Chapter Fifty-Five
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Selina and Bix are doing shots with the women from the Tampa book club, and Deborah and Naomi can’t seem to stop hugging Wyatt. The waiters bring out dessert, the promised sticky toffee pudding, which is so delectable that I don’t understand why it hasn’t already made Willowthrop famous.
Germaine comes over to the three of us. She wants to know how we made the connection to Ambrosia.
“It was Amity, talking about The Mirror Crack’d from Side to Side, ” Wyatt says.
“Agatha Christie helped you solve the case?” Germaine says.
Wyatt laughs. “Yes, she did.”
He explains how Amity had not only been impressed with the plot twist in Christie’s mystery but had remembered it vividly because she’d been so offended at the way Christie’s character referred to her child as an “imbecile” and how strange it was that everyone in the story seemed to accept without question that the child would be institutionalized.
“Suddenly, it all fell together. Details we had overlooked were key. Lady Blanders’s bracelet, her odd reaction to being asked if she’d wanted a daughter, the photograph of Sproton House, the magazine article on Tracy’s wall with the photograph of the redheaded girl on the pony and the girl’s name, Ambrosia, in the caption. ”
Germaine looks so delighted that I suspect she did considerably more than assist Roland Wingford in developing the story.
“I never did like The Mirror Crack’d for that very reason,” she says. “All children deserve love and family and a name. I hated how Christie allowed her character to be ashamed of and banish her own child.”
She returns to the microphone and announces that she’d like to introduce the cast. Finally, we’ll know who was acting and who was playing themselves.
Germaine starts with Gordon Penny, who she tells us is Gordon Greensleeve and has never been married to Tracy Penny, though they dated briefly as teenagers and are still friends.
Gordon runs the dance studio, which he named himself.
He participated in the murder mystery in hopes that the publicity might help get him onto a show like Strictly Come Dancing .
Tracy Penny, real name, is a reputable hairstylist whose clients include many people in the village and the surrounding area.
She hasn’t cut the hair of anyone with a title, but she did act as a backup stylist for a television commercial shot in neighboring Bakewell last year in which a Kate Middleton look-alike was advertising vitamins.
“I am particularly chuffed to introduce the genius behind the character of Lady Magnolia Blanders,” Germaine says.
This prompts an exaggerated frown from Amity, who had very much wanted Lady Magnolia to be the real deal.
“Ladies and gentleman, meet my niece, the Canadian stage actress Imogen Postlethwaite.”
“I knew I recognized her!” Selina Granby grabs her husband’s arm. “She played the crazed lover in that musical version of Fatal Attraction !”
Lady Blanders/Imogen wraps her arms around Germaine.
I see the resemblance, especially now that Imogen has dropped the haughty expression and posture.
“In addition to being a great actor, my niece has also been honored for her support and work on behalf of disability rights in Canada,” Germaine says.
“The child at the center of this mystery, Ambrosia, does not exist. The photograph in the magazine was a result of some clever photoshopping in which we put a picture of Imogen as a child on horseback with a photograph of Tracy when she had a perm. Sproton House and the Whitby Children’s Home are also fabrications.
Whitby Stables, however, not only is real but also has a wonderful equine therapy program for children throughout England.
It was our pleasure to use some of the proceeds of this event to make a donation. ”
Germaine waits for the applause to subside and then expresses her gratitude to her dear friend Lady Cressida Sterling, who is the real owner of Hadley Hall, for giving them use of the estate.
“Lady Cressida, unfortunately, could not be with us tonight, but she invites you all to return to Willowthrop next summer when renovations are complete and Hadley Hall will be open to the public,” Germaine says.
“I’m coming back for that,” Amity tells me. “Maybe it will overlap with the swan census.”
Holding the microphone, Germaine flits around the room introducing the others.
Dinda Roost works for Tracy but does not owe her money.
Petunia, Dinda’s terrier, does not need therapy of any kind and is in perfect health.
Edwina Flasher has lived in Willowthrop her entire life and is known as a bona fide busybody, though she prefers to call herself the unofficial village historian.
Bert Lott is the local stationer. He has never acted before and doesn’t plan to do so again.
His daughter, Claire, who is neither estranged from her father nor interested in opening a vegan café, is one of the area’s most accomplished hang gliders.
Sally, the vicar, is the vicar. Stanley and Pippa Grange, real names, are husband and wife, dinner theater actors who believe that playing turbulently married couples keeps their own marriage alive.
The village doctor is the village chiropractor.
And Gladys Crone is not and has never been a maid; her real name is Alice Sweet, and she’s a pastry chef.
“What about Dev?” shouts one of the Tampa book club women.
Germaine looks toward the kitchen door, beside which Dev is leaning against the wall.
“And this is Dev Sharma, who is everything he’s told you he is. He owns Moss, a marvelous bar, and he makes top-notch artisanal gin.”
The kitchen door swings open, and the light from within pools around Dev. He glows with warmth and kindness as he looks around the room. I will him to find me in the crowd. When his eyes finally meet mine, I put my hand to my heart and he does the same. I can’t look away.
“There is one person I have saved for last,” Germaine continues.
“She volunteered for the most thankless part, a starring role that was at the center of this mystery but that did not require learning a single line. Ladies and gentleman, I give you our victim, a veritable wunderkind of playing dead, Tracy Penny.”
The kitchen door opens again, and Tracy Penny rushes to the center of the room like a ballerina flitting to the spotlight.
She’s done her hair into an elaborate updo with perfect tendrils spiraling down to her bare shoulders.
The sequins in her long, slinky dress sparkle in the light as she twirls and blows kisses and strikes poses.
And then she throws her arms up in the air and her voice rings out strong and clear.
“It’s bloody brilliant to be alive!”