A Brush with Death: A Penny Brannigan Mystery - By Elizabeth J. Duncan Page 0,17

puzzles to the charity shop, but I think I know what you’re after, and no, I won’t toss that kind of thing out.”

Penny reached for her scissors.

“Alwynne, you’ve made such a mess here I’m going to have to trim them all right down to try to get them even, and then you can grow them all out at the same time.”

Alwynne looked down at her hands and turned the right one over so she could see the nails.

“Well, I guess so,” she agreed. “Still, I’d like to have a bit of polish on them today.”

“Of course,” said Penny, “but I wouldn’t recommend anything too loud or obvious.”

A kind woman in her fifties with a cheerful bustle about her, Alwynne nodded.

“By the way, how are you getting on with clearing out Emma’s things? She lived in that cottage for donkey’s years and there has to be tons of stuff. She probably has lots of photos from her school-teaching days, and I’d love to see what’s there for my new exhibit. She might have photos of people we know when they were schoolchildren.”

“I haven’t come across any school photos yet,” said Penny, “but if I do, I’ll let you know.”

She put Alwynne’s hand back in the soaking bowl and reached for the other hand.

“There’s something I’d like to ask you,” she said. “Have you ever heard of Alys Jones? She was a local artist, sister of Jones the solicitor. Alys died in a hit-and-run accident in 1970.”

Penny met Alywnne’s eyes.

“Hmm. It’s a big family, that one, but fairly prominent. Of course, with a name like Jones in these parts, you’d expect most of them to be related. We might have some material in the archives, but I can’t say offhand”—and recognizing her little pun, Alwynne lifted her hand from the soaking bowl and gave a little laugh—“exactly what. But if you give me a few days, I’ll have a look and see what we’ve got.”

“That would be wonderful,” said Penny. “Tell you what, can you come round on Friday after dinner for a drink or a coffee, and tell us what you’ve found out? I’ll ask Victoria to join us.”

“Right,” said Alwynne. “I expect you’d like me to see if there are any photos of her. You know, at the time, while we’re living the moment, people don’t realize how significant their photos are, but to us at the museum, they’re treasures. Most of the photos we get are of people, of course, but I like looking beyond the people to see the material details and settings. Tells us all kinds of things about daily life. What their shoes looked like, the kind of food on the table, that sort of thing. There are even photos with a television in the background, and sometimes you can figure out what they were watching! You’d be surprised at the number of Christmas photos of Gran in a pointy paper hat with the queen on the telly in the background!”

The two women laughed.

“I never thought of that,” said Penny, thinking of the photo of Emma with the puppy in the garden. “But look, any Emma photos I come across I’ll certainly consider for the museum’s archives.”

She thought for a moment.

“What’s been your best exhibit or most memorable, do you think?”

“Well, a couple of years ago, we had an exhibit of rural life, and every photo had a horse in it. That went over really well and it was definitely one of my favourites. People seemed to really enjoy seeing all those images of life the way it used to be—a slower, friendlier time.”

She paused for a moment.

“And the great thing was that some of the people who came to the exhibit actually remembered the names of the horses but not the people. ‘That was old what’s-his-name who used to work for the dairy,’ they’d say, ‘Oh, and look, there’s Daisy. She was a lovely mare. So gentle with the children.’ That sort of thing.

“Of course,” she went on, “the pace was different then. Seemed there was more time to enjoy things. Nowadays, it’s all go.”

Penny nodded. “I know what you mean. We all seem to take on too much.”

She thought of the huge project the new spa would no doubt turn out to be—hoovering up enormous amounts of time and endless sums of money. She hoped it would be worth it.

“You know,” agreed Alwynne, “that’s one reason I enjoy the Stretch and Sketch club so much. I know I’m not that great an artist, but