Chapter 2 #2
He couldn’t see the lady’s face, covered as it was with a veil, but even from this distance, he could tell her attire wasn’t cheap like his mother’s had been.
While he was ruminating, a locomotive whistle sounded in the distance, and seconds later the signalman came hurrying out of his box to begin the task of pushing the gates across the road.
Although the train was coming from Brixham, the carriages would extend well beyond the platform, necessitating the closure of Torbay Road.
Billy grimaced, there would probably be a lengthy wait, since the train had likely not yet reached Churston.
Still, there was no point him crossing over the newly built iron footbridge.
Better to remain where he was and hop over the gate when the time was right.
A minute or so later, the lady in black reached the safety gate now blocking the way.
To Billy’s surprise, she didn’t head across the road in the direction of the footbridge but remained next to him staring over the tracks towards Victoria Street.
He gave her a careful sideways glance. Perhaps the footbridge stairs were too much for her.
He narrowed his eyes, trying to see through the veil attached to her bonnet.
There was something familiar about her that he couldn’t quite place.
Frowning, he continued to watch her from the corner of his eye, wracking his brains as to where he’d seen her before.
He was none the wiser by the time the train finally approached the station and with a shrug he began to ready himself to climb the gate, until, suddenly, as the cloud of steam started to billow towards them from the tracks, the woman gave a loud sneeze.
Automatically he turned towards her, just in time to see her pull a handkerchief from her reticule and lift up the veil.
He was looking straight into the face of Muriel Pemberton.
Since Mrs Pettigrew’s residence in Belgrave Road was only a short distance from Torquay railway station, it was decided that the younger three women would attend their interview via the train, while Henry and Charlotte took advantage of the carriage, given that Torquay Police Station was some distance away on Market Street in the town centre.
Though the novelty of railway travel had long since worn off for many of the more illustrious residents of Torbay, who regularly declared it both noisy and smelly, travelling by train was still a rare enough occurrence for the younger Shacklefords to be exhilarated at the thought of boarding a means of transport that could potentially take them all the way to London in less than six hours – especially when travelling the same distance by carriage could take days.
Not that any of them had actually been to London, but Alex at least was hoping to visit the capital with her husband in the not-too-distant future – particularly if any new information came to light about the elusive Muriel Pemberton.
Once the whistle sounded and the train moved out, even Beatrix lost her Friday face as the speed increased, taking them closer to Paignton seafront, currently empty of the ladies’ bathing machines which would be wheeled out as soon as the weather warmed up.
A few seconds later they were onto the farmland and marshier dunes of the outlying area.
Although this area of Paignton was only in its infancy, the three women pressed their noses against the windows, eager to see what changes had been wrought since they last took the train.
The evidence of expansion was clear, with rows of modest red brick terrace houses springing up amidst the open countryside.
As the train approached Torquay, the farmland on the left gradually gave way to Livermead Fields – meadows filled with wild iris, dotted with the occasional large Villa, the most prominent being Livermead House.
On the right was Livermead Sands together with its small, dilapidated harbour - a relic of days gone by.
And finally, in the distance they could see the thriving spa town of Torquay, backed by the majestic Waldon Hill with its grandiose mansions.
To the east, the bare bones of the new Princess Pier were just visible.
The new pier was to be the jewel in the crown of the proposed Princess Gardens.
As everyone knew, both the pier and gardens were named for Princess Louise, the daughter of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, after the Royal visit to Torquay only the year before.
Moments later, the train began to slow down as the track curved towards Torquay Station, located a little way from the seafront. As the train drew to a halt, the three women hurriedly climbed down, joining the throng of people exiting the platform.
Once out of the station, they came face to face with the elegant Great Western Hotel. A mere ten years old, it had been built to accommodate those affluent holidaymakers visiting Torquay by train.
‘Do you think we might have time for afternoon tea?’ Beatrix asked, nodding towards the hotel. ‘We’ll likely be starving by the time we’ve finished at Mrs Pettigrew’s, and I’ve heard the dining room has a very pleasant view of the seafront.’
‘I’d wager it’s not as good as ours at home,’ Alexandra scoffed, ‘and I’m sure Papa would consider afternoon tea a totally unnecessary extravagance since it will likely take us less than an hour to get back Cliff House where can indulge to our heart’s content in Mrs Williams’ plum cake.’
‘She made a plum duff?’ Bea groaned theatrically. ‘I can almost taste it. Are you sure? Did you see it?’
‘I smelled it,’ Alex laughed. ‘Now, please, may we concentrate on the matter at hand? I believe we need to continue along the seafront towards Abbey Terrace...’ She paused and pointed to the elegant crescent of terraced houses at the foot of Waldon Hill in the distance.
‘Before that, you can see the Belgrave House Hotel, which marks the end of Belgrave Road.’
The three women began walking, enjoying the sights and sounds of Torquay, the largest town in the Bay and, certainly to Bea’s eyes, much more exciting than either Paignton or Brixham.
To their left, standing back from the road, they could just spy the stately Torre Abbey, home to the Cary family.
‘Are the Carys any relation to the Carews?’ Arabella asked as they peeked in through the hedge. ‘Isn’t Simon Carew our second cousin?’
Alex nodded, leading them onwards. ‘According to Papa, Simon’s grandfather Roan Carew married one of Great Grandfather Augustus’s daughters – Faith, I think it was. But in answer to your question, no, there’s no relation between the Carews and the Carys as far as I’m aware.’
‘How many relatives have we actually got?’ Beatrix quizzed her.
‘Oh, hundreds I should think,’ Alexandra chuckled. ‘Mayhap we should ask Father to compile a family tree.’
‘Where on earth would he start?’ Bea retorted.
‘Who other than Reverend Augustus Shackleford? After all, he was the one who brought a Duke into the family.’ Alex laughed.
‘Well, it’s not done this particular branch of the Shacklefords much good,’ Bea grumbled. ‘I can’t imagine any of us being offered a season in London any time soon.’
‘You’d hate it,’ Bella countered with a grin. ‘All that primping and preening. Charlotte struggles to get you to brush your hair.’
Beatrix narrowed her eyes but contented herself with a sniff. Her two older sisters looked at each other, neither thinking it prudent to mention just how much the gesture reminded them of their Aunt…
Fortunately, moments later they arrived at the end of Belgrave Road.
Across from them stood the majestic Belgrave House Private Hotel, and beyond that, Abbey Terrace.
‘I wonder if they do afternoon tea,’ Beatrix mused, evidently not convinced that her sister had been speaking the truth about the plum duff.
Not wanting to get into yet another debate, Alexandra didn’t respond, instead turning left and leading them into the refined, tree-lined thoroughfare with its elegant, terraced houses modelled after London’s Belgravia.
‘Cripes, it must cost a pretty penny to live in such a neighbourhood,’ Beatrix breathed in awe, her stomach finally forgotten.
‘More than you could ever imagine,’ Arabella declared. ‘And I believe many of the wealthiest residents simply spend the summers here, leaving their houses empty for months at a time except for servants and retainers.’
‘I don’t believe it’s only happening here,’ Alex added.
‘I think it’s a sad trend other seaside towns are experiencing.
’ She gave a sigh. ‘So much seasonal employment makes the winter months very difficult for many of those less fortunate living permanently in Torbay.’ She paused suddenly and looked down at her notes.
‘Here we are. Number twelve.’ Without waiting, she lifted the latch on the gate and stepped onto the path bordered on each side by flowerbeds, manicured within an inch of their life.
Once they were gathered at the front door, Bella stepped forward and, after only a moment’s hesitation, rang the doorbell.
Billy sighed, staring down at his dirty knuckles, wondering if he had time to scrub them before Mrs Williams caught sight of the grime and dragged him to the outside water pump.
He hadn’t imagined his decision to follow Muriel Pemberton might well take up the entire day.
If he’d stuck with his original plan, he’d have been back to Cliff House before tea with none the wiser.
At this rate, he’d be here until midnight.
He sighed again and peeped through the Gerston Hotel window.
What the bloody hell was she doing in there?
Having tea with some swank -probably looking to fleece the poor sod out of his life’s savings.
Billy was truly beginning to think he’d made the wrong decision.
Worse, he couldn’t be entirely sure that the lady he was currently following actually was the missing clairvoyant.
And the longer he stood around, the more uncertain he became.
After all, he’d only seen her from the side – and then only for a few seconds.
He could be completely wasting his time.
He leaned against the wall, nibbling his dirty nails, thinking back to the moment he’d caught sight of the widow’s face.
He'd actually frozen for a second or two, watching in disbelief as she’d dabbed at her nose before dropping the veil and tucking the handkerchief back into her reticule.
A couple of minutes later the train had slowed to a stop, and he’d turned to look in the direction of the platform.
He was no longer able to see the Shacklefords, but knew they’d already be boarding the train. He remembered his agony of indecision.
If the train kept to its schedule, he had only minutes to make his move. But if the lady in black really was Muriel Pemberton…
…And now, here he was, an hour later, less than a hundred yards from the level crossing.
As plans went, it was a lick and a promise.
He sighed again and folded his arms, leaning against the corner of Paignton’s fanciest hotel.
He felt like a fish out of water. Any minute now he was going to be accused of loitering.
Taking another quick peek through the window, however, he realised the couple were no longer there.
Heart dropping, he turned towards the door, just in time to see them walk out onto the street.
‘I will wait to hear from you. But don’t think to keep him waiting for too long.’ Her companion’s voice was deep and utterly cold. Billy gave a small shudder, instinctively sensing a predator, even if he had no knowledge of the word.
Mrs Pemberton simply nodded briskly and turned away, walking swiftly up Victoria Road without a backward glance.
After a quick look to see in which direction the man went, Billy hurried after her, no longer questioning whether he was following a complete innocent.
This was her alright, and worse, he guessed she was still up to no good.