Page 111 of Kate and Clara's Curious Cornish Craft Shop
‘I’m sure it won’t be the last time you have to break up with a boy. Like I said, it’s never easy.’
‘I don’t think I’ll bother with men in the future,’ Molly says sighing. ‘It’s too much like hard work. I’m gonna stick with Ben – did you know he’s gay?’
‘Yes,’ I say smiling. ‘I did. He’s a lovely boy.’
‘Oh yeah, the best, and much more fun than a proper boyfriend! We can hang out together without all the other hassles.’
My phone rings in my pocket. I pull it free and look at the screen. It’s Julian.
‘Sorry, Molly, I need to take this. Will you be all right?’
‘’Course!’ Molly says. ‘Anita left us some Victoria sponge upstairs, so I think I’ll let that drown my sorrows for a while!’
‘Hi, Julian,’ I say quickly into the receiver as Molly heads upstairs to the flat. ‘Any joy?’
‘I have it,’ Julian says.
‘So soon?’
‘Yep, it wasn’t that simple to get, but you’d be surprised how easily people can be persuaded when money comes into the equation.’
I didn’t like to think of Julian having to bribe someone to get the information we required, but it was the only way we might ever get to the bottom of this mystery.
‘What do you have? A name, a number, an address?’ I ask hopefully.
‘All of the above,’ Julian says proudly. ‘Do you really think it will help?’
‘Yes,’ I reply confidently. ‘I really do.’
At lunchtime I meet Jack, and we head around to Julian’s cottage.
Jack and Julian greet each other slightly awkwardly, but I have no time for their male insecurities today as I need to get on with what we’re actually here for.
‘Here you go,’ Julian says, handing me a piece of paper. ‘All the details of the last owner of number seven Treleven Hill, St Felix.’
Julian had managed to do what we couldn’t – he’d been able to procure the name, number and address of the last owner of the house with the blue door. The house that both the sewing machine and the easel had come from, and the house where we’d found Maggie’s name scrawled in the cupboard under the stairs.
I look down at the paper.Susan Cross, it said, followed by a mobile number and an address near Penzance.
‘Shall I phone it?’ I ask them both.
‘That’s the plan,’ Jack says. ‘Unless you want me to?’
‘No, I’ll do it,’ I say, and I take a deep breath before pressing the digits into my phone.
I half expect this Susan Cross not to answer. I was always wary when an unknown number called me, so I prepare myself to leave a message, but to my surprise someone answers.
‘Hello?’
‘Oh, hello,’ I say, staring wildly at the other two. ‘Is that Susan?’
‘It is, yes. Who is this, please?’ The person I’m speaking to has an odd accent – half British, half American.
‘Oh, you don’t know me, but my name is Kate … Kate Anderson. I wondered if I could ask you some questions about the house you have for sale?’
There is a slight pause before Susan says in a terse voice, ‘All queries about the house should go through the realtor … sorry, the estate agent. How did you get my number?’
‘No, it’s not about purchasing the house,’ I say quickly. ‘It’s about who used to live there. I wonder if you know anyone called Maggie, Clara or even an Arty perhaps?’
