Page 22 of A Snowy Seaside Christmas
In the end, Lark had decided to keep her concerns about Nate to herself since Florrie seemed so unsettled. Despite her protestations about not allowing herself to be intimidated by Mr and Mrs Dodgy Dick, it was obvious she was distracted, and it didn’t feel right to trouble her. The two friends hadn’t hung around in the tearoom once they’d finished their shortbread and pot of tea. Instead, they’d headed down to the bookshop where they found Leah serving a customer. The expression on the young woman’s face said it all.
When the customer had left, Leah’s words came out in a torrent. ‘Did you get my text, Florrie? I sent it to warn you about Dodgy Dick and his wife. They spent ages down here, swanning around like they owned the place. Herperfume, if that’s what you can call it!Omigod! It was literally burning my eyeballs, it was that strong! It was sickly, too! Bleurgh!’ She mimed being sick.
Lark couldn’t help but laugh. ‘It is a bit overpowering.’
‘Abit?’ said Leah, incredulous, before turning to Florrie. ‘Did they say anything to you?’
‘No.’ Florrie shook her head. ‘But they made sure I was aware of their presence. Thanks for the warning, though, Leah. Ishould’ve checked my phone, then I would’ve been prepared for them. Hopefully, they won’t hang around for too long.’
‘Yeah, let’s hope so. Oh, and I’m not a hundred per cent certain, but I could’ve sworn I saw her take a couple of baubles off the big Christmas tree and slip them into her bag.’
Florrie shook her head wearily. ‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’
‘Sorry, I didn’t know what to say.’ Leah pulled an apologetic face.
‘Hey, you don’t need to apologise, I wouldn’t want you to confront either of them. You were right to say nothing. And we can always access the security cameras, see if they captured anything – not that I’d do anything about it anyway; I don’t want the hassle.’
Lark watched as Florrie headed over to the Christmas tree, checking for missing decorations. ‘Listen, I’d better head back to the shop, but if you need me, you know where I am.’ With her friend being so flustered, she didn’t like to trouble her for the curator of the heritage centre’s number right now, she’d text her about it later when she was sure Florrie’s unwelcome customers had gone.
‘Thanks, flower. Ed should be back soon. Oh, hang on.’ Florrie took out her phone and tapped on the screen. ‘There, I’ve just sent Louisa’s number across to you. Let me know how you get on.’
‘Thanks, Florrie.’ Lark strode over and pulled her friend into a hug, pressing a kiss to her cheek, glad she didn’t have to bother her. ‘Don’t let that pair get to you. They’re bullies, full of bluff and bluster.’
They were distracted by the bell above the door jangling loudly as Bear Marsay walked in.
‘Now then, lasses,’ he said, beaming.
‘Talk about perfect timing,’ Lark said with a laugh. ‘Here’s your bodyguard.’
‘Why d’you need a bodyguard?’ asked Bear, looking between them askance. ‘Who’s giving you grief?’
‘I’ll let Florrie explain, but you might find you fancy a cup of tea,’ said Lark, patting his arm as she went by. She knew Bear’s presence in the tearoom would deter Dodgy Dick and his wife from behaving too badly.
The shop had been quiet all afternoon, so by half past three, Lark decided it was time to close up and head home. She fixed a note to the door, telling customers if they needed anything to call the number displayed, then hopped on the bus that dropped her off on the bottom prom in Old Micklewick and not far from the cobbled lanes that led to her home.
Arriving at Seashell Cottage, she was treated to a warm welcome from Luna whose loud purring filled the living room as Lark threw a couple of logs on the wood burner. Louisa Norton had been on her mind ever since her number had landed on her mobile earlier that afternoon.
Having changed into a fleecy onesie and with a mug of camomile tea in hand, she curled up on the sofa and called the curator’s number, hoping it wouldn’t go straight to voicemail.
‘Hello, Louisa Norton speaking,’ said a friendly voice with a gentle North Yorkshire accent.
‘Oh, hi, um… my name’s Lark Harker and I’ve been given your number by my friend Florrie Appleton who has the bookshop in town.’
‘Ah, yes, I know Florrie well. How can I help, Lark?’
‘Well, I hardly know where to start with this, but…’
Louisa listened, uttering exclamations of interest, as Lark explained about Crayke’s Cottage and the suitcases.
‘Oh my goodness, Lark, this sounds utterly fascinating, and I’d love to take a look at it all. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I’ve only been the curator here since the summer – I was at The Museum of Moorland Life over in Beckinthwaite before then – and I’ve been having a wonderful time going through all the artefacts and archives we have hidden away here. I’ve come across a whole heap of wonderful information I’m keen to display. I’ve got big plans for the heritage centre. With it being the winter season, it’s closed during the week but I’m still there from nine to five, working behind the scenes, as it were. If you and Nate would like to pop in with the items you mentioned, I’d love to take a look at them. I’m free in the morning, any time after nine a.m., if that’s any good? Or I could hang back tomorrow evening if you’d prefer to call after you’ve shut up shop. Whatever suits best.’
‘That’s great, Louisa. I’ll check with Nate, see when he’d be available, and get back to you as soon as possible, if that’s okay?’ From their short discussion, Lark had already deduced that Louisa was a warm and friendly person.
‘Of course, no problem. And in the meantime, I’ll have a rummage through our archives, see what interesting info I can dig out about Jacob Crayke and Benjamin Fitzgilbert.’
‘Wonderful, thank you.’
With the call ended, Lark was bouncing with excitement. She’d never given the town’s smuggling history much thought before now, but she suddenly found herself intrigued to know more.
