The Bronze Lady (Woodford Antiques Mystery Book 2) (16 page)

Chapter 39

Thursday 28
th
January, 6.50am

‘Morning Cliff, I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it this morning!’

‘Why wouldn’t I Paul?’

‘Wasn’t it Rebecca’s birthday party last night? She took the afternoon off so she could go off and do something or other with her mother before they went home for some big family party. I assumed you were invited? Have I put my foot in it?’

‘Oh yes, I was there, it was great. The kids all pulled together and cooked a fantastic meal for us all, Jackie and Rebecca’s sister Annette and her husband and children were there too, so there were ten of us sitting around the table. Jackie commissioned Lisa Bartlett to make a cake, which was stunning to look at and delicious to eat. But it was all over by ten o’clock because Annette and her family had to get back to Swanwick, and Charlotte has swimming practice this morning.’

‘I thought you would be well stuck into the champagne and the whisky, and maybe even manage to persuade Rebecca to let you stay the night!’ Paul winked at Cliff in a highly suggestive fashion, clearly feeling better about their friendship after the disclosures he had made a couple of days earlier.

‘Give it a rest Paul,’ grunted Cliff. ‘Come on, less chatter more action,’ and he set off along the Trailway at a slightly faster pace than usual.

Cliff was cross because Paul’s suggestive teasing was entirely on the mark of what he had hoped and planned for the night before. He was very surprised when Rebecca invited him to her birthday dinner, and took it as a step in the right direction for a reconciliation. He missed the purpose of the invitation from her point of view that he was her children’s father and this was a family celebration at which they would like him to be a part of.

His breath was literally taken away by the sight of her with her new hairstyle, complimenting stronger make-up than was usual, and a figure-hugging black jersey dress with sparkly detail around the neckline and cuffs. For almost the entire evening he sat between their son Nick and daughter Charlotte, watching Rebecca who sat at the top of table to his left as she laughed and joked with her family, looking relaxed and happy in a way he didn’t think he had ever seen her look before.

As the evening drew to a close and Annette and her family prepared to leave, Cliff began to make preparations to stay, but his mother-in-law could see what was on his mind and pulled him up short.

‘Here’s your coat Cliff, there’s room in Annette’s Galaxy for you too. Don’t worry about your car; you have clearly had too much to drink to even think about getting behind the wheel. Nick can drive it over tomorrow evening. You won’t need it before then will you?’ said Jackie, propelling him through the front door as well as she could with her healing injuries, and not giving him a chance to make any meaningful protest.

‘Oh, er, right, yes, I mean no, thanks. Bye everyone, good bye Rebecca. Thank you for inviting me tonight; I have had a lovely evening.’

As he got into the Parker family’s people carrier he saw the look which passed between Jackie and Annette, and knew they had been in it together. He loved both of them, particularly Jackie who he also respected as a hard-working business woman, but just at that moment he didn’t like either of them very much.

Later, when he was sitting in his old leather chair in the flat above Williamson Antiques, he brooded on how he had been thwarted in his attempt to spend the night with Rebecca. He accepted that things couldn’t get back to the way they were, and after realising how terribly he had behaved throughout their marriage he didn’t want them to fall back into those old habits. But he had changed, and he wanted the opportunity to show Rebecca that he was different now, and he could be the husband she deserved.

The last few months had also shown him what a useless father he had been to his children, and he was humbled and grateful that all three of them forgave him and allowed him to become a more integral part of their lives. All he wanted now was for Rebecca to do the same. If only she would give him a chance he would prove to her that she needed him back in her life. And in her bed.

Chapter 40

Sunday 21
st
February, 3.30am

The antiques dealer was going through his usual early morning routine on a market day. He regularly stalled out at markets, and had boxes of stock pre-prepared for the different customers who attended the various venues, so the evening before it had taken him less than ten minutes to pack his van. A light evening meal, bath, and he laid his clothes out on a chair in his bedroom before he went to bed. When the alarm on his phone woke him at ten past three in the morning he rolled out of bed, dressed, and headed for the bathroom. Once finished he walked into the kitchen to fill the kettle. Because the morning was frosty, while the kettle was boiling he went out to his van to start the engine and turn on the windscreen heaters, leaving them to defrost the windows for him. Back indoors, he made himself a travel mug of coffee, and carrying it in one hand he checked he had his hat, scarf, coat, gloves, phone and wallet in the other.

By half past three he was ready to leave so he opened his front door, and bang. He dropped everything he was holding and managed to hold his arms up to try to prevent the baseball bat from hitting his head a second time. The shock of the attack and the pain was making it difficult for him to think. All he could concentrate on was curling into a ball on the floor in his doorway and waiting for the onslaught to end.

Chapter 41

Sunday 21
st
February, 7.30am

‘Sorry I’m a bit late, I overslept.  Cliff was quite cross with....Bloody Hell Mark, what’s happened to you?’ Tony Cookson stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of the antiques dealer he had come specifically to Drayton Flea Market to see.

‘Someone knows,’ muttered Mark Kenyon through his swollen and split lips.

‘Not here,’ hissed Tony, as he went to grab Mark’s arm and manoeuvre him away from prying ears, but Mark yelped and broke free.

‘Don’t touch me,’ he whimpered, ‘I think my arm is broken.’

‘Christ, you need to see a doctor. Come on Mark, get back in your van. Did you see who did this?’

‘No I didn’t see his face; he jumped me when I opened my front door this morning. It was dark, I couldn’t see a thing. I think he must have used a baseball bat though, you know, like that attack on the art dealer a couple of years ago. I opened the door and whack, whack, whack. He got me in the face, and then twice on my arm when I put it up to protect my face. I fell down and by the time I could sit up he was gone. No sign of him.’

‘Hey Mark!’ the knock on the side of the van and then a face appearing at the window made them both jump. ‘Are you not stalling out today? I’ve got another box of clocks for you here. Why aren’t you...bloody hell what’s happened to you?’

‘Oh nothing, nothing, thanks, just leave the box out there, thanks. I’ll settle up with you later this week.’ As he spoke Mark was trying unsuccessfully to shield the sight of his bruised and damaged face from the antiques dealer. The man left, quickly.

Once they were alone again Tony continued ‘You are sure it was a man?’

‘No woman would do this would they? I think I’m going to be sick.’

‘You alright there?’ another antiques dealer appeared at Mark’s window, impatiently waiting for him to open the back doors of his van and unpack the boxes of stock onto the empty tables. ‘Oh my god, what happened? Have you called an ambulance?’ The man looked horrified, and then when he noticed Tony sitting in the cab next to the injured man started to back away.

‘Hey it wasn’t me!’ yelled Tony after him. ‘But he’s right, you need to see someone, you shouldn’t be here. I can’t believe you drove all the way here from Shropshire. I would have thought a beating like that would have you locking your doors and windows and staying inside for a few months.’

‘I had to come and see you, to tell you. Someone knows.’

‘How can they? What did the man say? Why do you think he beat you up?’ asked Tony quietly.

‘Nothing, he didn’t say anything, he just hit me. I couldn’t defend myself, I couldn’t do anything,’ Mark started to cry, his face a blackening mess as the bruising, the blood and the tears began to form irregular patchwork on his skin.

‘Oh for goodness sake, come on, I’ll drive your van to the hospital and get Cliff to come and pick me up in mine. Get in the passenger side before anyone else sees you.’ Tony was shaking, the horror of Mark Kenyon’s injuries was hard to witness, and the usually quietly self-contained man Tony was used to dealing with had been replaced by a terrified broken helpless individual.

‘Thank you Tony, thank you,’ Mark sobbed, the shock of the morning’s events rendering him incapable of finding the courage and strength to take care of himself, he was glad to hand the responsibility over to someone else.

Once the attacker had run away, Mark manoeuvred himself off the floor, picking up his scattered belongings except for the travel mug which he left where it had landed, and continued with his routine. The pain was intense in his head and arms, and he was having trouble seeing through the blood and tears. Nevertheless he turned off the hall lights and locked the front door, before slowly making his way over to his van. He had instinctively held up his right arm first to protect his face, and then his left. Although he was right-handed he was capable of managing light switches and doors and locks with his left which wasn’t so badly damaged, but climbing into his van had proved to be the first time he had started to comprehend how damaged his arms were. Fortunately the indicator stick was on the left. His van had manual gears, so he tucked his right arm inside his jacket, and let go of the steering wheel with his left hand every time he needed to change gear in an incredibly dangerous move, but it meant that he successfully drove from his home in Shropshire to the antiques fair in Brackenshire, wincing and whimpering the whole way down.

Chapter 42

Tuesday 23
rd
February, 6.50pm

Nicola walked into the village hall with a feeling of dread. Oh God what was she doing here? She was thirty seven years old, never did any exercise, and had to raid the bottom drawer in her wardrobe just so she had something to wear this evening. Everyone else would probably be in slim line lycra while she was in baggy t-shirt and shorts. She had never been any good at dancing in the days when she and Sarah had frequented the nightclubs in Swanwick, and hated showing herself up in public.

Nicola meekly followed Sarah as she walked confidently past all the brightly dressed fitness fanatics lining the walls on either side of the room, drinking from a variety of water bottles and laughing excitedly. Nicola could feel her limbs become heavier, her face reddening, and her heart racing as they approached a woman with ZUMBA INSTRUCTOR printed across her top.

‘Hello, my name is Zoë.’ Yes it would be, thought Nicola, Zoë Zumba, typical, probably made up. Nicola tried to force her face into a smile but suspected it was more of a grimace. Could everyone else in the room see she was sweating before they had even started? Oh this was hell. At least Sarah was genuinely smiling for the first time in weeks. Come on Nicola keep it together, you are doing this for Sarah. Nicola guessed Zoë was in her thirties, dressed in a fluorescent pink top with black cargo pants and silver high tops. She was quietly spoken and looked like many of the other women in the room, rather than an obviously fit athlete running on adrenalin which had been Nicola’s pre-conceived idea of what a Zumba Instructor would look like. Nicola began to relax, thinking that maybe this wouldn’t be too strenuous after all. 

‘Hello,’ grinned Sarah. ‘I’m Sarah and this is my friend Nicola.’

‘Have either of you tried Zumba before?’ asked Zoë.

‘Nope, we are Zumba Virgins!’ Sarah’s enthusiasm was making Nicola anxiety rise again, she just wanted to shrink into the ground, or better yet leave.

‘Ah great, you’ll love it,’ smiled Zoë. ‘Now, any injuries I need to know about?’

‘Not yet,’ muttered Nicola.

‘Good, well take it easy as this is your first time. Stay near the front so you can see me. (Oh Hell! thought Nicola. I don’t want to be at the front! A nice discreet spot at the back, or better yet in the car park, would be preferable) and probably best to just concentrate on where your feet are to start with, your arms will catch up later. Take a break whenever you need to, don’t worry about getting it wrong, we all do, even me. You know your own bodies better than anybody else so please keep within your limitations, and step the moves if you can’t jump or twist. You both have water bottles? Good, make sure you drink plenty, the water in the kitchen is drinkable so feel free to go and re-fill your bottles if you need to. The toilets are at the back of the hall. Do you have any questions about anything else?’ They both shook their heads. ‘Great! Enjoy yourselves’ she said looking directly Nicola.

Nicola felt herself go even redder, if that was at all possible.

‘This is brilliant, thank you so much for coming with me,’ Sarah was buzzing, she had wanted to come along to a Zumba class for years but didn’t feel she could justify the time away from the pub or from Mike. Now she could do whatever she wanted when she wanted, so long as she could pay the staff wages. Are you watching Mike? Maybe if you had done something like this you’d still be alive today.

Since his death Sarah had got into the habit of chatting to him, sometimes about events during the day, but more often she was chastising him for leaving her on her own. They had always known that with the fourteen year age gap between them Mike would probably be the first to die, but they had believed it would be when he was in his eighties or nineties. Neither had considered he would die in his early fifties. Sarah was cross with him, believing he could have prevented his early death if he had tried harder to change to a healthier lifestyle. So she told him so. Frequently.

Nicola was still struggling with her nerves, as more and more people were arriving who clearly knew what they were doing. She was quite pleased to see there were several people much older than she was, and also quite a few larger-than-she-was-expecting bodies clad in exercise gear emblazoned with various logos. There were also a lot of very athletic looking women. In fact looking around the room she could see that the class consisted of a whole range of sizes and shapes and ages. Maybe she wouldn’t stand out too much after all.

Zoë turned the music up and launched into the first dance. Nicola had thought the music was playing loudly when they arrived, but now the noise was at nightclub levels. She also realised she had underestimated Zoë’s athletic abilities. Did the woman have springs in her high tops? And look at her arms! They never stopped moving! The previously softly spoken voice was now whooping and yelling words of encouragement and instruction, to which the rest of the class were responding with enthusiasm.

Nicola and Sarah had settled in the third row, far enough forward to be able to see Zoë’s feet, far enough back to feel surrounded by other people and not prominently positioned. Just as Nicola worked out which movements they were doing Zoë made a hand signal and changed to something else. Now it was alternate knees up, now it was side to side, now it was stepping forward and back. Good grief how did anyone ever remember all of this? What time was it? How much longer? She glanced at Sarah whose face was a study of concentration, as she moved to the left while everyone else was moving to the right.

‘Sorry, sorry’ Sarah called out, the woman next to her laughing as they collided.

‘Don’t worry; you’ll get the hang of it.’

‘I’m not so sure!’ called back Sarah with a grin on her face.

Finally the music faded, and the floor emptied as everyone moved to the side to suck water out of their bottles. In no time at all the next song started, just as Zoë called out ‘Now you are all warmed-up let’s get moving!’

WARMED-UP thought Nicola. I’m exhausted already! What on earth are the rest of the dances going to be like?

She carried on struggling for the next forty minutes. She knew it had been forty minutes because she kept checking her watch to see how much longer she had to endure this ghastly noisy sweaty experience.

All of a sudden the tempo changed and Zoë called out ‘Make sure you are drinking lots of water. Time to stretch and cool down now. You have all worked really hard, well done.’

What? How did that happen? Nicola checked her watch; she couldn’t believe that the last fifteen minutes had flown by!

After they had all stretched every muscle, even ones Nicola didn’t know she had, the music finally stopped and everyone stood around clapping and cheering, thanking Zoë, and agreeing to the same again the following week.

‘Phew that was brilliant!’ said Sarah.

‘Yes it was,’ said a surprised Nicola. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so free, an almost permanent smile on her face once she had let go of her inhibitions. She was dancing with abandon, enjoying the rhythm of the music, stepping in time with the beats, whooping along with everybody else, and her whole body felt alive. It was exhilarating, and she wanted more. ‘We will be coming back same time next week?’

‘I’m up for it!’

‘Me too. I think I would rather go home and have a shower and change before we go out to eat though Sarah. I wasn’t expecting to get that hot and sweaty, and there is no way I want to sit down for an hour or so in this state.’

‘Oh I agree,’ Sarah was nodding vigorously. ‘I know, why don’t we split up and go home to shower and change, and then I can pick up a takeaway on my way to your house and we could eat it there?’

‘I like the sound of that! I’ll order it on my way past. What do you want?’

‘The usual: chicken biryani and a peshwari naan. Shall I bring some cold bottles of lager or would you prefer red wine tonight?’

‘At this precise moment I could bathe in the lager,’ laughed Nicola. ‘But I think by the time we have cleaned up then red wine would be perfect, please. We can swap information about this poor chap who was beaten up at the weekend. I have heard at least three versions of the attack, so I am sure you must have heard a few too.’