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Recipes were scattered all over the kitchen table. It had been a long day. I baked a gin and tonic drizzle cake for Camellia and Nora. Baking trays clattered on the floor when I rummaged through the cupboards for a tin to store the cake. Having attempted to plan my conversation with Nora and Camellia, I settled on a strategy to simply let them talk, hoping they might enlighten me.

Pounding on the door disturbed my thoughts. ‘Have you got any more books?’ asked an elderly man at the door. ‘And the sign says to post the money through the letterbox but I’m not keen on that.’ He handed me a fiver.

‘Last bag for today,’ I announced, tipping another bag of books into the wheelbarrow. ‘What’re you looking for?’

The man rummaged amongst the books and did not respond, so I returned to the kitchen and decided to deal with Felix. The bloomin’ sign made me appear desperate for cash, suggesting a motive to get rid of my aunt for the inheritance. It was all very well for him to say ignore the gossip, but I had to crush further rumours.

I set down a chilled glass of white wine on the worktop, then I assembled ingredients for a stir-fry. Smashing garlic with gusto, I considered what to say to Felix about the begging sign. I would knock on the door, shove the sign in his grasp then hand him a bottle of wine. I’d say, ‘Here’s the wine I bought you from your begging money.’ He’d pause, accept the wine then invite me in and we would laugh all about the day’s events.

I texted Grant for advice.

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun ringtone announced another phone call from Grant. ‘So, what’s this about a begging sign?’

‘Felix put a sign outside my house that was basically begging people for my beer money. He had no right!’ I spat out the words.

‘Oh, get over yourself, woman. He fancies you! Though he must be desperate if he saw the state of you in your wellies and charity outfit. It’s a sign! Oh my god, did you hear what I did there? Get over there with a bottle of wine and have fun. Have you eaten yet? You’re always emotional when you’re hungry and you’re not used to physical work, poor lazy Maisie.’

‘You’re right. I’ll go over there and give him a piece of my mind. I need to get it off my chest.’

‘Tell him you want him off your chest then.’ Now Grant snorted. ‘Be gentle with him, tiger.’

‘You give me awful advice, but I wish you were here, Grant. When’re you coming to stay?’

‘I have the job greeting people as Darcy at the museum. Money doesn’t fall through my letter box. I’m a poor actor.’ I knew he’d placed his hand on his forehead. ‘Must go, I’ve got a hot date with Chris. He’s a surgeon but you know my luck with these dating apps. Let’s hope I haven’t been stitched up. Pardon the pun. Anyway, go around there. Think tiger and not Tigger! Live a little! Love you, bye.’

I dropped the phone on the battered oak table. A photo of a young Aunt Ada stared at me. We both had the light brown hair with flashes of red and blonde like the rest of the Bloom family. ‘What should I do, Aunt Ada?’ I flopped into one of the armchairs, still agitated by Felix. The sign definitely labelled me as a money grabber or worse. I had to clear my name.

Before I had time to think again, I opened the latch, marched past people searching in the wheelbarrow and strolled to Felix’s cottage at the end of the row. A black knocker clanged against the door.

Felix arrived instantly, dressed in black sports shorts. He had a large professional camera in his hand. ‘Yes, Maisie. Can I help you? I’m a little busy at the moment.’

‘Erm, yes. I’m upset.’

‘Oh, dear.’ Empathy in his eyes reminded me of my grandfather and stopped me in my tracks.

I pushed back my curls and launched straight in. ‘I’m pleased you thought of a way for me to make money out of the piles of books. But why didn’t you ask me before you put up the sign?’

He rubbed his forehead. ‘I’m confused. What sign?’

‘The begging sign in front of the house,’ I chastised, thinking of a deep rich caramel sauce when I looked in his eyes. After blinking, I peered inside his cottage and spotted large black sofas scattered with tiger print cushions and matching throw. Think Tigger flashed in my mind. ‘Don’t do anything like that again. It’s just not on.’

‘You Blooms really do seem to have a strong eccentric gene. It will be like living next door to a young Ada.’ He laughed. ‘Maisie don’t tame those sexy curls. Ditch the straighteners.’

Flabbergasted he noticed my hair, I restrained myself from touching it.

‘Darling,’ complained a woman. ‘Darling, I can’t sustain this position for much longer. Be a love and get more wine.’

‘Amelia. I’m talking to Maisie, Ada’s charming niece.’

‘Sorry. I’ve disturbed you.’ My face was crimson.

As I turned to leave, I heard, ‘Invite Maisie in. If she’s anything like her aunt, then she’ll be game for a laugh.’

‘Another time,’ I whispered, fiddling with my hair.

‘Hello there,’ said Amelia, holding a purple velvet blanket around her. Most of her left leg was visible and the blanket was only just covering her breasts. Her blonde curls were pinned up in a style I’d seen in classic paintings. ‘Come in and join us. Do you have the same taste in gin as your aunt? We simply must get together and raise some cocktails to the old girl. Such a dramatic end to her life, but it made me smile to know there were probably bottles of gin in the bag she left behind on the boat. Bloody hell! Felix, it’s enough to make me want to smoke again when I think of Ada at the bottom of the Seine. I do hope she wasn’t alone in Paris. I like to think she had someone to keep her warm at night.’

Amelia conjured images I had pushed to the back of my mind. I strangled a sob, then tried to pull myself together. ‘Her pink gin is ace, but I am just about to cook my stir-fry so it’s not a good time. I just wanted to call about the sign and say I sold all the books in the wheelbarrow.’ My goodness, that certainly wasn’t giving him a piece of my mind and I never, ever used ‘ace’ - my mother used the word she collected in the eighties. ‘Goodbye, then.’ I had to fill the silence. ‘Must dash, I’ve left the oven on for my stir-fry.’ What on earth was I saying? ‘Stove. I mean the stove.’ I held up the palm of my hand. ‘What am I like?’ I added in someone else’s Liverpudlian accent.

Amelia and Felix stood so close to each other they almost appeared as one figure when the sunlight shone in my eyes.

‘Darling, we’re here for you if you need to talk about her.’ The sympathetic tone in Amelia’s voice quickened my steps towards the security of Tanglewood Cottage.

*

My cheeks burned as I threw my keys in the hall. I should not have listened to Grant. Feeling hungry and disorientated, I heated up the wok. I’ve left the oven on for my stir-fry. Idiot! The spicy aroma of the cooking calmed me down.

Time to read myself happy, so I sat outside at the wrought iron table with my plate of food and the Bella Mystery. Earlier I had found an old copy of Daisy’s Secret, and I read it while scooping in large mouthfuls of vegetables and noodles. I ran through the woods with Daisy, in the novel. I closed the book and finished the remains of the cold food. Banished thoughts of Felix came to the surface and forced me to bury my face in my hands.

The summer’s evening rolled on as the book took me in its grasp. Daisy’s spirit drifted above the scene. She reached out to her husband who tried to wake her. Had my aunt’s spirit rested above the burnt-out boat? But I just did not know if … My heart fluttered with hope: Aunt Ada was alive and well. They had not found her body so… ‘Don’t be daft,” I said, breathing out. Then Nora and Camelia’s emphasis on presumed dead spun around in my head for the millionth time. What if they were giving me some clues, leading me somewhere? I shook my head because though Aunt Ada liked them, she said they were gossips.

I forced myself to read until Daisy’s story had me in its clutches again and chased away my worries, but my back ached from sitting on the upright garden chair. Rubbing my back, I explored the garden and strode towards the potting shed in the meadow, noticing the signal on my phone seemed stronger.

I sent a text to Grant. Went next door and met with Felix’s lover. Feel like a chuffing idiot. He didn’t write the sign. Tigger. X

Chin up, darling. It’s a temporary blip. Like me, you’ll get your hero in the end. If he didn’t write the sign, then who did? Hot date alert here. Grant Xxx

A rustle in the hedge near the potting shed forced me back towards the cottage. Laughter drifted out of the open window in Felix’s cottage. As I entered the kitchen, I searched for my aunt to reassure me. Hot chocolate and an ancient pack of soggy bourbons soothed me. I Googled my aunt’s name, hoping to find an update from Paris. I scrolled through a couple of pages of emails and spotted an unread post from my aunt’s book blog Pages of Other Worlds. It was sent last week! Heart pumping, I clicked on the email.

Pages of Other Worlds Blog

Missing

I am devastated to hear the latest Bella Mystery has been delayed due to unforeseen circumstances. Following conversations with fellow fans of the mysteries on Facebook, I have decided to investigate the matter. I am suspicious Bella seems to have gone missing. There have been no updates on her website since the winter. I wrote to Bella Caron’s agent in the hope of uncovering the truth and here is the response:

Dear Miss Bloom,

Thank you for your letter expressing concern about Bella Caron. I appreciate there are many people out there waiting for the next adventure. The current manuscript is set in Paris and involves a series of characters who meet up in a local bistro. The story moves between timeframes and continents. I believe this story to be one of Bella’s best. I am delighted to inform fans the story is in collaboration with an anonymous writer.

Please be assured Miss Caron is working on the edits of her manuscript in a suitable location. The final version of the book has been delayed due to unforeseen circumstances I cannot disclose. Publication of the book will be later than planned.

Kindest regards,

Henri Duvall

Dear Readers,

Her agent called me, and my questions made him very, very angry. I am going to investigate and will be in touch. I can’t resist Paris au printemps.

Ada

Pacing the floor, I stared at the screen and reread the blog post again. Wow! I desperately needed a hug to calm me down. Realisation dawned on me, sending shockwaves scooting around my body. Maybe she was still in France, and I would see her again. Why hadn’t Felix mentioned the blogs? My mouth was so dry that I gulped down a half a litre of mineral water. The agent had been very, very angry with Aunt Ada. Was she in danger?

I toured my aunt’s website, hoping to find clues. I found a page entitled Bella Mystery Unsolved. I clicked on the page to discover a series of pictures in a gallery. The first picture was of a news headline ‘Bella Mysteries Delayed: Author Missing’. The link transported me to a local newspaper article, expressing concerns that Bella had gone missing over eighteen months ago. I jumped up and down at the thought Aunt Ada was alive and searching for the missing author.

I scrolled through the emails until I found my aunt’s blog post again. The blog referred to au printemps - she wrote the blog in the spring. I realised she had written it before the accident in June so it must be an old post. Still, I had to dig around just in case, and now books were cleared I could access the writing bureau that was packed with documents.

I meticulously worked through the documents jammed into the drawers, finding invoices for editing services, bills and old photographs of Aunt Ada and Dad when they were younger. I also found cards and pictures I had sent when I was very small, and this made me pause for a little cry. There were no letters, but I did find an old photo of my aunt in her twenties with a young man in what looked like the 1960s. ‘Aw, they were in love,’ I said. Who was the man and why did I get the feeling he was familiar? Sighing at the pile of stuff I had emptied on the floor, I continued to search in the drawers. They were stuffed with old calendars, packs of unopened Christmas cards and notebooks. Though frustrated I had not found anything useful, I crossed my fingers and made a little wish. Of course, if she had survived, I would have to explain the fact I had sold her books.