Mistletoe Mansion (34 page)

‘What’s the point of wearing expensive clothes and injecting my lips with fat from my bum if I’m all by myself?’ She put down the cane and turned to me. ‘You’ve been a good friend, Kimmy. I think I’d forgotten what one of those was. Let me apologise properly – how about a Brazilian blow dry, my treat? It’ll keep your curly hair straight for three months.’

‘Oh Melissa… I hope I did the right thing by telling you.’

She stood up and threw the crystal-studded bodice onto the fire. ‘No question about that.’

My phone bleeped. I took it out of my handbag. It was a text. From Luke.

“Did u dump him?” it said.

Of all the arrogant, big-headed… “None your business,” I texted back
.

‘Let me guess,’ said Melissa. ‘A certain handyman?’

I shrugged.

‘Have you sorted things out?’

‘I’ve just had dinner with Adam, actually. Sometimes it’s better the devil you know…’

I was still staring at that last text message, a couple of hours later in Lily’s four poster oak bed. Melissa and I had drunk several double espressos each. For some reason, now the worst had happened, Melissa didn’t feel like getting tipsy. She’d kept quizzing me about Luke. Funny that she hardly knew who he was one week ago. Then we’d finished off with a tiramisu coffee. Wow. I was buzzing on caffeine. Jess was asleep. I had no one to talk to so, with a sigh, I sat up further in bed. Of course, there was one person who might like to chat. I cleared my throat. Luke had promised he wasn’t Walter. Could I believe him? There was only one way to test it out.

‘Walter?’ I said. ‘Are you there?’

Nothing.

‘Luke’s on your side, you know. I could ask him over, we could look through any stuff left in the loft.’

No reply.

‘Let’s sort out this mess together; get you to those Pearly Gates before you know it. Let me know you understand.’

There were three low thuds. A lump rose in my throat and my eyes felt wet. Walter’s ghost
was
real.

‘Is Luke right?’ I whispered, heart racing a little. ‘Are you worried about the charities not getting your money?’

Three low thuds again. Wow. Mike
had
swindled his uncle. I reached for my phone and texted Luke:

“Come round 2mro. U and me – look in loft. Mst sort out Walter’s will
.
”

A few minutes later my phone bleeped.

“K. C U then.”

Sensing a sudden cold gust, I put my phone back on the bedside table and snuggled down under the crimson duvet and silk sheets. Good old Walter. I felt all warm and fuzzy inside. Our friendship did exist. Bing Crosby’s well-known tune began to play softly and despite the espressos, my eyes drooped and eventually closed tight. I drifted into a well weird dream with Luke on a white horse, brandishing a giant prawn cracker as a shield and a huge chopstick as a spear, when… What was that? I sat up. The music had stopped to be replaced by a loud creak. I jumped out of bed and ran onto the landing. Was someone creeping out of the front door? That could only mean… What a fool I was. Luke must have got hold of another set of keys and been up to his old tricks again.

‘I should have known!’ I shouted. ‘Still think it’s funny, do you, pretending to be a ghost, with your Christmas music and thuds? To think, I believed your excuses in the Silky Prawn, you complete bastard!’

The chandelier flicked on and I gasped in horror. I’d just sworn at a flabbergasted Mike Murphy.

Chapter 27

‘Hands off my bottom!’

I glared down at Luke who’d just pushed me up into the loft.

‘Needs must. Don’t read anything into it,’ he said and clambered up the ladder, behind me.

Since I’d let slip what I’d shouted at Mike last night, Luke was back to his frosty old self. He said I still believed the worst in him, despite the effort he’d made to explain his actions by following me to the Silky Prawn. So, to make up for it – not that I owed him anything – I finally told him about my contact with Walter’s ghost.

Wow. What a surprise. He didn’t laugh, and stared into the distance for a while. We both agreed immediate action was necessary as Mistletoe Mansion had actually sold. That’s why Mike Murphy was back – the Stedman couple had put in an offer. I’d had to spend a good ten minutes explaining to Walter’s nephew that his unexpected arrival had caught me yelling in the middle of a nightmare about being burgled. He’d said not to worry – all things considered, it wasn’t surprising after the highjinks I’d had to put up with since moving in.

A switch clicked and I balanced carefully on the loft’s wooden beams. The roof space lit up to reveal a maze of dustbin bags and cardboard boxes. There was little room to move.

‘This’ll take ages!’ I said.

Luke stood up crazily close to me and every molecule of my body jumped to attention as if just having been given an electrical shock. ‘I installed this light up here a couple of years ago and helped Walter sort through some of the stuff. A lot of it’s labelled – old records, Lily’s cross-stitching pieces, photo albums, crock–’

‘Photo albums? Where?’ I gushed, trying not to think of his athletic limbs. Anyway, I loved looking at people’s holiday and wedding snaps – probably because it was something I’d never seen as a child. Mum wasn’t the most organised person. Only occasionally did she buy a disposable camera for birthdays and then always said we didn’t have the money to develop the film. Only a handful of photos from Christmases and holidays existed, not that we ever went abroad. If we were lucky, Mum took us to stay with a mate of hers in Bournemouth, which was fun – me and Tom paddling, Mum laughing like she never did back in Luton.

Luke hauled a black dustbin bag over from the left hand side and set it at my feet. I sat on a bulging cardboard box.

‘It used to be a lot more orderly up here,’ he said. ‘But the first time I came up, after Walter died, there were bags everywhere. I reckon Murphy’s been looking for something… Talking of which, how long do you think we’ve got before he’s back?’

‘A while. Melissa’s persuaded him to take her out to lunch. After that it’s back to hers for coffee. She’ll try and find out when his appointment is with Walter’s solicitor. He’s down here to tie up all the loose ends from the sale. Then we thought we could follow him…’

‘In your little Fiesta? It’s hardly Miami Vice.’

‘Don’t diss the car!’ I glared. ‘Have you got a better idea?’

He shrugged. ‘For Walter’s sake, I’d offer to drive but my gardening van is too conspicuous. You should get a taxi.’

‘That might not be such a bad plan,’ I said. ‘The driver will know Harpenden better than me. Mr Murphy won’t ever suspect. If you’re right about him, he’ll think he fooled everyone months ago.’

‘Get the taxi to park somewhere away from here, like by the Royal Oak pub, down the road. There are more paparazzi in Badgers Chase than ever at the moment – no doubt still fussing about the affair.’

‘Haven’t you heard? Now Jonny’s moved out. For once, though, Melissa seems glad to see the cameras and was all glammed up when she called on Mr Murphy. They strolled down the drive, arm-in-arm. I guess she’s kind of determined to show Jonny what he’s lost.’

‘Moved out? Really? The man’s a prat. I read about this Saffron woman – can’t believe he’s taken it one stage further and chosen her over his wife.’

I nodded. ‘So be nice tonight. She said to go over if we find anything out. We can study the whole situation properly then, without Walter’s nephew breathing down our necks.’ I picked up a dusty album.

‘So, he’s accepted those people’s offer on the house?’ Luke said.

‘Yep. Luckily he’s agreed me and Jess can stay put for Christmas. The Stedmans won’t move in until the New Year.’

‘You two won’t be going home for the twenty-fifth?’ Luke eyed me curiously.

I bit my lip. Mum had done okay lately – but Christmas always saw her fall off the sober wagon. Tom and I had long ago given up hoping for quality family time during the festive season. ‘Tom has a good mate whose parents are brill and have always asked him around for a turkey dinner and sleepover. Mum’s latest boyfriend, Rick, will no doubt help her celebrate the festive season. It’s never been a family day for her – not unless you include Miss Gin and Mr Tonic as blood relatives.’

Luke’s brow softened. ‘And what about Jess? Surely you won’t be here all alone?’

What about Jess, indeed. I shrugged. ‘Dunno. I’ve got pals who would have me around, no problem, but what with splitting with Adam… I kind of fancy a lazy, indulgent day on my own. Groucho will keep me company.’

I turned my attention back to the album’s stiff black paper pages. Sepia and black and white photos were neatly stuck on, throughout, although a couple were crooked and one had fallen out. It was of a young couple sitting on a sand dune, their arms around each other. The woman had curly set hair and wore a blouse and knee-length skirt. The man had an Elvis kiss curl and looked smart with a cravat. I turned the photo over – “Walter and Lily, Brighton, 1950”. I flicked further through the album, gazing at pictures in back gardens, them sitting on deckchairs with older relatives. The last was of them both outside a barracks style building, Walter in some uniform, Lily wrapped up in a stylish coat with a beret and gloves.

‘Walter was in the army,’ I muttered.

‘Yeah. It was one of his big regrets that he was colour blind and couldn’t get into the RAF.’

I picked up another album which was bright red and much more modern. Stuck on the front was a small piece of paper saying “Lily’s Creations.” I turned the first page, and behind plastic sheets was photo after photo of stitched cushions and embroidered rugs. A bit further on were snaps of cake after cake… Wow. Just look at that intricate icing. There were gateaux decorated with fruit and piped whipped cream, and themed birthday cakes – a golfing one, of course, another was the shape of a handbag and next to it a teddy bear… Lilian could have made some awesome Pinterest boards.

‘This looks promising,’ said Luke and carried over a cardboard box. He lifted the lid for me. Stashed inside were files, loose paperwork and a large zipped-up leather pouch. I pulled it out, slid open the zip and peeked inside, before tipping the contents on top of another box. Two passports and various certificates tumbled out, as well as several loose papers, their driving licences and bundles of old letters.

‘Look at these,’ I said. ‘Must be love notes.’

‘Thing of the past, they are,’ he said. ‘Now everyone emails or texts.’

He was right. Come to think of it, all I had left of Adam’s and my relationship, on paper, were the Valentine’s Day cards I’d kept.

‘What about these?’ I said and unfolded two important-looking sheets of paper.

Luke crouched down next to me and took one of them. ‘At last! The will. It’s dated 1960.’ He scanned the writing. ‘Nothing out of the ordinary… they leave each other everything and if they both die, Mr and Mrs Colin Murphy – Walter’s sister and her husband, Mike Murphy’s parents – receive the lot.’

I shook the other sheet. ‘This one is an updated version, dated 1990. It doesn’t name the Murphys, instead on both of Lily and Walter’s deaths, two charities are to inherit the bulk of the estate.’

‘I knew it!’ Luke punched the air. ‘Don’t tell me! The charities are some children’s home and Wildlife Watch? They were always talking about them.’

‘The solicitors for both wills are called Dean and Brothers, in Harpenden,’ I said and took the older will from him. ‘Wonder why the Murphys weren’t mentioned in the latest. Perhaps there was some fall-out.’

Luke examined the small print again. ‘They are, right at the end – Walter and Lily wanted them to have all the antique furniture, the various ornament collections and… There’s mention of an Eleanor Goodman. She was Lily’s best friend. They left her a diamond necklace and earrings. Also, a Shirley Cooke is due to receive Lily’s Cartier watch.’

I glanced over his shoulder. ‘Hmm, and Walter wanted his paintings to be auctioned off and the money given to Harpenden Twilight Years care home. I looked up. ‘Get this bit – they put aside twenty thousand pounds for their only nephew, Mike.’

‘So how did the greedy bastard get the will changed so he got more?’

‘Good question.’ At that moment my mobile rang. ‘What? Slow down. Okay. Thanks for the warning.’ Quickly I stuffed everything back into the leather pouch. ‘Hurry up! That was Melissa – Mr Murphy’s not feeling well and they’re on their way back.’

Luke stuck the zipbag in the cardboard box and then made his way down the ladder. ‘Pass it to me,’ he said, once on the landing.

I dragged the box towards the hatch and he stretched up as I let it slide down. I glanced around the loft. Everything looked more or less as we’d found it. This detective work was so cool! Starsky and Hutch… Cagney and Lacey… Move over! There’s a new pair of fab cop buddies in the building, please meet Butler and Jones!

I switched off the light.

‘What’s wrong with Murphy?’ said Luke as I climbed down and he dragged the box along the landing. His arm muscles flexed and his shirt rose as he bent over to reveal a smooth tanned back and the waistband of tight trunks…

‘Sounds like bad indigestion,’ I said and averted my eyes. ‘But then he did insist on eating two of my latest cupcakes for breakfast.’

‘Which were?’

‘A disaster.’ I sighed. ‘I’m experimenting – trying to come up with something innovative for the cake competition at the Christmas fair on Saturday.’

‘Innovative is a big word,’ he said with a half-smile. Finally he was thawing.

I raised my fist and met his gaze. ‘So is “knuckle-sandwich”.’

‘What flavour are they?’

‘Ginger and black treacle topped with salted caramel butter icing. Very rich and I’m not sure they work. I did think about creating a Christmas recipe, but I bet everyone will do something festive. I want to stand out.’

‘I’m always up for a challenge. Sounds like they’d go perfectly with a strong coffee. Meet you outside in the summerhouse in a few minutes?’

‘Summerhouse?’ I shook my head, ‘It’ll be freezing.’

He shrugged. ‘We can wrap up. I’m an outdoorsy kind of guy.’

Unlike Adam, who was never happier than when holed up in the flat.