Page 2

After returning her easel and paints to the store cupboard, Beatrix hurried upstairs to refresh her hands and face. She didn’t bump into anyone on the way. It felt as if the house was in mourning with everyone tiptoeing around as though there’d been a bereavement. For a second, her steps faltered. Bernie wouldn’t be there since she was taking dancing lessons with Daisy and Florence. Bea herself had given up after deciding she was never going to have anything other than two left feet – a decision that had been received with embarrassing relief by the tutor.

Would she be better to simply remain in her room and miss afternoon tea entirely? Probably – but then the smell wafting from the kitchen was heavenly. Indeed, Aggie had abandoned her as soon as they’d been within sniffing distance of her favourite place on earth.

Gritting her teeth, Beatrix determinedly left her bedchamber and headed back down the stairs. She was just about to step into the drawing room when the front doorbell rang. After a few seconds, when no one appeared to answer it, she frowned. There had to have been an unmitigated disaster somewhere for Billy not to be in the house at teatime, and she felt a sudden disquiet as she turned towards the door. As she approached, she could see the outline of someone tall – a man then. For some reason, her disquiet turned to something more. The doorbell rang again, and her aunt suddenly appeared from the drawing room behind her.

‘Do you intend to answer it, Beatrix, or are you waiting for the stars to align?’ was her caustic comment.

Biting her lip to stop herself from answering with a quip of her own, Bea pulled the heavy door open. Only to stand and stare in perplexity at the tall, bronzed stranger standing on the step.

* * *

When Billy Wiggins took it upon himself to discover the whereabouts of the Pembroke Agency files Muriel Pemberton had hidden, he didn’t expect to land in hot water quite so quickly. But then, how the devil could he have known that Bristol was not just another town like Torquay?

Getting on the train in Paignton had been simple enough, but the relatively new station in Bristol Temple Meads was like nothing he’d ever seen before. To his horror, when he stepped down off the train, all he could see were platforms, and people… He began to sweat under his Sunday-best shirt and wool jacket, his heart sinking. Any minute now he’d start itching.

Since it was either start walking in the same direction as everyone else or sit down on the platform and cry, Billy started walking. He had an address in his pocket – one he’d painstakingly studied using his limited reading ability, but he began to suspect that his plan of a triumphant return to Paignton before anyone knew he was missing was about to go horribly wrong.

Trapped in the moving crowd as it streamed up the stairs, Billy took a deep breath. Getting himself worked up would be like barking at a knot. At the very least, he had to look like he knew where he was going.

Reaching the top of the steps, the crowd began to thin out as passengers dispersed in different directions. Tucking himself into a corner of the large station entrance hall, Billy took out the piece of paper with an address on it.

He’d obtained it not two days earlier from his ma’s friend Mrs Tate, who’d got it from her friend Mrs Billings, who’d got it from her landlady – one Mrs Peters who had a boarding house in Livermead. According to his ma, Mrs Peters had told Mrs Billings that she’d recently had a lady stopping with her who she described as ‘Barmy on the bloody crumpet.’

Now to most people that description alone would not have been enough to rouse suspicion. But Billy was not most people – especially as Mrs Peters went on to say that this woman had stayed for nigh on a week and in all that time had worn widow's weeds with her face covered. Mrs Peters reckoned she slept in the damn things.

Even when Billy had seen Muriel Pemberton in the ladies' unmentionables department, she’d still had her bonnet on covering her eyes…

Of course, it was a bit of a stretch, which was why Billy decided he couldn’t go to Mr Henry or Miss Charlotte about it – well, that’s what he told himself anyway. But his instincts were telling him to look further – and Billy had never been one to ignore his instincts.

So, he asked his ma to ask Mrs Tate to ask Mrs Billings to ask Mrs Peters if she had any more information on her strange guest. In Billy’s eyes, the note that came back was more than enough for him to stow away on the next train to Bristol.

But now, looking at the flow of people around him, Billy couldn’t help wondering whether in fact he’d got himself into a bit of a hobble…

CHAPTER 2

Beatrix stared at the tall stranger in more than a little confusion. She didn’t know who she’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t a handsome blond-haired gentleman of around thirty summers whose bronzed complexion suggested someone who’d spent much of his life in the sun. She was still staring at him wordlessly when he took off his hat, inclined his head and announced he was here to speak with Henry Shackleford.

In all honesty, Bea had never been the shrinking violet sort, and the last time she’d been rendered speechless was at the sight of Mrs Williams’ speciality treacle pudding. But on this occasion, it was only Aggie’s loud bark and her aunt’s brusque ‘What the devil does he want, Beatrix?’ that occasioned in the rediscovery of her tongue.

She gave a small cough, her face reddening. ‘May I ask who is calling?’ she managed.

To her surprise, the stranger gave a broad smile which lit up his face in a manner that almost caused her to gasp out loud. ‘Please convey my respects and inform your employer that Robert Noon would very much like an audience with him. I believe Mr Shackleford is good friends with my father.’

‘Well, knock me down with a feather.’ Her aunt’s incredulous response along with her hurried footsteps across the entrance hall cut short Beatrix’s indignant retort at the man’s assumption that she was a servant. Stepping aside lest she be knocked down by Charlotte’s vigorous response to the stranger’s declaration, Bea watched her aunt’s delighted smile with wide eyes.

Could this man really be related to the legendary Finn Noon?

Meanwhile, her aunt was welcoming their visitor effusively. Urging him to, ‘Come in, come in. May I call you Robert?’

‘Only if I may call you Charlotte,’ was the laughing quip in return. ‘May I assume that you are she? In truth, madam, you seem far too young.’

Her aunt’s giggle was the stuff of nightmares, and Beatrix didn’t know whether to laugh or run for the hills. After shutting the front door, she trailed behind the two of them, wondering again where Billy could have got to. At the end of the day, he might not have been in time to answer the door, but there was absolutely no possible way he would have neglected to eavesdrop once their newcomer had announced himself.

And yet there was no sign of him.

* * *

Biting his lip, Billy forced himself to lean nonchalantly against the wall, while doing his best to consider the missive in his hands with all the ease of a seasoned traveller. As a general rule, playacting was second nature to the boy. Indeed, he was quite proud of his ability to blend into any surroundings, making himself invisible to all but the most perceptive of observers. Unfortunately, on this occasion his composure, while not entirely deserting him, was most definitely getting ready to do a runner, and he swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.