Victoria did not reply and the two walked steadily but quickly past silent shops through the dark, deserted streets. The rain, large, heavy drops against the orange glow of the streetlamps, did not let up, and occasionally they had to lower their umbrellas in front of them to protect their faces from the steady, driving downpour. Every few minutes a car splashed by, causing them to leap into a doorway or huddle against the side of a building to avoid being sprayed. After about ten minutes of hard, steady slogging, hunched against the rain, they reached the River Walk and turned toward the spa.
Crouched in darkness on the bank of the rapidly rising River Conwy, the spa loomed out of the darkness to greet the two women as they pressed on for the last moments of their sodden walk. Victoria led the way up the path and then to a side door that bypassed the front reception area and opened near the kitchen and back storeroom. She fumbled about in her bag, put the key in the lock, pushed the door open, and switched on the light. Shaking the rain off their umbrellas before entering, the two stepped out of the night and into the welcoming warmth just as the rain began to transition into icy pellets of sleet.
“Let’s just leave all our wet things down here,” Victoria said. “We can hang them overnight in the reception area and keep all the wet in one place. We’d better take our shoes off, as well.”
“Right,” said Penny. “Here, give me your coat and I’ll hang it up. The umbrellas, too.” She padded down the corridor, hung up the coats, left the umbrellas open to dry on the doormat, ducked into the supply room, and then returned to Victoria, who was unlacing her shoes. “Let’s get upstairs and get dry,” she said to Victoria, handing her a fluffy white towel she had picked up in the supply room. “My feet are soaked. Hope you’ve got a spare pair of socks you can lend me.”
A few moments later, their hair towel dried and feet in warm, dry socks, they settled into the new flat Victoria had created on the top floor of the spa building. During the day it was filled with light and gave wonderful views over the River Conwy to the green hills beyond.
“Right, let’s see where we’re at,” said Penny. “Let’s go over what we know so far.”
“Which isn’t very much,” said Victoria, handing Penny a glass of white wine and setting down a small plate with cheese and oat crackers on it. “I must say, I was really surprised when you deliberately broke that plate. That was the last thing I expected you to do.”
“Yeah, I felt bad about it,” replied Penny. “But I’m pretty sure it was on the stolen list and I wanted to see who owned it.” She shrugged and held up her hands in an open gesture.
“Well, it’s done now,” said Victoria. “Do you want anything more to eat?”
Penny shook her head. “No, thanks, I’m fine.”
She looked around her.
“I haven’t been up here in your flat for a while. You’ve done a great job. Very smart and comfortable.”
“Glad you like it. But I can see now that I’m going to keep you away from my crockery. I was so shocked when you broke that plate. And poor Brian Kenley. Did you see the look on his face? I think he was really upset that his plate got broken.” She took a sip of wine and then cut a sliver of Brie and balanced it on a biscuit.
“What do we really know about him? He’s new to the area. Did I hear someone say he’s from Yorkshire?”
“He is,” Penny said, “but you wouldn’t really know it from his accent. He joined the Stretch and Sketch Club, oh, I don’t know, about six months ago, I guess. I asked him once why he joined our group and not the photography club, since he’s a photographer, after all, and he told me he had joined both, but he likes our group for the rambles and outings we go on.”
Victoria nodded. “Keep talking. Maybe it will help if you just throw out everything you know about him. Something might come to mind.”
“Well, he seems a very quiet, decent kind of man. I can’t really picture him as a thief, or a murderer, come to that, although he was there when Harry Saunders was killed. That reminds me, I wonder if he’s shown his photos to Gareth yet.”
She gave a little start.
“That’s what I’m going to do! I was trying to think of a reason to pay him a visit so I could look around his place…”
“Snoop around, you mean,” said Victoria.
“Well, call it what you like, but have a good shufty. Bethan gave me a list of some of the stolen things and I’d really like to see if any of them are in his place.”
“If he’s been nicking things from the local shops, he’s hardly likely to leave them out in full view, is he?”
“You wouldn’t think so, but people do strange things. He’ll probably figure no one will know. And really, why should they? He lives alone and maybe he doesn’t have too many visitors.”
“Anyway,” said Victoria, “if you’re looking for an excuse to call on him, you created the perfect one for yourself tonight.”
Penny raised an eyebrow.
“Penny, you broke his plate! You have to replace it with something at least as good.” Victoria set down her wineglass, walked over to the window, and pulled back the curtain.
“It’s got very nasty out there,” she said, peering out the window into the dark night and leaning a little to her right so her cheek almost touched the glass. “I can’t even see the bridge.” She dropped the curtain and turned to Penny. “Is there any particular reason why you need to go home tonight? I think you should stop here in my spare room. I’ve got one of those five-pack of toothbrushes so you can have one. I can lend you a nightdress.”
“You’re right as usual,” agreed Penny. “I couldn’t bear to put on those awful wet shoes. It wasn’t until I moved to Wales that I developed the wet feet theory.”
“And what’s that, exactly?” asked Victoria, placing the now-empty cheese plate on a tray.
“It’s like this. You can walk around in wet shoes and socks if you have to, but once you take them off, you can’t put them on again whilst they’re still wet. They’re too cold and uncomfortable. You have to put on clean, dry shoes and socks. So I couldn’t possibly put those wet things on again and walk home in them. So either you have to lend me dry socks and boots or I have to stop here.” She spread her arms against the back of the sofa and gave Victoria an amused look.
“So I’m stopping right where I am.”
“Well, that’s settled, then,” said Victoria. “Means you can get to work on time tomorrow.”
“Ah, yes, I was going to mention that to you. I’m going to be just a little bit late. I have to go and see a woman in the charity shop about a plate.”
Victoria groaned. “Oh, here we go.”
“Well, I won’t be that long,” Penny protested. “I’ll be quick about it.”
“And there’s something else you should do tomorrow,” said Victoria.
“And what’s that?” said Penny, getting up off the sofa as Victoria switched off the lamp.
“You need to call Gwennie and see if she can come to yours and do the Christmas dinner. You know how hopeless you are in the kitchen, and I’m not doing it. You’re the one who started inviting people. How many have you invited, anyway?”
“Let me see. There’s Bethan, and you, and Gareth, of course. And they’re going to bring Jimmy with them from Llandudno…” Their voices trailed off as they drifted down the hallway to their beds.
The rain, driven by heavy wind, continued to lash furiously against the building, turning its dark grey stone black and glistening. But its deep walls had stood strong and sheltering for almost two hundred years, and after this night’s storm had passed, and all the storms to come, the building would go on for another two hundred years.
In the morning, Penny drank a quick cup of coffee with Victoria and then left for the charity shop that had reported the stolen items.
Last night’s storm had blown itself out and the frosty morning air felt crisp and fresh on her face. Her breath condensed into tiny clouds ahead of her, and she was just starting to feel the benefit of starting the day with a brisk walk when she arrived at her destination.
“Good morning,” she said to the woman behind the charity shop counter. “I’m wondering if you can help me. Do you happen to know if someone called Rhys Hughes, I think it was, donated a plate with a daffodil pattern?”
The woman behind the counter called to her colleague in the back to join her.
“Now that’s a very odd question,” the first woman said. “Why do you ask?”
