Page 25 of New Beginnings at the Little Christmas Inn
‘To be fair, the chimmley, I mean, chimney, was blocked off and there was an electric fire in place.’ Livvy sipped her tea, thesoot getting to the back of her throat. Her admiration for what Jonquil did rose.
Jonquil gave a visible shudder. ‘Can’t be doing with blocking off a perfectly usable chimmley.’
‘I agree. I much prefer a wood burner.’
‘Can’t beat ’em. You got Darrell and his boys to do the work?’
‘Yes, although they had to call in a specialist to fit the stove itself.’
Jonquil finished her tea, leaving sooty fingerprints on the mug. ‘Good team, they are.’ She jerked her head to the stove. ‘Did a good job with this ’un. It’s a right bobby-dazzler.’ She put the mug down on the now grey groundsheet and, picking up a long-handled brush, shoved it up the chimney. ‘Nearly there. Took a while, this did, and take my advice, it’ll need another go next spring. Can only get so much out in one go.’
‘I’ll book you in again before you leave then.’ Livvy had slipped off the stool to return to the kitchen when she was halted by Jonquil making a guttural sound.
‘What we got here then? Brush is wedged.’ She shoved harder and something fell out, landing on top of the sheet covering the stove. ‘Well, looky here.’
‘What is it?’
‘I finds all sorts stuck up chimmleys. My old Dad was a farmer an’ he used to stick a bull’s heart up to keep his cattle from getting sick.’
Livvy was still processing this bizarre statement as she went nearer. Jonquil was an eccentric in a town full of them and she didn’t know how to take her. Hardly wanting to look, she peered down at the blackened and twisted object. Then she recognised it. ‘Oh my God!’ She flinched back violently.
‘Yeah. It was a cat, alright.’ Jonquil’s eyes gleamed. She was the most animated Livvy had seen her.
Looking more closely, Livvy could see quite clearly the outline of the cat’s features, even its ears pointing above its domed head. It wasn’t a skeleton, more a preserved, albeit flattened, carcass.
‘Mummified,’ Jonquil put in. ‘By the looks of things. Dried up by the heat from the fire.’
‘Did it get stuck? Poor thing.’ Livvy felt bile rise. She remembered the scrabbling sounds from the other night. ‘Was it after a mouse?’
‘Nah. Someone put it up there. To keep the witches away. Old building this. Folk used to think a chimmley was a passageway between this world and t’other. They used to stick all sorts up a chimmley to keep evil away. I’ve come across shoes, witches’ bottles, flanks o’ bacon stuck with pins to catch the witch on her way down.’ Jonquil cackled. ‘Never fails to surprise me, what I find.’
Livvy backed away. ‘But to put a cat up there. That’s horrible.’
‘Must have been some pretty strong magic they was afeared of. Don’t you worry, my lovely, the cat is likely to have been dead long afore they shoved it up there. Poor critter.’ Jonquil shook her head. ‘Thems were cruel times back then, though.’
‘It’s still horrible. I don’t believe in all that stuff. It’s ridiculous.’ To her embarrassment Livvy found her voice was shaking.
‘I’ll see what else is up there, shall I?’
Livvy was torn. If there was anything as horrific as the cat she didn’t want to know. On the other hand, she’d rather Jonquil got everything out.
Jonquil pulled the brush down, along with a shower of soot. The smell was choking. ‘I’ll just give him one last go. Might have found me a nook or cranny.’ She pushed the brush back up, stopped when it was halfway and appeared to be listening. ‘Justa wink to the right,’ she whispered and then shoved hard and pulled back.
This time the object was smaller and, to Livvy’s relief, less obviously macabre. Jonquil picked it up and brushed centuries old soot and ash off. ‘Reckon this one’s a book,’ the woman said, feeling it. ‘Wrapped in old, waxed cloth, by the looks of it. I’ll unwrap it, you take it.’
Livvy hovered, hardly able to breathe. She was very aware of the cat’s body still lying on top of the stove and braced herself should it be anything as horrific. It wasn’t. Jonquil peeled back the cloth to reveal, as predicted, a book. It was black and leather-covered. Livvy took it between finger and thumb. It wasn’t very big, probably about the same size as an A5 notebook. She took it to the bar where the light was better. Hardly daring to touch it, she opened the front cover. It revealed a dedication in beautifully written script:
“To my love, my secret love, my one and only.”
‘Poetry, by the looks,’ Jonquil said. ‘Fancy.’
Livvy started. She hadn’t heard her come up behind. ‘I think it’s a notebook.’ She turned another page. ‘Poems and, look, some sketches.’ They stared at a pen and ink sketch of a young woman. She had hair dressed in ringlets on either side of her face and had on a dress with a scooped neckline and extravagantly puffed sleeves. ‘She was beautiful,’ Livvy breathed.
‘She was. I’ll take this poor puss out your way, shall I?’ Jonquil said, bringing Livvy back to earth. ‘Might take the poor beggar up the museum. Got a lot of folkie type stuff in there. You should take a looky. Someone might tell you about that there book.’
‘Thank you, Jonquil. I’ll do that.’ Livvy focused. ‘And thank you for taking the–’ she couldn’t bring herself to say the word body. ‘I appreciate it.’
‘No worries.’ Jonquil tenderly wrapped the corpse in a sooty groundsheet. ‘Poor pussycat. I hopes you had a good life afore you met your end.’ She glanced up at the blackboard with the specials chalked up and became much more matter of fact. ‘Might bring the old fella by. We likes us a good steak and chips.’
