Aunt Bessie Joins (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 10) (3 page)

“Isn’t he just the cleverest thing?” Carolyn
said, squeezing the man’s hand.

“I’m sure he’s very good at what he does,”
Mary said.
 
“But this isn’t about
perfection.
 
This is about raising
money for good causes.
 
I think the
general public will be more giving if the efforts look genuine, rather than
professional.”

“Good design is never the wrong choice,”
Christopher said sternly.

“What exactly did you want to change?”
Bessie asked.

“Oh, darling, what didn’t I want to change?”
Christopher said, sighing deeply.
 
“We should walk through the rooms and I’ll tell you what’s wrong in each
of them.”

“The various men and women who decorated the
rooms are all going to be here soon,” Mark said.
 
“We can walk through the rooms with the
representative from each charity and talk with them about any changes that
might be useful.”

“Excellent,” Christopher said.
 
“I’ll just have some more wine while we
wait.”

Mark opened a second bottle of wine and
topped up everyone’s glasses.
 
Bessie wasn’t going to have any more, but it looked like it might be a
long and difficult afternoon.
 
Perhaps a bit more wine would help.

Half an hour later the small banquet room
was full with the various volunteers and workers from the different
charities.
 

“Let’s get started, then,”
Mark
said, his tone unenthusiastic.

“We should go down and start in the
courtyard,” Christopher announced.
 
“I directed the decoration of that space myself.”

Mark led the group through the castle and
back down into the courtyard.
 
It
was just beginning to rain and Bessie and the others didn’t waste much time
admiring the space before heading back indoors.

“There, now, you see?” Christopher demanded
as they all gathered in the first room.
 
“The courtyard is done entirely in mauve, with large baubles and stars.
 
I gave the committee very clear instructions
on what I wanted to see and they’ve very nearly matched my vision.
 
I
realise
I’ve
set the bar rather high for the rest of you, but it’s my job now to help you
aspire to my level within your own tiny spaces.”

A few people muttered replies, but nothing
was clearly audible to Bessie.
 
She
was pretty sure she had a good idea of what was being said, however.

“For the record,” Bessie said loudly now, “I
think the rooms are all wonderful, and I’m looking forward to Mr. Hart’s small
improvements.”

Christopher frowned at her.
 
“Some of them won’t be small,” he
muttered.
 
He looked around the room
where they were standing and then shrugged.
 
“Who decorated this space?” he demanded.

Margaret Christian stepped forward.
 
“I did, or rather myself and the other
ladies from Cancer Care, IOM, did.”

“And is there a theme?” Christopher asked
sneeringly.

“The theme is ‘I’ll be home for Christmas,’”
Margaret replied.
 
“We made the
ornaments on the trees ourselves, using photographs of Manx men and women who
are currently serving in the armed forces as well as pictures of men, women,
and children who are fighting cancer.
 
Our hope was that the room would remind visitors that not everyone can
be home for the holidays, either because they are serving in the military or
because they are too ill to leave hospital.”

“Depressing,” Christopher said.
 
“This is the first room guests will
enter.
 
They’ll be miserable for the
rest of the tour, nay, for the rest of the month.
 
We need to brighten things up in
here.
 
We’ll add garlands in red and
green on every tree and hang giant snowflakes in silver and gold on the
walls.
 
Perhaps we can distract
everyone from the rather distressing photographs.”

“Or maybe we could put up a table with blank
Christmas cards on it and visitors could write cards for our service men and
women and the people in hospital,” Marjorie suggested.
 
“I’m sure Manx National Heritage could
find room in the budget for some blank cards and some postage, and it would
help lift everyone’s spirits to feel like they were helping in some small way.
 
We could even let children write letters
to Father Christmas while they’re here.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Mary said.
 
“If MNH can’t find the money in the
budget, I’ll pay for the cards and postage,” she added.

“I like that idea a lot better than covering
the trees in garland,” Margaret Christian said.
 
“We quite like the trees exactly as they
are.”

“There’s no accounting for taste,”
Christopher sniffed.
 
“Or lack of
it.”

Margaret bristled, but Bessie put her hand
on the woman’s arm before she could speak.

“I think we’re all in agreement, then,”
Bessie said loudly.
 
“We’ll add a
card-writing table to the room, but otherwise leave it exactly as it is.”

There were a few murmurs from around the
room, but no one objected.
 

“On we go, then,”
Mark
said.

The next room looked like the inside of a
child’s toy box.
 
Giant blocks
spelled out “Happy Christmas” in red and green letters, while an overstuffed, ten-foot-tall
teddy bear lounged in a corner.
 
A
handful of enormous Christmas baubles were scattered around the room and
oversized toys were everywhere.
 
Bessie smiled with delight at the giant skipping rope that appeared to
be tangled up with a few stray chess pieces that were larger than life-sized.

“Dare I ask who is responsible for this
disaster?” Christopher asked with a dramatic sigh.

“A group of us from Manx
Cloan
decorated this room,” Liz Martin said.
 
She crossed her arms and stared at the man, but Bessie could see tears
forming in the young woman’s eyes.

Liz had been a classmate in the last Manx
language class Bessie had taken, and Bessie had become friendly with the much
younger woman.
 
Liz hadn’t been on
the island for long.
 
She was a
stay-at-home mum to two small and energetic children, and Bessie had been
impressed with the amount of time and energy Liz devoted to the small charity
that worked to improve the lives of all children on the island.

“It’s not very Christmassy,” Christopher
said sharply.

“We didn’t think it would be quite right,
putting a tree inside a children’s toy box,” Liz defended herself.

“But it’s such a mess,” he retorted.
 
“It looks as if everything has just been
thrown in here.”

“Then we’ve done it all right,” Liz
replied.
 
“Children don’t keep their
toy boxes tidy, after all.”

“I did,” Carolyn snapped.
 
“Christo is quite right.
 
This just looks like a jumbled
mess.
 
How can we fix it, Christo?”

The man sighed again and then shook his
head.
 
“If we had time, I’d suggest
just starting over,” he said with a sigh.
 
“I’m going to have to think about this one.
 
It’s just, I don’t know, not right.”

He shook his head again and then moved on to
the next room, leaving a visibly shaken Liz behind.

“I think it’s perfect,” Bessie whispered to
her young friend.
 
“And I’ll fight
him on any changes he wants to make.”

“Thanks,” Liz said wanly.

Bessie hated leaving the woman when she was
clearly so upset, but she didn’t want to miss what Christopher might be saying
in the next room.
 

“We’ll talk later,” she promised Liz before
hurrying after the group.

Harriet Hooper was the next to face
Christopher’s criticism.
 
Unlike Liz
and Margaret, she wasn’t a volunteer.
 
The Manx Animal Care Team had a paid staff of three.
 
Margaret was their fundraiser, at least
on a part-time basis, and she supported a full-time paid director for the
charity.
 
They also shared a
part-time secretary.
 
Bessie knew
that more and more charitable
organisations
were
becoming increasingly professional and were struggling to find room in their
budgets to add paid staff.
 
Harriet
was a charming woman in her forties, and she’d already done a great deal of
good for the small charity that employed her.

“Too many cuddly toys,” Christopher
grumbled.
 
“What do they have to do
with Christmas?”

“We’re a charity involved entirely with
animals,” Harriet said in a patient voice.
 
“We couldn’t exactly fill the room with live animals, so we thought this
was the next best thing.”

“Live animals would be better,” Christopher
replied.
 
“But really, this doesn’t
tie in with the overall theme of the event at all.
 
You need a Christmas tree in every
corner, not just the one, and you need proper decorations, not bones and cat
toys, hanging from the branches.
 
I’d like fairy lights on the walls and the words ‘Happy Christmas’
spelled out in garland across the ceiling.”

“Would you?” Harriet asked.
 
“I’ll certainly take your suggestions
back to the committee.”

Bessie bit her lip so that she wouldn’t
laugh out loud.
 
Harriet clearly
knew how to deal with the difficult man, at least.

Agnes
Clucas
from
Mannanan’s
Kids didn’t seem the least bit bothered by
Christopher’s assessment of her rainbow room, either.

“You should scatter the different
colours
around the room,” he told her.
 

Agnes shrugged.
 
“I’ll have to see what we can do,” she
mused.
 
“I’m too old to be doing
that sort of thing myself, you see.
 
I don’t know if we have anyone else who can help on such short notice.”

Bessie knew the charity had a huge pool of
active and enthusiastic volunteers, but luckily Christopher didn’t.
 
The Alzheimer’s Research Fund had
decorated the last of the rooms that had been done by an outside group.
 
Its director and only paid employee,
Michael Beach, listened with ill-concealed impatience as Christopher listed
what he saw as the faults with the room.
 
When he was done, Michael shrugged.

“Change whatever you like,” he said
carelessly.
 
“I’m far too busy with
my year-end fundraising campaign to get involved.”

“I’m not manual
labour
,”
Christopher sniffed.

“Neither am I,” Michael said haughtily.
 

“It really doesn’t seem as if any of you
appreciate what Christo is trying to do here,” Carolyn said as everyone
gathered in the banquet room again.
 
“He’s given up a lot of his time and energy in order to help make this
event the most exciting Christmas extravaganza the island has ever seen.”

“And we appreciate that very much,” Mark
said.
 
“And we are enormously
grateful that you’re paying for his time and talents, as MNH simply hasn’t the
budget for such things.”

“I’m sure we’re all grateful for Mr. Hart’s
insights,” Bessie said.
 
“But as the
different groups are all responsible for their own rooms, I think they’ll all
have to make their own choices as to how they put his advice into practice.”

“Now let’s talk about the room I’m going to
decorate,” Christopher said.
 
“I’ve
seen the preliminary plans, and I absolutely hate them.”

Bessie swallowed hard.
 
She’s spent many hours drawing up the
plans for the room being decorated by Manx National Heritage.
 
That was before Christopher Hart had
been dumped in their laps, of course.

Chapter Two

Mark glanced over at Bessie.
 
“Manx National Heritage approved the
plans,” he told the man.
 
“The theme
is ‘Christmas Around the World,’ and we quite liked the idea of the different
trees, each representing a different country and showcasing some of that
country’s unique Christmas customs.”

“Yawn,” Christopher said.
 
“I don’t like the theme, to start with,
but then, if we must go with that, let’s at least do something interesting and
fun with it.”

“Like what?” Mark asked.

“Like celebrating infamous people from each
country or interesting people from each country, rather than boring old
Christmas traditions,” he replied.

“Infamous people?” Mark echoed.

“Sure.
 
Everyone country has its share of mass murderers and the like.
 
We could do Jack the Ripper for the UK
and cover the tree in knives dipped in red paint,” Christopher suggested.

“ But ‘Christmas at the Castle’ is an event
for families,” Bessie said tightly.
 
“I don’t think celebrating mass murderers is what we had in mind.”

“The kids would love it,” Christopher said
dismissively.
 
“Look at how many
flood to the wax museums.
 
They
don’t go to see the pretty waxworks, they go to see the scary stuff in the
basement.”

“Yes, well, I think the committee will have
to discuss that idea,” Mark said.
 
He looked around the room.
 
“Perhaps everyone would like to head to their own rooms and start
thinking about any changes they’d like to make?
 
I’ll walk back through with Mr. Hart for
a second look and we can talk again about the best way to make each space
exactly right.”

“I’m a very busy man,” Michael Beach said
crossly.
 
“I don’t have all
afternoon to waste, waiting to hear what some egotistical designer has to say
about the room I decorated.
 
As far
as I’m concerned, you can do what you like with the space and simply send me a
cheque
for my share of the proceeds from the event.”

“Why don’t we start with your room,” Mark
suggested.
 
“It shouldn’t take
long.”

“I don’t want to work with that man,”
Christopher said loudly, as Michael turned and walked out of the room.
 
“He’s very disagreeable.”

“Pot,” Bessie muttered to herself.
 
Liz was standing near enough to hear her
and she giggled.

“Now, darling,” Carolyn said to
Christopher.
 
“You mustn’t mind
Michael.
 
Not everyone can
recognise
genius.
 
He doesn’t have your vision or your creativity.
 
Please, try to be patient with him.”

“I’ll try,” Christopher said.
 

“Oh, you are wonderful,” Carolyn cooed at
him.
 
They turned and followed
Michael into the next room with Mark on their heels.
 

Everyone left behind began to talk amongst
themselves
.
 
Only
a moment later, however, conversations stopped as the sound of an argument
reached them.

Michael’s deep baritone carried well from
the next room over.
 
“You really are
nothing but an arrogant…”

Christopher, whose high-pitched voice was
raised to almost a squeal, interrupted him.
 
“Don’t you dare call me names, you
horrid little man.
 
I’ll have you
thrown out of here and redecorate this room myself.”

“Oh, I’m scared now,”
Michael
said mockingly.
 
“Throw me out of
here?
 
That’s the best threat you
can come up with?
 
I should have
known better than to get involved in this stupid event anyway.
 
Nearly everyone is a total amateur with
no idea how to go about raising money.
 
You can take your ‘Christmas at the Castle’ and shove it up your…’”

“That’s enough,” Mark’s voice cut through
the fight.
 
“Mr. Hart, you’ve had
your say on this room.
 
Michael can
choose to follow your advice or leave the room as it is.
 
Let’s move on and let Michael get back
to his office.”

“You’d better fix this room,” Christopher
said.
 
“I won’t be associated with
this event if this room isn’t redone.”

Bessie could hear Carolyn saying something,
but she couldn’t make out the words.
 
As nearly everyone was inching closer to the doorway in order to hear
better, Bessie deliberately took a step away.
 
She wasn’t the type to snoop, at least
not where other people could see her doing it.

“I can’t be expected to work in these
conditions,” Christopher wailed.

“I’m surprised you get any work at all,”
Michael snarled back.
 
“I wouldn’t
hire you to decorate my dog’s house.”

Bessie winced when she heard the slap.
 
Now she headed straight for the
door.
 
As a committee member, she
felt she should be there as things were clearly getting out of hand.
 
She arrived in the room just in time to
see Michael’s fist connect with Christopher’s jaw.

Christopher fell backwards, nearly knocking
Carolyn over.
 
She grabbed him
almost instinctively, and then lowered him to the floor.
 
He appeared to have been knocked out, so
Bessie
focussed
her attention on Michael.

“Are you okay?” she asked the man, who was
flexing his hand and frowning.
 
Bessie could see a bright red mark on his
cheek.

“He slapped me,” Michael said.
 
“I’m afraid I just reacted.”

“I hope you’re prepared for charges to be
brought,” Carolyn said from where she was sitting on the floor next to
Christopher.
 
“I’m going to suggest
that Christo sue you as well.
 
I
doubt you’re worth much, but we’ll make you pay as much as we can get.”

“Mr. Hart hit him first,” Mark said
steadily.
 
“If anyone has to worry
about charges and lawsuits, I’d suggest
it’s
Mr. Hart
and not Michael.”

Carolyn flushed and shook her head.
 
“I’m sure my advocate won’t see it that
way.”

“I’m certain Mr. Hart won’t want to press
charges,” Bessie said.
 
“Think of
all the negative publicity that would generate.
 
He’s about to start filming a new
television show, I believe.
 
I’m
sure he’ll be happy to just put the whole thing behind him.”

“We’ll see,” Carolyn said.
 
“In the meantime, I think he needs a
doctor.”

“I’ve rung 999,” Mary said from behind Bessie.
 
“There’s an ambulance on its way.”

“Maybe you should get back to Douglas,”
Bessie suggested to Michael.
 
“I
know how busy you are.”

“I should, but I don’t want the police
showing up there to accuse me of leaving a crime scene or something,” he
replied.

“No one considers this a crime scene,” Mark
told him.
 
“You go.
 
Mr. Hart is only here until
Wednesday.
 
We can talk about your
room once he’s gone.”

“Thanks,” Michael said.
 
“I hope he’s okay,” he said, gesturing
towards the man on the floor.
 
“But
I can’t say I’m sorry I hit him.”

Bessie and Mary walked out of the castle
with Michael, having suggested that they go and wait for the paramedics in the
courtyard.

“They’ll never find their way up here,”
Bessie pointed out.

Mark looked as if he didn’t really want to
be left alone with Christopher and Carolyn, but he agreed that they should
go.
 

It was only a few minutes later that they
were back with two paramedics.
 
Christopher was just struggling to sit up.

“What happened?” he asked Carolyn, rubbing
his jaw gently.

“That horrible man, Michael Beach, punched
you,” she said.
 
“I told him you
were going to press charges.”

“However, you did hit him first,”
Mark
said.
 

“Let’s take a look at you, then,” one of the
paramedics suggested.
 
He knelt down
next to Christopher and shined a light in his eyes.
 
After a short exam and several
questions, he shrugged.

“Head injuries are tricky,” he said.
 
“You lost consciousness for a
while.
 
It would probably be best if
you went up to Noble’s for the night.”

“I don’t need a hospital,” Christopher
replied.
 
He shook his head and then
groaned.
 
“Some headache tablets
would be nice, though.”

“I have some,” Carolyn told him.
 
She dug around in her handbag and then
handed Christopher a small bottle.
 
“You keep it and take what you need,” she told him.

“I still think hospital is the best place
for him,” the paramedic said.

“I’ll look after him,” Carolyn replied.
 
“He’s staying at my home in Douglas
tonight.
 
If he isn’t feeling well,
we can take him over to Noble’s at any time.”

The man nodded and got to his feet.
 
“I think my work here is done,” he said
with a smile.
 
“The castle looks
wonderful, by the way.
 
I’ll have to
bring the kids to see it once it’s open.”

Mary offered to walk the men back out, but
Bessie stayed behind.
 
She wanted to
make sure that nothing further was said about pressing charges against
Michael.
 

“I think you should take the rest of the
afternoon off,” Mark suggested to Christopher as he slowly got to his
feet.
 
“We can look at the rest of
the castle tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow I shall be decorating my room,”
Christopher reminded him.
 
“We still
have to work out what I shall be using for that.”

“We’ve boxes and boxes of things that we
ordered when we originally chose the theme for that space,” Mark told him.
 
“I’m afraid there probably isn’t time to
get anything else.”

“I shall have to go shopping tonight, then,”
Christopher replied.
 
“I do wish I’d
had more notice, but the show must go on.”
 

He gave everyone what Bessie was certain he
thought was a brave smile.
 
It
looked more like a self-satisfied grin to Bessie, but she forced herself to
smile back.

“Let’s talk to the woman who did that
rainbow thing,” Christopher said now.
 
“I’m sure she’ll be more reasonable to work with than that nasty man.”

Mark found Agnes, and the group moved into
the next room together.
 
Within
minutes, Christopher had Agnes in tears and Bessie ready to scream.

“I don’t think this is working very well,”
she said as Agnes rushed away.
 
“Maybe we should just leave things the way they are.”

“I’m paying darling Christo a lot of money,”
Carolyn snapped.
 
“He’s here to
improve things, remember?
 
We want
this event to be a success, don’t we?
 
Christo will make everything so much more wonderful if everyone would just
listen to him.”

“The volunteers who’ve decorated the rooms
have worked very hard,” Bessie said levelly.
 
“We don’t want to upset them any more
than we want to upset Mr. Hart.
 
Our
job, as a committee, is to make everyone happy.”

Christopher laughed harshly.
 
“Impossible,” he said scornfully.
 
“Surely you’re old enough to know better
than to even try.”

“I’m old enough to
realise
that life on a small island runs much more smoothly when people make an effort
to work together,” Bessie told him.
 
“You’ll be gone back to London on Wednesday, but we’re hoping to be
working with these charity volunteers for years to come.
 
This is meant to be the first annual ‘Christmas
at the Castle,’ after all.”

“Well, it’s my last ‘Christmas at the Castle,’”
he replied.
 
“By this time next year
I’ll be a household name, and lending my talents to dreary small town
festivities like this will be nothing but a distant, albeit painful,
memory.
 
But let’s move on, I don’t
want to be here all night.”