“I’ll tell you.” Glenys put the phone away, addressing the group of onlookers but avoiding Darcy’s confused gaze. “That clearing is next door to my property. Darcy Forest has been working along the fence for a while which I thought was a good thing, getting rid of undergrowth at this time of year. Until I happened to find those! All the stolen Christmas trees and a highchair.”
“And I heard someone stole a brand-new highchair today which was ready to be given to new parents.” Marguerite’s tone of voice was triumphant. “I wonder who else is having a baby!” She pointed at Abbie. “Oh look. You wouldn’t be in need of some baby items now, would—”
“Stop it!” Darcy grabbed Abbie’s hand and helped her to her feet. Tears streamed down her face and Lachie clung to her, his face white and eyes wide. “Leave us alone. We’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing.” He led his family away, the crowd parting as he walked.
An uncomfortable silence fell. Some people wandered away, while others waited for the book club ladies to say something more. Rosie cleared her throat and eyes turned to her.
“Marguerite, you should be ashamed.” Her words were delivered in a calm monotone, as though having a pleasant chat about nothing in particular. “That little family needs our love, not your vitriol. Darcy is no thief.”
Octavia turned on Rosie. “Believe whatever fantasies you want. He obviously cut up the big tree in the roundabout with his chainsaw and has been hiding the evidence. I told you they are bad, those Forests. Every last one of them.”
“Are you saying little Lachie is a bad person?” Doug appeared, Esther at his side.
“Oh, no, Lachie is a lovely little boy. Octavia didn’t mean that.” Glenys finally spoke again. She’d paled over the past few minutes and leaned heavily on her walking stick. “But it’s so odd all those trees and the highchair are there on the Christmas Tree farm. Isn’t it?”
Charlotte’s heart raced. All this anger and finger-pointing felt personal. Someone could do their best and still be blamed for something outside their control. She played with the bracelet, stretching it and letting it snap back to remind herself…don’t get involved. This wasn’t her fight. But she knew Darcy wasn’t the thief. His chainsaw might be the one used to destroy the big tree, but she’d been there just after he’d discovered it dumped on the opposite side of his property.
Do something, Charlie. Say what you know.
Voices were rising as Octavia and Marguerite argued with Doug and Rosie. Charlotte slipped away through a gap in the crowd. Her fingers worked the bracelet, round and round, then snap and snap. She had to find a quiet place to think.
At the corner of the plaza she paused and glanced back. The long trestle tables with their Christmas fare were almost unattended. All the action was around the bench where the Forest family had been minding their own business. How distressing for Abbie, and poor Lachie. Even under such fire, Darcy kept his cool. If only they’d stayed a little longer to hear Rosie and Doug stand up for them.
Charlotte headed for the alley that would lead toward the bookshop. A few moments to work through this and she’d go back. Make sure Rosie was okay. See what could be done to make it up to the Forests.
Just before she turned into it, there was another raised voice. This came from the alley and if she wasn’t mistaken, it belonged to Veronica.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Charlotte crept to the corner and peeped around. Veronica stood, hands on hips, in the middle of the alley. She screeched at someone just out of sight. The words made no sense.
“…made me look bad. Made me look like I’m behind this mess of yours!”
Now who upset her?
A muffled male voice answered. Too quiet for Charlotte to hear. Dared she go closer? Between here and Veronica was a row of skip bins, large receptables for recycling and some for garbage. If Charlotte was careful, she could slip between them and the wall of the alley.
If she sees you…keep walking. Don’t do it.
Charlotte slid behind the first bin and stopped, holding her breath.
“And it isn’t fair!” The screeching reduced to a loud whine. “I really, really like you.”
“Me too, darl. You’re fun.”
“Then why won’t you come to the plaza with me?”
There was no answer and Charlotte was forced to find a gap between bins to see through. Veronica was being kissed by the man from yesterday. So, was this simply a lover’s quarrel? But what had Veronica meant by her ‘looking bad’?
After a couple of kisses, Veronica pushed him away, not angrily, but like a petulant child. “Don’t try to get on my good side. Either you’re coming with me and I can give you a decent alibi, or—”
“What, darl? You gonna tell tales on me?” He stepped toward Veronica. “Not like you’re such a good girl.”
“Get stuffed, Hank. I don’t tell tales but I’m planning on partying.” She spun away and tip-tapped on her high heels in Charlotte’s direction. Fury reddened her face and with her chin high she wasn’t looking for eavesdroppers. A moment later, the tip-tap faded, and she was gone.
Hank was on his phone, not looking the least bit concerned she’d left although he stared after her. Charlotte kept still. She wanted to hear him, and she didn’t want to be seen.
Why do you get yourself into these things?
“I got rid of her.” He spoke to the phone. “Not like that, you idiot. She’s gone to the street party so come and get me if you still want to knock over your aunt’s place.” Hank listened. “Fine, Darro. I’ll make sure the old bag is still at that stupid party.”
He jogged past Charlotte.
Glenys had been tricked into making everyone believe Darcy was the thief. And with him gone from the street party, would he
