Chapter Twenty-Seven

On Monday morning, Penny paused at the site of the travellers’ encampment. The caravans and vehicles were gone, but a massive amount of rubbish and litter had been left behind. She pitied the farmer who would have to spend precious time clearing it all up and then pay to leave it at the local tip.

The weekend storms had moved on, too, leaving behind a clear day. She filled her lungs with fresh, clean air and then walked on, determined to arrive at work in good time.

Just as she reached the Spa gate, Mrs. Lloyd emerged from the café, waved, and headed toward her.

“I was just on my way to see you,” she said. “The police finally got around to interviewing me. I told them everything I saw and heard at the dinner party. Do you have any news?”

“There have been a few developments, actually,” said Penny. Mrs. Lloyd’s eyes widened as Penny described the events of the previous evening at the nursing home.

“Oh my lord. That’s terrible. I do hope poor Jimmy is all right.”

“Oh, I’m sure he will be. He’s a tough old bird.”

“He certainly is. Oh, and speaking of birds, I saw Dilys yesterday afternoon on her wanderings. On the riverbank she was, looking for her twigs and berries, I suppose. Honestly,” laughed Mrs. Lloyd, “she looked like a flipping great jackdaw!”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, she had this great black shawl thing wrapped around her shoulders, coming to a point in the middle of her back. It looked like a tablecloth.” Mrs. Lloyd made sweeping motions around her own shoulders.

Penny laughed. “Remember that time she got hold of the quilt we were all looking for? She looked like a ghost moving across the landscape, so we followed her for miles, and finally we caught up to her and …” Penny stopped speaking and her head tilted slightly. “Sorry, Mrs. Lloyd, where did you say you saw her?”

“On the riverbank.”

“And when was this?”

“Oh, didn’t I say? I thought I did. Yesterday afternoon. Fairly late in the day. The café was about to close, and sometimes they mark down their baked goods at the end of the day, so I just popped in to see if they had anything on offer. Not that we really need more baked goods, what with the delicious things Florence makes. But it’s always fun to look. Took home a couple of chocolate croissants, and Florence and I enjoyed them with our breakfast this morning. Made a nice change from my usual oatmeal. Oh, and this’ll interest you. There’s a new staff member in the café! I don’t suppose you’ve heard that …”

Penny touched Mrs. Lloyd on the arm. “Sorry, I’ve got to run. But thanks for the information about Dilys. It could be really important.” She pushed open the Spa gate and hurried up the path that led to the front door.

“And she’s off,” muttered Mrs. Lloyd to Penny’s retreating back. “It gets a bit unnerving when you’re in the middle of a conversation and she suddenly gets one of her brilliant ideas and off she goes.”

Penny entered the Spa and, with a vague good morning over her shoulder in the direction of Rhian, burst into Victoria’s office.

“Can you leave that?” she said. “I’ve got to go someplace and I need your help.”

Startled, Victoria looked up from her laptop. “Go where? I just got here. We’ve barely opened. Can’t it wait?”

“No! And if I’m right, which I think I am, you’re going to be so glad you were in on this.”

“But what about …?”

“Rhian can manage for an hour.”

Victoria sighed. “Yes, I suppose she can. She always does. Why should this be any different than any other time?” She stood up. “I don’t suppose I have any choice, do I?”

“Of course you do. If you don’t want to come with me, I’ll find another way.” She turned to leave the room, but Victoria’s voice stopped her. “And let you have all the fun? I don’t think so. You talk to Rhian while I run upstairs and grab my coat.”

A few minutes later they were in Victoria’s car. “Where to?” she asked as she started it.

“The Hall.”

“Can you tell me what this is about?”

“You’ll see.”

They rode in silence, and after Victoria had parked the car, they got out, and she locked it. “Back door?” she asked. “Is Gwennie waiting for us?”

“No,” said Penny. “This way.” Victoria followed her along the path that led to the terrace of workers’ cottages. Smoke was coming from the chimney of the last one, and Penny pointed. “Good. Looks like Dilys is at home.”

They reached the cottage, and Penny knocked on the door, although it was slightly open. She pushed on it gently and called out, “Dilys! It’s Penny and Victoria. May we come in?” Without waiting for an answer, she pushed the door further open, and the two women stepped in.

“What’s the point of asking if you can come in when you’re halfway in already?” grumbled a voice at the far end of the darkened room. As their eyes adjusted to the gloomy interior, Penny and Victoria could just make out Dilys seated at the far end of the small room. They took a few steps closer and found her seated in a chair with a tall back, holding a mug on an armrest.

“Oh,” gasped Victoria. “Is that it?”

“It is,” said Penny. “And Dilys is going to tell us where she found the Black Chair.”

“If you mean this beautiful old thing,” said Dilys raising her mug slightly, “it’s mine. I found it in the woods where somebody dumped it.”

“How did you get it here, Dilys? You couldn’t have carried it here all by yourself.”

“The boy helped me.”

“The boy? Do you mean Lane?”

Dilys nodded.

“Well, I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to keep it.”

“Why not? I’ve only had it a day or two, and already it’s doing wonders for my back.”

As Victoria grinned, Penny told Dilys the story of the Black Chair—how it had been awarded posthumously to one of Wales’s greatest poets and stolen from the dinner party at the Hall. “Everyone will be so glad to get it back, Dilys, you’ll be quite the hero.”

“So what happens now?”

“I’ll ring the police and tell them it’s here, and they’ll take it away to be examined, and then it’ll go back to its rightful home, Hedd Wyn’s farmhouse. The museum at Yr Ysgwrn.”

“Will I be in trouble, do you think?”

“In trouble? You mean for something like receiving stolen goods? I doubt it. But they’ll want to know where you found it, so be prepared to give them as many details as you can.” She looked around the room. “Now, where’s the black cloth that came with it? What have you done with that?” Dilys pointed to a hook on the wall behind the door, where the cloth hung like a great sleeping bat.

“I suppose I have to give that up, too,” Dilys said.

“The police will almost certainly want to test that cloth, and since it’s now part of the chair’s story, they should probably remain together. Of course that’s not the cloth that covered the chair when it was at the Hall. The thieves must have provided that one.”

Dilys heaved an unhappy sigh and then stood up. She ran a hand along one of the armrests. “I didn’t have it very long, but I was getting fond of it.”

“Actually, you did a good thing taking it in.”

“How’s that?”

“It rained last night. Heavily. And the night before. At least the chair was in your cottage, safe and protected. It’s over a hundred years old, and a couple of days and nights out there could have ruined it.”

“Well, yes, there’s that, I suppose.”

Penny looked around the room. “You know, in a weird kind of way, that chair looks right at home here, with all your other things.” Dilys stood back, and the three of them contemplated the chair. Penny was right. In a Welsh cottage, with a flagstone floor and rough, whitewashed walls, surrounded by herbs and other botanicals, it did look right at home. And then, as she felt the beginning of an idea starting to take shape, she said, “Dilys, let me ask you something. If it could be arranged for you to have an apprentice, someone who wanted to learn about wildflowers and all the other plants that grow here, what would you say to that?”

“Depends on whether or not they like my herbal teas.”

“Dilys, I hate to tell you this, but nobody likes your tea. The only person who likes your herbal teas is you.”