‘No, I’d better get back. I’m going to attempt to pack up another room at the cottage. Time is ticking and even if the gardens do stay as they are, I do need to get the cottage cleared out. First, though, I’m going to pop into Buttercup Barn and then home to grab the post and water the plant that’s no doubt fighting for survival on my kitchen windowsill.’
‘Do you want any help today packing up the boxes?’
‘I think I’m going to be okay. It’s a slow process but only because everything brings back memories. There are a few more personal boxes I need to go through and then I’ll start to pack all the ornaments from the living room. Maybe if I have time I’ll film a reel promoting Flowers in Bloom.’
‘If you change your mind, just drop me a text.’
‘I will, I promise.’ Florrie smiled warmly at her friend. She really was lucky to have her.
After finishing her cup of tea, Florrie picked up the post from Buttercup Barn and her home on Love Heart Lane, then took the scenic route through Primrose Park. In the distance she spotted Drew and the boys huddled around the fishing rod, sitting on fabric stools at the water’s edge. Taking the path to the woods, Florrie cut across the green in front of The Old Bakehouse. There were buttercups peppering the grass, so Florrie picked a handful, sat on a bench and began to make a buttercup chain. Before she knew it the chain had grown quite long and she decided to drape it over Aunt Ada’s gravestone before she headed back to the cottage.
As she was about to cross the road, she heard raised voices ahead and looked towards the wrought-iron gates of the churchyard. She stopped in her tracks and then dived behind a tree, hoping the two people standing there hadn’t spotted her – Tom and another man.
They were in the midst of a heated debate and as Florrie watched she recognised the older man as Edward Houston, Tom’s father.
Edward raised his voice. ‘You need to sort this. It will have lost your grandfather’s foundation huge amounts of money. How could you be so stupid? You’re meant to be here to build up trust. We need those houses to be built.’
Florrie’s eyes widened and her heart began to race at the words she’d just overheard. She could feel anger slowly rising inside her. Tomhadbeen playing her after all with his request for trust. Right at that moment all she felt towards him was contempt.
Tom didn’t reply to his father’s tirade and when it ended, he watched him stride towards an expensive-looking car with a personalised number plate that was parked nearby. As Edward opened the car door, he turned and glared at Tom, a glare that even unnerved Florrie.
‘You’d be nothing without me’ were his parting words before he climbed behind the wheel and drove off without another glance in Tom’s direction.
As soon as Edward was out of sight, Tom took his phone out of his pocket. He spoke urgently but Florrie couldn’t hear a word. The call was short and Tom began hurrying towards her.
‘Shit,’ she muttered as she slowly edged around the tree and into the overgrown bushes, the buttercup chain lost somewhere along the way.
Thankfully, he didn’t see her as he passed her hiding place, and she decided to follow him. She shadowed him all the way to the high street, where she blended in amongst the tourists. Tom stopped outside Hamish’s shop and looked around furtively before reaching into his pocket and taking out a key. Florrie came a little closer and watched with astonishment while he put the key in the lock of the door to the private stairwell. Opening the door he quickly stepped inside and closed it behind him.
There were only two reasons why Tom would have a key to that door: either he had rented a flat from Hamish, which she very much doubted if Hamish refused to even serve him, or Dolores had given him a key to let himself into her flat. Florrie crossed the road to the newspaper stand outside the village shop. She pulled out a newspaper from the metal rack and opened it to read the headlines. Isla had been right. The paper claimed that a young man had been photographed coming out of the stairwell to Dolores’s private flat. The photograph accompanying the article was a little grainy, and the man had tried to cover his face with a cap, but there was no mistaking Tom Houston. Which led Florrie to just one question.
What the hell was going on?
ChapterTwenty-Three
Clutching the newspaper, Florrie decided to head straight back to the cottage, hardly daring to wonder what might be going on here. After pouring herself a glass of water she sat down at the table and read the article slowly. The mystery man had been spotted coming out of the apartment four times in forty-eight hours. The images were all of the same man – Tom. Why hadn’t Dolores mentioned that she knew him, and why would she suggest having her birthday party at Rose Cottage and doing whatever it took to stop Tom’s company? It just didn’t make sense and her mind was whirling with numerous possibilities.
All Florrie wanted to do was to race over to Dolores’s and barge in on the pair of them to demand answers, but she knew she needed to take a breath and calm her thoughts before she took any action. Confronting Dolores could be humiliating, if she refused to answer Florrie’s questions, and it could also lead Dolores to pull out of the performance at the cottage, which they desperately needed in order to keep Florrie’s battle in the news.
Florrie pushed the newspaper to one side. She needed to channel her energy in a different direction so, even though her mind was still racing, she picked up an empty cardboard box and made her way into the living room. She began to wrap the ornaments in tissue paper and carefully place them in the box. It wasn’t long before everything was packed away and the box labelled and taped up securely. Placing it by the back door, ready for Drew to collect, she decided that next she would tackle the chest of drawers. She pulled out the first drawer, which was stuffed with instructions for electrical appliances. It seemed like Ada had kept them for every appliance she and Ewart had ever owned! Florrie scooped them all up and put them in the recycle bin, which was sitting just outside the living-room window.
In the next drawer were knitting patterns, old notebooks and magazines. Florrie laid everything out on the table. She smiled at the knitting pattern on the top. It was a jumper with a large multi-coloured flower in the centre. Aunt Ada had knitted this pattern for Florrie’s eighth birthday and she had worn it with pride for many years, despite the gigantic neck hole and one arm being longer than the other. She put that knitting pattern to one side and placed the rest in the recycle bin.
The last drawer contained nothing but bank statements – hundreds of them, secured by elastic bands. Florrie picked up a pile dated over twenty years ago and opened the one on top. Anyone looking at these bank statements could easily see the standing orders that came out of the account at the start of the month. The same amount of cash was withdrawn on a Friday and along with the statement was a spends book. Aunt Ada had recorded what the cash had been spent on. She liked routine, as the entries were like clockwork. She shopped for food on a Monday, went to the pub every Tuesday, paid for the pop man on a Wednesday, paid the milkman on a Thursday, and Friday was a treat day, usually lunch at Bonnie’s Teashop.
As she scanned the statements, a thought suddenly struck Florrie. She ran her finger down the standing orders. She knew exactly what she was looking for but she couldn’t find it. She picked up another stack of statements and spends book. She scoured month after month and still there was no entry for W. Houston Property Developers. Aunt Ada had had the same bank account for years and there was not one rental payment for the cottage. Flummoxed, Florrie rang Isla.
‘How are you? Is it all getting a little too much?’ Isla asked as soon as she picked up the phone.
‘Are you able to come over?’ Florrie felt tearful. ‘There’s something I need to talk to you about.’ Her voice quivered.
‘Drew is just about to come over to you. The boys have had enough of catching anything but a fish, and Martha is back so she can mind them. I’ll jump in with Drew, see you in ten.’
Florrie was so confused. If there were no transactions between Aunt Ada and W. Houston Property Developers then how had she been paying the rent for all these years? Leaving the bank statements spread out on the table Florrie looked around the room and began ransacking every drawer. She wasn’t yet sure what she was looking for but she’d know it when she stumbled across it. Five minutes later the whole room was a mess, papers strewn everywhere. She blew out a breath and nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw Isla standing in the doorway.
‘It looks like you’ve been burgled. What’s going on?’
Florrie could feel the emotion brimming inside. Hearing a noise, she looked over Isla’s shoulder.
