Aunt Bea's Legacy Read online

  Aunt Bea’s Legacy

  Jeanette Taylor Ford

  Copyright © Jeanette Taylor Ford 2017.

  Published by ©Longship Books 2017

  Longship Books is an imprint of ©Longship Publishing

  No part of this book may copied in any way except by prior consent from the author

  In loving memory of my mum, Mona Beatrice, whose love of a certain farmhouse in Hereford (and my own), finally inspired me to write this book.

  For Mary; her continued enthusiasm for my books has earned her a cameo appearance in this story. (Plus the fact that she just happens to manage the St. Michael’s Hospice charity shop!)

  Also, for Margaret and her husband who have owned the house for many years and reared their family there. As ‘Aunt Bea’ always said, it should be a family home, and indeed it is and hopefully will always be. I thank her also for her kind permission allowing me to use an actual photograph of her house for my cover.

  The village and characters in this book are imaginary. However, any similarity to places or people, living or dead, is entirely intentional!

  My heartfelt thanks to my very patient cover designer, Dave Slaney. We finally got there, Dave!

  Raspberries and Roses

  Can one find love

  Amid raspberries and roses?

  Just give me a chance,

  And open your eyes.

  The open air,

  The beauty of a garden,

  But more, the tenderness of a caring soul,

  When Fate,

  Or a guardian angel

  Decides to take a hand,

  Anything can happen.

  One never knows what’s just around the corner -

  Unexpected twists and turns;

  That’s what life can be,

  Amid raspberries and roses.

  J.T.F. 2017

  Aunt Bea’s Legacy

  Chapter 1

  The Letter

  “Lucille, you can’t be serious! Tell me you’re not serious about this – you would have to give up your job, this flat, everything! Even me, because I can’t leave here; this is where my work is.”

  I looked at my fiancé, Jim. He was staring at me, his blue eyes wide, his face reddening with emotion; a vein in his neck was beginning to stand out. My thoughts were in turmoil, had been ever since the letter had arrived from Mr Gamble, a solicitor.

  Jim had just read the letter. We were relaxing in my flat after having just dined out at a restaurant close by. I was upset, but not for the reason he thought. I was sorrowing that my Aunt Beatrice had died, even though it was nearly a month ago now. She had not let on she was ill and I felt guilty that I hadn’t been to see her for ages. That’s the trouble with life, it gets in the way of some more important things, like staying in proper touch with the people you love.

  “We-ell,” My thoughts came out carefully. “I suppose my flat could be rented out while I try this thing, then I would have the option to come back…”

  “But the rest! Me – your job – don’t you care?”

  “Of course I care!” I lost it a bit then and raised my voice. “You’re supposed to be helping me here, Jim! Can’t you understand how I feel? This Mr – Gamble, doesn’t tell me anything. All he’s told me is that she has left me her house but to secure it I have to live in it for a year and if not, it will be sold and the money given to various charities. That’s really not helpful at all. But I just can’t get over that I’ve lost Aunt Bea, that I’ll never see her again.”

  By this time I was crying. Jim, seeing my distress, put the letter on the occasional table and drew me down beside him on the settee and put his arm around me. I sobbed, leaning against his chest. He stroked my hair and murmured ‘there, there, cry it out.’ I took him at his word and did.

  A while later, when emotions had calmed down, we talked more about this rather strange request.

  “I think you should go and see this solicitor chappie and see what he has to say about it. He may know more than he’s said in his letter.”

  I nodded; that seemed a sensible idea..

  After Jim had gone, I got ready for bed slowly; all the memories of the times I spent with Aunt Bea came floating through my mind like dandelion seeds wafting on the breeze. As I followed one memory, it led to another. I saw her ready smile, her tinkling laughter and her ever-present bracelets that dangled and jangled on her wrists.

  Lying in bed, I thought back to about four weeks ago when dad had called me.

  “Hello dad, you don’t often call me. To what do I owe this honour?” I joked.

  “Oh Lulu, I have some news that’s going to upset you,” he began. I knew he was upset because he’d just used his baby-name for me, which he tried to remember not to do these days, now that I was twenty-five.

  “Oh dad, what’s up?” I asked, imagining all sorts of things. “Are you ill? Has Butch died?” (Butch was dad’s dog; he was very far from being ‘butch’, he had to be the gentlest, soppiest dog that ever lived)

  “No, Lu, it’s not that. It’s your Aunt Bea; I’m afraid she is dead.”

  “Dead? How can she be dead – I was only talking to her on the phone a couple of days ago?”

  “I don’t really know any details. The police came to tell me that she’d been found on the floor in her house. There was no sign of any break-in or anything so it seems like she died of natural causes but as yet they don’t know. They found a card she was going to post addressed to me so they came to find me and ask me if I knew who her next of kin was. Of course I had to tell them that she didn’t have any family, except me and you. I told them that I would tell you. I’m sorry I’ve had to do it over the phone, love.”

  I sat down slowly, phone in hand, as I listened to my dad. As he finished, I heard the break in his voice and knew he was upset. I imagined him, sitting in his chair by his phone. He still had an old-fashioned one fixed to the wall so he always had to be near it when he made a call, which he didn’t often. Butch would be sitting, pressed close to him, his big doggy eyes fixed on his master, knowing he was sad. Dad would be comforted; there was no one to comfort me, well not at this moment. Jim would be around later.

  “Don’t worry about that, dad, I wouldn’t expect you to come all this way personally. Oh, I am upset about Aunt Bea! Poor Aunt Bea, dying there alone on her floor…” I stopped as the tears trickled down my cheeks. I reached for a tissue and started to dab my eyes. Once started, I found they wouldn’t stop so I pulled a handful from the box. I found myself totally unable to speak for a few moments.

  “Do you know when the funeral will be?” I managed at last.

  “No. There will have to be a post mortem and so we can’t hold the funeral until the body is released. I will let you know.”

  “Thanks dad. I – I had better go. I’ll speak with you soon. Love you,” I blurted, afraid I would break down again with him still on the phone.

  “I love you too, my darling. I’ll be in touch when I know anything. Bye for now.”

  “Bye dad.”

  When I terminated the call, I let my emotions go and cried. When Jim arrived, my eyes were still reddened and a tear was still inclined to trickle, catching me unawares almost. I couldn’t believe the pain I was feeling. This was the first time that death had come so close to me since my mother died when I was eight. It was so long ago that I could only feel faint echoes of how I’d been then. I know that I found life very difficult for a while and was afraid to let my dad out of my sight.

  Then Aunt Bea had breezed into our lives and took charge. It was like the sunshine suddenly came out. She cared for me and dad and everything was alright again.

  Chapter 2

  More Upsetting News

  The funeral was held
three weeks after Aunt Bea had been discovered. We thought it was never going to happen, the coroner took ages to release the body. Dad, as her closest relative, was in charge of the funeral plans.

  My fiancé and I travelled over to Herefordshire in his beautiful Mercedes. Although a vintage car, it purred along smoothly. Jim was very proud of the car, which had belonged to his father, who had given it to him a few months before. I knew he had always lusted after it and his dad knew it so he grimly hung onto it, resisting his son’s pleadings, until he became ill and could no longer drive. Even so, he still kept it for six months, not wanting to part with it until he finally gave in to Jim’s reasonable argument that if he gave it to his son, at least it would still be in the family – and it needed to be kept running to keep it in good shape.

  “We might as well be comfortable, having to drive that distance,” remarked Jim. I flushed a little, thinking of my beloved ancient jalopy, a Volkswagen Polo. I suppose I could afford a better car really; he kept telling me I should update but I’d had the car a good few years now, ever since I’d passed my test in fact, and I was fond of it – it almost seemed like another person to me, it was my friend.

  Anyway, there didn’t seem much point in getting another car because I didn’t drive much. It was handy to commute into London to my job from Chiswick, where I was living, by tube. I only used the car if I was going out of town to see friends or to go home for a while. Anyway, it’s expensive and almost impossible to take a car into the city, never mind park.

  I sat back in Jim’s car as he drove expertly up the M1, and I reflected that it had been ages since I’d gone home. Thinking about Aunt Bea and how guilty I felt as I’d not really seen her since I moved to London, except when she had come to see me, I resolved there and then that I would make sure I saw dad more often.

  The last time she came, about a year ago, she met Jim, who I’d been seeing for about six months by then and we’d just got engaged. Hmm, we’ve been engaged for a year, and as yet, we haven’t talked about setting a date…

  When we neared Herefordshire, I felt my heart lift and lighten; I was coming home. At that moment, I couldn’t help wondering why on earth I had left this beautiful place to live in London. It was the job, of course. I had attended the Catering College in Hereford and got a high qualification. When we were doing a demonstration dinner at the college, I was head-hunted by Joseph Wallis, the chief executive of a large firm in London. He was looking for someone to manage the catering there; apparently, the quality of the food had gone down somewhat and he was looking for someone newly qualified, with up to date knowledge, to bring a diet of healthier foods to his workforce; he was an unusually far-sighted man.

  The offer threw me into turmoil; I hadn’t planned to go to London but this was an opportunity not to be missed. It was a hard decision; it helped that my dad and Aunt Bea were all for it. They said it was right that I should forge ahead and make a life for myself and London was the place of opportunity. They assured me that they would look after one another and I was not to worry about them but to go and follow my dream. So, I went.

  I had been doing this job for four years now and it was great. I had a lovely team of people that worked with me and the people we served were mostly very friendly. I earned a good salary, which is just as well because living in the capital was expensive. When I found my flat in Chiswick, I was very happy because it was a great improvement on my bedsit in Hammersmith. I liked Chiswick, it was a town swallowed up in the expansion of London, a pleasant place to live and so conveniently supplied with a tube station.

  When I met Jim at a friend’s party, he attracted me with his blond good looks and obviously I must have had the same effect on him, for he never left my side for the rest of the evening and afterwards asked me if he could see me again. Of course, I agreed and we started to see each other regularly and eventually we got engaged. There was no great romantic moment, we just seemed to agree that one day we would marry and he produced a ring, which is a large square diamond. I couldn’t wear it at work of course, except for the day I wore it to show my workmates.

  I looked at it now; I knew it was valuable but I have never been able to decide if I really liked it. It glinted at me as the sun caught it through the windows of the car and I thought about what it would be like to be married to Jim. He was a high-flyer in his field; to be honest, I didn’t really understand what he did; it seemed he had fingers in lots of pies. But there was money in the family too, hence the expensive ring and the posh car. Sometimes I wondered what he saw in me. I was good at my job and lived in a reasonable way on a decent wage, but I was a lot less interested in the ‘status quo’ than he was and was only interested in money so I could live.

  However, there was no doubt that when we married, we would live very comfortably and in fact, he said that I wouldn’t have to work at all if I didn’t want to. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that either; sometimes I thought I would enjoy not working and then I would go into work and enjoy the comradeship and friendship of my fellows there and knew I would miss it. Of course, when we had children I’d have to give it up.

  Just as I was following this train of thought, we arrived at my dad’s house. After I had left home, he sold our family home in Three Elms Road and bought a two-bedroom bungalow on the Kings Acre Road. Fortunately, it has a good driveway, the road being quite a busy one. We pulled onto the drive and dad was there on the doorstep.

  I got out of the car and ran into his arms. He enveloped me in his big bear hug.

  “Lulu, oh, it’s so good to see you.” He let me go and extended his hand towards Jim.

  “Jim, welcome. Come in, come in.” They shook hands and then he turned and we followed him into the hallway of his little house.

  “I have the kettle on, go into the lounge and make yourselves comfortable.”

  Jim and I did as we were bid. It was a manly room with squashy brown leather chairs and two-seater settee. It wasn’t a very big room but it was quite sufficient for a man living alone.

  As we sat down, the door moved further open, and there was Butch, wagging his tail in welcome. He came straight to me and I patted his head.

  “Hello, Butch. Jim, this is my dad’s dog, Butch. He’s a big softie.”

  Jim put a tentative hand out towards the dog, Butch nosed him momentarily and then came back to me and sat down beside me, leaning against my leg.

  “He seems like a well-trained dog. I’m glad he is not the kind that leaps all over you; I’m not that keen on them, to be honest.”

  I was astonished. All this time I’d been with Jim, I’d never picked up that he didn’t like dogs. I loved them, we’d always had dogs when I was growing up – only one at a time but we’d always had one. Butch was a black Labrador; I have always thought that they were my favourite dogs.

  Dad came in then, carrying a tray with drinks and a plate of biscuits.

  “Just to refresh us.”

  He set the tray down on a table.

  “Actually, I need to tell you something else, Lucy. I didn’t want to tell you over the phone because I didn’t want to upset you further until you could come here.”

  Mystified, I looked up questioningly.

  “Is it about Aunt Bea?” I asked.

  “Yes. The day after she had been found, the police came here to tell me about her. But they also said they were treating her death as suspicious.”

  “Suspicious? You’re not going to tell me someone killed her?

  Chapter 3

  Puzzling Questions

  Jim and I both steadily looked at dad for his answer. I could see he was struggling, after all, Aunt Bea was his sister and she had been like a mother to him after their mother died of breast cancer when dad was only a young teenager.

  “The police were suspicious because, when she was found, she had obviously been holding a poker, for it was inches away from her hand where she laid on the floor.”

  “But she always kept the Aga alight; perhaps she was going to
poke it?” I said.

  “But she wasn’t in the kitchen, she was in the hallway; the main lounge is between the kitchen and the front hall. The police said it looked like she was approaching the front door with the poker.”

  “How odd; perhaps she thought she had an intruder.” I was thoughtful. “Was the front door unlocked?”

  “No, and there was no sign of a break-in.”

  “How did she get discovered? Did you find her?”

  “No, she was found by a young man called Mr Baxter. Apparently, he went round to see her every morning and he knew she kept a key under the mat. When there was no sign of her, he was worried, because she was always an early riser, as you know yourself, Lucy. So, he got the back door key out from under the mat and went in to look for her. That’s how he found her and immediately called the police once he realised she was dead. She was already cold so she had obviously been lying there for a while.”

  “Oh, poor Aunt Bea, lying on the floor dying, with no-one to help her!” I could feel my eyes welling up at the thought. Dad put his hand over mine.

  “The post-mortem showed that she died of a heart attack and was probably dead before she hit the floor. At least it was mercifully quick. Apparently, she had a heart problem; I knew nothing about it.”

  “Neither did I, dad. Wasn’t that just like Aunt Bea, keeping that to herself?”

  Dad nodded. “Yes, it was just her.”

  Jim spoke for the first time.

  “So, it rather looks like she thought she heard something that could be an intruder and had a sudden heart attack and died?”

  “It looks that way, yes.”

  “All very unfortunate,” remarked Jim. He put his cup down and yawned. “Sorry, long drive.”

  “Ah, yes. Now, I only have one spare bedroom….” Dad caught my slight shake of head. “There is a B & B just across the road and they have rooms. Would you like to stay there or..?” he trailed off, looking first at me, then Jim, then me. We had discussed this before we came.