The Secret of the Rose

Part Three

One evening, the group gathered again at the kitchen table to share a meal and tell of their progress.

“How’s everyone going?” asked Jim. He had been away from the cottage for a few days and had just arrived back.

“All of the repairs are finished,” began Brian, “and we’re making good progress on the painting.”

“We’re finished with the garden,” Di added. “It just needs to be watered, and weeded every now and again.”

“Everything’s ordered,” Trixie told him. “We’re just waiting on delivery.”

“Great,” Jim replied, leaning back in satisfaction. “You’ve all done a really good job. I want the place as close to finished as possible, because I’m closing the place up for the weekend, beginning lunch time on Friday.”

“Why’s that, Jim?” asked Honey.

“You may not remember, little sister,” he began, smiling, “but Saturday is my birthday and I intend to celebrate it. Only two years ago my birthday dinner consisted of baked beans, eaten cold from the can.”

“I suppose we could heat them up for you this time,” joked Honey.

The following morning, Trixie arrived at the cottage early to get a head start. She found Jim on the back porch, sitting in one of the seats the boys had brought out from the barn.

“Is it bad news?” she asked him, indicating the letter which hung limply from his hand.

“Depends on your point of view,” he said. “He’s dead.”

“Your uncle?” she asked. Jim nodded and handed her the letter.

Trixie read:

‘Dear Jim,

‘I’m sorry to inform you that your uncle is dead. He died of complications from his injuries about six months after he was sent back to prison. Once again, I’m sorry Jim.

‘My enquiries into the trial have been a little more successful. It turns out that the defence lawyer is a friend of mine, Alfred Brentwood, and he recalls the case quite clearly. Harlan Frayne told him that he did it to get money to pay his gambling debts, but Alfred didn’t believe him. He pleaded guilty without the slightest hesitation and the jury found him guilty in near-record time.

‘He was sentenced to life in prison, and did not want to appeal.

‘Alfred tells me that the case intrigued him, since it was fairly clear that while his client was certainly guilty he didn’t want his real motive to be known. He never found out the true motive, but it didn’t seem to be anything to do with money. The house had been ransacked, but nothing of value seemed to have been taken or moved.

‘Enclosed is one of Alfred’s business cards. He would be happy to talk to you if you need anything further.

‘I’m very sorry that the news wasn’t better.

‘Sincerely,
George Rainsford.’

“I’m sorry, Jim,” said Trixie. “I know you were hoping for another living relative.”

“It’s okay,” he said, with a sigh. “I don’t think I could have had any meaningful relationship with him anyway, considering that he would still be in jail. I don’t think this is a mystery you can solve, Trixie,” he continued. “Almost everyone connected to it is dead.”

“You can’t give up now,” she replied. “I’ve got quite a bit more from the diaries and I think we might find out more from Mr. Brentwood.”

“I don’t hold out much hope,” he said, thoroughly discouraged, “and I can’t see how the diaries could help.”

“Firstly,” Trixie began, “I’ve found out the reason Harlan stayed with Miss Henley. He had a disagreement with your grandfather over what Harlan called ‘dirty money’. He wouldn’t stay with your grandparents or with your great uncle and aunt because he thought they had gotten their money in a dishonest way.”

Jim looked shocked. Trixie realised that she should have been a little more tactful, since Jim had inherited from his great-uncle, but it was too late.

“Secondly,” she continued, a little more gently, “Miss Henley suspected that Harlan was actually more angry with your father than his own. She thought that he was jealous for some reason and that it was best to keep them as far separated as possible.”

Trixie paused a moment before continuing.

“And lastly, did you know what you grandfather and great uncle did for a living?”

“No,” said Jim, intrigued by the look on Trixie’s face.

“They ran a business together, importing antiquities, mainly from Egypt.”

Jim looked surprised. “I never had any idea,” he said after a pause. “I don’t remember seeing anything like that in Uncle James’ house,” he added, frowning.

“From what it said in the diary, I gather they sold the business and both retired twenty years or more before you were born. And your Aunt Nell couldn’t stand the stuff, so that would be why there wasn’t anything like it at Ten Acres.”

Jim nodded slowly, but did not answer, instead staring out across the yard in deep thought. He still had said nothing a few minutes later when Honey arrived, and the three went inside to start painting.

By Jim’s Friday lunch time deadline, most of the work was completed. The gardens were looking neat and tidy, everything was clean and most of the rooms had been painted in beautiful shades of cream, yellow and pink. All that remained was the kitchen, laundry and exterior paint, the exterminator and the deliveries.

All seven Bob-Whites enjoyed their well-earned break. On the Friday evening they met at the clubhouse for their own private celebration of Jim’s birthday. On Saturday, Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler were throwing a large party for Jim, but he wanted a party with just his close friends as well.

When Jim entered the clubhouse on that Friday evening he could hardly believe his eyes. The conference table was piled high with food and every available space was draped with streamers. Someone had also blown up a huge number of balloons, which dangled from the rafters on strings. Best of all, his six best friends had gathered to celebrate.

“It’s almost time,” someone announced, as Jim came inside.

“We’ve decided to start your birthday four and a half hours early,” explained Honey, as the countdown began.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. Happy Birthday, Jim!” cried six voices in unison. They broke into song, singing “Happy Birthday to You” to a surprised and somewhat embarrassed Jim.

Mart lit the candles on an enormous cake, and Jim was encouraged to make a wish and blow them out. Soon the cake was cut and everyone had a slice.

“Do you like it?” asked Honey, shyly.

“It’s delicious,” Jim assured her. “Did you make it, Honey?”

“Mrs. Belden helped me,” she replied modestly. “It’s a family recipe of hers.”

“Speech!” yelled Mart, as soon as he had eaten his cake. The others soon joined in the cry.

“Thank you all,” said Jim, “both for throwing this party and for being such good friends. Two years ago, I thought that no one would ever care about me again. All of you have made the last two years very happy ones for me and I hope we have many years together ahead of us.”

The other six cheered.

“This is from all of us,” said Honey, handing Jim a small present.

Inside, Jim found a framed photograph of the seven Bob-Whites.

“We thought you could take it with you to college,” said Di.

“Thank you,” Jim replied. “I’ll do that.”

They stayed, talking, laughing and eating late into the night.

Trixie was tired in the morning, and she had plenty of chores to do, but she still found time to read some more of the diaries. She was beginning to feel that she knew Miss Henley from her writings.

“Did you ever keep a diary, Moms?” Trixie asked as she helped her mother prepare lunch.

“Yes, and I still do,” her mother replied. “I started when I was about your age.”

“Before I started reading Miss Henley’s diaries I couldn’t understand the point. Now that I’ve read them I’m starting to think it’s a good idea.” Trixie paused as she added the vegetables she had been cutting to the salad bowl. “She just wrote about the people she met and the things she did and the things she hoped would happen. And she doesn’t seem like a little old lady at all.”

“We were all your age once,” commented her mother, smiling.

“And every now and then I find a piece of information that we could never have known if she hadn’t written it down,” added Trixie. “It makes me wonder about our family history, and if there are things I don’t know that no one ever thought to tell me.”

“What sort of things?” asked her mother.

“I mean, I know that Aunt Alicia is your sister and that she’s not married, but I don’t know whether she chose to be single or was jilted or if the right man just never came along,” said Trixie.

“Is that important?” Mrs Belden asked with a smile.

“Yes and no,” said her daughter, considering. “I think that reading these diaries has made me think about how people get to be the way they are. Miss Henley had a fiancé who left her practically at the altar and she never considered another man again.”

“It wasn’t like that for your Aunt Alicia,” said her mother. “She chose to be single so that I could be married.”

“What do you mean, Moms?” said Trixie, confused.

“Our mother became very sickly about the time that Alicia and I were finishing school. One of us had to stay home and look after her and Alicia decided that it would be her. I already knew your father and Alicia didn’t have a boyfriend, so she made the sacrifice and looked after Mother,” Mrs Belden paused here, assessing her daughter. After a moment she seemed to come to a decision and continued. “I was supposed to finish college and then marry your father, but we just couldn’t wait. Before we knew it, I was expecting Brian and that was the end of college for me.”

Before Trixie could think what to say next, her mother briskly changed the subject.

“Time for lunch. Trixie, could you please fetch your brothers.”

That evening, the Wheelers held a grand party for Jim. Trixie thought it was much less fun than the one the previous night, but she kept that thought to herself.

Before she knew it, Trixie’s few days off were gone. On Monday morning she went up to Manor House to meet Jim and go through his parents’ belongings. Jim took her to the room where the items were being stored.

“Honey will be along a little later to help,” he said, handing her a box. “We’ll do one box each at a time, and repack them as we go.”

It was slow work. Each item held untold memories for Jim and he was soon lost in reminiscences from his childhood. The first two boxes held no clues to what they were looking for and they were packed away again.

They were part way through the next two boxes when Honey arrived.

“Choose a box,” said Jim, “and unpack it. If there’s nothing that helps us in it, pack it up again. Those are the ones we’ve done,” he added, pointing.

Soon after Honey opened the lid it was obvious that this was the box they were looking for. A smaller box inside contained hundreds of negatives, and further down the box was a manila envelope containing documents. There were also a number of old sepia photographs.

Jim had no idea who the people in the old photographs were. A few were pencilled in on the back, but most were unmarked.

“We should get some of these negatives developed,” said Trixie, holding one up to the light. “I’m not sure, but I think this baby with the green hair and black face must be you.”

“You could be right,” Jim laughed. “I’ll take a few into Sleepyside with me later.”

Honey, meanwhile, was going through the envelope.

“There are some letters here,” she said, “and these notes.” She placed some strange, hand-written documents in front of Jim.

“It’s my mother’s handwriting,” he said, “and it seems to be information on the family. Trixie, would you like to take these and read them?”

Trixie assented, and Jim placed all of the documents back in their envelope, setting it aside. The rest of the search was fairly fruitless in terms of information.

Trixie was eager to read what Jim’s mother had written. At the first opportunity she shut herself in her room and spread the documents out to look at them. First, she went through the letters.

One pile, carefully clipped together, appeared to be letters from Jim’s father to his mother. A quick glance told Trixie that they were love letters and, as she felt too embarrassed to read them, she set them aside.

The next pile seemed less personal, so Trixie read them. As she read, Trixie began to imagine what Jim’s mother must have gone through while her husband was dying. The letters were from various family friends and relatives, obviously in response to Jim’s mother’s enquiries. Each letter seemed to respond to the same question: Is there any family history of this sort of disease?

Trixie realised, then, that she had no idea what Jim’s parents had died of. She knew that his father had been sick for some time and that his mother was never very strong, but Jim had never said any more than that.

Trixie resolved to find out. The letters gave her no real clue. Each one basically said that to the best of its author’s knowledge, no one else in the family had ever had anything like it. She did, on the other hand, find out the causes of death for numerous other Frayne relatives.

The last pile contained the strange documents which had been in Jim’s mother’s handwriting. As she examined them, Trixie realised that they were notes on the Frayne family history. Katie Frayne had been researching her husband’s family tree.

As she read through the pages, Trixie could have shouted for joy. Detailed here were short descriptions of the old sepia photos, along with the names of the individuals pictured. There were also pages of notes from interviews with old family friends.

The last page puzzled Trixie a little. It contained the same sort of information for Katie’s own family, the Vanderheidens. Trixie wondered whether Katie had known that she was sick too, or whether she simply wanted to record her own family in the same way.

She tried to call Jim right away to tell him what she had found, but Miss Trask told her that he and Honey had just left for Sleepyside. Disappointed, Trixie started transferring the information to her chart.

Trixie began packing the documents back into their envelope, but no matter how hard she pushed they would not go back in. Taking them out again she put her hand inside to smooth the envelope. As she did so, she realised that there was one more item inside which she had missed. An envelope the same colour as the outside one had stuck to the side.

She carefully drew it out and found inside it a smaller envelope marked ‘Jim’ and some Death Certificates: Thomas Frayne, Ruth Frayne and Winthrop Frayne.

Confusion washed over Trixie. Why was Jim’s father’s death certificate here? His mother must, then, have put these things in Miss Henley’s house between four and seven years ago. Trixie thought she might be beginning to understand.

Maybe Jim’s mother put the things there before she married Jonesy, Trixie thought. That way, they would be safe for Jim to collect when he grew up.

“Trixie,” she heard her mother call, “Honey and Jim are here.”

“Coming,” she replied, gathering the papers.

“I found something else,” she said when she met the others in the kitchen. She handed Jim the envelope with his name and the death certificates.

Jim’s face paled. He fingered the envelope for a few moments then slowly opened it. After reading for a few minutes, he handed its contents to Trixie. She and Honey read:

‘My darling Jim,

‘By the time you read this I may not be around to explain things to you but I want to be sure that you understand.

‘We didn’t mean for you to be an only child, but that’s the way things turned out and I’m so afraid that I’ll be leaving you alone soon.

‘When your father was so sick and the doctors couldn’t say why I started to look into his family to try and find an answer. At first I got nowhere. He had so few living relatives and the family friends I contacted knew so little. No one that I could find had an unexplained illness.

‘Then I started to get sick too.

‘I knew that your father’s brother had been sick for several years before he died so I decided to start there. I don’t think you remember your Uncle Harlan. He did a very terrible thing when you were quite small and he was locked away.

‘It seemed that the only ones who had this problem were your father, your uncle, your grandfather and I, so I started to look at what we had in common. One day I realised what it must be.

‘When your father and I were married, your grandparents settled some of their property on their two sons. Most of it was articles that your grandfather and great uncle had imported from Egypt. They had a business together many years ago and your grandfather kept some pieces after the business was sold.

‘Your father sold the Egyptian pieces to buy the farm, but your uncle kept all of his. Among the other items were a few cases of wine which were divided between the two. Your grandfather insisted that it was very special and that we should take extra care of it.

‘Over the years we had drunk most of the wine. Your uncle had developed a ritual with his, where he would only drink it from a particular goblet in his collection. He once let slip that his father had told him to drink it that way.

‘I took one of the last bottles to be tested. It contained a slow-acting poison, which eats away at your health and slowly kills you as it builds up in your body. There was no antidote.

‘We soon realised that your grandfather had poisoned us deliberately, but by this time he and Harlan were already dead.

‘From what I had read, the poison did not affect a person’s mind, but both your grandfather and uncle showed signs of madness. Jim, if you find the goblet please destroy it. I don’t know what is wrong with it, but it made this thing worse. I think Harlan must have hidden it at Rose Cottage, but I can’t find it.

‘I know that I will probably die from the poison. I only hope that you are not affected, as it was already in my body when I was pregnant with you.

‘Please take care, Jim. I will love you always,

‘Mom.’

Behind the letter was a copy of the report on the analysis of the wine.

“Maybe you can solve the mystery after all,” said Jim, when they were finished reading, “but I’m not sure that I want to know anymore.”

“Let’s continue with what we came here to do then,” said Honey. She explained to Trixie, “Jim chose some negatives to develop into photos. We were going into Sleepyside to the new one hour photo shop to get them done and came to see if you’d like to come along.”

“I think I’ll go to the library as well,” said Jim, “and pick up a book which tells me about this poison.”

Once Trixie had asked permission, the three headed off. After dropping off the negatives Trixie and Honey headed for the same ice cream parlour where they had met at the beginning of the summer, while Jim went to the library.

“I can barely believe that so much has happened since the last time we were here,” said Trixie, sitting down at the same table they had used before. “This summer has been even busier than last summer.”

The hour dragged slowly by. Eventually, Jim arrived with the photos and the three shared a sundae while they looked at them. The photos showed happy days: new parents with their infant son; a chubby baby playing on a rug; a toddler holding his father’s hand; a small boy on his mother’s lap; a bigger boy astride a horse.

“They’ve turned out well,” said Honey. “Are you going to get the rest developed?”

Jim simply nodded. He seemed overwhelmed with emotion.

When she got home, Trixie went to her room to consider her next move. She wanted to know what was wrong with the goblet but the only way to do that would be to find it.

The work at the cottage was nearly complete and Trixie knew that she would not be missed if she spent some time away.

The problem was, where could the goblet possibly be when every inch of the cottage had been gone over?

Trixie decided to think the problem over for a day or two.

The next morning, as Trixie helped her mother with the breakfast dishes, she broached a subject which had been bothering her for some weeks now.

“Moms, I’ve been thinking,” she began. “It’s been so interesting finding out about Jim’s family. Could you help me trace our family tree?”

“Of course, dear,” her mother replied. “What do you need me to do?”

“After we’ve finished here, will you tell me about the family so I can write it down?”

Her mother readily agreed and soon the two were sitting at the kitchen table writing out a family tree for Trixie.

“I’ll have to do this with Dad when he comes home from Iowa,” she added.

“I have something for you,” her mother said when they were finished. “I’ll just get it.”

She returned shortly with a small cloth-bound book.

“A diary?” asked Trixie, giving her a hug. “Thank you, Moms. I’ll write in it every day.”

“Only if you want to, Trixie,” said her mother, smiling. “I find that every second or third day is enough.”

That day was Diana’s birthday and the seven Bob-Whites gathered at the Lynch mansion in the evening to celebrate.

“There’s one rule for tonight,” said Di, when they had all arrived. “No one is allowed to talk about Rose Cottage. I don’t think I ever want to see a paintbrush again.”

“We’d better get you a new birthday present then,” quipped Mart.

The party was a huge success. After all of their hard work the Bob-Whites needed to relax and they enjoyed the food, dancing and games which Di had organised very much.

At the end of the evening, Di made an announcement.

“When Daddy asked me what I wanted for my birthday I wasn’t quite sure what to tell him, so he made a suggestion which I loved. He thought I’d like to go away on a trip with all of you, since we had such a great time last year. So it’s all arranged. We leave the day after tomorrow.”

“Where are we going?” asked Honey.

“Cliveden,” replied Di, “to see the progress on Rosewood Hall.”

The following day was a flurry of activity. The boys raced to get the last of the painting done. Honey finished the curtains she had been sewing and hung them in the rooms which were finished.

Trixie was torn. On the one hand, she was eager to go on the trip. On the other hand, she still didn’t have the solution to this problem. As it turned out, she need not have worried. The trip was busy enough to keep her mind off it almost the entire time she was away.

The morning after the Bob-Whites arrived home, Trixie and Honey met at the stables for an early morning ride.

“I have almost all of it worked out now,” Trixie said, as she saddled Susie. “There’s only one thing left to do.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Honey, confused.

“Harlan Frayne,” said Trixie. “I know where he hid the goblet, and if I’m right we’ll know why he murdered his parents as soon as we find it. We can go there after we’ve been for our ride.”

“Okay,” replied Honey uncertainly, “but I don’t want to be late for breakfast.”

The two girls rode through the woods, circling toward their starting point. As they neared the stables they took the turn onto the newly cleared path which led to Rose Cottage.

They walked their horses and Trixie explained how she knew where to look.

“We know that the goblet couldn’t be hidden in the house because it’s been gone over from top to bottom. The barn and stables are no good, because we know that Harlan didn’t want anyone to find the goblet and there’s normally not anywhere to hide things in those sorts of buildings. Then I thought about what we know about Harlan and Rose Cottage.”

“Not much,” said Honey, thinking. “Just that he lived there for a few months.”

“And,” added Trixie, “the place where he was found after he escaped from jail.”

“In the well?” asked Honey, perplexed.

“Yes,” cried Trixie exultantly, “in the well. What was he doing there if he wasn’t looking for his hidden loot? There’s no shelter in those ruins and nowhere for a man to hide.”

“But what does that mean?” asked Honey. “He can’t have hidden it in the well.”

“No, but the hiding place must be very close by and I’m going to find it,” said Trixie determinedly.

The two girls hitched their horses in the yard and walked towards the ruins. Trixie started her search near the well, which had been secured with a metal cover. Soon she found what she was looking for. A low structure stood a few feet from the well, almost completely covered in vines and bushes. Its top only rose as high as Trixie’s knees.

Trixie examined the structure carefully, looking for its opening.

“What is it, Trixie?” asked Honey.

“I think it’s an oven,” she replied. “Either that or a very small ice house. Help me find the door.”

Together the girls pulled at the vines until a small door was revealed. Trixie held her breath as she tried to open it. After a moment, the door flew open.

Inside the little structure was a wooden packing crate. Trixie pulled hard. For several moments the crate did not move, then it scraped slowly out into the sunshine.

“What’s inside?” asked Honey in a whisper.

Trixie tried the lid and found that it was only resting on the top of the crate. Inside, packed in shredded newspaper were two metal goblets and four bottles of wine. Trixie picked up one of the goblets.

“It’s so heavy,” she gasped, handing it to Honey. She smiled and continued, “This is the answer.”

“I don’t understand,” said Honey.

“You will,” Trixie answered. “I’ll explain everything, just wait and see. I just need to look up one or two more things.”

No matter what Honey said, Trixie would not tell her any more.

They half-dragged, half-carried the box back to the cottage and after Trixie had unlocked the door with the spare key they put it in the laundry. A new cupboard had been installed there for Celia to store the cleaning products in and Trixie took the keys with her after the box had been securely locked inside.

As the two girls returned to the stables they were greeted by Jim.

“Miss Trask is looking for you,” he said to Honey. “I’ll groom your horse.”

“Thanks Jim,” she replied.

Trixie unsaddled Susie and prepared to groom her.

“Will you do something for me?” asked Jim.

“Sure,” said Trixie, looking up curiously.

“There’s somewhere I want to go tomorrow and I don’t want to go alone. Will you come with me?”

“Of course,” said Trixie.

The two had just finished making arrangements when Honey returned.

“You’ll never guess what has happened,” she said.

“A wild bear is after you,” guessed Trixie, hiding behind Susie.

“No, silly,” said Honey, laughing, “The staff have had a big mix-up over a dinner party Mother is holding and now there are mountains of extra food we don’t need. Miss Trask thought we could throw our own dinner party at the cottage.”

“That sounds great,” said Trixie enthusiastically. “Each of us can do something to prepare, like cooking or setting the table or arranging some after dinner games. Oh, by the way, when will we hold it?”

“Tonight or tomorrow night,” said Honey, “otherwise some of the food will go off.”

“It will have to be tomorrow,” said Trixie, “or we Beldens won’t be able to come. Dad’s been complaining that he hasn’t seen all of us together since he got back from Iowa.”

“Tomorrow it is, then,” said Honey.

“Well, it sounds like you two have it under control,” said Jim. “I’ll leave you to it.” He led Strawberry off to his stall.

The next day dawned bright and clear. Trixie rose early to do her chores so the rest of the day would be free. Shortly after breakfast, Jim arrived to pick her up. His face was solemn and he spoke little as he led her out to the car.

“Where are we going?” Trixie asked as they travelled away from Sleepyside.

“A little cemetery not far from here, where the family plot is,” said Jim quietly. “My dad and his parents are buried there, Uncle James is as well.”

They soon turned in to the small parking lot. Jim picked up a newspaper parcel he had brought and led Trixie into the cemetery.

Jim walked slowly along the path, watching carefully for the right graves. The cemetery was quiet and peaceful, dotted with large shady trees. Jim paused at a grave marked ‘Jacob Andrew Frayne 1823 - 1907’.

Trixie looked along the row of graves. There were at least ten more ‘Frayne’ graves which could be seen from her position. As they walked along the row, Trixie recognised many of the names from her research into Jim’s family. Right at the end, they came to the graves they had come to visit.

A large headstone marked the final resting place of Thomas and Ruth Frayne. On either side of them were their two sons, Winthrop on the right and Harlan on the left. Next to Winthrop was James Winthrop Frayne.

“My deepest regret,” said Jim, “is that my mother’s grave is so far from here. I feel as if my parents should be buried together, even if my mother did remarry. Jonesy, of course, wouldn’t let her be buried here.”

Trixie looked at the empty space on Jim’s father’s headstone.

“One day,” he continued, “I might have a memorial carved there for her.”

Jim unwrapped the newspaper package and laid the roses it contained on the graves. The two friends turned and left.

That evening the seven friends gathered in Rose Cottage to celebrate. There was so much for them to be happy about. The house was now complete and Tom and Celia would move in soon, both Brian and Jim had got into the colleges they had most wanted and Jim now knew much more about his family.

Di had decorated the living and dining rooms beautifully for the party and delicious smells were coming from the kitchen. Each of the seven had contributed something to the celebration.

“Would you all like to come to the table, now?” asked Honey.

They found their places at the table and soon Trixie brought out the first course of Prawn and Vegetable Tempura which was her contribution to the party.

“Mrs Wheeler,” she explained, “was planning some fancy variation on Prawn Cocktails. I’d rather have batter on my prawns.”

The others laughed, but all agreed that the food was delicious. Even Mart could not complain of Trixie’s cooking. Honey then brought out the main course, which she had cooked.

“This dish is called ‘Peruvian Lamb’” she said, “and you’ll never guess the secret ingredient.”

Brian carved the lamb and they all helped themselves to its sauce and the glazed sweet potatoes which Honey had prepared.

“Whatever it is, it’s yummy,” said Trixie with her mouth full.

“Is it cloves?” asked Di. Honey shook her head.

“Is it root beer?” asked Mart. The others laughed and he continued, “What? Haven’t you ever heard of Ham Baked in Root Beer?”

“That’s supposed to be cola,” laughed Dan. “You, of all people should know that.”

“I give up, Honey,” said Brian when they had settled down, “tell us what the secret ingredient is.”

“Coffee,” said Honey. Her response was met with groans.

When they had all eaten their fill of roast lamb and vegetables, Dan brought out his contribution.

“Just to prove that we men-folk can hold our own in the kitchen,” he said, “I have made something my mother used to make for guests. I don’t think it’s the same recipe, but it tastes pretty good, even if I do say so myself.”

Dan had prepared a chocolate fondue with a platter of fresh fruit to dip in it.

“I know fondue is pretty uncool,” he continued, “but wait until you taste it.”

“Oh, this is heavenly,” said Di as soon as she tasted it. “We should have it again sometime.”

They all agreed.

“I’d like to propose a toast,” said Jim when the delicious concoction was all gone.

Everyone hurried to refill their glasses with the sparkling grape juice which had been Mart’s contribution.

“When I first arrived in Sleepyside I was in a pretty bad way. I didn’t want to trust anyone and I thought that all the good things in my life were over. Then I met all of you. You’ve shown me that we can achieve more working together than we could if we each worked separately. Just look at this house and you can see what I mean. So,” Jim summed up, “my toast is to the Bob-Whites.”

“To the Bob-Whites!” they echoed and after much clinking of glasses they drank.

It had been decided that Jim and Brian’s contribution would be to do the dishes, so they cleared the table and stacked everything neatly in the kitchen before meeting the others in the living room.

“I’ve decided,” said Jim, “that we won’t have party games tonight. Instead, Trixie is going to tell you the story she told me yesterday.”

He left the room and returned shortly with the crate which Trixie and Honey had found near the ruins. Trixie took from the crate the two goblets and a small vial and set them on the coffee table.

“It all began,” she said, “in 1923. James and Thomas Frayne were brothers. Almost as soon as they were both out of school they began a business together importing antiquities from Egypt. Not long after they began, James was in Egypt buying artefacts when he met a dealer and they struck up a friendship.

“James didn’t know a lot about Egyptian history yet: it was probably his first trip there. The dealer told him a story about the Pharaohs and their beliefs. He sold him these goblets and this vial of what he called ‘Elixir of Life’, telling him it had amazing powers.

“James probably tried the ritual while he was still in Egypt.

“When he got home, Thomas told him he’d been had. Not only were the goblets reproductions, but they were incredibly heavy for their size, meaning they had cost a lot to bring back.

“Over the next few years, the business grew. Thomas took over the Egyptian end of the business for some years. Later the two men married. Thomas and his wife Ruth had a family, two boys: Harlan in 1935 and Winthrop in 1941. James and his wife Nell never had children, so when Harlan was born James took over the Egyptian end until the business was sold in the late 1940s.

“At some stage, the goblets came to be in Thomas’ possession. It was probably when James and Nell married. We know that Nell hated anything Egyptian and James probably turned it over to Thomas then.

“Thomas began to perform the ritual which he had ridiculed James about. At first, he did it only occasionally. Over the years he did it more and more often.

“Harlan was a difficult young man and he fought often with his parents. At one point he was sent to live with Miss Henley in this house for a few months.

“When Win married Katie, Thomas gave some of his property to each of his sons. He gave each son a number of bottles of wine with the Elixir already added. He gave his elder son one of the goblets and explained the ritual to him. He kept the other goblet and the vial of Elixir for himself.

“Harlan became obsessed with the ritual. He exhausted his supply of wine and begged his father for more Elixir. Thomas refused. They fought bitterly and Harlan accused Thomas of favouring his younger son as Win still had wine left.

“Harlan murdered his parents and ransacked the house looking for the Elixir. He found it with the goblet and some wine and brought them here, hiding them in a place he had found near the ruins. He drove through the night to get back to his parents’ house to cover up his crime.

“By this stage, Win and Katie had a young son, Jim. That morning they took him to visit his grandparents, but when they arrived at the house Harlan was inside cleaning up the mess from when he had killed them.

“Win and Harlan fought, while Katie ran with Jim to a neighbour. The neighbour helped subdue Harlan while his wife called the police.

“The case went to trial. Harlan would do anything to cover up the existence of the Elixir. He told everyone that he had done it to get money to pay his gambling debts. The jury believed him, as he really did owe a lot on gambling. He was sentenced to life in prison.

“A little while later, he found an opportunity to escape. He made his way to Sleepyside to collect the Elixir, but before he could get to it he fell into the old well.

“He was desperate. If the police found him they would probably find the hiding place as it was only a few paces away. If they didn’t find him he was in for an agonising death.

“After a few days they did find him but no one uncovered his hiding place. He spent the rest of his life in the prison hospital, slowly dying of his injuries. The Elixir didn’t help, either.

“By this time, Win was beginning to be quite sick. His wife spent a long time looking for someone else in the family who had had a similar illness as the doctors couldn’t say what it was.

“After some time she started to get sick too. She remembered that Thomas and Harlan had had some of the symptoms that she and Win were experiencing. She deduced that it was the wine and she had it tested.”

Trixie paused to place the analysis on the table, then continued.

“The Elixir was a poison. It builds up slowly and there is no cure. When there gets to be enough of it all of the body’s vital organs shut down and there’s nothing which can be done. It probably also affected fertility, which might be why James and Nell never had children and why Win and Katie only had one child, when we know that they wanted more.

“But the poison didn’t affect the brain. Both Thomas and Harlan had shown signs of madness before they died and Win and Katie did not. Katie deduced that there was something wrong with Harlan’s goblet but she didn’t know what.

“When I picked the goblet up, I knew what it was.”

She paused and the others seemed to be holding their breath.

“What was it?” asked Honey breathlessly.

Trixie passed the goblet to Brian.

“It’s lined with lead,” he said after examining it. He picked up the analysis of the elixir, apparently looking for something. “Here it is. For the lead to affect the person the liquid either needs to be acidic or contain dissolved heavy metals. It says here that there were dissolved mercury salts found in the wine.”

“But what does it mean?” asked Honey, confused. “I thought the elixir was the problem.”

“For Jim’s parents, it was. But Harlan had the added trouble of the lead,” replied Brian, explaining carefully. “If you’re exposed to too much lead it affects your brain and, to put it simply, you go mad.”

“That’s terrible,” said Honey.

“Lead is sweet and when you have consumed it for a while you want it more and more,” Brian continued. “It’s a very serious problem in areas where authorities were slow to regulate the use of lead in paint. Small children sometimes chew on door frames and windowsills to taste it, because lead paint is extremely durable and can still be present even when it was painted over decades before.”

“And that,” said Jim with a sad smile, “is the sorry tale of why I have hardly any living relatives.”

The End