A Small Hill to Die On: A Penny Brannigan Mystery (2 page)

She turned to Penny. “So I thought the proper thing to do would be to stop in and tell you myself about our plans. I didn’t want you to learn about us from the newspaper.” She gave a light, slightly embarrassed laugh. “Or even, possibly, from one of your former clients.”

Penny did not immediately reply as she struggled to take in the implications of what she had just heard.

“I’m sure your tanning service will be in great demand,” said Penny sarcastically, with a strong emphasis on the word “tanning.” “Of course, studies have shown that tanning is dangerous, so that is not a service we offer as we place an emphasis on health and well-being.” Rhian glanced up from her computer. “Now then, if there’s nothing else, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to excuse me. I must be getting on. Mrs. Lloyd and I are in the middle of her manicure.”

“Yes, well,” said Mai, “I just wanted you to know. You’ll see the shop sign installed in a day or two. I have to be getting on as well. Lots to do what with launching our newest venture and seeing the family settled into the new house.”

Mrs. Lloyd raised an eyebrow and shot Penny a conspiratorial glance.

“Before you go, er, Mrs., when you say ‘house’—bought a place in the area, have you?”

“Yes. It’s called Ty Brith Hall. Do you know it?”

Penny tried to conceal her surprise.

“We know it,” said Penny. “We heard at Christmas that it’d been sold, but we didn’t know who had bought it.”

“Well,” said Mai, pulling on her gloves, “now you do.” She gave a curt nod and turned to go. Rhian stood up and the three watched Mai push open the door and step out into the frosty January morning, letting in a whoosh of cold air.

“Well, I don’t know what to make of that,” said Mrs. Lloyd as she and Penny returned to the manicure room and work resumed on Mrs. Lloyd’s fingernails.

“But I do think that woman’s going to be trouble with a capital
T
for you, Penny, you mark my words,” said Mrs. Lloyd. “A foreigner. We don’t get many foreigners moving to Llanelen.” She thought about what she had just said and to whom she had said it. “Well, there’s you, of course, but that’s different. You’re from Canada and we used to practically own Canada, back in the days when we still had an empire, so in a way, you’re one of us.”

Penny had arrived in Llanelen over twenty-five years ago as a recent university graduate with a degree in fine arts. She had planned to stop in Llanelen for just the one night, but as the years slipped away she had created a life for herself in the small market town. She’d made friends, built up a small manicure business, and on the death of a dear friend, a retired schoolteacher with no family, she had inherited a period cottage, which she had lovingly updated and decorated.

The two women fell silent and the only sound was the soft scraping of emery board on fingernail. After a few minutes, as if unable to bear the silence, Mrs. Lloyd picked up where she’d left off.

“What is the world coming to when someone like that would live at Ty Brith Hall? I wonder. The country’s being taken over by foreigners. I don’t care about political correctness and what we’re allowed to think or say. Very worrying, it is,” she said. “Those politicians are letting these foreigners come in and steal our country. Everyone’s so concerned about not offending anybody we’re not allowed to be British anymore.” She gave her head a little shake. “And Ty Brith Hall, of all places.”

Beautifully situated on a hill overlooking the North Wales valley town of Llanelen, and with embracing views of the magnificent ancient green hills that cradle it, Ty Brith Hall had been owned by the Gruffydd family for decades. Emyr Gruffydd had inherited the property the previous summer on the death of his father, but now spent most of his time managing the family’s other estate in Cornwall. Too many unhappy memories attached to the property, the townsfolk suggested. Or too much house and land for a single man to cope with on his own.

“We don’t know anything about this woman, really,” said Penny. “We’re just going on first impressions. I hope we’re not being racist. But I must say I found her accent rather surprising. Where’s she from, do you think?”

“Birmingham, I shouldn’t wonder. We had a woman who worked in the post office once who sounded like that.” She gave Penny a meaningful look. “I’m not an expert on accents by any means, but I’d say from the sound of hers she’s been in this country a very long time. Grew up here. Maybe her family arrived here with the boat people in the 1970s, so she might even have been born here.”

Penny wiped her hands on a towel, looked at it thoughtfully, and then folded it.

“What I don’t understand,” Mrs. Lloyd continued, “is why on earth Emyr would sell the Hall to her. That house has been in his family for decades and he loved it. Why would he not want it to go to someone who would appreciate it and take care of it? I can’t see her doing that. What could she possibly know about or want with country living? It’s not for everyone, you know.”

“Well, these are difficult times. I don’t suppose there are many people about who could afford a property like that, so he probably didn’t have much choice who he sold it to.” After a moment’s reflection, she added, “Of course, entertainers and show business people are always looking for nice big country estates. Wouldn’t it have been something if we’d got a film star? Or a couple like Brad and Angelina. They buy up houses all over the place. France…”

Mrs. Lloyd reached for a tissue and dabbed at her nose.

“Well, that’s another thing. Who knew there was so much money to be made in tanning salons that you could afford a beautiful place like Ty Brith Hall. She must be rolling in it.”

Penny sighed as she applied the top coat to Mrs. Lloyd’s manicure.

“Actually, right now I don’t care about her buying the Hall. It’s the new business that’s got me very worried. I don’t care about the tanning. If young girls or older women who should know better are stupid enough to pay to expose themselves to skin cancer, that’s their lookout, but this town doesn’t need two manicure salons. Never mind Handz and Tanz with a zed. With a zed! How stupid is that?”

“And you do know, Penny, that these foreigners who run the nail bars will probably charge much less than you do. They’ll have brought in those girls who work cheap.”

Penny gave her a sharp look as she placed Mrs. Lloyd’s hands under the nail dryer. “Oh, I wish you hadn’t said that, Mrs. Lloyd. Now you’ve got me really worried.”

Mrs. Lloyd gestured at her handbag. “Just reach around in there and find my mobile, would you? The moment my nails are dry I’ll ring Morwyn and let her know about this woman. I expect she’ll want to do a story about her opening a new business.” Leaving Mrs. Lloyd to think about what she would say to Morwyn, her niece who worked for the local paper, Penny strode down the hall and asked Rhian if Victoria had returned yet. Told she had and was in her office, Penny knocked on the door and then entered. Victoria, who was crossing off an item on a piece of paper on her desk, looked up, and the corners of her mouth started to draw up into a smile but didn’t quite make it.

“Now you look really awful,” she said. “Even worse than you did earlier this morning. What is it? Has something happened?”

“We’ve got competition.” As she told Victoria about the new tanning salon and nail bar Victoria slowly sank back into her chair.

“Maybe I’d better stay home. This probably isn’t the best time to be going on holiday.”

Penny mulled that over for a moment. “No, I think you should go. The nail bar won’t be opening for a couple of weeks, so there’s not much we can do about it now. Have your holiday. Get rested up and come back in fighting form. We’ll figure out what to do when you get back, depending on what’s happening.”

She stood up.

“We thought we took everything into account in the business plan, but we didn’t allow for competitors.” She paused. “Or should I say,
competitorz
with a zed?”

Three

Mai drove the last kilometre up the long and winding driveway to Ty Brith Hall. Most people making that trek paused for a moment to admire the far-reaching views that stretched across the fertile valley to the hills beyond, but Mai ignored her surroundings, keeping her eyes focused on the road ahead.

She pulled the car round to the back, got out, and after giving the car door a good slam, she picked her way across the graveled yard. She paused for a moment to look around her, taking in the wintry beauty of the richly designed and intricately laid out gardens glittering with frost, and then pushed the door open. The silver dolphin knocker lifted a little and made a tiny tapping sound as she closed the door behind her and entered the well-worn stone-flagged hallway that led to the kitchen.

*   *   *

“Only me,” Mai called out as she entered the kitchen.

She shot a hard, dirty look at the man sitting at the kitchen table, who had not bothered to look up when she entered. He turned a page of the tabloid newspaper spread out in front of him, took a long, practiced drag on his cigarette, and then tapped the ash into a saucer. Placing his finger on a column of type to mark his place, he glanced at Mai, grunted, and then exhaled smoke through his nose. He pushed a greasy clump of brown hair out of his eyes and set the cigarette down in the saucer. The smoke drifted to the ceiling in a swirling purple haze.

“You could at least say hello, you bloody great useless prat,” Mai said. “How are the kids? Are they even up yet?”

“Look around,” the man replied with a dismissive shrug.”Do you see them anywhere?”

“They might have gone out,” Mai said, as she filled the kettle. “Have you had your breakfast?”

“No, I was waiting for you to get back and make it,” the man said.

“It’s practically noon,” Mai said, her voice rising. “Do I have to do everything around here? Isn’t it enough that I run the bloody business that provided all this for us?” She waved an arm to take in the large kitchen.

“Nobody asked you to,” the man replied. “We were fine as we were. We didn’t want to move to this godforsaken place. The pubs are rubbish and there’s nothing for the kids to do.”

As he spoke, a tall, skinny teenager slunk into the room and sat down opposite the man. The boy waved a hand back and forth in an ostentatious display of dispelling the cigarette smoke.

“Mum, can you tell him not to smoke in the house?”

“Derek, how many times? Don’t smoke in the house. It’s not good for the kids.”

Derek sucked in another lungful of smoke and blew it out through his nose in the general direction of the boy but not quite in his face.

The boy muttered something under his breath and stood up.

“Make us a coffee, Mum, and I’ll take it upstairs,” he said. “I’m not sitting here with that tosser husband of yours.” He walked over to the window and looked out.

“I hate this place. I think I’ll take the bus into town later. God, I miss my mates.” He accepted the mug of instant coffee Mai was holding out to him, and after sloshing a few drops on the floor, he left the room without looking back.

Mai glanced at the coffee spots on the floor and stepped over them to hand a mug to Derek. “Ta.”

“Is that all you can say?” she said, giving his shoulder a rough shake. “Ta? And can’t you try to get on better with Tyler? He’s just a lad.”

“Get off,” Derek said, hunching away from her.

“What have you got on for today, besides a trip to the betting shop?” Mai demanded. “Meeting up with that good-for-nothing friend of yours, are you?” He shrugged, folded up his newspaper, stubbed out his cigarette and sat back, arms folded across his chest.

“You know, Mai, I don’t think coming here was such a good idea. The kids hate it, there’s nothing to do, and you don’t seem too sure of it yourself. Tell me again why we’re here, and maybe you can convince yourself while you’re at it.”

“You know why we’re here. We’re expanding the business into North Wales, and we were lucky to get this place. This kind of property doesn’t come on the market very often. It’s beautiful here, and once everybody gets used to it, everything’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, well, you just keep telling yourself that, love.” Derek gave her a wry look and raised his eyebrows. He gave himself a good scratch, pushing down the top of a graying undershirt to reveal the forked tongue of a tattooed snake that wound its way around his torso.

“Well, it’s your money.” After a moment he corrected himself. “Well, your brother’s, more like.”

“And I intend to make the most of our life here,” Mai went on, as if he hadn’t spoken. “Join a few organizations, get involved in country life, that sort of thing.” Her face softened as she reached out to touch Derek’s hand. “Look, for my sake, just try to get along with folk, will you? I want this to work. And for God’s sake, keep your tattoos covered up.”

“You? Country pursuits? Give me a break.” He yawned and gave himself another scratch. “And what’s the matter with my tats, I’d like to know? You used to like them well enough. As I recall, you couldn’t get enough of them before we got married.” And with that he picked up his mug of coffee and slunk out of the room.

“And we all know what a mistake that was,” Mai yelled after him. “And mind you don’t spill that coffee. I’ve enough to do without cleaning up after you.” It’s too bad that little cleaner or housekeeper or whatever she was hadn’t agreed to stay on, Mai thought, even though she’d been offered more money. Mai had heard that towns and villages could be closed and unwelcoming to newcomers, but she wasn’t worried about that. She had more than enough money to buy her way into the locals’ favour. In a few weeks everyone in town would be scrambling to be her best friend. She’d always admired the posh properties advertised in the genteel magazines, and now she had her chance to live that dream. She’d get a pair of expensive leather-lined Le Chameau wellies and one of those dark green puffy vests that duchesses always wore in
Hello!
magazine when they wanted to show everyone how down-to-earth they were, talking about hens or mucking about in the garden just like regular folk. But all that would have to wait until the business was up and running.