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Money Puzzle Tree
Part IV |
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“Ah, the locket. Perhaps
the greatest detail in the whole story of my sister’s romance with
John Courtney. Everyone, it seems knows of it’s existence and yet
no-one has any idea where it could be… … except me of
course.” -oOo- Betty recounted the story
of the day back in 1914, when John had given the locket to Sally before
leaving to join the army. “Can you imagine, Harry,
what that locket would now be worth? It was silver, but I’m referring
to the little picture inside. Because my sister once mentioned it in a
television interview, that is all the authentication needed to ensure
that Sally’s locket would fetch a princely sum at auction. As you might imagine,
since she spoke of its existence on the BBC’s Arts Forum program, many
people have been trying to locate it. All my wicked sister would ever
say was that it was safe, and in it’s proper home. After she appeared
on TV, curious people, greedy people and art lovers besieged this
house.” She giggled like a naughty little girl. “They had to
increase security!” Harry smiled at his host.
Just the memory of passed events once again seemed to peel away the
years from her face and her eyes shone with renewed vigour. “Of course, Sally
eventually told me where it was hidden. I already had my theories, and
they proved to be correct. However, I am far too old to go playing
hide-and-seek games with the ghost of Brave John Courtney!” Betty stood from her chair
laughing. “Oh, the fun I have had teasing people with my erroneous
ideas as to that locket’s whereabouts… As if I would tell just
anybody where it is hidden.” She moved over to the painting on the
wall again and looked at it with surprising intensity. Moving her hand
up over the canvass, Betty ran her fingertips lightly over the surface,
feeling the layered textures of the oil paints which had been skilfully
blended to form an intricate tree trunk. Deep in thought she stood
there, eyes closed. As ideas ran through her mind, her hands continued
to explore the surface of the picture. She knew each detail intimately
and yet the very tactile quality of her sister’s work always filled
her with wonder and awe. Harry sat in silence,
allowing the old lady a few moments. She seemed almost to be
communicating with someone through that picture, and he had no doubts as
to who that was. Through the large windows, Harry could see the sun
beginning to dip beneath the horizon; it was starting to get late and he
remembered his promise to the owner of the nursing home. Reluctantly he
was forced to break the serene silence that occupied the room. “Betty,
I would love to talk with you some more, but I really must be on my way
now. May I visit you again tomorrow?” The spell broken, she
opened her eyes, this time however, they looked heavy and sad. Her hand
made one last loving sweep of the canvass as her fingers trailed off
over the faces of the two young girls in the foreground. She forced a
smile. “That would be very nice. Could you possibly be here for
two-thirty?” “I’m sure I can manage
that” His smile was genuine and affectionate. “If you supply the
tea, I’ll bring the cake.” “Then make sure it’s
Jamaican Ginger” once more she looked far younger than her 97 years as
she grinned in a conspiratorial manner. “They don’t like me to have
Jamaican Ginger, and I do so enjoy it!” Laughing loudly, Harry
took her hand, and in a spontaneous gesture, he leaned forward and
kissed Betty on the cheek. She accepted his kiss with a satisfied sigh. “I look forward to
seeing you at two-thirty sharp, Harry.” “On the dot!” he
confirmed, and closed the door gently behind him. -oOo- As Harry’s Jaguar swept
stylishly out through the high iron gates, he glanced casually at the
vehicle waiting to enter. An old Nissan Micra; blue, with a silver
stripe down the side. He vaguely recalled thinking to himself how
attractive the woman sat in the driver’s seat was as he accelerated
down the road towards Lymington town centre and his appointment with a
pint of Pompey Royal and a large bowl of the King’s Head’s
speciality dish – home made cream of tomato soup. -oOo- The landlord had never
failed once in all the years that they had known eachother. “Harry! How’s the
second ugliest guy in town?” The large man standing behind the bar
spoke in a loud ‘this-is-my-pub-and-I-do-whatever-I-please’ voice,
waving cheerfully. “Paul!” Harry looked
him over for a second, as if examining him closely; “I still have a
LONG way to go to take the title from you, you cheeky old sod!!” They laughed causally and
shook eachother by the hand. An attractive blonde woman with sultry,
dark, sexy eyes was drawing a pint of Pompey Royal at the bar. Her smile
was warm and welcoming. “It’s been a while since we last saw you
Harry.” She placed the beer on the
bar and leaned over to peck him on the cheek. “Two months or more,
Emma, and I am in bad need of some good food if I am to rival the
stature of your BIG husband.” Laughing and placing her
arm around Paul’s waist in a gesture of pure love, Emma looked over to
one of the young waitresses. “Can you get Harry a bowl of the tomato
soup, please.” Paul placed his elbows on
top of the bar. It was early and they were not yet busy. “So, are you
fed up with London already?” “Well, yes and no.
Business is good, but I needed a few days back home. I’m on a little
quest. You see, I’ve found someone who knew my Great Uncle John, the
one who died in the First World War.” “You have? That’s
excellent! I remember you talking about him a few years ago. So, who is
the fountain of knowledge, then?” “An old lady at
Boldregreen. Her name is Betty Fairmile.” “Oh, Sally Gann’s
sister! She used to come in here for a half-pint of stout until about
ten years ago. She was a good customer until she got fed up with people
asking her about the infamous locket. How is the she?” “She’s fine, and
funnily enough, I think she may be about to tell me about that locket.
We were discussing it today.” Both Paul and Emma looked
at him with large eyes. It was Emma who spoke first. “Well, if she
knows where it is, then Lymington could well be swamped with reporters
again soon. The last time they all came here, when some hoaxer said they
had found it at an antique stall on the market, we had our busiest
summer for years!” “Well, be prepared for
another. I think Betty finally wants to divulge what she knows. And as
it was my Great Uncle John who gave the locket to Sally, I think I may
well be her chosen one.” “Ah, it’s all
beginning to make sense to me now” said Paul, throwing his arms in the
air. “Harry my man, you might well become quite famous!” They chuckled and swapped
news of events since the last time they had seen eachother, as Harry
tucked into his soup. Once he had finished, he stood up and shook Paul
by the hand once more. “Right, an early night for me, I’m staying
with Mother and I want to be at my best for my meeting with Betty
tomorrow.” He winked playfully at Emma as he walked out and she threw
him a beautiful smile. Paul shouted after him, “See you soon,
Harry!” -oOo- |
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