Page 31 of Finding Love in Micklewick Bay

‘Why, thank you, Pim.’ She giggled.

Pim resumed his polishing. He had his shirtsleeves rolled up revealing a smattering of tattoos. One in particular caught her eye, triggering the faint flutter of a memory.

‘Pim, I don’t mean to be nosy, but can I ask, does that tattoo have a meaning?’

‘What? This?’ he asked pointing to what appeared to be a shield of some sort, a set of initials above.

She nodded. ‘Yeah.’

‘It’s my family crest, and these are my initials,’ he said, pointing to them. ‘My full name’s Pim Johan de Groote.’

‘Oh, right,’ she said, suddenly distracted.

‘Wanna know something funny?’

‘Okay.’ She pushed her mouth into a smile, putting her thoughts to one side.

‘The name de Groote actually means the tall one or the big one.’ He grinned broadly, revealing even, white teeth.

‘Well, it definitely suits you, Pim.’ She laughed, thinking he must be at least six-feet-four and positively towered over his husband who was lucky if he scraped five-feet-seven.

‘Doesn’t it just?’ Bill chuckled. ‘In fact, you’re tall, you could be a de Groote too, Stella. I, however, certainly couldn’t.’

‘Ah, but you’re perfect the way you are,’ said Pim, flashing him a cheesy smile, earning him a quick backhander from Bill.

All the way back home, Stella hadn’t been able to stop thinking about where she’d seen the family crest that also adorned Pim’sarm, but no matter how hard she racked her brains, nothing would come to her. It was frustrating; she usually prided herself on being able to remember such things.

Inside the entrance area of her apartment building, she collected the post from her pigeonhole and headed upstairs, her heart lifting as she wondered if she’d bump into Alex.

She was to be disappointed, the only sound was the lift rising to the floor above, making her wonder if any more of the apartments had been occupied and as to the identity of the lucky person who’d managed to snap-up the one occupying the top floor.

Inside her apartment, she slipped the post onto the kitchen worktop and headed over to the balcony windows, throwing them open. She took a moment to savour the view and, naturally, take a peek over at Alex’s balcony which was empty, the doors now closed.

The thought that she needed to get in touch with her mum about organising a last-minute clean of her apartment on Friday in lieu of the get together popped into her mind. She flopped down onto one of the balcony chairs and fired off a quick text, ignoring the barrage of work-related messages that had been arriving steadily all morning. While she was texting her mum, she also mentioned that the back door to the building had been left open and that it had very probably been Andrea.

A matter of seconds after the text had sent, a reply landed.

Hi Stella, thanks for letting me know. Got you booked in for a clean on Friday morning. I’m out with Rhys & have had notification of a delivery. Needs signing for and I wondered if you’d be able to pop to my house & be there for me? Should be arriving between 1-3pm today. Thanks so much xxx

Stella checked the time on her phone. At twelve thirty, it didn’t give her long, she’d have to drive there, she didn’t want to risk it arriving at the earlier end of the estimate. She fired off a quick reply, confirming she’d be happy to, then grabbed her keys and dashed out of her apartment, a sudden thought swirling around her mind.

EIGHTEEN

Number five Magnolia Gardens was cloaked in silence, the metronomic ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway the only sound. With her heart thudding hard in her chest, Stella quickly stole upstairs, heading across the landing to her mum’s bedroom. She hesitated a moment, her hand on the Bakelite handle of the door, guilt squeezing in her stomach. Should she be doing this?No, of course you shouldn’t! Your mum would have a fit if she knew!But something stronger urged her forward.

She pressed down on the handle and stepped into the room. It had been years since she’d ventured in here she realised as she cast a cursory glance around the bedroom. It had recently been redecorated with a fashionable colour-scheme and bold, statement wallpaper. Her eyes went to her mum’s jewellery box – the one she’d once told Stella had been a gift from someone special but had refused to elaborate on when her daughter had pushed her – relieved to see it was still in its usual place on the dressing table. It was flanked by a photograph of Stella on her graduation day and another in her wig and gown to commemorate the day she was called to the bar. Stella felt a tug in her heart, her guilt increasing at what she was about to do.

Stealing across the room, Stella gently lifted the lid of the jewellery box. With her pulse thrumming in her ears, she took a quick photo with her phone as a reminder of how everything was set out. She knew her mum would be able to spot if anything was even slightly out of place. As she gingerly lifted out the top layer, her eyes alighted on the very thing she’d been looking for. Anxiety swirled in her stomach as she carefully picked up the delicate silver locket. She swallowed the lump of nerves that had taken up residence in her throat.Do you really want to do this?She took a fortifying breath and before she could think any further, pressed the release catch.

Her brow furrowed when nothing happened. She tried once more, but the catch remained reluctant to give. It was hardly surprising, she supposed. It probably hadn’t been looked at for years. After a couple more tries, the two halves finally popped apart just as there was a loud hammering on the door.

‘Arghh!’ She gasped, panic lurching through her, the necklace slipping out of her fingers.

Pressing her hand to her chest, she turned quickly, knocking over the photograph of her graduation day. ‘Oh no!’ She glanced at it quickly before rushing downstairs and flinging the door open to see the delivery man and a large parcel on the doorstep.

With the parcel signed for and safely deposited in the kitchen, Stella hurried back upstairs. She went to pick the locket up from the floor but was horrified to discover she couldn’t find it. ‘No! Don’t do this to me!’ She carefully lifted out the dressing table stool and felt around the carpet, but it revealed nothing.

Pushing her hands into her hair, with panic prickling over her, she swept her gaze over the cream flooring, but nothing leapt out at her. ‘How could this be happening?’ Her mother was going to be furious, and Stella couldn’t blame her; she’d been snooping and she had no right.

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