many conversations about Manx history. Mostly I was just trying to get my hands on her book collection, but she could be interesting to talk with sometimes. She had her own unique views on the world, anyway.”

  “Well, I won’t be there,” Joney said emphatically. “The woman was just plain mean and I don’t feel any obligation to help celebrate her life, whatever her brother has planned.”

  “I’m only planning on going for her brother’s sake,” Doona told Joney. “If I hadn’t met him and really liked him, I wouldn’t go either.”

  “I’ve heard he’s really cute,” Joney replied.

  “Oh, aye, he is at that,” Doona laughed.

  “And just about the right age for you, isn’t he?” Joney asked.

  “Well, I guess so,” Doona blushed. “Actually, I think he’s a bit younger than me, but we’re just friends, so it’s okay.”

  “I never blush like that when I’m talking about my friends,” Joney said, giving Doona a wink.

  Doona blushed even more but didn’t answer.

  After the tea break Marjorie put them all to work on learning more food and drink words. When they grew bored with them, they switched to discussing the weather. By nine o’clock Bessie was exhausted and felt like she was never going to be able to actually learn any of it. The class made their way into the car park as a group. Anne Caine was just arriving as they left.

  “Would you like a hand tonight?” Marjorie asked Anne as she came towards them.

  “Oh no,” Anne replied quickly. “I feel guilty enough about you helping me last week. I’ll have the place shipshape in no time.”

  “Why are you still working so hard?” Bessie asked. “I thought, with everything on hold at the moment, that you could at least quit one job.”

  Anne shook her head. “I’m not sure what’s going on with anything,” she told Bessie. “And I’m not taking any chances. I’m going to keep earning every penny I can in case I need them.”

  “Andrew isn’t going to make you pay any more money towards your cottage,�
� Doona told Anne. “He told me that cancelling your debt was one of his first priorities once things were sorted out.”

  “He says that now,” Anne said darkly. “But I don’t trust him and I really don’t trust Matthew Barnes. Andrew might think there’s plenty of money and that he can be generous with me, but I bet Matthew Barnes has other ideas. He isn’t going to let his share of a quarter of a million pounds slip through his fingers without a fight.”

  Doona opened her mouth to protest, but Bessie held up a hand. “Anne’s right,” she said grimly. “Matthew Barnes may well fight Andrew on just about everything. I bet he won’t be in favour of donating the book collection either. I’m sure he’ll want a fair price for it.”

  “No doubt,” Marjorie agreed. “Do you know he’s already sent me a demand for repayment of the balance of what Moirrey paid for this class?” she asked.

  Bessie shook her head. “He’s chasing down every penny,” she said. “Things could get quite ugly before they are settled.”

  “Exactly,” Anne said angrily. “And I’m not losing my home, not after everything that’s happened.”

  Everyone was surprised when a car suddenly turned into the car park. The driver pulled up as closely as he could to the small group, parking sloppily across multiple spaces. After a moment, he rolled down the driver’s side window.

  “Hey mum, I thought you said I could have a twenty,” a voice called out from the car’s interior.

  Anne’s lips pressed together and her jaw tightened. She drew a deep breath and then took a few steps towards the car. Bessie held up a hand to stop her.

  “Who’s there?” she demanded, turning towards the car. With the car’s headlamps shining in her eyes, she was effectively blinded.

  “Aunt Bessie? Is that you, you old cow?” Bessie heard the car door open and then slam shut. The dark shape came towards her at speed and she just had time to brace herself before she was engulfed in a hug.

  “Aunt Bessie? I can’t believe you’re still around,” the young man told her as he let her go. “I thought you’d have popped your clogs ages ago. You were like a hundred and ten when I were a kid.”