The Jigsaw Puzzle (3 page)

Leo laughed. ‘They were a tough generation. My great-uncle was inventing well into his seventies. Now he funds the bar bill in his retirement home by concocting Sudoku grids and compiling crosswords. Why are you stopping here?'

Penny had paused with her hand on the door of the hospice shop. ‘I've got some sacks of Mum's clothes in the car. I'm going to ask if they want them.'

As she waited for the manager, Leo headed for the shelf of puzzles. ‘You never know,' he said cheerfully as she rolled her eyes at him. ‘I'm a great believer in coincidence.' A few minutes later there was a crash and a muttered curse. Penny pretended she wasn't with him.

He reappeared at the counter beside her, lifting the lid of an elderly box containing a set of wooden jigsaws made out of Art Deco style handbill adverts (‘Salthaven By The Sea', ‘Visit Salthaven By Train'). ‘Those are nice,' she said.

‘The cut,' he hissed. ‘Look at the cut. It's the same style.'

Penny looked. And looked again with disbelief and amazement.

They went to her house to study the jigsaws properly, Penny linking her arm in Leo's and waving at the CCTV camera in the car park first.

Leo glanced down at her, startled.

 ‘In case Frances finds me murdered and robbed when she gets home,' Penny explained with a smile.

‘Doesn't it ever get boring, being sensible?' he asked.

‘Oh, I'm not nearly as sensible as my oldest daughter,' she reassured him. ‘Lucinda would have had you CRB checked before she'd even let you buy her a cup of tea.'

There were six advert-jigsaws, separated by sheets of thin paper. They lifted them out one by one. As Leo had said, all of them were cut in the same wiggly style. And these were the original adverts, not modern reproductions. At the bottom was a typed slip of paper: ‘To: Seaview Emporium, Cliff Road, Salthaven. Please find your order enclosed. We await your remittance and look forward to further commissions.'

Leo spread them out on the table and studied them, his eyes moving from one to the next and then back again for a closer look. ‘But they're just jigsaws!' he said in frustration.

‘What did you expect them to be? Have you thought that maybe they were simply giving work to prisoners of war or something?' suggested Penny.

‘You are a terrible woman,' said Leo, affronted. ‘What sort of insipid story would that be?'

She grinned and tipped her own jigsaw pieces in front of him. ‘Here's mine.'

His attention was arrested at once. ‘That's interesting – it's the same sort of envelope as the one at the fete.'

‘That's how I spotted it. I should think they must be original, wouldn't you? Returned to the owners in them when the puzzles were finished with, and then just kept in them. Certainly Grandma Astley wouldn't have wasted a perfectly good envelope by shifting the jigsaw pieces to a tin or a box instead.' She paused. ‘If it
was
a local industry in Salthaven, there are probably lots more around. All being donated for jumble because the owners are passing away or down-sizing.' She had a moment's sadness thinking that there were other people in Salthaven going through what she had been through with Mum.

‘Then why would they have a foreign postmark?' said Leo. He pulled a tiny camera out of his pocket and took photos of both labels. ‘Lots of lovely leads. Red Cross, Geneva, Salthaven Home Welfare and the Seaview Emporium. Much more like it.'

He's bounced right back
, thought Penny. As soon as a new avenue of investigation had popped up, he'd forgotten all about the previous one petering out. It was rather endearing in a way. ‘Do you want tea?' she asked.

‘Yes, please.' He looked at his watch. ‘Oops, no I can't. I'm supposed to be covering the opening of a Thai restaurant down in the harbour. Would you like to come?'

Just like that?
Penny panicked. ‘I … I can't. I've got Frances' dinner to make.'

He looked surprised. ‘I thought you said she was seventeen. Can't she make her own dinner?'

‘Well, yes, but … that is, she might not have her front door key. She'll be expecting me to let her in.' Penny stopped talking before she tied herself up in any more knots. The truth was that she wasn't a spur-of-the-moment person. Leo's energy confused her. She showed him out and pointed him towards the bus stop, feeling flustered. When he'd gone she felt as if a whirlwind had just ripped a corridor through her life.

Aunt Bridget was still staring intently at her from the jigsaw when she sat down with a calming mug of tea. Triggered, Penny left a message on her voicemail – presumably even in Tibet there were occasional mobile signals – saying she hoped her aunt was having a fabulous time and that she'd found a jigsaw with her photo on. No sooner had she finished than a text arrived from Frances saying she was going to see a film with her friend Marissa and that they were having a pizza before it. Penny's first thought was that she could have accepted Leo's invitation to the restaurant after all. Her second was shock at herself for even considering the idea.

Not that she would have gone. She hardly knew him. She wasn't entirely sure she trusted him either. There was still that faint tang of mystery to him. Suddenly she frowned, going back over their conversations.

Something didn't add up. He most definitely wasn't a jigsaw collector or he'd have shown much more interest in that box of Salthaven adverts. Also – the newspaper advert had only mentioned wanting photos or prints. And yet he'd been looking for puzzles right from the outset. So how had he known to?

The phone rang ten minutes into
Midsomer Murders
. ‘Hope I'm not disturbing you,' said Leo. He didn't sound sorry – he sounded enthusiastic.

‘No – I've already worked out whodunit. How was the Thai restaurant?'

‘Excellent. They gave me a doggy bag and a bottle. Doing anything tomorrow? We need to work.'

Penny felt a tiny frisson of excitement. ‘I thought you had plenty to go on.'

‘Not any more. That's why I'm ringing. They don't exist. Neither the Salthaven Home Welfare section
nor
the Seaview Emporium.'

‘Well, of course they don't,' she said. ‘It was sixty years ago.'

Leo gave a jubilant laugh. ‘You don't understand. They've never existed, Penny. Not ever. Good, isn't it?'

Chapter Two

Leo arrived next morning at a time most people didn't even know existed.

‘Don't you sleep?' demanded Penny as she answered the door, thanking whichever deity kept an eye on her these days that she'd got dressed before making breakfast.

‘Not when there's a story to track down.' he replied, following her into the kitchen. ‘Also, I've run out of tea bags. Hello, I'm Leo,' he said to Frances.

Frances had been finishing her cereal with one hand and tracing dreamy patterns on the jigsaws – which were still spread out on the table from yesterday – with the other. She looked up with a startled squawk. Penny offered an equally fervent thank you that her daughter was also dressed.

Leo pulled out a chair. ‘So, what do you make of them?' he asked Frances.

‘The jigsaws? They're cool. Who are you?'

Penny sighed and flicked the kettle on. ‘He's the reporter I met yesterday.'

‘In what way cool?' asked Leo.

‘Unique,' said Frances. ‘It's really difficult to create random patterns because the mind wants to make things orderly by repeating them. But these cuts are random. Even when I find repeated clumps, they're dotted about, not in a formal pattern. It's awesome.'

Penny foresaw that the next batch of clothes to emerge from her daughter's sewing machine would be jigsawed together.

‘Repeated clumps?' said Leo. ‘How can you tell? It looks completely mad and higgledy-piggledy to me.'

‘Not if you think about how it was made.' Frances' index finger moved across the horizontal cuts on the Aunt Bridget puzzle as if she was reading lines of print in a book, left to right and then down to the next. ‘The saw blade goes from one edge to the other, cutting loops above or below the line as it travels. Sometimes the cut is level between the loops, but sometimes the maker has put in a gentle wave. After you've done all the lengthways cuts, you turn the frame by ninety degrees and do all the top-to-bottom ones. Regular cuts give regular pieces, but where the waves cross each other you get these crazy angled ones.'

Leo bent his head to look. ‘I see. So this line goes up-loop, wave, up-loop, wave, up-loop, down-loop, down-loop, wave and so on.'

‘Exactly. All beautifully random.'

‘I can see quite a lot that go wave, up-loop, wave,' objected Leo.

‘But not next to other repeated blocks,' said Frances. ‘For instance –'

Penny was having slight qualms about her daughter sitting so close to Leo. Frances might be artistically gifted, but she was the most un-streetwise teenager in Salthaven. A stranger was simply a friend she didn't know the name of, and Penny still wasn't wholly convinced by Leo. Oh, he seemed very open on the surface, and was certainly amusing to be with, but
s
he really knew very little about him. She broke another two eggs into the poacher and changed the subject. ‘Last night, Leo, when you said those addresses didn't exist, what did you mean?'

He swung around. ‘Just that. There is no record of The Seaview Emporium in any trade directory for this area. And before you say maybe these advert-jigsaws weren't to do with the war after all, there are no ‘emporia' of any kind listed in Salthaven for the last hundred years. No phone number registered to that name. And no shops anywhere along Cliff Road.'

Penny jiggled the eggs thoughtfully. ‘It might not have been a shop. How about a mail-order service run from home? You can call yourself anything as long as the local post-people know where to find you.' She pushed the jigsaws aside to make room for three plates and shared out the toast.

‘You've got a point there.'

‘And the Home Welfare section may have been too temporary to be registered.'

‘No, that definitely didn't exist. Oh, is this for me? You shouldn't have.'

Penny looked at his ingenuous face. ‘That line needs work,' she said. ‘Why didn't the Home Welfare section exist? It sounds as if it should.'

‘Doesn't it just? Lovely official name, but a complete fabrication. Have you any salt? Thank you. Home Welfare was nothing to do with the Red Cross either – their welfare division didn't start until 1946.'

‘So what was it?' said Penny, puzzled.

‘Isn't it obvious? A convenient, authentic-sounding address. Somewhere to send documents and parcels that no one would pry into en route because of the magic Red Cross label. And as you say, if the local post office knew where it was supposed to be, it wouldn't matter that the place wasn't in the wartime equivalent of the yellow pages.'

‘But the Red Cross organisation is
neutral.'
Penny was shocked.

He dug into his egg. ‘Of course it is. This doesn't mean the parcels came from them. All someone needed was access to the labels, Penny.'

Just to smuggle jigsaws home? It didn't make sense!

There was something else that didn't make sense either. After she had chivvied Frances off to the bus stop for sixth form college, she made two more mugs of tea and said, ‘If you want my help, Leo, you're going to have to be a bit straighter with your information. What started you on this hunt? You were looking for old jigsaw puzzles at the church fete, but that 1942 advert only mentioned wanting photographs and prints for the war effort. There was nothing there about jigsaws.'

‘That's very perceptive.'

‘I am perceptive. I've brought up three children.'

The tiniest shadow passed across Leo's face. Penny remembered too late that his own child lived apart from him.

He stirred his tea reflectively. ‘After I came out of hospital I needed a distraction. I needed to do something. I went through my cuttings file for anything I could work on as a freelance. I came across a WW2 Cabinet Papers clipping that I'd found some time before. It was just a scribbled entry in a diary, but it had intrigued me enough to make a note of it. The entry read:
‘The Salthaven puzzles are proving most useful. Who would have thought it?'
'

‘The Salthaven puzzles?'

He shrugged. ‘I didn't know what it meant, but spending holidays here with my great-uncle have always made me feel proprietary about Salthaven. I'd snipped the item because of the name, thinking I might follow it up one day. Then, on the NUJ website, I saw a post advertised with the
Salthaven Messenger
. I never pass up coincidences.'

The explanation rang true, but Penny was sure it wasn't the whole truth. ‘What sort of accident were you in?' she asked.

He gave her a wry look. ‘I had a car crash, breaking my leg in four places. Trust me, prolonged bed-rest isn't ideal for a workaholic.'

‘I can imagine.' Penny drummed her fingers on the table. ‘So you took the job here because you thought it would be less stressful? Easier than London?'

‘That was the idea, but I'm now going out of my mind reporting on how the recession is affecting the bed & breakfast trade.' Leo tapped the jigsaws. ‘What do you say to these being cut into a code?'

And now
he
was changing the subject. Penny let it go. ‘A code? How? And what would be the point?'

He levered himself up. ‘No idea, that's what makes it fun. Frances' comment about repeated sections suggested it to me. I'll email photos of these to a boffin mate of mine. Meanwhile you investigate your address book for anyone who might know how the post was delivered in 1943.'

So they were partners now? Penny was startled by the gratified flicker this gave her. Even so, she wasn't about to be taken for granted. ‘You'll be lucky. Anyone who was delivering the post in 1943 will be in their nineties!'

‘Great-uncle Charles is ninety-four and he can remember those days as clear as anything. The only thing
he
has trouble recalling is whose round it is.'

Penny suspected that particular trait might run in the family. ‘Leo, I
do
have a life. For a start, I need to drop off more clothes at the hospice shop. I can't rent out the bungalow with Mum's possessions still in possession. So to speak.'

Leo's eyes gleamed. ‘Why not spread the bounty around? One bag of clothes per charity. Then you can ask in each shop if they've ever had old photo-jigsaws brought in. What we need is a body of evidence.'

‘What
you
need is a body of evidence, you mean. I'll give you the bungalow key – you can haul the sacks of stuff around yourself.'

‘You can't fool me, Penny. You know you want to find out what it's all about too,' he said as he opened the door. ‘And you've got all these delicious local contacts. It would be a sin not to use them.'

The worst of it was that he was right.

In fact, finding out about wartime post was laughably easy. The lady who used to deliver Penny's mail had now retired and helped out in the hospice shop. Penny had already known she'd followed in her mother's footsteps by joining Royal Mail so it was a simple matter to introduce the subject into the conversation while she was dropping clothes off. It turned out Effie's mother had been with the Post Office her whole working life.

‘Oh yes, Mum used to do the Salthaven sorting. There was a bit of bother when the men came back after the war, because she said she needed a wage as much as the next person with Dad gone, and she wasn't going make way and live on the welfare when she'd been doing the job just fine for the last six years. She was ever so fast. Beat all the others hollow. She still thinks postcodes are unnecessary.'

‘My word, she must have known everyone in Salthaven.' This was hopeless. Penny could hear herself sounding more like a fake Agatha Christie character by the second. She decided Leo could do his own dirty work. ‘The new reporter on the
Messenger
is looking for human interest stories,' she said. ‘How about if he takes you and your mum out to tea one afternoon?'

Effie considered, her head on one side. ‘I think she'd rather have a nice stout at the pub, if it's all the same to him.'

‘I haven't been to a pub at lunchtime for years,' said Penny, holding the door as Leo manoeuvred the wheelchair of Salthaven's one-time chief postmistress into the Crown & Anchor. ‘This feels very decadent. I suppose you're used to it.'

‘It's a common fallacy that journalists live in bars,' said Leo. ‘Nowadays we all use the internet.'

‘Hi, Leo,' said a cheerful waitress. ‘Usual table?'

Penny chuckled.

Old Rose, as she was known, was thoroughly enjoying herself. The dining room had a grand view of the river and the main bridge linking East and West Salthaven, so there was plenty to look at and comment on. She eyed the tape recorder Leo set up, observing roundly that they didn't train young people to memorise any more. Not like in the old days.

‘They do,' replied Leo without batting an eyelid. ‘This is so when you sue me, I can prove you really did say all those indiscreet things.'

Old Rose cackled delightedly. Penny had brought along Mum's jigsaw and envelope to see if it jogged any memories. She waited for Leo to draw the old lady out, then asked if she remembered delivering envelopes like this.

‘Ooh, I haven't seen one of those for years. That does take me back. The Home Welfare people were always getting packages. Effects, we thought they might be, seeing as they were through the Red Cross.' Her eyes misted. ‘All those poor young men.'

Leo agreed it must have been a sad job and casually asked where the Home Welfare section had been situated.

‘Cliff Road, up in West Salthaven,' said Old Rose promptly. ‘We were ever so pleased, because before the war it was all parties and picnics and tennis there – never thought they had it in them to do much good. Lovely parties, mind. Best of everything laid on in the way of food and champagne. Shame he never married. There was one very nice young lady … but then, she was French, and she went back to be with her family. Didn't like to ask what became of her. Big place. Room for a dozen welfare departments.'

‘All those houses are flats or guesthouses now,' said Penny. ‘I always think it's a pity, but I suppose it's better than them being pulled down and built over. Which one was it, Rose?'

‘Outlook House, dear. Didn't I say? Lots of people they had living there during the war. Polite, but odd, if you know what I mean. All from London, I daresay. They weren't locals.'

Leo's hand jerked, spilling his beer. He mopped it up, a blank look on his face.

‘And where was the Seaview Emporium?' asked Penny, after a swift look at him.

‘That was up at Outlook House too. Sideline, I reckon. Couldn't have been any money in it because it didn't carry on long.'

Rose continued to reminisce. After a few minutes Leo pulled himself together and joined in. Interesting, thought Penny, watching him. He's had a shock, but he's still functioning as a journalist. And then she thought it wasn't odd really, it was just human nature. She'd been knocked endways by Mum's death, but there was still laundry to do, still Frances to look after. There were still local functions to attend and meals to cook. You simply had to get on with it.

‘Do you mind walking?' said Leo as the cab containing Rose and Effie disappeared over the bridge. ‘I need to clear my head.'

‘Fine by me.' Did sitting for a long time make his limp worse or better? Penny eyed him surreptitiously as they strolled along the wide street bordering the river. What was it about water that made the world seem more peaceful? Beside them, day boats sailed past, a cabin cruiser nosed into a berth, the river police launch chugged by. Lovely.

‘I suppose you've guessed Outlook House was where my great-uncle lived.'

Penny shrugged apologetically. ‘I couldn't see why else you'd freak out.'

Leo sighed and thrust his hands in his pockets. ‘I don't know why I should be surprised. Uncle Charles has invented stuff all his life and he was at university with chaps who went on to be ‘something in politics'. So he'd have connections as well as that sideways, back-room-boy mentality. I can just see Outlook House being turned into an oddball ideas factory to help with the war effort.'