Something was making a noise. Trixie struggled to hold on to the pleasant dream, but the noise continued, repeated, and finally she let go and allowed herself to awaken. On the bedside table, her phone was trilling. The last tendrils of the dream slipped away as she picked it up and answered the call.

“’Lo?”

“Oh, Trixie!” her mother cried. “I’m so sorry to wake you, but I didn’t know who else to call.”

“What’s wrong?” She sat up and the covers dropped to her waist. “Is it Dad? One of the boys?”

“No; they’re all fine. It’s Aunt Hepzibah. She’s had a fall.”

Trixie breathed a silent sigh of relief that it wasn’t closer to home, but her voice still held concern for the elderly lady when she spoke. “Is she in hospital?”

“No, she’s back at home.” A hint of exasperation showed through in Helen’s tone. “They took her to the hospital, but when she found out that nothing was broken, she wouldn’t stay.”

“And she’s gone back to that big, old house by herself?”

In her mind’s eye, Trixie pictured the tiny figure of the old woman in a flowered dress, shuffling through the halls of her even older home. Hepzibah was not even a relative, really, but had been a great friend of Trixie’s maternal grandmother. She had no children of her own, and no real family left. Helen and her sister had promised their mother to always look after her friend. Trixie had no doubt that they would be fulfilling that promise in the coming days and weeks.

“Oh, no. Not alone,” her mother answered, confirming Trixie’s thought. “Alicia’s with her now, but I have to be in Sleepyside for the next three days – I’m running the Garden Club’s bazaar, and heaven knows it won’t run itself – and Alicia can’t take care of her night and day all alone. Plus, she has commitments of her own and can’t be there constantly. And I was going to go this morning and relieve her, but it’s pouring rain right now, which means that we need to rearrange some of our plans for the bazaar. So, I was wondering whether you could help a little, please, Trixie.”

“I guess so,” she answered, trying to remember what she had planned to do over the next few days. She stared at the clock for a few moments, then asked, “Why did you call me at four in the morning?”

“Well. That’s the most pressing problem.” Helen sighed. “Alicia very much wants to attend a funeral later this morning, but to get there on time, she’d need to be leaving just after six.”

Trixie let out a squeak. “I’d need to leave now, if I want to get there by six!”

“Exactly. So, can you do it? Do you have anywhere you really need to be in the next twelve or fourteen hours?”

Her daughter thought for a moment, then made a decision. “I’ll go and relieve Aunt Alicia. And we can make plans about the rest of the time later. Talk to you soon, Moms! Bye!”

“Thanks and bye!” Helen answered just before Trixie ended the call.

Trixie switched on the light and began snatching up some clothes. Taking them with her to the bathroom, she got herself ready to go as fast as she could. On her way out, she pulled together toothbrush, toothpaste and a few other essentials. Passing back through the bedroom, she tossed a few more things in an overnight bag, snatched up phone and keys and left her apartment.

Traffic was minimal as she eased her car out of the underground parking beneath her building and onto the street. She made her way through the town and onto the highway, hoping that she remembered how to get there as well as she thought she did.

As she drove, Trixie could not help but reflect on the events which had led to her being available to help out in this way. She was currently in the second week of a three month break. In the last few months, she had endured a traumatic relationship break-up, a workplace accident, an attempt on her life and a health scare for one of her best friends. These things had added up to a crisis point for Trixie and she had asked for time off work to recuperate. Her employer was still seeking to appease her over the accident and its results, in the hopes that she would not sue, so her request had been granted at once.

And now she was heading into the lion’s den, so to speak, to spend time with an elderly lady of blunt speech and eclectic tastes – and a maiden aunt who had never seemed to understand her.

“I don’t know why I’m doing this,” she muttered to herself, as she navigated a complex set of exits and on-ramps, finding herself on a different highway which she hoped was the right one. “I should still be in bed!”

But deep inside, Trixie knew that she would never have said no to her mother’s request. Helping people was a part of her identity, an important part. Besides, in spite of her eccentricities, she was very fond of Aunt Hepzibah. The woman had lived an interesting life, travelled far and wide, then returned to her childhood home for the comfort it brought in her old age.

Sometimes Trixie wondered if this would be the pattern of her life, too. Her teenage dreams had not panned out the way she had imagined them. At fourteen, she and Honey had thought they would have a detective agency together and be double sisters-in-law, by marrying each other’s brothers. Neither of those dreams had been realised. Instead, at twenty-eight, Trixie was single, had held a number of different jobs in interesting locations and showed no signs of settling down, while Honey was living the life of a stay-at-home mother to an adorable one-year-old whose surname was not Belden.

An hour later, Trixie neared her destination, left the highway on a smaller connecting road that meandered through the Pennsylvanian countryside and began looking out for landmarks. She had a vague recollection of a big, dark red building just near the place she needed to make a turn and hoped that it hadn’t been repainted, or torn down, in the meantime. It came into view between the trees and she breathed a sigh of relief. A short distance later, a sign on the side of the road proclaimed, ‘Welcome to Barclay, population 53.’ As it appeared to be at least forty years old, she doubted the veracity of that claim.

She made a left at the white-painted wooden church, a right next to the ugly brick house and followed that winding road to the far outskirts of the little town, where she found the grand, old residence, right where she remembered it to be. Her Aunt Alicia was standing on the wrap-around porch, a pensive look on her face. As Trixie pulled into the drive, she smiled and hurried down the wide front stairs.

“At last!” her aunt declared, as Trixie opened her door. “I thought you’d never get here.”

“Moms only called me at four,” Trixie answered, glancing at her watch and finding the time was five past six. “I thought I’d made good time.”

She hopped out and turned to collect her bag from the trunk.

“No time for that. Come and see what needs to be done, then I have to leave,” Alicia urged.

Trixie rolled her eyes at the older woman’s retreating back and did as she was told. They entered through the front door and went up the front stairs, while Alicia talked non-stop.

“The whole house, you’ll see, is need of a good dusting, plus there’s the vacuuming to do and some dishes in the kitchen – I would have taken care of those, but Aunt Hepzibah insisted that I sit with her instead. You’ll need to make her some breakfast, soon, and clean up afterwards, then I think she’ll need a rest, so you can be getting on with the housework. I asked her about laundry, and she told me that it’s not necessary, but I think it would be best if you did a load or two. I hope to be back before nightfall – though, I can’t guarantee it – but I’ll try to bring some groceries with me, otherwise I’ll call and you can pick some up. Now, come in and see the patient. I’m not sure she’ll remember you and I thought I’d better introduce you before I go.” She opened a bedroom door and ushered Trixie inside. “Here’s my niece Trixie, Aunt Hepzibah. Helen’s girl, you remember? She’ll be staying with you today while I go to that funeral I told you about. Now, I think I’ve gone over everything with her, but if–”

“You’d better be going, Alicia,” the elderly lady interrupted, in a gentle voice. “You don’t want to be late.”

Alicia looked at her watch and winced. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Here are the house keys, Trixie; make sure you keep them safe. And if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

“We’ll be just fine, Aunt Alicia,” Trixie answered, walking her back to the bedroom door. “Drive safely!”

Alicia looked ready to issue forth more instructions, but Trixie smiled and shut the door in her face. She turned to the little old lady lying in the bed and smiled.

“I didn’t need an introduction,” Aunt Hepzibah grumbled. “I knew exactly who you were the minute I saw you. My mind is just fine. It’s my legs that are bruised and sore.”

“I was sorry to hear that you’d hurt yourself,” Trixie answered. “Is there anything you need at the moment?”

The old face crinkled into an expression of mischief. “About three hours’ more sleep and a nice, young man to keep me warm. But since you can’t supply the second unless I miss my guess, I’ll just make do with the first. How about if you wake me at nine and I’ll have some breakfast then. Can you poach eggs?”

Trixie’s face fell. “Sorry, no.”

The old woman shrugged. “Pity. Neither can I, but I was hoping you might be better in the kitchen than I am.”

Trixie grinned. “Probably not. I can fry, scramble or boil eggs. Would any of those do?”

She thought for a few moments. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’ll take one egg, fried, and a slice of white toast, buttered – thickly, mind you, and with real butter; none of that nasty, artificial stuff for me. Oh, and a cup of my special herbal tea. You’ll find it in a canister next to the kettle. And fix something for yourself in the meantime. You must be hungry.”

“I am, a little. And that’s not too much trouble at all.” Trixie glanced around the room. “Do you want me to bring your food on a tray at nine? Or can you get out of bed?”

She hesitated a moment. “I think I’ll have breakfast in bed. Then, if I’m feeling up to it, I might try to get up.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Trixie answered. “I’ll see you at nine with breakfast.”

“Thank you, dear,” Aunt Hepzibah replied. “And don’t you dare touch any housework, other than the cooking. I haven’t got you here to dust! Useless chore!”

A smile spread across Trixie’s face. “My thoughts, exactly!”

At nine o’clock, Trixie tapped on the door and pushed it open, balancing the breakfast tray on one hand. She entered the room and set the tray down on a side table she had noted earlier, which seemed just right for the purpose. Crossing to the bed, she leaned over and gently patted the old lady’s shoulder.

“Aunt Hepzibah, it’s time for breakfast.”

“I can’t do anything about it,” was the mumbled reply. “You knew what you were getting into when you came here.”

Trixie’s brow creased in confusion and she tried again. “I’ve brought your breakfast.”

“They won’t know who she is. How could they? And if they can’t find that out, then you’re safe.” She paused for a few moments, then began to speak again. “I know you didn’t mean it, but that doesn’t stop her from being dead. You can’t bring her back by admitting what you know.”

Trixie’s mouth dropped open at the word ‘dead’. “Wake up, Aunt Hepzibah!”

The old woman’s eyes opened and she looked straight at Trixie. “I know that you didn’t want her to die, and it’s not really your fault that she’s dead. You didn’t kill her, Nelly. But if you don’t want to go to jail for exactly that, you’d better keep your mouth shut. The police won’t ever find out it was you, if they don’t ever know who she was.”

“But I don’t know who she was!” Trixie answered, alarmed.

Hepzibah blinked a couple of times. “Oh! I’m so sorry. I must have been dreaming. I’m sorry, Trixie.”

“That’s okay,” her honorary niece replied. “I was getting a little worried, I’ll admit. You were talking about someone being dead and the police not knowing who she was. And you called me Nelly.”

A blush tinged the old cheeks. “Forget about it, please. It’s nothing.”

Trixie nodded and helped her charge to sit up against the pillows. Settling the breakfast tray on the old lady’s lap, she asked, “Is that everything you need?”

“Yes… except the salt. Can you bring it, please?”

“Of course.”

Trixie ran lightly down the stairs, into the kitchen and snatched up the salt shaker from the middle of the kitchen table. As she reached the bedroom once more, she could hear muttering through the half-open door and paused, listening.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why bring that old stuff up now? What will she be thinking?”

Trixie took a breath and pushed the door open, holding out the salt shaker. “Here you are.”

“Thank you, dear. Have you eaten? Oh, good. You don’t need to sit with me if you don’t want to, but I would like the company if it’s not too depressing for you.”

“It’s not depressing at all,” Trixie assured her, taking a seat.

“It is for me,” Hepzibah replied, lifting her fork to her mouth. “Mmm. I like how you’ve cooked this. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Trixie cast around for a topic of conversation. “So, tell me about Barclay. I mean, I’ve been here before a few times, of course, but I’ve never actually stayed. What’s it like to live here?”

“Most of the time, uniformly dull.” The old lady grinned. “But, at my time of life, dull is good. When I was young, I couldn’t wait to get away. Now that I’m old, I’m happy to be back.”

Trixie sighed and settled back in her chair. “I hope I’ll feel that way about Sleepyside when I’m old. Right now, it doesn’t attract me at all. I’ve been away for ten years and haven’t looked back.”

“You always were an adventurous girl.” The old lady smiled. “Many a time I heard from your mother of the pain and stress you put her through.”

The younger woman’s eyes clouded. “I never meant that. I was just looking for the next clue, or the next mystery, or the next adventure.”

Hepzibah nodded and took another small bite of food.

“And I guess I still am,” Trixie added, with a small smile. “I don’t ever want the adventures to end.”

“No, neither did I. And this little town in the middle of nowhere, Pennsylvania, didn’t provide that, so off I went.” She gazed out the window at the swaying branches of a nearby tree. “But it was lovely to be home when the time came. I think I’ll end my days in this house. No hospitals for me, if I have anything to say about it.”

“I thought the town was looking nice when I drove through this morning. The church looked all fresh and white. Did they just paint it?”

The old lady looked up sharply. “Paint it? Well, I guess they must have, if it’s looking like that. It got vandalised yesterday. That’s where I was when I fell. Didn’t you know?”

Trixie shook her head. “No, I didn’t. What happened? Did you see who did it?”

“Oh, no. It must have happened in the night. I was walking by there yesterday morning and saw the damage and went to take a closer look. I must have stepped on something and the next thing I know, I’m on the ground.” She shook her head. “It’s a terrible thing to be old; you don’t bounce so well as you used to.”

“Well, I’m glad, at least, that nothing was broken. So, what was wrong at the church? Did someone spray graffiti? I hope it wasn’t something rude; though, probably it was, since they painted it so quickly.”

“No, nothing rude. Just regular words.”

The younger woman frowned. “That was quick work, then.”

“Never mind about the church,” Aunt Hepzibah urged. “Tell me what you’ve been doing, lately. Is there a young man on the scene?”

Trixie shook her head. “No. Not since… well, I’d rather not talk about that. In fact, I’d rather forget just about everything from my life over the last six months. Everything has gone wrong that could go wrong – at work, in my relationships, everything. But I’m not going to let it all get me down. I just know there’s something better around the corner.”

“Now, that’s the spirit.” She chuckled. “There are always more men – and some of them are better not kept around.”

Trixie snorted. “Please don’t tell my mother you said that to me!”

“If your mother thought about it, she’d know that it was better you knew,” the old lady contradicted. “It’s your father who doesn’t need to hear it.”

“Definitely don’t tell him.” She sighed. “He’s disappointed enough with me without reminding him of that kind of stuff.”

Aunt Hepzibah patted her hand. “Your father loves you and he wants what’s best for you.” She set down her fork. “That was delicious. I’m glad your mother sent you, dear. Your aunt keeps wanting to feed me healthy food. At my age! And speaking of which, can you pop out to the store for a few minutes and pick up some essentials for me?”

“Of course,” Trixie answered. “What do you need?”

The old lady narrowed her eyes. “A big block of chocolate, I think. And potato chips. Oh, and I feel the urge for some cheese, but it’s too hard describing what I like and what I don’t. If you give me the phone, I’ll call Mr. Endicott to find out what he has and he’ll have it ready for you when you get there. And don’t forget to pick up some crackers to go with it.”

Trixie grinned. “Sounds like my kind of essentials.”

She handed over the phone and waited while the call was made.

“On your way,” Aunt Hepzibah urged. “I’ll be fine while you’re gone. And we’ll have plenty of time to hide the evidence before your aunt gets back.”

“Okay. I won’t be long.”

She ran lightly down the stairs, locked the front door behind herself and got into her car. She found the store after only one wrong turn and was relieved to be greeted, almost at the door, by a man who must have been Mr. Endicott and who was expecting her. She gathered up the few items on the list, paid for them and turned to leave. But there, framed by the doorway, was a view of another building with white letters hand-painted across its brown surface.

“Oh! I didn’t see that when I arrived,” she exclaimed. After a moment’s reflection, she remembered that a delivery truck had been parked in the way. “What is it?”

The elderly shopkeeper peered out. “Oh, that’s just our town mystery. Nothing to worry about.”

Trixie turned to him, intrigued. “Mystery?”

He laughed. “That’s dignifying it with a name that perhaps it shouldn’t have. For many years now – all my life, practically – someone had been writing or painting those words all around town. Sometimes it goes for years without appearing and others – like at the moment – it’s all over the place. No rhyme or reason to it.”

“What does it say?” Trixie asked, as all she could see was something like, ‘IO KILLEI’.

He hesitated, then sighed. “You’ll see it as soon as you get outside,” he muttered, almost to himself. “It says, ‘Who killed Lily White?’”

“Who was Lily White?” she asked.

“No one knows.” He smiled. “Every story you can imagine has circulated, over the years, but no one ever could answer that.”

She thanked him and went on her way. Instead of going straight back, she decided to take a quick look around town, to see if anything else was out of the ordinary. At first, she was disappointed; Barclay was every bit as sleepy as usual. Then she drove past the church.

The building still gleamed white with its new coat of paint, but in the graveyard beyond, an argument seemed to be taking place. Trixie pulled up and got out. A man and a woman stood a few paces apart, both of them looking unhappy and gesturing in turn at something to one side. Trixie pushed open the gate and strolled inside. She wandered along the outer row of graves, reading the headstones. The pair stopped their argument almost at once.

“I will not stand for it,” the man announced, with finality. “And I think we can consider this discussion over.”

“I will be taking this further,” the woman replied, glaring at Trixie as if losing the argument was her fault. “You’ll be sorry.”

“I’m sorry that it upsets you,” he answered, more softly. “But the answer is still no.”

Shaking her head and muttering under her breath, the woman stalked away.

“Can I help you with anything?” the man called to Trixie.

“Not really. I was just looking,” she answered. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

He shook his head. “I was glad you did, actually. I was beginning to think I’d be here all day.”

Trixie smiled and wandered over to a large monument, from Aunt Hepzibah’s family. She ran her fingers over one of the inscriptions. There was a space underneath, which might one day be for the feisty old lady. Trixie shivered to think of it.

“Ah. Now I know where you’re from,” said the man. “I thought I’d seen another car. Are you, perhaps, the daughter of the woman I met the other day? I’m the pastor of this church, by the way. My name’s Gerald Bentley.”

She shook her head. “If you mean Alicia Johnson, she’s actually my aunt. She’s gone to a funeral today, so my mother – her sister – called and asked me to stay with her instead. But Aunt Hepzibah doesn’t really like being looked after and she sent me out for a while.”

He smiled. “No doubt she’s getting up to some mischief as we speak.”

“Probably. So, I’d better not stay away too long.” She glanced in the direction that he and the woman had been gesturing. “Oh! Have you just had a burial recently?”

“What?” He looked over. “Oh, no. Not at all. In fact, it’s an old grave.”

“It doesn’t have a marker,” she noticed. “But someone knows who’s buried there.”

The pastor frowned. “No, I don’t think they do.”

Trixie frowned in reply. “Then why have they placed flowers?”

He sighed. “I’m afraid it’s a bit of a sore point around here. It’s the grave of an unknown woman and she’s somehow become associated with the graffiti that I’m sure you’ve seen.”

“Who killed Lily White?” She looked over again. “I wonder if that’s who she is?”

He shook his head. “I had that looked into when I first started here, oh, nearly fifteen years ago. As far as we can tell, no such person went missing. The police case is still open. No one can say who she was, or where she came from.”

“How sad.” Trixie glanced at her watch. “Well, it’s been nice talking to you, but really I need to go.”

Back in the car, she sat for a moment or two, thinking. Then she shook her head and headed back to her aunt’s house. Whatever this mystery was, it would have to wait; she had more important work to do.

When she got to the house, she first put the cheese and crackers away in the kitchen, then went in search of Aunt Hepzibah to see where she wanted the other things. She peeked into the bedroom, but the bed was empty.

Frowning, she tried each of the rooms on that floor, but none of them contained the old lady. For a moment, Trixie considered whether her aunt might have climbed up to the attic, but she dismissed the idea. Turning back, she jogged down the stairs. In the living room, she discovered Hepzibah quietly sitting in an armchair, an old photo album on her lap.

“Oh! I didn’t hear you come in.” She smiled. “I must have lost track of time. It’s a perilous thing, at my age, to start digging into your past. You might find yourself in a hole too deep to get out of.”

Trixie put her hands on her hips. “You should have told me you wanted to come down here. I would have helped you.”

The old lady shrugged. “I know. That’s why I didn’t.”

Trixie laughed. “Okay, then. Just don’t let Aunt Alicia know.” She held up the bag of treats. “Now, where do you want these hidden?”

“Just over there.” She pointed to an old chest, set under the window. “Lift the top and you’ll find a smaller box just inside. Pop them in there and close it all up again – wait, first let’s have a square or two of that chocolate. I could do with a little something just now.”

She closed the photo album and set it aside. Trixie caught a glimpse of a photo of three young women, dressed in the style of many decades past. She wasn’t sure whether those fashions were from the 1950s or the 1940s.

“Was that you?” she asked, on impulse. “Can I have a look later?”

“I can’t see why you’d want to,” the old lady snapped back. “It’s all over now.”

“Sorry,” Trixie answered. She unwrapped the chocolate, broke off a piece and handed it over. “I was just curious about my grandmother when she was young. I don’t remember her all that well and it always seemed like she was terribly old.”

“Ha! She was a mere child when she died.” She glanced over at the album. “I don’t suppose it will do any harm. But don’t expect me to answer every question you can think of. Why aren’t you eating?”

Trixie broke off a piece for herself and sucked on it thoughtfully. She held it out in silent offer of another piece, but Hepzibah waved it away. Trixie wrapped up the rest and put it and the chips away as directed.

“Now, I suppose you’re going to interrogate me about my wicked past,” the old lady accused. “Well, go on, then.”

“I don’t think I was going to do that,” Trixie replied. She picked up the photo album and opened it to the first page. “Oh! That’s the church. It looks just the same. Is that you and my grandmother?”

Her aunt nodded. “Yes, that’s me there and that’s Nell.”

“And the other girl?”

The old lady hesitated. “Oh, just another friend of ours. Lena, she’s called.”

Trixie turned the page and glanced at the photos there, but none caught her interest. The following page showed candid shots of the same three girls.

“You must have been close,” she noted. “For a while, at least.”

“There weren’t many other girls our age around,” Hepzibah answered, chuckling. “Then the other two went off to get married and I went off to have adventures. The three of us kept in touch – until your grandmother died, of course – and I’m still in touch with Lena.”

“Really?” She sighed, thinking of her two best female friends. “You had Nell and Lena; I have Honey and Di. They’re both married and totally settled down and, now that Honey has a kid, she’s even more settled. It’s hard to relate to them and they find it hard to relate to me. Did you have that, too?”

The old lady nodded. “Yes, for a while. But then their families grew up and everything evened out again.”

“That sounds like a long time to wait,” Trixie grumbled.

Her aunt smiled. “Yes, while it’s happening. But looking back, it wasn’t so bad. I had some good times in those years and I wouldn’t trade them for anything, least of all a husband and children.”

Trixie nodded and turned another page. She could feel the frown on her face, but couldn’t seem to make it go away. She stared at a random photo, not really seeing it.

“Turn the page,” Hepzibah urged. “I don’t know why I keep that one. I’ve never liked it. But if I take it out, it will leave a space and look worse.”

She did as she was told. On the next page, she found the very photograph her aunt had been looking at when she interrupted. The three young women laughed, arms around each other. At the side of the black-and-white shot, his dark clothes blending with the foliage of a shrub behind him, was a young man that Trixie hadn’t noticed earlier.

“Ooh, he’s hot,” she commented. Then, “I hope that isn’t my grandfather I just called hot!”

Hepzibah laughed uproariously. “No, child, that’s not him. He’s in one a couple of pages later. I’ll point him out, if you’ll turn over to it.”

“In a minute. I’m still looking at this man.” She grinned. “I’ve never really thought of someone from that long ago being hot before. It’s a new experience.”

“He was rather hot stuff in those days,” the old lady recalled. “None of the parents approved of him at all and he was pretty much run out of town not long after that. I can’t quite put my tongue to his name …”

“It doesn’t matter.” Trixie lost interest in the unknown man and turned the page. “Here he is again. Oh. I think he looked a lot more interesting in the other one. He looks a bit unsettling here. Almost creepy.”

Her aunt shook her head. “It’s just a bad shot. Turn another page and see if we can find your grandfather. Ah, yes, that’s him there with your grandmother. I always thought they looked a very attractive couple – but I thought him rather dull.”

“Maybe.” Trixie turned a few more pages. “Oh, here’s my grandparents’ wedding. And you and Lena were bridesmaids.”

She turned another page and was confronted with a totally dissimilar scene.

“Ah, that’s Istanbul,” her aunt told her. “I took myself off there when things got too dull at home. Caused no end of strife, but I don’t regret a minute. It was my very first solo trip. Something never to be forgotten.”

“But what happened to Lena?” Trixie wondered. “Did you leave her here by herself?”

Hepzibah shook her head. “Oh, no. She’d married by then, too. I just don’t have a photograph of it. She and your grandmother married within weeks of each other and I was the one left here all by myself.” She chuckled. “Didn’t last long. I had my money saved and off I went.”

“Sometimes I’d like to do something like that, too,” Trixie answered. “But there’s always a reason not to go. I’ve been a few interesting places – mostly when I worked for that importer, right after college – but there’s still so much of the world I’d like to see. I kind of thought I might do some travelling during my break, but money’s a bit tight and I don’t want to have to go back to work early.” She sighed. “I like this job, but I just don’t want to do it right now.”

“You hurt yourself, didn’t you? Helen told me.”

Trixie nodded. “My boss asked me to do something and he shouldn’t have even asked, because it was absolutely against the rules. I should have said no, but I thought it would be okay just once, only it wasn’t. I missed being killed by about six inches – or half a second, depending on how you look at it – and spent a couple of nights in hospital. I’m fine now, but my boss is still trying to make it up to me – hence being allowed to take three months off with no notice. But the accident was just the last straw, really. It was everything else in my life that I really wanted to escape from.”

“And, instead of somewhere like Istanbul, you’ve landed in Barclay, where nothing has changed in fifty years or more,” the old lady mused. “I think, in your shoes, I’d prefer Istanbul.”

Trixie smiled. “I don’t mind all that much. I hope there’ll be more opportunities in the future, but right now I’m happy to be in Barclay.”

The old lady clapped her hands together. “Well, let’s bring a bit of the exotic to us. I think you’ll have to be the one to go up in the attic, but at least it will give us a good excuse for Alicia, when she wants to know why you haven’t dusted.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Go up into the attic. There are piles of boxes up there. Just choose a couple that have interesting things in them – leave all the old household junk up there; we want things from foreign countries. Pick out a few things from each box and bring them down. Oh, and take that big vase away and that brass figurine. I’m sick of them both. I’ll find a few other things as well. We’ll tell Alicia I decided to redecorate and give myself a change of scene.”

“Okay,” Trixie answered, tucking the vase into the crook of one arm and picking up the figurine in the other. “Any preferences on what I should bring?”

She shook her head. “Surprise me. Just make it decorative things.”

Trixie nodded and headed upstairs. She found the attic entrance after only a short search and climbed the stairs. At the top she found a jumble of boxes and furniture. After placing the things she had brought on the top of an old chest of drawers, she looked around for a likely target. She opened the flaps of the nearest box and peered inside.

At first glance, it contained nothing of much interest. She was just about to close it again when she noticed the edge of a photograph peeking out at one side. Curious, she took a peek. There, right in front of her, was a photo of Lena’s wedding – to the very man she had earlier called hot.

For a long moment, she stared. Had her aunt lied about not knowing this man’s name? She had certainly lied about not having a photograph of the wedding – or, at least, she had been misleading, as there was no photo in the album. But why was it here, in this box? Her conscience urged her to put it back and forget about it. The first part was done in an instant, but the second was impossible.

Trixie chose another box and started poking through it. She considered brass candlesticks, enamelled boxes and colourful textiles before choosing a set of three ceramic bowls, patterned in blue and green.

The first item out of the next box was the figure of a man with wildly exaggerated genitalia. Just for a moment, she imagined her Aunt Alicia’s reaction, should this item be on display in all its glory when she returned that evening. Giggling to herself, she set it aside to see what else might be in there. She found a long-legged bird, crudely carved, that appealed to her and put it aside with the bowls.

After looking through four more boxes, Trixie had amassed a big enough pile of interesting things that it would take at least three trips to carry them downstairs. She glanced back at the first box again, the one where she had seen the photo. It called to her. Her conscience, on the other hand, urged her to leave it alone.

The call won. She flipped open the box again and pulled it out. The brightly smiling bride and groom were walking out a church door, but not of the church in town. Trixie did not think she had ever seen this particular church before, but the limited view made her uncertain. She flipped the photo over, but there was nothing written on the back.

With a sigh, Trixie replaced the photo and closed the box. She picked up her first consignment of odds and ends and began carrying them downstairs. The door that hid the attic stairs from the hallway had swung shut by itself while she was up there, but it opened when gently pressed with her toes.

Continue to part two.

---

Back to Janice’s Odds and Ends Page.