A Small Hill to Die On: A Penny Brannigan Mystery (4 page)

He couldn’t stop thinking about the girl he’d met in the Spa. He thought the receptionist had mentioned her name, but it was Welsh and he hadn’t quite caught it. But he did remember she’d said the girl was the manicurist.

The bus dropped him off near the road that led up to Ty Brith, and as he trudged his way home, he had an idea.

“Ash,” he shouted as he entered the kitchen corridor. “Ash, where are you?”

*   *   *

Derek glanced at his watch. He’d hung around the bookmaker’s until after the race and then strolled over to the pub to down a consoling pint of best bitter after his horse came in fourth, and now he was waiting for a friend to join him. Finally, the door opened and a tall blond man entered. He paused for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the light, and then after surveying the room, he headed to Derek’s table.

“Bruno. How are you, mate? All right?”

The man sat down and gestured at Derek’s pint. “I’ll have one of those, if you’re offering. Just a half, though. Can’t stay too long.”

A few moments later Derek placed a pint in front of his companion.

“There you go.”

Bruno nodded his thanks and took a long pull on the beer. He licked his upper lip and then sat back. “So how are things?”

Derek shook his head.

“Not so good. The kids aren’t settling in and Mai’s so wrapped up in opening the new business she can’t see how bad things are. I’ve tried talking to her, but she doesn’t get it. She’s also worried about Ashlee.”

Bruno took a smaller sip this time and set his glass down.

“Oh, yeah, and why’s that?”

“Thinks she might be up the duff.”

Bruno looked around the pub and then turned to Derek.

“Has she said she is?”

“No, Mai’s just suspicious.”

“Well, there you are, then.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Bruno shrugged and stood up.

“I’d better get home. The wife’ll be wondering where I’ve got to.”

*   *   *

Ashlee Tran sat opposite Penny and held out her hands.

“I’d like something a little different,” she said. “I want it to look special. I heard there’s a new polish that crackles so it looks like, I don’t know, the back of a reptile. It comes in black.” She gave Penny an earnest look. “Or maybe dark purple.”

Penny knew instantly what she was talking about and was glad that Eirlys had put it on the list of polishes that appeal to girls. “We do have the polish that gives that broken-up, shattered look, but I’ve got something else that might interest you. In fact, we just got it in and you’d be the first to have it. What do you think of snakeskin?”

Ashlee’s eyes lit up as Penny explained the manicure to her and showed her the promotional photographs that came with the kit.

“But it costs more,” said Penny. “And it’ll take about an hour and a half. I have to cut the bits of snakeskin to fit each one to your nails.”

“Bring it on,” said Ashlee. “Let’s do it.”

Penny studied her nails. “You’ve been wearing artificial nails, I see.” Ashlee nodded. “They’re murder on your own nails. I don’t recommend them. They’re also expensive to maintain, and personally, I don’t like the look of them.”

Ashlee glanced around her, taking in the shelves with neatly stacked towels and rows of nail polish grouped by colour. The pale pinks, popular in summer, led to darker pinks and into bright reds. Bottles of browns and burgundies, the colour choice in winter, stood at the end of the collection.

“So this is your spa, is it?”

“Yes, we just opened at the end of last year,” replied Penny.

“But you don’t do tanning, do you? My mother was in here a few days ago. She said you haven’t got a tanning bed.”

“She’s right,” said Penny, “we don’t. I thought that might have been your mother.”

Ashlee nodded. “Of course you did. There aren’t too many of us around.” Penny ignored the remark.

“Seems a bit odd you coming here when your mother owns a nail bar.”

“It hasn’t opened yet. It won’t open for another day or two. It should have been open by now, but, I don’t know, there were problems with the plumbing or something. Whatever. I don’t pay much attention to her business.”

Penny set out the supplies for the manicure and then began shaping Ashlee’s fingernails.

“How are you settling in?” Penny asked. “It can be difficult moving to a new place, leaving all your friends behind.” Ashlee gave a little nod of acknowledgment, keeping her eyes on her fingernails. “But there can be something wonderfully exciting about a new beginning,” Penny continued. “New places to discover, new friends to make.”

Ashlee looked at her and shook her head.

“There’s nothing to do here,” she said. “My brother and I hate it. We wish we’d never left Birmingham. We were happy there. It was home.”

“I can understand that,” said Penny. “But you have to give the new place a chance. Who knows? Maybe you’ll meet a nice boy.”

Ashlee’s mouth twisted slightly into a pinched, somewhat haughty look.

“Oh, I’m not interested in boys.” The emphasis on the word “boys” was light but enough.

An hour and a half later, Ashlee admired her fingernails. “There you are,” said Penny. “The girl with the snakeskin manicure.” Ashlee gave her a vacant look and then smiled broadly.

“They’re brilliant. I love them!”

Penny returned the smile. “I’m glad you like them. And no one else around here has anything like them, as far as I know. They should last two to three weeks. Depends on how fast your nails grow.” She touched Ashlee softly on the arm.

“You know, Ashlee, someone gave me a bit of advice many years ago at a time in my life when things weren’t going well. He said the best way to make yourself feel better is to help others.” Ashlee raised her gaze. “So,” continued Penny, “if you’ve got some time on your hands, you might feel better if you did some volunteer work. Find a cause you’d like to support and give them some of your time.”

“Like what?”

“Well, Alwynne Gwilt is always looking for help in her little museum or there’s the seniors home. You could be a visitor and read to the residents. The charity shop might need someone. Or the library, if you like books. Volunteering would get you out of the house, and at the end of the day, you’d feel great knowing you’ve done something to help others.”

Ashlee studied her snakeskin nails. “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I’ll think about it, I guess.”

“You do that.” Penny handed her a slip of paper. “You can pay Rhian on your way out. Thanks for coming in.”

Ashlee took the paper, sighed, and cautiously, as Penny held her coat, slid her arms down the sleeves, protecting the snakeskin nails.

Penny walked her a little way down the hall and said good-bye. She watched as Ashlee stopped at Rhian’s desk, where she paid in cash. She then pushed open the door and was gone.

*   *   *

“Well, how did it go?” Tyler had heard Ashlee’s car and opened the back door to let her in.

“Let me get in out of this perishing cold, will you?” Ashlee said. She removed her coat and threw it at her brother. “Here, make yourself useful and hang that up.” He slung the coat over a hook in the hall and then hurried after her down the corridor into the kitchen. “What’s to eat? I’m starving.” Ashlee pulled a yogurt out of the fridge and sat down and peeled off the top.

“So, how did it go?” Tyler demanded again. “Your manicure. Come on, tell me.”

Ashlee held out her hand and showed him the snakeskin manicure with its shiny pattern of black and silver interlaced diamonds. “Yeah, very cool. But what was she like? What did you talk about?”

“She said I should do some volunteer work.”

“What? Why would she say that? What did you say to her?” He thought for a moment. “Did you say anything about me? Did she remember me?”

Ashlee sat back in her chair and looked at her brother.

“Tyler, she’s way too old for you. What are you thinking? Have you got some kind of mother complex?”

A snarly look of confusion chased away the eagerness on Tyler’s face.

“What are you talking about? Too old?”

“She’s older than Mum, for God’s sake.”

“No!” said Tyler. “She’s my age. She’s got dark hair and she’s Welsh.”

“Well, that wasn’t the one who did my nails, Tyler. You said to make an appointment with the manicurist and I did. She’s got an American accent, her hair’s red, and she’s well old enough to be your mum.” Seeing his bewilderment, Ashlee laughed. “Oh, and you owe me seventy-five quid for the manicure.”

Tyler slammed his chair into the table, kicked the counter, and throwing her a scowl over his shoulder that looked like thunder, stormed out.

Ashlee smiled as she admired her nails. She picked up the yogurt container and, as she dipped her spoon into it, twisted the little pot slightly so she could read the label. Butterscotch pear. Her favourite. But as a sudden rising swell of nausea churned its way up from her stomach, she covered her mouth and made it to the downstairs loo just in time.

Eight

The short days of January stretched on into the next week. Some days the sun struggled to break through the clouds, casting a pale, watery light that bathed the grey stone buildings in a gentle glow. Other days were washed out by freezing rain that rattled windowpanes and kept sensible townsfolk indoors. And then came one of those unexpected warm spells that last a day or two, lifting spirits and reminding everyone that spring will indeed return to the valley and that the end of another winter would soon be in sight.

On the second warm day, a Sunday, Penny called her friend Alwynne Gwilt to see if she wanted to go sketching. Some years ago Penny had set up a little group she called the Stretch and Sketch Club and its members rambled about the valley, sketching, photographing, and painting the wildlife, flowers, stone buildings, and magnificent views that were all around them.

“I don’t know how many members we can get together at this late notice,” said Alwynne, “but I’d love to go. I haven’t been out of the house since yesterday morning.” Alwynne’s husband had taken up baking when he retired, and the very sight of him in the kitchen, covered in flour and wearing one of his mother’s old aprons, was reason enough to drive her into the fresh air.

“Let’s keep it simple,” said Penny. “Let’s just the two of us go.”

“Two? Would you not bring Trixxi?”

Penny looked down at the black Labrador dozing at her feet.

“Yes, of course, Trixxi’d love to come.”

At the mention of her name Trixxi gave a couple of halfhearted thumps of her tail and lifted a sleepy head. Penny gave her a gentle rub on her chest with a stockinged foot. Trixxi had been staying with her since Christmas when Emyr Gruffydd had left Ty Brith Hall and, because of his travel schedule, had decided not to take her to his new base in Cornwall.

Gwennie, who had worked at the Hall since she was a teenager and adored Trixxi, had chosen not to stay on and work for the new residents. She now worked for Penny and Victoria at the Spa, ensuring that freshly laundered towels and robes were always available, snacks and light meals were prepared for guests in for a day of pampering, and that the place ran with the clean efficiency of a boutique hotel. She lived with her house-proud sister who had decreed that no creature of fur or feather would ever be allowed in her tidy bungalow. So Trixxi’s one- or two-night visit with Penny over Christmas turned into a longer stay, and as far as anyone knew, no one was making any efforts to find her a more permanent home.

So after an early lunch, Penny closed the front door behind her and, with Trixxi on her lead, set off for the Spa, where she and Alwynne had agreed to meet up. As she passed the rectory, the door opened and a small brown dog came bounding out. He ran into the churchyard and then, spotting Penny and Trixxi on the pavement, changed course and ran to greet them. He put his paws on Penny’s leg and wagged his tail as she bent down to pat him and hold him by the collar. Moments later a middle-aged woman emerged from the rectory with a dog lead in her hand, and seeing her dog was safe with Penny, she walked over to them.

“Oh, Robbie will take off without me,” she complained as she bent over to clip the lead on his collar. “He’s the silliest dog in all of Wales.”

Penny laughed. “He may be, Bronwyn,” she said, “but Robbie’s probably also the best-loved dog in Wales.”

The rector’s wife laughed. “He probably is. We don’t know what we’d do without him, Thomas and I. He’s brought so much joy into our lives.” She took in Penny’s backpack. “You and Trixxi off on one of your rambles, are you?”

“Going sketching with Alwynne. We’re meant to be meeting up at the Spa in a few minutes, so I’d best be off.”

Bronwyn nodded and looked up at the blue sky. “Well, you’ve got a great day for it.”

“Mmm,” agreed Penny. “It makes such a beautiful change from all that drizzle. I hate those heavy, dark mornings, don’t you? I find it so hard to get going.” They exchanged a few more pleasantries. Then Penny and Trixxi walked the short distance to the Spa where Alwynne was waiting for them, leaving Bronwyn and Robbie to enjoy the walk they took every Sunday after church.

Warmly dressed in case the weather turned colder but hoping it wouldn’t, Penny and Alwynne set off over the town’s three-arched stone bridge, passed the tea shop, and turned down a quiet country road that led to a series of small waterfalls. In December, as Britain experienced the coldest winter in many years, the falls had frozen solid.

“I wonder how that happens,” Penny said as they stopped in front of one of the frozen falls that was now beginning to thaw, making a light, steady trickling sound. “One minute it’s cascading down the slope and the next minute it’s frozen in place.”

“Flash frozen, like?” said Alwynne. “I don’t know how it happens, but I see what you mean. It must have to be very cold for that to occur because you’d think the running water would prevent it from freezing.”

Penny took a few quick steps as Trixxi pulled at the lead, anxious to get on with the walk. “I’m just going to a take few photos of the falls for later,” Alwynne called after her, “because it might be thawed soon. I’ll catch you up.”