Nine Ten Begin Again: A Grasshopper Lawns affair (24 page)

Fireworks exploded into the clear winter sky as the iconic castle vanished in the fusillade. Through the conservatory windows the two friends could also see rockets going up from the clubhouse at the golf course. After the minutes-long crackling cannonade in the bar, the TV party started singing
Auld Lang Syne
and the drinkers in the pub joined in noisily. Edge joined Vivian at the window to watch the intermittent rockets exploding overhead.

‘It’s been quite a year,’ Vivian remarked idly, tucking her arm through Edge’s and squeezing it affectionately. ‘This time last year we’d just met William and Donald, just solved our first murders.  I thought then it was nice to have had one last adventure before I settled down and got old.’

Edge laughed. ‘You’ll never be old, not to me. You got taller, that’s all. You’re still eight years old. We both are. And we still will be when we’re eighty. Age is only a number.’

‘It’s a number that carries fair weight,’ Vivian said ruefully. ‘By the time we get there we’ll have arthritis and rheumatism and creaky joints, and that’s if we stay healthy. Who knows what else life has lined up for the next twenty or so years?’

‘I was beginning to think that way a year ago—well, before Betsy’s murder. That was the best thing that ever happened to us. You’d still have met William, somewhere along the line, and you’d have charmed him whether there was a murder to solve or not. You two were meant for each other, but you’d been neighbours here for a couple of years without meeting. Donald and I actively disliked each other when we met. Without William bringing us together we’d probably still be exchanging icy nods. Without the murder we’d never have all become the friends we did.’

She shivered slightly and hugged herself.

‘I was thinking of it in my bath this evening. Harriet might still be alive. Alison Martin would have died anyway, but we’d still think it a suicide. Sylvia for
sure
would be committed or dead. So would I be, if I had still have done the singles thing because of my resemblance to Susan. You’d certainly never have done
Traviata
without Donald, and that pulled us into the thick of the whole Fiona caper. At best, we’d be two placid middle-aged ducks totally riveted by Matilda having the occasional drink with Horace–or not even that, because he only became her neighbour because Betsy died.’

Vivian smiled past her shoulder and she knew Donald was there. The man moved like a cat. She half-turned and he held up a bottle of champagne and topped up Vivian’s glass, then hers, and quirked an eyebrow at her.

‘You’ll never be a middle-aged duck. You’ll stay ageless almost for ever, and when you do get old you’ll be a bossy cackling harridan, terrifying everyone around you except the three of us. Happy New Year, Edge.’ He kissed her cheek lightly as she laughed at his description. 

William came through from the noisy pub, sank gratefully onto one of the sofas and patted the seat next to him for Vivian. Donald topped up William’s glass, then held up his own, his face serious.

‘Last year we toasted to new beginnings. If you’d told me a year ago that the year would end like this, that the four of us would be what we are, I wouldn’t even have laughed. I wouldn’t have believed it. So I’d like to propose a toast, to Betsy?’

‘It’s clear you never met her,’ Vivian said darkly, and Edge nodded ruefully, but they touched glasses and drank obediently.

‘Your turn, Vivian.’ Edge smiled at her best friend who laughed and shook her head.  

‘I can never think of good toasts! It’s been a great year. I turned from a granny practically into a
femme fatale
, sang in public again and got told I was talented, had near heart attacks at some of the stuff Edge got up to, met murderers, and was told I’m beautiful so often I nearly believe it. And I’ve laughed, so much, more than I have in years. I’m trying to think of things that wouldn’t have happened without the murders, but I can’t imagine it. Right here, right now, it’s been a wonderful year, despite everything.’

‘I have to tell her she’s beautiful ten times a day,’ William said resignedly. ‘I’ve tried to pave the way for our old age by saying she’s a lovely person instead, but she’s not having any part of it. So it’s what we’d have done this year without the murders? Much the same as previous years, for me. I’d have eaten too much, drunk too much, flirted too much, had a couple of unsatisfactory affairs, if I could have been bothered.’ He shrugged. ‘Probably dropped dead somewhere along the way. When my medication was spiked, and I collapsed, I was quite conscious, you know. And resigned to my fate. I’ve lived a pretty full life, I was ready to go. Even when I was in Frail Care, and responding to the new meds, it hardly seemed worth the effort. I’ve never felt like that before. And then cough, cough, cough in the next room, damnit, someone with no consideration whatsoever, and I went in to tell her so.’ He smiled at Vivian then looked back at the others. ‘Last Hogmanay we drank to new beginnings, without any idea of how big those beginnings would get. And here we are, about to begin again.’

As they touched glasses Horace pushed the door open on a roar of approval from the pub behind him.

‘Aha! Been looking for you! The first footer has arrived, if you want to come through. And I’m claiming my kisses. I insist.’

‘Well, if you’re going to
insist
.’ Donald got resignedly to his feet, caught Horace by the shoulders and leaned in as Edge and Vivian shrieked with delight.

Horace wasn’t impressed.

Fifteen Sixteen Maids In The Kitchen
will be released this summer: if you want to get it at the launch price, add yourself to the mailing list on my website, all details below. It’s possibly my favourite so far in the series - it is certainly the most conventional, a whodunit in a manor house with a house-party, complete (of course!) with a body in the library ...

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In
One Two Buckle My Shoe
, the murder of an unpopular resident sparks off an investigation. The police could use some inside information— fortunately, Sergeant Kirsty Campbell’s slightly eccentric aunt is right on the spot. The investigation really starts picking up speed when Edge and Vivian make friends with
bon vivant
William and the sardonic new resident Donald. It wasn’t that the friends set out to solve it themselves. They are keenly interested, of course—and they do keep coming across clues that no-one is giving to the police. . .

In
Three Four Knock On My Door
, it is Sylvia’s handsome devoted nephew Simon, and the enigmatic Dallas from Louisiana, with life-changing news for Vivian, who come knocking. The amateur sleuths of the retirement village combine to solve murder in between unexpected family, winter picnics, a new resident dog causing havoc at the Lawns, and Death paying a visit. In person.

In
Five Six Pick Up Sticks
, website dating for the over-fifties is definitely a boom industry, but for some it has been a dead end, and the Scottish police want to know why.  The third whodunit in the Grasshopper Lawns series dives gleefully into the murkiest end of the senior singles dating pool (where the predators lurk) with Edge secretly hoping to meet someone special. It’s spring, and it seems the rest of the world is in love, is there someone out there for her? Preferably not the murderer, of course.

In
Seven Eight Play It Straight
Edge’s actress stepdaughter is performing in a successful Fringe show during the Edinburgh Festival, which attracts hundreds of thousands of visitors and is always a busy family time at Grasshopper Lawns. Long-standing hostilities are set aside when a violent and bloody killing strikes all too close to home, but the temporary truce doesn’t last after Fiona accuses Edge of the murder. 

In
Eleven Twelve Dig And Delve
, there’s a newcomer at the Grasshopper Lawns retirement village, and she’s an absolute battle-axe. One requirement of residency is to have an interesting past and Beulah Quinn’s past has been interesting to the point of scandalous. Now nearly eighty, she was notorious for her lovers and her political machinations and has been described variously as the most beautiful woman of her day, a widow-maker, and a full-blown witch. Now, though, someone is trying to kill her, and family is family. To Edge’s horror, her aunt is moving in.

In
Thirteen Fourteen Maids A-Courting
Kirsty, Edge’s lovely young niece, is taking a brief holiday break from her job with Police Scotland to be wooed in the romantic surroundings of the beautiful island of Tenerife. Instead Drew vanishes, leaving her alone in the Canaries, unable to speak a word of Spanish and finding little professional cooperation being offered by the multiple policing services on the island. Edge and her friends are quick to the rescue but was Drew the real target, or just the bait?

Glossary

Bampot
—lunatic

Bawbag
—scrotum (and pungent slang)

Bidey
-in—a live-in romantic partner

Birl
—to twist or twirl around

Blether
—to have a talk, chatter, gossip.

Cannae
—cannot (pronounced canny)

Cailleach—
pronounced ky-och – Gaelic for old woman

Ceilidh
—(pronounced kay-lee)—a social gathering, usually including country dancing

Chap
—knock (as in knock on the door)

CHS
—Criminal History System (previously SCRO—Scottish Criminal Record Office)

Crabbit
—bad tempered

Dinnae
—don’t, pronounced dinny

Dinna
fash—don’t worry (also spelled / pronounced dinnae fash, both versions in common usage)

Dreich
—dreary

Embra
—Edinburgh