Secrets and Lies: A Polvellan Cornish Mystery Read online

  Will sucked his teeth again. ‘I seen it in the paper. Always check the deaths, I do. If my name isn’t there, I know I’m all right for another week.’

  Jess laughed. ‘For heaven’s sake, Will. We’re the same age! With all the fresh air you get you’re good for another forty years. I must go. Thanks so much for all the information.’

  ‘That’s all right, bird. Been lovely ’aving a chat.’

  ‘Look after yourself, Will.’

  Chapter Five

  Home again, Jess put a match to the woodburner and woke her laptop. She transcribed everything Nic had told her and deleted the recording. Then she typed up what Will had said about the marina during the war years. After saving the pages she connected her printer.

  While printed sheets dropped onto the tray, there was a knock on the door and Elsie put her head in.

  ‘I brung the receipt like you asked, but if this idn a good time –’

  ‘Come on in, Elsie. I was just going to put the kettle on.’

  ‘I don’t want to hold you up, bird. I can see you’re busy.’

  ‘Never too busy for you.’ Jess bent over the back of the sofa for her bag and took out her purse. Turning, she saw Elsie had both hands to her face. ‘Elsie? What’s wrong?’

  Sniffing, Elsie wiped her eyes with the hem of her tabard. ‘Carol come over and laid into Tegan something terrible, telling her she had no business bringing trouble home after all they money they’d spent on her. Upset me awful it did.’

  ‘Oh, Elsie.’ Jess put an arm around her.

  ‘Couldn’t she see the child was terrified? Last thing she needed was her own mother screaming at her. Annie heard Carol yelling and sent her home. Tegan was sobbing. I was shaking. Annie can be tart as lemons but she got a kind heart, dear of her. It surprised me to see her so patient. Next day Carol sent all Tegan’s belongings with a note saying they didn’t want nothing more to do with her.’ Her voice broke and her face crumpled. ‘How could she do that to her only child?’

  Since the spectacular unravelling of her own life, Jess was only too aware that relationships of any kind were like an iceberg. The bit people knew about was only a fraction of the whole story. Without being aware of the rest, she knew she shouldn’t judge, but Elsie’s distress made that difficult.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  Pulling a tissue from her sleeve, Elsie wiped her eyes and nose. ‘I don’t want Tegan seeing me upset. I’m all right now.’

  ‘You’re giving Tegan what she needs most – a loving home and emotional support. You never know, Elsie, when Carol has calmed down and had time to think, she might come round.’

  Elsie’s chin lifted and her mouth set. ‘That’s up to her. But I aren’t holding my breath. Tegan and me, we’ll be all right.’

  ‘Is the baby’s father –’

  ‘She won’t say who he is, only that he don’t want to know her no more. I’m leaving it go for now. Poor little maid got enough on her plate. Annie said she’d give me a hand making Tegan’s room nice so she got somewhere to do her schoolwork and listen to her music.’

  Glancing at the receipt Jess took notes and coins from her purse and gave them to Elsie. ‘Thanks so much for getting the shopping in for me.’

  ‘Wasn’t no trouble, bird. ’Fore I go, I must tell you. Annie told Tegan it was all right to have the grumps now and then because she’s only fifteen and her body is going through a lot of changes, but she needn’t think to make a habit of it. Wouldn’t be good for her or the baby. But don’t matter what, we’ll make sure she have everything she need.’

  ‘She’s definitely going to have it then?’

  Elsie nodded. ‘Annie talked to her about that. I couldn’t. Bert and me waited years for Carol to come along. I told Tegan whatever she decided she had a home here for as long as she wanted, with or without the baby. Crying buckets we was, the both of us. Tegan said she’d been a fool, but the baby hadn’t done nothing wrong and she wouldn’t do nothing to hurt it. Annie told her if she want to do the best for this baby she must study for her exams and train for a good job.’

  Jess couldn’t hide her surprise. ‘I wouldn’t have expected Annie to get so involved.’

  ‘Me neither. ’Tis like she’ve took Tegan under her wing. What with her being a nurse and all, it can’t do no harm can it? To tell you the truth, I’m glad to have the help. I want Tegan eating proper and doing the right things to give this dear baby a good start. Annie says Tegan need to get out in the fresh air, go for long walks. But she said she can’t face people staring and asking questions.’ Elsie clicked her tongue. ‘Think they are the centre of the world at this age. No sense me arguing. So we been leaving it ’til evening then having a walk down along the river for an hour.’

  ‘Has it made a difference?’

  Elsie nodded. ‘She’s sleeping better and got more colour in her cheeks. She still have her moods but I just ignore them.’ Elsie grinned. ‘Waste of time having a strop if no one’s watching.’

  Jess hugged her as they walked to the door. ‘You crafty thing.’

  ‘We have some laughs too. She do tease me. “Oh, Naaaaan,” she say and roll her eyes. I love it. Right, I’m gone.’

  ‘Tell her I asked after her. And if there’s anything I can do –’

  ‘I know where you are. ’Bye, my bird.’

  As the door closed on Elsie, Jess took their mugs to the sink and rinsed them, thinking about Annie.

  A retired district nurse, she was the first person sent for if someone had an accident at home or in the street. The overstretched Ambulance Service had been spared numerous call-outs thanks to Annie’s expertise. She often sat with the dying until the vicar, Claire Griffin’s husband Paul, arrived, and was visiting Percy Spargo while Mor and Ben were at work to make sure he took his medicine and ate his lunch.

  Usually she only stayed until family or a professional arrived. But her promise to Elsie and Tegan seemed open-ended. Though both would find the support invaluable, Jess couldn’t help wondering why.

  She logged on to the County Record Office site but couldn’t settle. The way news travelled in the village, Tom must know by now that she was back. Why hadn’t he phoned? The only time her mobile had been turned off during the past ten days was in the hospital and during the funeral.

  She had never been a needy person. With Alex working away so much she had been virtually a single parent to the boys. She had dealt with household problems as well as looking after her gran and Alex’s father during their final years. That hadn’t been easy, but she’d coped. All this agonising was not like her.

  Though it was known in the village that she and Tom were what Viv called ‘an item’ they still lived separately. Tom’s house was next to the yard. During the winter storms, being quickly on-site meant he had been able to prevent damage that could have been devastating.

  Then there was Chris. Since starting his apprenticeship, Tom’s son had been staying over several nights a week. Both were sound practical reasons why Tom needed to remain where he was. He had hinted at her moving in with him, but she had laughed it off.

  Labouring for Fred Honey and his son during the renovations, she had sweated, bled, and lost count of torn fingernails. She had put her heart as well as weeks of effort into this cottage, the first home that was entirely hers. Before she considered leaving it, she needed to be absolutely certain it was the right thing to do.

  Did she trust Tom? Of course she did. Then why was she fretting? Because trust meant opening herself to further hurt. What Alex had done had caused her enough grief for several lifetimes.

  Tom wasn’t Alex.

  Taking a deep breath, she lifted the receiver, her fingers trembling as she pressed the buttons. Tom’s landline could be switched between home and the yard office so he was easily reached. Except this past week.

  Hearing it ring she held her breath. Would it connect? Or would the line go dead again?

  ‘Hello?’

  Susan? Jess’s heart lurched in
her chest. ‘Hello, can I speak to Tom, please?’ She realised her knuckles were aching, and eased her grip on the receiver.

  ‘He’s not here.’ The tone was irritated.

  No questions, no grovelling. Keep it polite and simple. ‘When he comes in please tell him Jess called. He knows my number.’

  After a sound that could have meant anything, there was a click then the dial tone purred.

  Jess replaced the receiver. Why was Susan at his house? How long had she been there? How long was she staying? Where was he? In the yard? In town?

  She rubbed her face. By asking for her help, Bev had paid her a great compliment. Time to earn it.

  Re-awakening her laptop, she navigated through the Chenhall estate papers and discovered that the tenant of Halvanna Farm during the war years was Lawson Penrose.

  She looked in Births, Marriages and Deaths and found that Lawson married Fay Tregidgo in 1914. They’d had two sons, John in 1915 and Kenneth in 1918. A daughter, Mary, was born in 1930.

  Nic had told her that the tenant before Andy Cardew was Andy’s father George. Leaving BMDs she returned to the Chenhall archive and learned that it was George’s father, Martin Cardew, who took over Halvanna’s lease, paying the Chenhall Estate a higher rent for the additional land. So what had happened to the Penroses? Returning to BMDs, she found that John was killed in France in 1940 and Kenneth died at Tobruk in 1942.

  Investigating further, Jess learned that Martin Cardew used Halvanna land for crops, keeping his dairy herd on Treffry farm where he had a large milking parlour. Having no use for Halvanna’s outbuildings, he had left them empty.

  Pulling a lined pad and pen towards her, Jess jotted down dates and names. She flexed her shoulders and blinked tired eyes, telling herself it was progress of a sort.

  Logging off and closing her laptop, she put another log on the fire then switched on the TV while she made a tuna salad sandwich. A presenter was showing a couple round properties in rural France. One was in worse condition than the derelict farmhouse a short distance from the site of the cleared farmyard Jess had visited with Nic. The presenter suggested brightly that all it needed was a little sympathetic restoration. Knowing exactly what that would entail in terms of work and money, Jess snorted and changed channels. But nothing caught her interest so she switched the set off.

  After tea she went out to weed the front borders. She had her mobile in her pocket and left the front door open so she would hear the phone if it rang. As the light began to fade Elsie and Tegan came out. Elsie locked the door and tucked her arm through Tegan’s as they walked down the path.

  Sympathising with Tegan’s self-consciousness – she knew what it felt like to be the focus of gossip and speculation – Jess simply smiled, said hello, and turned away to pick up her tools. Putting them away in the shed she went inside to run a bath.

  The long walk, fresh air, and concentrated work meant that by ten she was yawning. But as she lay down and pulled the duvet up, worries crowded in. She would never sleep. Damn it, Tom. Where are you? was her last conscious thought.

  Jess opened her curtains to a fine Tuesday morning. Cotton wool balls of cloud drifted across a speedwell-blue sky.

  There was no flashing red light on the answer machine. No one had called. After a poached egg, toast, and coffee, she cleaned out the woodburner and re-laid the fire, then refilled the log basket from the store in the shed. She washed her hands then booted up her laptop and resumed her search.

  Looking for Lawson Penrose in the BMDs register she learned he had died in 1944. The cause of death was suicide by hanging. Had he done it out of grief at losing both his sons? It was sad for him, but even sadder for his daughter Mary who was only fourteen. Not only had she lost her brothers, now she had lost her father as well. How must she have felt?

  Jess realised she was projecting her own emotions on to the bereaved girl. She had still been a child when her parents were killed. But at least she’d had Gran and Grampy, and they had been wonderful.

  She had not fully understood how much of an upheaval she must have caused in their lives until, with Alex working abroad, she found herself bringing up the boys more or less single-handed. Loving them dearly, she had still found them exhausting and she was young. When she moved in with her grandparents her gran had been sixty-four.

  Logging into local newspaper archives she started scrolling through to see if his death was mentioned. A name caught her eye and she went back to re-read.

  In 1944 a big agricultural show was held on Roberts’ farm on the north-west side of the village to raise money for the Red Cross fund for Cornish prisoners of war. Mr Frank Nicholls was treasurer of the show committee.

  Jess tried to think why the name rang a bell. Then she remembered Gill telling her that Frances Chiddock's father was a Nicholls.

  She returned to the article. As she read she could feel her eyes widening. Frank Nicholls’ job as a clerk in the finance department of the district council had made him the ideal candidate for the treasurer’s position. He was popular in the village, liked a drink and always stood his round. What wasn’t known at the time of his appointment was the size of his debts. After the show, which was a great success, a discrepancy in the takings was discovered. The theft traced back to him. He pleaded guilty, lost his job, and was imprisoned with hard labour.

  The article ended there. But Jess’s thoughts raced on. What had become of his family? Did Frances know what her father had done? She would have been very young at the time. But every day the papers carried stories about the impact of one person’s criminal activities on their family.

  Was her fear of this incident being revealed the reason she was so against Jess’s research into the past?

  Scrolling on, Jess found a report about Lawson’s death. It was brief, saying only that Lawson Penrose had been found hanging in the barn on Halvanna Farm. Foul play was not suspected, nor were the police looking for anyone else in connection with the incident.

  Had he left a note? If he was in such a desperate state of mind as to take his own life, what could he say? That he was sorry? That would be small comfort to his daughter.

  Jess scrolled to the Personal Notices page and under Deaths, read the report of his funeral. Among farmers of the time, funerals tended to be men-only, with the women remaining at the widow’s home, preparing refreshments. Unusually, this funeral was mixed, and the chapel had been full. The chief mourners were Lawson’s daughter Mary, his sister Nancy, and her husband, Treeve Hocking.

  The absence of Lawson’s wife sent Jess back to the Deaths Register where she learned that Fay Penrose had died of cancer in 1943.

  Mary’s brothers had been killed while fighting for their country while her mother was already seriously ill. Grieving over the loss of her sons might have hastened her death. Of course Lawson must have been devastated. But he still had his daughter, and she still needed him. Poor Mary had lost her entire family within three years.

  Glancing at the clock, Jess shut down her laptop. For lunch she had a cheese and apple chutney sandwich and a cup of tea. Leaving her plate and mug in the sink she opened her baking cupboard. Taking down dry ingredients for a large farmhouse cake to take to the Over-60s lunch the following day, she realised she had no wholemeal flour.

  She grabbed her purse, picked up her shopping basket, and without bothering to lock up, hurried down the street to the shop.

  Viv was at the post office counter talking to Gill and looked round as Jess walked in.

  ‘Hello, bird. Heard from him yet have you?’

  This reminder of Tom – as if he hadn’t already been on her mind all morning – was like a slap in the face and made Jess wish she hadn’t come. Then she noticed Viv’s eyelids were puffy, her face drawn.

  She shook her head. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘You will,’ Viv said. ‘There’s bound to be a good reason. Think the world of you he do.’ Her mouth quivered.

  ‘Viv?’ Jess touched her arm. ‘Are you OK?’

  �
��’Course I am. ’Tis hay fever. Gill and me was just talking about Mor’s wedding dress.’

  Jess clutched gratefully at the change of subject. ‘Has she bought it then?’

  Gill shook her head. ‘No. She called in last night on her way home from work. In some state about it she is.’

  ‘I know it got nothing to do with me –’ Viv began.

  ‘Since when has that stopped you?’ Gill broke in.

  ‘Mor’s my friend. I’m allowed to have my say.’

  ‘Of course you are,’ Jess agreed. ‘We’re only talking between ourselves, not telling Mor what she should do.’

  ‘Well, I think she should have a proper bridal gown,’ Viv said, blithely ignoring Jess’s hint. ‘’Tis her special day and she’ll only be doing it the once.’

  ‘A white wedding dress wouldn’t suit her,’ Gill argued. ‘No disrespect to Mor, but with her shape she’d look like a meringue.’

  ‘Look, we’ve got the make-over at my place on Thursday evening,’ Jess reminded. ‘Why don’t we ask Tina? She’s done hair and make-up for dozens of weddings. She’ll know what would suit Mor far better than we do.’

  ‘’Course she will. I’m some glad you stopped by, Jess,’ Viv said. ‘Right, I’m gone. I only come in for cream to go with the treacle tarts tomorrow.’ She held up the plastic bag containing two deep cartons.

  ‘Eddy will propose to you again,’ Gill teased. ‘He dearly loves your treacle tart.’

  ‘I might take ’n up on it,’ Viv said over her shoulder as she left.

  ‘That’s not like Viv. Have she and Jimmy fallen out?’ Jess asked quietly.

  Gill shrugged. ‘She hasn’t said. But something isn’t right. See her eyes did you? She’s been crying. And another thing, she’s never had hay fever in her life.’

  ‘She knows she can talk to us. Let’s give it a few days. It might just be a reaction to her HRT pills. See you at my place on Thursday.’ Jess moved down the aisle to the baking section and picked up a bag of wholemeal flour.

  Arriving back home, she put her purse and the flour on the worktop, hesitated, then went out again. This time she locked the door behind her.