Guernsey Retreat- The Guernsey Novels Book 3: The Guernsey Novels, #3

By Anne Allen

"Murder, mystery, and romance – it's got it all." 

The third in The Guernsey Novels series, likely to appeal to fans of the best-selling book The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society.

Two violent deaths. Separated by time, but with a fatal connection…

A man loses his father. A young woman loses her mother. Both in tragic circumstances that lead, when they meet, to surprising revelations from the past. 

Louisa needs to find the father she has never known, to warn him of possible danger - for them both. Her search takes her from England to Guernsey. Malcolm's journey is more complicated: conceived in Guernsey, his bereaved mother emigrates with him to Canada. Many years later he arrives in India, and from here he is led back to Guernsey to open a health centre at La Folie. This was his father's home and where he was killed at the start of the Second World War. 

At the heart of the two deaths lie stolen jewels. Valuable enough to kill for. Twice. 

Finding her father brings Louisa more than she bargains for, and her life is transformed, while Malcolm learns that life is, after all, for sharing… 

Book review

"I regard Anne Allen's Guernsey novels as an indulgent treat: they're seriously easy to read, with somegreat characters and a brilliant island location which is used to full advantage: you really feel as though you're there. Allen has a subtle insight into the dynamics of dysfunctional families - the ones with quirks in their history - and the independent people they give birth to. She doesn't fall into the obvious trap of creating unhappiness within the families: both Malcolm and Louisa loved their mothers dearly and grew to be strong people themselves. The hint that their upbringing has left its mark is shown by the fact that Malcolm has never married - and Louisa finds it difficult to believe that the man who has stolen her heart - the manager of Malcolm's health spa - could reciprocate her feelings. There's a neat mirroring of circumstances with both Malcolm and Louisa having a parent killed in the search for the jewels.
There's considerable insight too in the relationship between Malcolm and Louisa. Louisa has always known that she had a father, but Malcolm knew nothing of the existence of Louisa until he was confronted by her. There's a wariness on both sides at first, followed by a steady growth of affection rather than insta-love and it's a relationship you can believe in.
Whenever I read one of Anne Allen's books I'm always disappointed when I turn the final page: the books lift me out of reality and whisk me away to somewhere warm and comfortable."  BOOKBAG ****

The Guernsey Novels will appeal to lovers of the works of Joanna Trollope, Maeve Binchy, and the best-selling book The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sarnia Press
• Release date: Apr 9, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386996156

Anne Allen

Anne Allen was born in Rugby to a Welsh father and an English mother. As a result, she spent many summers with her Welsh grandparents in Anglesey and learned to love the sea. Now she is based in Devon to be near her daughter and two small grandchildren. Her restless spirit has meant many moves, the longest stay being in Guernsey for nearly fourteen years after falling in love with the island and the people. She contrived to leave one son behind to ensure a valid reason for frequent returns. Her younger son is based in London - ideal for city breaks ☺ By profession, Anne was a psychotherapist who long had a desire to write and Dangerous Waters, her first novel, was published in 2012. It was awarded Silver(Adult Fiction) in TheWishingShelfAwards 2012. Since then she has published five more books in The Guernsey Novels series; Finding Mother, Guernsey Retreat, The Family Divided, and Echoes of Time; winner of The Diamond Book Award 2017, a finalist in Readersfavorite awards and granted a ChillWithABookAward. Book 6, The Betrayal, was published October 2017. To find out more about Anne visit her website - www.anneallen.co.uk You can also find her on Twitter - @AnneAllen21

Book preview

chapter 1

1939 – September – Guernsey

Betty woke with a start. For a moment she wondered what had disturbed her but then the sound of shouting cut across the silence of her bedroom. Groaning, she swung her legs out of bed, and grabbed the old, patched dressing gown that Roland insisted should be thrown out. But she hated throwing things away and pulled the belt tight around her thickening waist before tiptoeing out into the passage.

Darkness enveloped her but as she crept towards the stairs she could see lights in the hall, guiding the way. She trod softly downstairs, knowing that her appearance would only provoke the men further. Roland, her employer and now fiancé, and Archie, his nephew and her one-time lover. She could guess what they were fighting about – her. Their voices echoed around the expanse of the hall as Betty’s bare feet hardly touched the granite-tiled floor as she headed for the library – Roland’s domain and the source of the shouting.

Her heart pounded as she hesitated outside the door. She hated the thought the men were now at loggerheads and, from what she could hear through the slightly ajar oak door, close to blows. Peering through the gap, she could just make out their figures. Roland sat behind the imposing mahogany desk he’d inherited from his grandfather. He glared at Archie, who leaned over the desk, his fists thrust towards his uncle. With his back to the door Betty couldn’t see his face, but guessed it would be red with anger. He’d always had a temper on him.

‘I’ll marry who I like! I won’t be told what I can or can’t do by some young whipper-snapper who doesn’t know when he’s well off.’ Roland thumped the desk before standing up, looking down at Archie. ‘I took you in out of duty after that benighted sister of mine died. And in spite of what you claim, I never promised to adopt you and make you my heir. Why would I, while there was still a chance I’d marry and have children of my own?’ He marched around the desk to stand proud and tall in front of Archie. Betty’s heart swelled with love as she squinted through the crack. You tell him, Roland! Cocky braggart! He can’t hold a candle to you.

‘And now I am marrying and about to become a father and count myself the luckiest of men. But I’ll not see you homeless, boy–’

‘You’re damn right you won’t!’ Archie shouted, causing Betty to jump. ‘You owe me, Uncle. I’ve worked hard for you these past seven years and been paid a pittance. I didn’t complain, thinking I’d inherit one day. But now you tell me I’ll get nothing and it’s not right!’ Archie’s fists were now clenched by his side, his head thrust close up against Roland’s. Betty’s heart beat faster. Oh, dear God! Don’t let them start fighting, I couldn’t bear it.

‘I paid you the going rate for the work you’ve done, such as it was. You’re not exactly the hardest worker I’ve employed, boy. And as we don’t even know who your father was, I’m not legally obliged to provide for you.’ Roland paced around and Betty only caught a glimpse of him now and then.

‘You can stay here at La Folie if you like, after Betty and I are wed and leave for Canada. I want us to be far away now war’s been declared. Stay here as my steward until the fighting’s over and we can return–’

‘No!’ Archie’s voice, harsh and desperate, filled the air. Betty held her breath, her hands placed protectively on her stomach. She caught a glimpse of Archie as he grabbed something from the desk before lunging forward out of sight. A loud cracking sound, followed by a groan, propelled her through the door.

At the sight of her beloved Roland stretched out on the floor, blood pouring from an ugly gash on his head, she felt everything go black and crashed to the floor. The next thing she knew, strong arms lifted her up and sat her down roughly in a chair. As her head cleared, she looked up at Archie’s face a few inches in front of her.

‘Why did you come down, you daft woman! Thought you’d be asleep,’ Archie growled.

‘What have you done? Roland...?’ Betty twisted her head to try and see her fiancé but Archie blocked her vision.

‘I...I didn’t mean to hit him that hard. He hit his head on the corner of the desk as he went down.’ He screwed up his face and gripped Betty’s arms. ‘He’s out cold. I–’

Betty drew on all her strength and managed to push Archie from her, before crawling across to where Roland lay.

‘Oh, my God! Don’t say you’ve killed him!’ she cried, kneeling beside Roland’s inert form. ‘Here, help me turn him over.’

Archie knelt and rolled Roland onto his back. One look told them both that he was dead.

Tears splashed down as Betty hugged Roland’s battered and bleeding head. She rocked back and forth, a keening sound escaped from her lips.

‘He got me so mad about me not inheriting anything. I’m family! He owed me–’

Betty was hot with rage.

‘He owed you nothing! Like he said. Why couldn’t you have been satisfied with being steward? Thanks to your greed I’ve lost the man I love and my child is fatherless before it’s born. Oh, Roland, Roland!’

She carried on rocking, as sobs racked her body. Roland’s blooded face filled her with horror. They had planned to see the vicar about the banns that very day, wanting to marry at the end of the month. She had been so happy, so looking forward not only to marrying Roland, but to the adventure of sailing off to Canada. Away from the inevitable reality of war. Roland had often said that the Channel Islands were particularly vulnerable, with the islanders not standing a chance if Hitler decided to invade.

But now...Thanks to Archie and that temper of his, she was a widow before she was a wife. And carrying the child that had filled Roland with such joy and pride.

‘We...we have to bury him, Betty. And then get away from here. I’m not going to hang for this...’

Betty looked up sharply. ‘What do you mean we? This is all your doing, not mine. I’ve just seen you kill my...my love in cold blood! I’ll have no part in your trying to cover it up. Once I tell the police–’

Archie grabbed her arms and shook her till her teeth rattled.

‘You’re not telling no police nothing! If you so much as start to spill the beans to anyone, I’ll say you did it. A lover’s tiff. It’ll be your word against mine. Either way, you’d be an accessory and would hang as well.’

Betty’s head reeled with grief and anger.

‘You won’t get away with that! Everyone knows how much we loved each other. And I’m carrying his child! Why would I...I kill him?’

‘I wouldn’t say you meant to. It was an accident. Just like it was with me. But they still might find you guilty of murder and you’d hang. So,’ he said, letting go of her bruised arms, ‘we have to get away. And soon.’

Betty tried to focus on what Archie was saying. Was it true? They were alone in the house and there was no-one to support her. The rest of the staff lived out and wouldn’t return until the morning. Her parents were dead and she had no other family. Although considered a bright pupil at the Girls’ School, Betty had found it difficult to get a good job until Roland appointed her his housekeeper. It was Archie who’d got her the position, when they’d been sweet on each other, three years ago. That had not lasted long, not once she discovered his awful temper. And Archie hadn’t reckoned with her falling in love with Roland. And he her.

‘But where can we go? And what’ll we do for money?’ Betty sat dazed on the floor, still cradling Roland’s head. Surely this was all a bad dream and she’d wake up and everything would be as it was. The two of them off to St Phillipe’s to see the vicar...

Archie paced around, tugging at his hair, as if that would give him inspiration.

‘We’ll have to get away from the islands. Get to England somehow.’

‘But I don’t want to go to England! This is my home, where I belong–’

‘Not anymore it isn’t! It’s not safe for either of us now. I just need to think...’ He pulled up short. ‘I know. That Ed Sarre owes me a favour. He can take us in his fishing boat. I’ll make up some story that Roland wants us to leave quickly now that war’s been declared and that he’s flying out to join us once he’s locked up the place. As for money, there’s plenty here worth a bob or two and Roland always kept a wad of cash in the safe, so we’ll be all right. But first we have to bury him. And quick, before it gets light.’

Betty found herself dragged roughly to her feet and forced to find a sheet in which to wrap Roland. She moved around as if in a trance, her mind shutting her off from the reality of what was happening. All she knew was that her life was about to change. And not for the better.

chapter 2

2008 – October – Guernsey

‘Hold it there!’ the foreman shouted to the digger driver, flagging him to stop. The giant arms stopped, poised over the hole in the ground, leaving the serrated metal jaws of the bucket swinging above Bill’s head as he jumped down for a closer look. He’d been right, there was something sticking out of the soil. The driver joined him.

‘What’s up, Bill?’

‘I’m not sure, but I think...Oh, God! It’s an arm!’ Bill had brushed some of the soil away from what had appeared to be a white stick. The skeletal remains of an arm and hand poked up from the surrounding earth.

‘Better call the police, Ted, while I go and have a word with the boss.’

Ted nodded, peering uneasily over Bill’s shoulder before pulling out his mobile phone. Bill strode off into the house, his pale face displayed his feelings of shock.

*

Malcolm Roget looked up from the plans spread over his desk as the foreman knocked on the library door.

‘Sorry to disturb you, Mr Roget, but we’ve got a bit of a problem in the...pool.’ Bill shuffled his feet before blurting out, ‘Looks like there’s a body down there and...’

Malcolm felt his heart pounding. His mother had told him...Could it be...?

‘Right, thank you Bill. I’m coming. Have you called the police?’

They walked out of the back door as Bill confirmed the police had been informed. To their right lay a gate leading to what had been an area littered with defunct glasshouses, now cleared away in preparation for the new swimming pool and changing rooms. The bright orange arms of the unnaturally quiet digger hung over the hole meant for the pool: now apparently a grave. And what a grave! Malcolm thought, shrugging off Bill’s proffered arm.

‘I can manage, thank you. I’m not that old,’ he grunted, not willing to give into his advancing years. But the jump down jarred his knees and he winced slightly, covering it up with a cough. Bill pointed to what looked like a bleached piece of wood.

‘Over there. Lucky I spotted it before Ted reached it.’ Bill nodded towards the digger where Ted sat crouched in the cabin, pulling on a cigarette. ‘Nothing’s been moved but I did brush away some soil so I could be sure...’

Malcolm nodded. ‘You did the right thing. Make sure no-one comes near the area and let me know as soon as the police arrive. I’ll be in the library.’

Fifteen minutes later Bill popped his head round the library door to say that the police were outside and Malcolm followed him to the excavation. Already the dug-out area looked like a crime scene: white-suited forensic officers loaded with bags were converging on the small white object highlighted against the brown soil. As Malcolm arrived, a man giving instructions broke off to meet him.

‘Mr Roget? Inspector Ferguson. I understand that you’re the owner of La Folie?’

‘Yes, have been for some months now. As you can see, the men are digging out for the swimming pool and my foreman spotted the...arm and stopped the work.’ Malcolm pulled the policeman to one side, saying, ‘I may have some information that will be of use, Inspector. If we could talk in private?’

Ferguson, looking surprised, nodded his agreement, and told his men to tape off the area and erect the tent over the body.

Walking towards the house, Malcolm considered the best way of explaining what he knew – or rather, what he thought he knew.

He turned to face the inspector.

‘My mother used to live here before the war. She worked for, and was engaged to, the owner, Roland Blake.’ He pushed his hands in his pockets, feeling the inspector’s eyes on him. As he continued, he remembered the pain on his mother Betty’s face as she told him, tearfully, of the events of the night that had changed their lives forever. His own anger towards Archie had stayed with him ever since, bursting into the flame now coursing through him with the discovery of a body. His fists clenched as he finished, ‘Apparently Archie buried the body in the adjoining field, not far from the house.’ He pointed to where the digger’s arm could be seen against the sky. ‘Could have been there.’

‘Mm. Right, thanks for that. Might be useful once we’ve got the body out and the forensics come back. Must have been about seventy years ago, then?’

Malcolm nodded. ‘Yes, back in ’39. I was born the following year.’ He gazed at the inspector. ‘Roland was my father, you see. He and my mother were due to be married but...’

Inspector Ferguson let out a long breath.

‘I see. In that case I’m sorry that you’ve had to find him like this. But if it is your father’s body over there, then we can prove it from the DNA. Could be a great help, Mr Roget.’

For a moment both men stood lost in thought as they watched the forensic team erect the tent before disappearing inside.

‘Excuse me for asking, sir, but did you buy this property because it was connected to your family?’

Malcolm smiled.

‘It was part of the reason. It felt right that I should own it as, after all, if my father had lived and married my mother, I would have inherited it anyway.’ Adding softly, ‘And my mother would have had a much easier life and perhaps lived longer.’ Pulling himself upright, he went on, ‘But the main reason I bought La Folie is because it’s an ideal place for a natural health centre, or retreat.’ He waved his arms around the walled garden and to the side where the pool had been dug out. ‘Plenty of land around it and a path straight onto the cliffs. Idyllic, don’t you think, Inspector?’

‘Yes, sir, it is. A lovely spot. But getting back to your...father and what happened. You said that your mother’s dead but what about the nephew, Archie? Could he still be alive?’

Malcolm shook his head.

‘I’ve no idea. My mother managed to give him the slip when he was called up to fight shortly after their arrival in England. She took me with her to Canada. I was only a baby so remember nothing about it. She never returned to Guernsey or the UK and died in 1972. For obvious reasons neither of us wanted to meet up with him again and my mother changed her surname so he couldn’t trace us.’

‘Right. And did this Archie have any other family?’

‘No, his mother died when he was a lad and no-one knew who his father was. He had his mother’s surname, Blake.’

The inspector scribbled in his notebook before excusing himself to go and check on progress in the tent.

Malcolm stood, hands in pockets, watching the comings and goings. Buckets of soil were brought out of the tent and sifted before being emptied on the ground. He felt a shiver down his spine and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. ‘Are you here, Ma? Is that my father buried over there?’ he whispered. ‘If it is, I’ll make sure he’s buried properly, don’t you worry. And if that bastard Archie’s still alive, I’ll make sure he gets what’s owing to him. Never fear.’

Several hours later Inspector Ferguson found Malcolm in the library.

‘We’ve uncovered the body, Mr Roget. It’s a complete skeleton of a man and the skull’s badly crushed. So it could be your father.’

Malcolm wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not. At least he could honour his promise to his mother.

‘Is there anything left on the...the body? Clothes, a watch?’

The inspector shook his head.

‘No clothes, they must have gone long ago. And no watch. But there’s a signet ring bearing the initials ‘RB’. Which fits with it being Mr Blake. There’s nothing else, which suggests his pockets were emptied before burial.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Did your mother mention a ring?’

Malcolm cast his mind back. It was so long ago...

‘She said something about a family tradition, the men being given a gold signet ring on their twenty-first birthday. That was when I was twenty-one and she gave me this.’

He stretched out his left hand, displaying a gold ring on his little finger.

‘Right. Well the evidence is stacking up, then. The pathologist will take a sample of DNA from the teeth and I’d be obliged if you’d allow us to take a sample from you, sir. That can be done now so as to save time.’

‘By all means. I want this resolved as quickly as possible, Inspector.’

One of the forensic team was called for and the sample taken. Malcolm then asked a pressing question.

‘Will the area be closed off for long, Inspector? Only we’re due to open in three months and there’s much to do...’

‘I understand, sir. Once we’re convinced the body’s that of your father and nothing else turns up, we’ll be out of your hair. I’ll get the lab to fast-track the DNA result so we can finish the report to the coroner.’ He gave Malcolm a quizzical look. ‘You do realise there’s bound to be some publicity about this, don’t you? The local media are already on the case and we can’t suppress it.’

Malcolm sighed. ‘Yes, I thought that would happen. I know they say that all publicity is good publicity, but I’m not sure how a body turning up a few months before we open will be good for business.’

The inspector smiled.

‘You’d be surprised, sir. A bit of scandal can build up interest and, if it proves to be your father buried there, people would be sympathetic and wish you well.’

‘Hmm, not sure I want our family skeletons to be so literally on public show, but I take your point. You’ll keep me posted, Inspector?’

‘Yes, sir. As it happens, this is my last case before I retire, so I want to see it concluded as quickly and satisfactorily as you do.’

They shook hands and Malcolm was left staring at the plans strewn over his desk. He could only hope the inspector was right and the unwanted publicity would do more good than harm. His past experience as the owner of a hotel chain tended to confirm that idea. But he would still be glad when all the muck-raking was over and he could press on with the opening. And then, finally, sit back and let someone else do all the work.

chapter 3

2009 – January – London

Louisa Canning was late. She had promised her mother to be home by six and it was gone half past. Not too bad considering that her last physiotherapy patient had arrived late, causing her to miss her usual Tube connection. Consoling herself that her mother could not have long been home herself, and the dinner not likely to be spoiled, she hurried away from Angel station, clutching a bunch of red roses. Her mother’s house was five minutes’ walk away.

Slightly out of breath, she put her key in the lock, calling out, ‘Mum, it’s me! Sorry I’m late but–’

She got no further as a figure hurtled down the hall, knocking her off her feet, before continuing down the path.

Shocked and wondering who the hell he was, Louisa picked herself up and, after brushing the dirt off her coat, stared briefly after the retreating figure, trying to recognise him. Realising she had never seen him before, panic set in. Her mother! Quickly collecting the bruised-looking roses, she headed for the kitchen, calling, ‘Mum! Where are you? Are you all right?’ Finding the kitchen empty, she felt fear clutch her heart and ran back down the hall to the sitting room. Pushing the door open she saw her mother collapsed on the sofa, clutching her chest.

‘Mum! What’s happened? Who was that man?’ She knelt down by her mother, frightened by how white she was. ‘Is it your heart? Shall I phone for an ambulance?’

Her mother could only nod and as Louisa pulled out her mobile she saw for the first time that the room had been ransacked. Oh, God, a burglar! After alerting the police as well as the ambulance service, she tried to help her mother.

‘It’s okay, Mum, help is on the way. Where are your tablets? I’ll get them for you.’

Her mother, Susan, managed to point in the direction of the kitchen and Louisa ran out and found her handbag. Fishing around she found the bottle of tablets and poured a glass of water before returning to her mother’s side.

‘Here you are. Just take it slowly.’ Louisa offered the glass and two tablets.

Susan propped herself up and swallowed the tablets before sinking back onto the cushions. After a couple of minutes her breathing seemed to ease and she grabbed Louisa’s arm.

‘That...man...forced his way in when I opened the door. He...pushed me in here...became nasty, said wanted know where...jewels are. I said don’t know what meant. He said...they’d seen a picture me wearing them. Then I knew what he wanted. Years ago, before you born your father let me wear jewels...charity ball.’ Susan took a ragged breath and Louisa, scared, hoped the ambulance would hurry up. ‘He asked where Malcolm was, wouldn’t...believe me, said not know. Not heard years. He...he pushed me...around, threatened me, started pulling out drawers...cupboards.’

‘It’s all right, Mum. Save your strength. You can tell the police later, when you feel better.’

‘No...no time, darling. Not sure...make...it. He said saw article about the business...last week. My picture...followed me home. Louisa, promise me...find Malcolm...your father, tell him...danger. He must look after...you.’ Her mother’s hand slipped from her arm and she lay still.

‘No! No! Mum, stay with me! Stay with me, please! I can’t lose you!’

Louisa sobbed over her mother’s body as the sound of the doorbell echoed down the hall.

––––––––

By the time the police finally left Louisa felt as if she had been in a pile-up. Although they had been kind, the persistent questions had made her feel dizzy. It was only the intervention of a paramedic that had brought proceedings to a halt and she’d been able to crawl upstairs to her own attic flat. She had been allowed to go up there as it was separate from the rest of the house, which was now out of bounds behind police tape. The doctor gave her a gentle sedative