Page 73 of A Curious Ending

‘You don’t seem excited or even surprised… and don’t tell me knowing things is a knack… you can’t have known this.’

Abby didn’t rise to the bait, but simply said, ‘Let us see how it all unfolds. One thing I do feel…’ and she smiled a little sadly at Lara ‘…is that we are close to the end of our investigation.’

‘Oh,’ was all Lara could think of to say.

Becky was in early, dressed all in black as usual, but also wearing her glorious scarlet lipstick. Before Lara could comment, Becky called her over to the window, ‘Look! Something’s up over at Honeybourne’s.’

Lara hurried to her side, Abby close on her heels. In front of the antique shop a van was parked with ‘Dawson’s Glaziers’ written on the side. Jason Honeybourne was beside the van talking on his phone. Lara picked up a bunch of holly and stepped outside to get a better look. She hung the holly over the handlebars of the old bicycle that today had bunches of creamy hellebores in the basket. When Jason saw Lara he stopped talking and marched towards her.

‘Good evening last night?’ she asked him, smiling.

‘What?!… What?… Oh, that.’ He was thrown off his stride for a moment. He looked back at the van and then refocused his beady eyes on her. ‘My shop was broken into last night. Do you know anything about that?’ It was close to an accusation.

Lara glanced at the van significantly and registered what she hoped was suitable outrage. ‘No?!’ She tried to sound shocked. ‘I was back late, I didn’t hear a thing,’ she cheerfully lied. ‘What was taken?’ she could not resist asking.

Jason looked at her narrowly. ‘Oh, I think you know what has gone, Miss McGregor,’ he said softly.

‘Really?’ Lara sounded uncertain, then as if something had dawned on her, added, ‘You don’t mean… the Dresden jug? That’s such a shame. I was thinking of treating myself to it.’

Jason started to look less sure of himself so Lara thought she should keep going, ‘Did they get away with a lot? Have you called the police?’ She hoped she was doing a good impression of a concerned fellow trader.

Jason looked uneasy. ‘The police say it was just a broken window and they suspect it was kids fooling around. But someone was in my shop. That’s for sure,’ he stated emphatically.

‘I’d listen to the police if I were you. I’ve always found them to be very reliable,’ she said truthfully. She then handed him some sprigs of holly ‘for his shop’. It was the holly she had cut while waiting to break into his premises the previous evening.

‘Nice touch,’ Abby commented, as they retreated into the flower shop.

The rest of the day passed quickly. The shop was busy from first thing and Lara was pleased when her mum called offering her services for the week before Christmas. After Lara had gratefully accepted, her mum had asked to speak to Becky. It seemed she wanted to know if Becky would prefer her to bring a chocolate or a coffee cake when she came to help.

‘Chocolate,’ Abby called from the side-lines, ‘always chocolate.’

There was no opportunity to chat with Abby until the closed sign was up, and all the flowers were in off the street. Becky had left with a promise to arrive especially early on Monday and Lara collapsed on a stool, her hands sore and aching from all the posies and wreaths she had made – many of which had included holly. Glancing at her phone, she realised she had an email from her friend Fiona. She ignored Abby who was just suggesting that she refresh herself with a glass of ratafia and a sprinkling of vinegar on her brow, and opened it.

Fiona came quickly to the point: she could now confirm that Harold was sure the tea caddy was authentic Meissen painted by Johann Gregorius Hvroldt. Her email was in her normal friendly style, but reading between the lines Lara could sense the suppressed excitement. Fiona was anxious to contact the owners, and concluded that the V&A museum would be keen to make an offer before it came on the open market. She then named a fantastic figure that the museum were willing to pay, but stressed that Lara must not tell anyone this.

Lara read the email out to Abby and then lifted up the basket that was still under the counter where she had left it that morning.

‘You are troubled,’ Abby stated, her head on one side.

‘I am,’ Lara half smiled at her, putting the basket on the workbench. ‘I feel I should be delighted, but really this belongs to Richard Porter. And he…’

‘Did not do right by his mother,’ Abby finished. ‘At the very least,’ she murmured, frowning.

‘Oh, Abby, what should I do?’ Lara sighed.

It was a while before Abby spoke. ‘I believe you should consult Mrs M.’

‘Really?!’ Lara was surprised. Yet even as she said it, she realised this is what she had been wanting to do ever since she heard about Mrs M’s story from Richard Porter.

It took some time for Mrs M to open the door to Lara and Abby and when she did Lara thought she looked tired. She also looked wary. ‘Lara?... Is something wrong?’

‘I don’t know, Mrs M, I think so, I’m not sure.’ It only then dawned on Lara that she hadn’t really thought through what she was going to say.

Mrs M studied her for a moment, glanced vaguely in Abby’s direction and said, ‘Well, you’d better come in then.’

Once sat in the kitchen (now so clean and tidy it felt empty) Lara launched straight in, she really couldn’t think of any other way. ‘Last night, Richard Porter told me your real name and now I know a bit about your past…’

Mrs M interrupted, ‘My real name?’ she demanded.