The next day, Eleanor called Frederick Williams and arranged to pop round to see him. He wasn’t used to Eleanor dropping by for a chat so he feared there must be problems at the shop.
“Is everything going well at The Reading Room? You’re not having any difficulties, I trust?” he asked, shakily handing her the cup of tea his wife had poured before leaving them to their meeting in the sunny conservatory.
“No, everything at the bookshop is absolutely fine,” said Eleanor, balancing the delicate cup and saucer on her knees. “The reason I wanted to see you was because I had a couple of questions about Williams & Makepeace, actually.”
“My specialist subject! Ask away,” he said, with a smile.
“I’ve been reading a book by an author called VE Bennett published by Williams & Makepeace at the beginning of the last century.”
“VE Bennett? Well, goodness me – that’s not a name I’ve heard for a while! Which book is it you’re reading?”
Eleanor had brought the volume with her. “It’s a collection of seafaring tales for children, first published around 1900.”
“Ah, yes.” Frederick took the book and began leafing through the pages. “This album had some rather exciting tales in it, I seem to recall.” He stroked the thick cover with its image of youngsters in a sailboat on a choppy sea, the waves crested in white. The illustrator had painted plump grey donkeys on the beach and put a red and white lighthouse on the cliffs against an azure sky. Smiling, Mr Williams opened the book and checked the contents list. “Gosh, what a lot of stories there are here. Mind you, old Violet didn’t half churn them out.”
“Violet? So you knew VE Bennett was really Violet Makepeace? That was going to be my first question!”
“According to my father, she was rather a grande dame. She had a very high opinion of herself and expected to be admired by everyone, especially small children.” Frederick chuckled. “Violet was a large lady who used to bustle into the printing area and completely disrupt things by demanding that her books be proofed first, and such like. My dear grandfather was a mild-mannered man and he became very agitated when he saw her approaching the shop with her green silk umbrella thrust out in front of her like a sword.”
Eleanor leant forward eagerly. “Do you know why she didn’t write as Violet Makepeace, if that was her name?”
“I suspect she didn’t want readers to think her books were published simply because she happened to be married to the publisher. And perhaps in those days young boys were less likely to read a book of jolly adventure stories if they believed they were written by a woman rather than a man.” Frederick thought for a moment. “Of course, everyone in Combemouth knew who she was, not least because she used to include so many local landmarks in her stories.”
“Yes, I spotted that.” Eleanor nodded, thoughtfully. “Is there anything more you can tell me about her?”
“Let me think now.” Mr Williams lifted his watery eyes, searching his memory. “She was a local girl and had been very pretty in her youth, so I’m told. She was much sought after by all accounts and could have had her pick of the young men, as she never ceased to remind poor old Reginald Makepeace.”
Eleanor laughed. “She sounds like a difficult woman.”
“Yes, indeed. Now what else?” Frederick gazed out of the window as he trawled his memory for traces of Violet. “Oh, and her father had been the rector here in town, I believe, so she grew up in the vicarage.”
“That’s it!” Eleanor set down her teacup with a start, making the saucer clatter. “She’s ‘Lily’.”
“‘Lily’?” Mr Williams looked puzzled. “I’m not following you, dear.”
Eleanor quickly filled him in on what she knew of the John Able court case and the similarities she’d detected in the plot of “A Boy Led Astray”, in particular the part played by a young girl. “In the story, Jack tries to sell a gold ring to help Lily, whose father is the vicar. The writer describes the girl as being ‘as fair as the flower whose name she bore’. But she also tells us Lily was a weak, selfish character who let the boy who loved her go to prison by not speaking up and telling people what had really happened.”
“Well, isn’t that interesting?” Frederick Williams picked up the book again, admiring the line drawings of young Jack pulling the ring from the rock pool and later being dragged off to jail. The artist had also done a very atmospheric drawing of sailors collapsed on the beach and a picture of a young girl in a shawl weeping in front of a fierce-looking judge. “If you’re correct and Lily really was based on Violet Makepeace’s own experiences as a child, perhaps it was guilt that led her to write the story all those years later. To apologise to the John Able chap, do you see?”
Eleanor nodded. “Yes, it would make sense. Unless she was completely heartless, as an adult she must have come to recognise the damage done to the lad’s reputation.” She stopped and thought for a moment. “But how could she possibly know whether Jack or John or whoever it was would read the book?”
Smiling, Frederick flipped back to the beginning. “Perhaps she gave him a copy,” he said, tapping the page.
Eleanor took the book and read what was written under Mr Williams’ finger. “Oh my goodness! I completely missed that,” she said, laughing. What she now saw was the printed Dedication “For J.A.” Underneath, handwritten in lavender ink, someone had added “Yours ever, V.”
“You’re a genius, Frederick.”
“Well, I wouldn’t go quite so far. I’m rather interested in those bits of a book that other people tend to ignore – imprint pages, acknowledgements, dedications, indexes and so forth.” He scratched his chin. “It’s force of habit, I suppose, having grown up in the book trade. So what will you do now, Eleanor?”
“I would like to dig around a little bit more and see if I can discover what happened to John.” She tapped her watch. “But first I have an errand to run in Waterborough, so if you’ll forgive me I must dash. Thanks so much for the tea.” She put the storybook into her bag and stood up.
“You’re most welcome and I did enjoy our chat.” Frederick rose to his feet to embrace her. “Do come back any time, and promise you’ll let me know if you discover any more thrilling information about Violet.”
“I certainly shall!”