The Cold Light of Mourning - By Elizabeth J. Duncan Page 0,74
the height of fashion in its day, the coat was full-length, unbelted, and unfitted. With a full, generous cut, it flowed straight down from the yoke and featured a stand-up collar, raglan sleeves, and small, brown leather buttons. She would have known it anywhere, because she had seen it so many times on its previous owner.
Finally, she spoke.
“Gwennie, do you mind me asking you where you got that coat?”
“What? This old thing? I bought it years ago at the charity shop, just over there,” she said, pointing to the one that faced the square. “But it’s very good quality and there’s still lots of wear left in it,” she said somewhat defensively. And then, eager to continue discussing the details of the funeral, she turned back to Victoria.
“I told young Mr. Emyr that you would do a beautiful job, and you did,” she gushed. “He’s been through such a lot lately, and is very grateful for all the kindness and support of his friends. I told him we’d had such a lovely chat in the kitchen that day you came by and how concerned you’d been over that awful business with poor Meg Wynne.
“I do hope you’ll drop by again for a cup of tea with me, Mrs. Hopkirk. You’ll always be very welcome and I do enjoy a bit of company. It looks like I’ll be working more hours up at the Hall as young Mr. Emyr needs that much looking after, now that he’s on his own. Of course, he’s in and out and I expect he’ll be off to London or somewhere soon so I don’t know what’s going to happen, really I don’t.
“Well, I must get off or my sister and her husband will be wondering whatever happened to me. They’ll have been expecting me long since. Good-bye, then.”
“Good-bye, Gwennie,” said Victoria, watching as she left and giving a little wave.
Penny made no move.
“Earth to Penny!” said Victoria. “You didn’t say good-bye to Gwennie. Are you all right?”
“Sorry, I’m fine,” said Penny. “I wasn’t really listening. I was thinking about something else.”
She watched as Gwennie’s receding figure got smaller, turned a corner, and disappeared from view. Shrugging, she smiled at Victoria and pulled herself together.
“A little trip down memory lane. That was Emma’s coat. I didn’t realize she’d given it to the charity shop. I’m glad someone’s getting some good use out of it. To tell you the truth, I never really liked it at the time, but now I think it’s rather smart. Very retro. Vintage!”
Victoria smiled at her.
“That’ll be the nostalgia setting in,” she said. “It comes to us all. I get that way thinking about glass milk bottles and the lovely, dear men who used to deliver then.”
She shook her head and they walked on. As they turned the corner they saw Gwennie further on down the street hoisting her bags into the back of what looked to them like a high-end BMW.
“There’s his good deed for the day,” Victoria observed. “David Williams giving Gwennie and her bags a lift home. How nice.”
Twenty-five
Penny had always enjoyed daytrips to Llandudno. She could have had her supplies shipped directly to the salon, but she looked forward to closing her shop early once a month or so and visiting the charming seaside town, with its elegant Edwardian architecture, handsome shops, fine restaurants, and half-mile long Victorian pier that juts into Llandudno Bay with views to the famous limestone cliffs.
When they had finished choosing the salon supplies, Penny and Victoria decided to leave their parcel behind to be picked up later, and take a leisurely stroll along the sweeping promenade. They admired the regal, four-storey terraced hotels as they went, and soon found themselves outside the region’s best-known contemporary art gallery, Oriel Mostyn.
“This was one of the last places Emma and I visited,” said Penny wistfully, “before she became too ill to get out and about.
“I was thinking this morning that I’m going to retire her Altar Ego polish. I can’t see myself using it on anyone else.”
Victoria nodded sympathetically and put her arm around Penny.
“I’m sorry you lost Emma,” she said softly. “But I’m here now. As friends go, will I do?”
After a few moments, she pointed in the direction of the pier.
“Just for fun, should we pretend we’re holidaymakers and take the sea air properly? It’s been years since I walked along the pier and maybe we’ll feel like a cup of tea at the café, if it’s open.”