Page 36 of Murder in the Winter Woods (Julia Bird Mysteries #8)

Julia was greeted at the gate by a writhing furry blur, yellow, black and brown, emitting yelps of delight.

‘Come in, chaps,’ called Pippa from the front door. ‘Give Julia some space.’

A black blur broke away from the mass of blur and ran back down the path towards the front door, followed by two golden blurs.

Julia opened the gate. The three blurs resolved into three little dogs that sat at Pippa’s feet, their tails wagging proudly, while the fourth, chocolate brown one, affected deafness and continued to hurl itself at Julia’s legs.

‘Oh, the dear boy, isn’t he just like you, Jakey?

’ Julia said to Jake, who was leaning against her leg, looking slightly wary of the frenzy of puppies.

The puppy was, like Jake, brown and cute and friendly and clumsy, and the least obedient of the lot.

But she didn’t say that, she just fondled the silky ears.

Jake sniffed and nuzzled his miniature like a kindly uncle.

‘Come on in, Julia, the kettle’s on. And you can tell me about this mysterious mission of yours, and what you want to know.’

Julia followed Pippa into the house, with the dogs trailing after them.

She felt like the Pied Piper, but with dogs instead of rats, the furballs tumbling over each other and hanging onto Jake’s tail.

Pippa shooed the puppies and Jake straight outside to play in the back garden, which calmed things down considerably.

Over big mugs of Earl Grey tea, Julia gave Pippa an abridged version of her mission: ‘I’m trying to find someone who might be able to solve a mystery. I’m looking for someone who used to live near here a long time ago, and I’m hoping you might be able to help me find her.’

‘Oooh, that’s very intriguing! Of course I’ll help if I can. Who are you looking for?’

‘I don’t know her name.’

‘Ah, well that complicates things,’ Pippa said with a laugh. ‘Should I just shout out random people who live in the street?’

‘Her nickname was Egg. There’s a possibility she was actually Lydia, from the butcher, but I’m not sure of that. But I do know that she lived next door to a church in Berrywick. There are only two churches, so that’s not very many houses.’

Pippa frowned. ‘Doesn’t ring a bell, but I suppose it’s possible.’

‘To further complicate matters, Egg lived in the village some years ago. About forty. You’ve been here a long time, haven’t you?’

‘I’ve lived here about twenty years, but I’ve known the house all my life. My mum and her sister grew up here. Mum moved away when she and Dad married, but we lived nearby and we came at least once a week to see my gran. I spent most of my school holidays here too.’

‘Did you know the other neighbours at all?’

‘Oh yes, we knew everyone who lived around and about. There was no one called Egg, though, as far as I know.’

‘It was a nickname, and unfortunately I don’t know her real name, unless it was Lydia. All I know is that she played in a band. A local band with other youngsters. It was called the Red Berries. And she would have been quite a lot older than you.’

‘The people next door’s surname is Bacon, if that helps.’

Julia thought for a moment. ‘That could make a lot of sense! If her maiden name was Bacon, then that could be why they called her Egg! Was there a Lydia Bacon?’

‘The parents were James and Ingrid, I think. And then there were only boys in the family,’ mused Pippa.

‘Mum used to say that they were like a litter of pigs, chaotic and muddy and always into her and her sister’s business.

Anyway, now it’s Craig Bacon and his three sons there. The other brothers moved away.’

‘Sounds like it’s not them,’ said Julia. ‘I guess it would still be amusing if Egg and Bacon were neighbours. Is there someone older than you still living around here who might remember something?’

‘I could ask my aunt Margaret. She grew up in this house, although she moved away from Berrywick quite soon after she left school. She might remember Egg.’

Pippa must have seen the doubtful look on Julia’s face, because she said, ‘Her tumour doesn’t affect her long-term memory, although she can’t always express what she remembers.

Sometimes she remembers the most remarkable things.

The other day we saw a picture in a magazine, a woman in a blue dress, and Aunt Margaret told me that it looked rather like the dress her best friend wore to the school dance!

And if you ask her about her class from her first year at school, she’ll probably be able to name every one of them. ’

‘The human brain is mysterious. It can be like that with brain tumours and injuries – very selective and uneven damage.’

‘The doctor says it’s different for everyone, depending where the tumour is.

Poor thing, she doesn’t know what’s going on half the time, and she’s dangerously clumsy.

She was a wonderful baker, but she can’t even do that any more unless I’m here to help.

And I’ve had to take her car keys away. I feel sad for her, but I can’t have her driving. ’

‘You’re quite right, taking the car is the responsible thing to do. But it must be hard for her, losing her independence.’

‘She gets a bit violent sometimes, which is the hardest. She is quite cheerful most of the time, like I told you, but when she lashes out…It doesn’t happen often, but it’s not fun.’

‘You’re a good woman, Pippa. And it’s not an easy task you’ve taken on.’

‘I must say, it’s harder than I expected. Between her and the guide dog puppies, it can be a proper mad house. The social worker has been so helpful, and of course Dr O’Connor has been wonderful.’

‘I’m pleased to hear that my profession and my partner have been helpful,’ Julia laughed. ‘Honestly, though, Pippa. She is lucky to have you to help her manage things, and to do it all with such kindness and respect.’

Tears came to Pippa’s eyes, in response to Julia’s gentle words. She blinked them away with a sad smile, saying, ‘Ah well, we all do our best, don’t we? I’ll go and find her, shall I?’

Julia listened to Pippa’s footsteps on the wooden floor.

Listening to her speaking indistinctly to Margaret in a quiet and kindly tone, she turned to the window to watch the dogs, who had calmed down now.

Jake lay on the grass, rolling and swivelling this way and that to scratch his back, while the puppies played on and around him.

‘Aunt Margaret, this is Julia Bird.’ As a kindness to Aunt Margaret, Pippa made the introduction as if the two women hadn’t already met. ‘Julia wanted to ask you about some of the people who lived around here when you were younger. She hoped you might know them.’

‘I knew everyone. We all knew each other,’ said Margaret. ‘I remember everyone from those days.’

‘Did you know a girl who went by the nickname Egg? She played in a band called the Red Berries,’ said Julia.

‘He called me Egg…’ Margaret said, her face clouding over. ‘That was his name for me.’

Julia didn’t know what to think. Margaret was Egg! On one hand, she was thrilled to have solved that little mystery, but if Margaret was Egg, then it was back to the drawing board on the mystery of what connected Lydia to Ken.

‘ You were called Egg?’ Julia asked gently, trying to keep the surprise from her voice. ‘I thought perhaps Lydia Barrow was Egg.’

‘Lydia? From the butcher’s?’ said Margaret, her eyes narrowed. ‘She was not Egg. Not at all. I was Egg!’ She paused, and muttered, ‘Never liked that Lydia.’

‘Aunt Margaret!’ said Pippa, appalled. ‘You liked Lydia! You made us take her a bottle of your special medication for her bunions.’

‘She gave me the bad chops. Nasty, skinny ones with gristle,’ said Margaret, smiling somewhat incongruously. ‘She shouldn’t have done that, should she?’

Julia tried to move the conversation away from Lydia and the quality of chops, and back to the band. ‘So you were in the band, Margaret? The Red Berries? You were Egg?’

‘ He called me Egg,’ said Margaret. She sounded proud.

‘Who called you Egg?’

‘He’s gone now.’

‘Who’s gone, Margaret?’

‘Matthew. It was his nickname for me. Margaret. Peggy. Peg. Egg. That’s how he got to it.’

‘Matthew Shepherd?’ Julia asked.

Margaret flapped her hands in front of her face, as if she wanted to wave the question away. Although she didn’t answer, her agitation told Julia that the name was the right one. She tried another gentle tack.

‘I heard that you had a wonderful voice, Margaret. David, the record producer from London, told me you were extraordinary.’

A small smile lit Margaret’s face. ‘David? I remember David. He said that? Oh, how I loved to sing.’

Much to Julia’s surprise, Margaret started to sing quietly:

‘As white as the snow

The Christmas trees glow

And now I must go

Hoooooooommmeee.’

It was the same song that Hester had sung – the big hit that had nearly achieved fame and fortune for the band, but in Margaret’s voice, it somehow achieved a mysterious and sad beauty.

The song that before had seemed like an extremely weak attempt at seasonal rhyming was now an aching melody about having to leave.

‘As red as the holly

The holly is jolly

And now I must go

Hoooooommmeeee.’

Margaret stopped after the chorus, looking quietly pleased with her efforts.

Julia swallowed a lump in her throat.

Pippa got up to let in the dogs, who were scratching at the kitchen door.

Julia suspected that she was similarly affected, and was taking a moment to deal with the lump in her own throat.

Jake and the puppies came in, their nails clicking on the kitchen tiles, and their cheerful canine energy lightening the mood.

‘How lovely to hear you sing, Aunt Margaret. You should sing more often!’ said Pippa, sitting down next to her aunt and taking her hand. ‘Mum always said you got the singing genes for both of you.’

‘Ah well, your poor mum couldn’t hit a note, but I could. I can hold a tune.’