the plateful that Meg put on the table.
“We just need some shots of the outside of the house, and
then around the main rooms,” said Rachel. “Then you can tell me all about your
Mistletoe and Mystery weekend.”
As she spoke, Matt received a message on his phone. “Hey,
I’m sorry,” he said to Philly. “I have to leave.”
“Leave?”
“Yeah, yeah, my dad is ill. So I have to go to him. My mom
needs me.”
Philly searched his face for signs of a lie. Either he was a
very good actor, or he was genuinely distressed by the news. “Of course you
must go to him.”
“I promise I’ll be back in time for the Mistletoe and
Mystery weekend. If I’m still welcome, that is.”
With a kitchen full of people, Philly could not say anything
other than, “Of course you’re welcome. I … I hope your dad is okay.” She kissed
him on the cheek hesitantly.
After he packed his things, she watched him drive away with
a heavy heart. Had he realised she overheard his conversation and used the
telephone message as an excuse to get away? His fears for his father, as he
packed, had seemed real enough.
She noticed with an equally heavy heart that he did not kiss
her goodbye. As he disappeared into the distance, she was half-afraid and
half-hopeful that she would never see him again.
The rest of the day was taken up with filming. Philly, Puck
and Meg’s enthusiasm seemed to jump from them to Rachel and Joe, who did all
they could to help sell the Mistletoe and Mystery weekend.
“The film should go out on Monday evening,” said Rachel as
they saw her to the door. “Only the local news, I’m afraid, but it’s possible
the national stations could pick it up. I don’t want to be rude, but it depends
if it’s a slow news day.”
“I understand,” said Philly.
“On the other hand,” said Rachel, “the Dominique DuPont
thing might help it along. I Googled her before I came and it’s considered a
big mystery amongst true crime buffs. So who knows?”
“Thanks, Rachel. And you, Joe. Your help really is
appreciated. Perhaps you’d like to come and stay that weekend, if you’re not
busy. For free, of course.”
“You’re not going to make money that way,” said Rachel,
laughing. “But maybe we could come and film some of it, as a follow up story.”
“There must be brownies,” said Joe with a wink.
“There will be brownies,” promised Meg.
Puck kissed his sister goodbye, and when she and Joe had
driven away, he clapped his hands together. “I love it when a plan comes
together,” he said, in the style of Hannibal from the A-Team. He became more
serious. “Pity about Matt’s dad though. I hope he’ll be alright.”
“Yes, me too,” said Philly. With Matt gone, she decided
there was no reason at all to tell Puck and Meg about the telephone
conversation by the lake. They would probably never see him again. Let them
think he was a nice guy, and more importantly, let them go on believing that
she had not just made a complete and utter fool of herself over a conman.
The news report went out on the Monday, as Rachel had
promised. By Tuesday, the Dominique DuPont connection had earned it a few
seconds on the main news. By Wednesday morning, Philly, Puck and Meg were
inundated with telephone calls from people interested in attending the
Mistletoe and Mystery weekend. Within a few hours they had booked nearly every
room.
It was late Wednesday evening when Philly received the most
interesting call. It was from a well-spoken woman called Mrs. Cunningham, who
said she lived in Midchester. “I would love to attend your Mistletoe and
Mystery weekend with my husband,” said Mrs. Cunningham. “He was the vicar in
Midchester for many years, and we’ve done a bit of sleuthing in our time. But
my own interest is personal. I was a teacher at Bedlington in the nineteen
fifties and sixties, and I knew Dominique DuPont.”
“Really? That’s amazing,” said Philly. “I wonder … well
since you’re nearby,
“We just need some shots of the outside of the house, and
then around the main rooms,” said Rachel. “Then you can tell me all about your
Mistletoe and Mystery weekend.”
As she spoke, Matt received a message on his phone. “Hey,
I’m sorry,” he said to Philly. “I have to leave.”
“Leave?”
“Yeah, yeah, my dad is ill. So I have to go to him. My mom
needs me.”
Philly searched his face for signs of a lie. Either he was a
very good actor, or he was genuinely distressed by the news. “Of course you
must go to him.”
“I promise I’ll be back in time for the Mistletoe and
Mystery weekend. If I’m still welcome, that is.”
With a kitchen full of people, Philly could not say anything
other than, “Of course you’re welcome. I … I hope your dad is okay.” She kissed
him on the cheek hesitantly.
After he packed his things, she watched him drive away with
a heavy heart. Had he realised she overheard his conversation and used the
telephone message as an excuse to get away? His fears for his father, as he
packed, had seemed real enough.
She noticed with an equally heavy heart that he did not kiss
her goodbye. As he disappeared into the distance, she was half-afraid and
half-hopeful that she would never see him again.
The rest of the day was taken up with filming. Philly, Puck
and Meg’s enthusiasm seemed to jump from them to Rachel and Joe, who did all
they could to help sell the Mistletoe and Mystery weekend.
“The film should go out on Monday evening,” said Rachel as
they saw her to the door. “Only the local news, I’m afraid, but it’s possible
the national stations could pick it up. I don’t want to be rude, but it depends
if it’s a slow news day.”
“I understand,” said Philly.
“On the other hand,” said Rachel, “the Dominique DuPont
thing might help it along. I Googled her before I came and it’s considered a
big mystery amongst true crime buffs. So who knows?”
“Thanks, Rachel. And you, Joe. Your help really is
appreciated. Perhaps you’d like to come and stay that weekend, if you’re not
busy. For free, of course.”
“You’re not going to make money that way,” said Rachel,
laughing. “But maybe we could come and film some of it, as a follow up story.”
“There must be brownies,” said Joe with a wink.
“There will be brownies,” promised Meg.
Puck kissed his sister goodbye, and when she and Joe had
driven away, he clapped his hands together. “I love it when a plan comes
together,” he said, in the style of Hannibal from the A-Team. He became more
serious. “Pity about Matt’s dad though. I hope he’ll be alright.”
“Yes, me too,” said Philly. With Matt gone, she decided
there was no reason at all to tell Puck and Meg about the telephone
conversation by the lake. They would probably never see him again. Let them
think he was a nice guy, and more importantly, let them go on believing that
she had not just made a complete and utter fool of herself over a conman.
The news report went out on the Monday, as Rachel had
promised. By Tuesday, the Dominique DuPont connection had earned it a few
seconds on the main news. By Wednesday morning, Philly, Puck and Meg were
inundated with telephone calls from people interested in attending the
Mistletoe and Mystery weekend. Within a few hours they had booked nearly every
room.
It was late Wednesday evening when Philly received the most
interesting call. It was from a well-spoken woman called Mrs. Cunningham, who
said she lived in Midchester. “I would love to attend your Mistletoe and
Mystery weekend with my husband,” said Mrs. Cunningham. “He was the vicar in
Midchester for many years, and we’ve done a bit of sleuthing in our time. But
my own interest is personal. I was a teacher at Bedlington in the nineteen
fifties and sixties, and I knew Dominique DuPont.”
“Really? That’s amazing,” said Philly. “I wonder … well
since you’re nearby,
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