Page 53 of Secrets and Seashells at Rainbow Bay
‘Really?’ Tom looks surprised. ‘What makes you think that? No, wait, I don’t need to know details.’
‘It’s okay, there’s not that many of them. I just get the feeling that she might have been. Perhaps when I’ve read a few more of her diaries I’ll know for sure.’
Tom nods. ‘But you said she was married? Was that just a ruse, then, so people didn’t guess?’
‘I think it might have been partly that, but it was mainly to do with the fact she wouldn’t have been able to continue living here if she didn’t have a husband. She needed to be married to allow her to inherit when her father died, so I think she only married because of that. It’s to do with her father’s legacy and an ancient law. It’s complicated,’ I say when Tom looks a little lost.
‘Isn’t it always when families are concerned,’ he says knowingly.
‘Yes, I guess so.’ I wonder if Tom is talking from experience. ‘Anyway,I’mreading Clara’s diaries, and Benji is reading through a lot of the other journals we found up there, to see what he can discover.’
‘Good-oh, and have you found any more bits for your car— yourcourtyardsale?’
‘Lots; we’ll have quite a bit of stuff on our stall. I just hope we can entice some other people to come and sell here.’
‘Are you kidding? They’ll love it – a chance to sell your old junk in the grounds of a castle? They’ll be queuing up to book a stall once you advertise it.’
‘You think?’
‘I know it. You might not know this, but I spend a bit of time in the local pub, and there’s always someone talking about you or what’s going on at the castle.’
‘Really?’
‘Yup. You’re quite the local celebrity.’
‘I hardly think so.’
Tom shrugs. ‘I only speak what I hear. Do you want some help advertising the event? You know, posters, that kind of thing? I can see you’re really, really busy right now with your reading . . . ’ He winks.
I give him a wry smile. ‘That would be lovely, Tom, thank you. I hereby put you in charge of advertising and organising the car boot— I mean, thecourtyardsale.’
‘Wait, I didn’t say I wanted to organise it,’ Tom says, looking dismayed.
‘I could ask someone else, but with all yourconnectionsdown at the pub, I think you’d be the ideal person, don’t you? And you do sort of owe me a favour after the Mr Sheen incident . . . ’ I wink at him.
Tom sighs. ‘You’re a hard taskmaster, do you know that?’ he says, shaking his head. ‘Your ancestors would be proud of you.’
‘All in the blood, my good friend,’ I say, tapping the diary. ‘It’s all in the blood.’
Twenty-one
As it turns out Tom does a great job of organising the sale. Posters quickly appear all over the village advertising Chesterford Castle’s very first courtyard sale, and very shortly after that spaces at the twenty or so tables we’ve decided we can fit in the courtyard rapidly begin to sell out. So when the day of the sale finally arrives, just over two weeks after we’d sat on the deckchairs discussing it, the castle courtyard is filled with people chattering happily away in the sunshine I’d prayed for, getting ready to sell their wares to the customers that are just starting to filter through the castle gates.
I’m really proud of how we’ve all pulled together as a team today. Joey is on the gate, taking a reduced entry fee from people on the understanding that they can wander around the outside of the castle as well as visit the courtyard sale, but the inside rooms of the castle will not be open to the public today. Dorothy is serving teas, coffees and cakes on a makeshift stall ably abetted by her new favourite – Benji, who is wearing a very fetching straw panama hat to shelter him from the sun – and her always favourite – Charlie, who is more excited than anyone about the sale. He’d offered up some of his old toys and books for us to sell, on the understanding I was to allow him to buy anything he wanted with his pocket money from the other stalls. This had seemed like a good deal, until I saw a man unpacking several large models of various spaceships and figurines from one of Charlie’s favourite film franchises. At this rate we’d be bringing more stuff back to the tower tonight than I was selling.
But I don’t have time to worry about that; Tiffany and Tom are helping me out on the castle’s stall and we are already surrounded by potential buyers perusing our stock. Over the top of their heads I can just see Arthur wafting about the crowds generally overseeing everything and everyone as usual.
‘You have a wonderful stall, Lady Chesterford,’ a well-dressed woman says as she looks over the several trestle tables we’ve managed to fill. ‘With some . . .uniqueitems.’ She pauses at three vintage toilet flushes.
‘Thank you,’ I reply cheerfully, deciding it would be impolite on this occasion to correct her way of addressing me. ‘We’ve had a good clear-out. I hope there’s something for everyone here.’
‘I’m sure there will be. Bill’s been keeping me up to date about this and everything that’s been going on at the castle since you arrived.’
‘Oh, you must be Hetty,’ I say, pleased I’d remembered the name of Bill’s wife. ‘How lovely to meet you.’ I hold out my hand. ‘I’m Amelia Chesterford.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Hetty says, shaking my hand. ‘Bill’s told me all about you.’
It was difficult to know by Hetty’s tone whether this was good or bad.
