Page 34 of The Beach Cottage
Bea huffed. “On Coral Island? How much could’ve happened in one year?”
“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Evie said, nudging an old newspaper across the table towards Bea. “Look at this — there was a pumpkin growing competition, of all things. Then they had a dance, and someone switched off the electricity in the middle of everything, putting them all in the dark. It was a big scandal. Someone’s wife kissed someone else’s husband, which they all saw as soon as the power came back on.”
“Wow, what a disaster,” Bea said with a smirk. “The island was salacious back then, apparently. It’s nothing like that now. A very upstanding community.”
“As far as you know,” Penny said with one eyebrow quirked.
“Oh, do tell,” Taya said.
Penny drew a fingers across her lips like a zipper. “Never.”
The old librarian, Mrs Gossamer, glared at them from her desk at the front of the library. Bea clamped her lips shut and did her best not to giggle. The librarian had been there since she was in primary school, and whenever she saw that tightly pulled grey bun and the half-moon glasses perched on a thin nose, she felt like she was a child getting in trouble for making too much noise all over again.
“Careful. We’re going to be expelled from the library,” she hissed.
“Does anyone else feel eight years old?” Taya asked.
Bea nodded furiously.
The others stifled a fit of giggles.
“Let’s keep investigating,” Bea suggested, pulling a pile of newspapers towards her. They were old, and the pages were worn. Some of the printing was smudged or faded. She scanned through headlines, turning the pages as gently as she could manage.
“So, we’re looking for any mention of Mary Brown from 1977 or 1978. That’s the year Penny thinks she was killed because it happened right after she was born. Am I getting the details correct, Pen?” Bea asked, her finger paused on a story headline.
“That’s right,” Penny agreed. “Although I could be wrong about the timing and I don’t want to call mum about it, since it only upsets her. But let’s start there and see what we find.”
Before long, Bea’s back hurt and her eyes were tired. She found her reading glasses in her purse and slipped them on, then continued her search. Finally, she stumbled across an article from November 15th 1978 with the headline Grandmother murdered.
“Look at this!” she said.
Another glare from Mrs Gossamer and she lowered her voice.
“I found it.”
The other women gathered around in a semicircle, and she read the article in a hushed tone.
“Mrs Mary Brown was found stabbed to death…”
“Oh, horrible,” Evie declared.
“…on the back porch of her house on the beach near Blue Lake at seven p.m. yesterday evening. The murder weapon wasn’t found, and no one else was home at the time of the attack. She was discovered by her daughter, Ruby, when she returned from rehearsals for the school play on the evening ferry.”
“Your mum was an actress?” Taya asked Penny.
Penny shrugged. “Not really. I think she painted the scenery and was a background extra or something. But she does love to sing.”
“So, your mother came home from school late and found your grandmother dead on the back porch. How old were you then?”
“One year old. I think my grandmother was caring for me at the time,” Penny said, her brow furrowed. “Poor Mum. I know she was heartbroken over it. She found me crying in my cot.”
“Where was your grandfather?” Taya asked.
“He’d died years earlier.”
“It must’ve been a nightmare for your mother. And you told us your dad wasn’t in the picture. Is that right?”
“From what I know, he left before I was born, and Mum was on her own. But she was only sixteen, so perhaps he was very young as well. Of course, she won’t say a word about him, which is infuriating. I’ve given up asking, but I used to be obsessed with finding out anything I could about him. He is my father, after all.”
