Mistletoe Mystery (3 page)

“What did she do? For a living I mean?” Matt sipped his
coffee.

“She was a model. Though she was getting on a bit by the
time I knew her. She used to model for Chanel in the fifties and sixties, and a
few other fashion houses. Beyond that, I don’t think she did anything. When she
retired she spent most of her life jetting around the world, staying with rich
friends. Male friends mostly.” Philly grimaced, feeling a bit embarrassed
talking about her godmother’s love life. “She was always talking about sheik
this, and prince that.”

“She sounds like quite a gal.”

“She was. Even though I didn’t see her much, when I did, it
was great fun. With Aunt Robyn there were no rules about bedtime or eating.
Everything was geared towards enjoyment. She got me into acting. She had a
great gift for mimicry, and she used to teach me all her tricks. It’s a pity
I’m not very good at it. We’ve been running murder mystery weekends at
Bedlington Hall. My friends, Meg, Puck and I, that is.”

“Is Puck your boyfriend?”

“Oh no, he’s Meg’s fiancé. I went out on a couple of dates
with him at drama school, then I introduced him to Meg and that was it.
Fireworks, violins, you name it. All the clichés came together in their
meeting.” A bit like when I bumped into you, she thought, but did not say. She
might have heard the fireworks and violins, but there was no reason he should
have.

“And you’re still her friend?” Matt raised an eyebrow.

“Of course. Meg is a wonderful friend. Besides Puck and I
never had the fireworks and violins, and like I said, we only went out on a
couple of dates.” In truth, Philly had been relieved. Puck and Meg’s meeting
gave her an excuse not to get too involved with anyone and risk getting her
heart broken. In Philly’s experience, people you loved were always taken from
you, so it was better that it happened before she fell in love with Puck. “Meg
is a good friend,” Philly added defensively.

“I don’t doubt it. She’d have to be to deserve a friend like
you.”

“Thank you.”

“So… there’s no boyfriend around that I have to challenge to
a duel?”

Philly laughed. “Nope. Though I’d rather like to see that.
It appeals to my sense of the dramatic. What about you? I bet you have an
impossibly beautiful woman in your life.”

“Not until today.”

Philly’s tummy did a triple back somersault. If he were too
good to be true, would it hurt for her to enjoy being flattered by a handsome
man? It had happened so rarely in her life. Certainly she had never met anyone
like Matt before. “Thank you,” she whispered, sipping her latte. “That’s a very
kind thing to say.”

“I’m not being kind. I’m being honest. When I saw you
outside the auction house … Oh this is crazy, isn’t it? Please tell me you
heard the violins and fireworks too, Philly, or I’ll think I’m going mad.”

“I heard them…”

“So when can I see you again?”

“Erm … I don’t come down to London that often.”

“Then I’ll come up to see you. Midchester, isn’t it? Where
exactly is that?”

“It’s up in Shropshire. It’s a lovely little village. It was
a Roman garrison at one point, and we have the ruins to prove it. I could show
them to you. If you’re remotely interested.”

“I would love to see your Roman ruins. And Bedlington Hall.
Is it haunted?”

“There was a rumour of a ghost haunting it at one point. The
ghost of … oh my God!”

“What?”

“Dominique DuPont. That’s where I’ve heard that name.” Matt
frowned, looking puzzled. “Sorry,” said Philly. “When I found the painting, it
was inside a trunk. The label on the trunk said Dominique DuPont. I knew I’d
heard it somewhere before. When Bedlington Hall was a school, a young student 
… a French girl … disappeared. Completely disappeared. There were rumours that
she haunted the school and the surrounding area for years afterwards. It was
her trunk I found! I suppose the school must have put it in the attic when she
left, hoping someone would come for it.”

“Wow… now that is worth a visit. When can I come to see
you?”

“Hmm,” said Philly. “Now I’m not so sure if it’s me you’re
interested in, or my ghost.”

“Can I be interested in both?”

“I suppose so.”

“Not to mention the Roman ruins. Midchester sounds like a
crazy sort of place.”

“Really?” Philly giggled. “Then you obviously don’t get out
much! It’s pretty boring most of the time.”

“I find that hard to believe,” said Matt, looking into her
eyes.

“We’re doing another murder mystery weekend at Christmas,”
said Philly. “Mistletoe and Mystery. Perhaps you could come up for that.”

“That’s weeks away. Do I have to wait that long?”

“I suppose you could come up this weekend…”

“Great. Are there any hotels in the area?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. There are loads of bedrooms in
the Hall. I mean, if you wanted to stay there.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Matt smiled.

Philly was shocked at her own forwardness. It would never
have occurred to her to ask any other man to sleep in her home after such a
short acquaintance. But with twenty bedrooms set aside for guests, it was not
as if she was asking him to share her room. Not that the thought had not
crossed her mind. She knew she needed to put the brakes on a bit. Things were
moving way too fast. Yet there was something inevitable about Matt and her
feelings for him. As if they had always been there, but she had not known it.
How did that song go? About knowing you loved someone before you met them? She
hastily pushed that thought aside. She could not possibly love him. She barely
knew him. It was simply an overwhelming and rather exciting attraction. He was
charming, handsome, and seemingly interested in her. Maybe all she really felt
was gratitude.

It had started to rain when Matt walked her to her car. “Can
I give you a lift anywhere?” she asked him, unlocking her door.

“No, I’m good thanks. So I’ll come up to see you on Friday?”

“Yes. I’ll look forward to it. You’ve got my number if
anything comes up.”

“I have. And you have mine, in case you decide to withdraw
the invitation because you’ve decided I’m a raging psychopath.”

“Oh I still haven’t made up my mind on that,” said Philly.

In reply, Matt pulled her into his arms and kissed her. She
clung to him, not wanting to let him go and lose this moment. Her natural
pessimism knew that it could not last. He would break the heart that she had
protected for so long. But the sense of inevitability remained, and his kiss
convinced her that she had embarked on a journey that she would not stop until
it reached the ultimate destination, no matter what it cost her.

When she walked through the door of Bedlington Hall late in
the evening, Meg and Puck came running from the kitchen.

“I’ve had an idea what we can do for the Mistletoe and
Mystery weekend,” said Meg.

“I’ve got an idea to get the punters in,” said Puck.

“I’ve met someone drop-dead gorgeous,” said Philly.

Before Puck could open his mouth to speak, Meg clamped her
hand across it. “Philly goes first.”

Chapter Three

“You mean you actually invited him to stay the weekend,”
said Meg. They were sitting around the kitchen table drinking coffee.

“Yes, you don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course we don’t mind,” said Puck. “This is your house
after all. It’s just that you’ve never … I don’t mean to be unkind, Philly, but
you’re not the most spontaneous person we’ve ever met. I seem to remember that
when you and I dated, you had a schedule for the dates and we weren’t allowed
to deviate from it.”

“God, did I really? Oh yes, I remember now.  But this
feels right. Except if feels wrong too. I know I’m going to get my heart
broken, but I can’t bear the thought of never seeing him again, whereas I think
I was deliberately trying to scare you off because I didn’t really fancy you.
Sorry, Puck, no offence and all that.”

“Don’t worry, it’s only my pride and masculinity you’ve
destroyed.”

“Oy,” said Meg with a grin. “I think you’ll find that’s my
job nowadays.”

“And you’re the only woman who could really do it,” said
Puck, taking Meg’s hand. Philly felt a pang of regret. Not for letting Puck go,
but for never having known the love that Puck and Meg shared. She was wise
enough to know that what she felt for Matt Cassell was probably nothing more
than infatuation.

“So what about your ideas? Meg, you said something about the
Mistletoe and Mystery weekend.”

“Yes, I Googled that name, Dominique DuPont and guess what?”

“She’s a schoolgirl who went missing from Bedlington Hall
when it was a boarding school.”

“Oh. Did you Google it too?”

“No, I remembered something about it. I’m sure you’ve found
out more.”

“Not much more. It happened in nineteen sixty-three.
Dominique, who was seventeen at the time, simply upped and disappeared one day.
The girl, her belongings, everything. There was a nationwide hunt, but they
never found her. The odd thing is that when the school tried to contact her
family to ask if she’d returned home, they’d disappeared too. It was said they
weren’t known at the address given.”

“That is odd.”

“Yet children from the school were saying that they saw her
in Midchester, or other places for years after. A bit like Elvis packing
groceries in a Texas supermarket I suppose. So, I thought, what if we use that
story for the Mistletoe and Murder? It was nearly fifty years ago, so anyone
connected with it will probably be dead by now. It also cuts down on the number
of people we’d have to use. Dominique could be played by one of us, then we
could ditch her persona and be someone else. It should work as long as we made
sure those two characters weren’t in the room at the same time. We could come
up with our own reason for her disappearance. I’m thinking international
espionage.”

“In Midchester? It’s hardly the place for spies.”

“But Bedlington Hall was a military hospital for a short
time. What if one of the soldiers recuperating here had enemy plans for a
secret weapon and had hidden them somewhere, then died before he could hand
them over? Dominique was a teenage spy, sent to search for them, but was popped
off by the British government.”

“I should have let you write the plays before, Meg,” said
Philly. “You’re much better at them than I am.”

“I’ll be James Bond,” said Puck. He put his hand into the
form of a gun. “Licensed to thrill.”

“Ooh yes,” said Meg. “Though you are much better looking,
darling, despite what Philly says.”

“I didn’t say he wasn’t good looking. I just said I didn’t
fancy him.”

“And the knife twists again,” said Puck, theatrically
pulling an imaginary dagger from his chest. “I’m telling you, Philly, this Matt
bloke had better be blooming fabulous now. I shan’t settle for being cast
asunder for anyone less than drop-dead gorgeous.”

“Yes, Puck, I dumped you years ago for a man I only met
today. Though…”

“What?” Meg and Puck said in unison.

“Nothing. It’s silly. I just had that feeling, when you meet
someone and feel as if you’ve known them for eternity. Do you know what I
mean?”

“We know,” said Meg, looking lovingly at her fiancé. Puck
took her hand, raised it and kissed it.

Pushing aside the familiar pang, Philly asked, “What was
your idea, Puck?”

“Oh yeah. I nearly forgot with all this romance in the air.
You remember my sister, Rachel? She just got a job as a presenter for a local
news station in this area. I phoned her this morning to ask if we could get a
spot on one of the programmes. She’s going to put it by her producers, but she
thinks it’s just the sort of thing they’ll love, especially in the run up to
Christmas.”

“That’s brilliant!”

“Rachel said,” Puck continued, “that sometimes these things
go national too, if it’s considered interesting enough. So I reckon we should
go looking in the attic, and get out some of the old stuff. Rachel said that
the more antiques we can show the better, as it gives the place atmosphere.”

Philly clapped her hands together. “This is so exciting. I
don’t know what I’d do without you two, honestly.”

Puck’s sister phoned the next morning to say that she would
be coming at the weekend to film the house, so to have as many details of the
mystery weekend as possible ready.

The three friends spent the next few days searching the
attic for suitable furniture, paintings and ornaments. The nineteen seventies
orange and brown dralon suite in the drawing room had been artfully covered in
some chintz curtains to make them look more Victorian, and Puck had carried an
old chaise longue down from the attic to add to the atmosphere.

They decorated the piano in the ballroom with old family
photographs, many of whom Philly did not know. Meg had thrown some patterned
scarves, which she found in the trunks, over the standard lamps in every room
to give each one a warm, comforting glow.

By the time they had finished, the downstairs rooms, such as
the drawing room, sitting room and dining room, had a look of genteel clutter.
They swept out the ballroom, and polished up the crystal chandeliers, hiring a
polishing machine to make the wooden floor gleam. When they had finished, Puck
took Meg in his arms and swung her around the ballroom.

“Ah,” said Philly, from the door, “It’s just like Beauty and
the Beast.”

“Don’t talk about the woman I love like that,” said Puck,
earning himself a nudge in the ribs from Meg.

“It’s a pity,” Philly said, as they all worked hard to get
the rest of the house ready, “that we could not have at least one room as a classroom.
You know, for the story. I wonder why there are no old desks in the attic.”

“I suppose the people who ran the school took them with them
when they left,” said Puck. “Maybe we could hunt some down from a bargain sale,
or something.”