Secret Garden Festival (Salford 2012)

By Mike Scantlebury

The city of Salford is transfixed by the prospect of a huge Festival, of arts, music, dance and poetry. The residents are coming together to celebrate the life of Frances Hodgson Burnett, who wrote the superb children's story, 'The Secret Garden'. So who needs a Secret Agent? Melia finds herself called in when things start getting ugly. In particular, her cousin Liv has been threatened. Someone is trying to kill the poor girl. Could it be something to do with her ex-husband, now languishing in a Polish prison? Or is it more to do with the Albanians, criminals with a savage line in reprisals? Strangely, the threats and violence only serve to do what the Festival was intended to do in the first place - bring people together. Only in this case, it's more about huddling together for survival, rather than joining in for sunshine and celebration. Someone should have warned those Albanians - if Melia is on the case, then there's only one way this problem is going to end. Her way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Aug 17, 2018
• ISBN: 9780244408534

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Secret Garden Festival (Salford 2012)

SECRET GARDEN FESTIVAL

by

Mike Scantlebury

Amelia Hartliss Mysteries: Book 6

c. Mike Scantlebury 2012

Standard Copyright applies, which means that if you steal any participle of a syllable of a word from me, I will send Amelia Hartliss round to your house and she will kick your valuables from here to Beijing. (That's in China, don't you know.)

This edition put in place by Mike Scantlebury and published by Lulu.com

Lulu has registered an ISBN for this e-book.

ISBN:  978-0-244-40853-4

This is the Post-Brexit Edition.

Drawings by Jennifer Andrews

All artwork  c. Jennifer Andrews, 2012

Other books in this series  by Mike Scantlebury are avaukabke and are listed in full at the end of this e-book.

Thank you

Chapter One

What am I looking at? Melia asked, confused.

She was standing in her cousin's living room, by the wall, staring at a plain muslin dress, which was suspended from a padded coat-hanger, next to the full length mirror. It was a flimsy affair, an unpretentious beige colour and 'decorated' only in the sense it had ribbons hanging from its wide velvet belt. What year was it? Who was it for?

Cousin Liv came walking in from the kitchen/diner area, carrying an opened bottle of rather good red wine. She reached into the lower cupboard of the sideboard that Melia was standing next to and brought out a large wine glass. She poured Melia a hefty measure. Melia sipped: yes, it was pretty good. Liv must have enough money for booze, at least, she was thinking. Things hadn't gone completely to pot.

Liv grabbed herself a glass and poured her own wine. She sipped it, smiled to herself, and seemed pretty pleased. She was looking good for a woman out on bail.

It's a dress for a provincial lady of modest means, Liv explained, who has been invited to a Ball in a large town-house or stately home in the country. It's the kind of gown that Jane Austen would have recognised. My informants date the style to Napoleonic era, say 1810, which is about right for our celebration.

Who made it? Melia wanted to know.

Liv smiled some more. The boys in the Drama Department, she said proudly. Now I'm a fully paid-up student at the University, they're happy to run up a few little numbers for our own production. But you aren't in Media, Melia protested; you're in Psychology.

We're all being dragged into 'The Garden', Liv laughed.

It was going to be a big thing, she told Melia, for everyone in Salford. They were celebrating the publication of 'The Secret Garden' by Frances Hodgson Burnett, and that great lady of letters had spent her formative years on Chapel Street, in the heart of the old city of Salford. It was natural that local people would want to make something out of the bicentenary. It was an ideal reason to party.

As for Liv and her friends at the University, they had put together a short drama, re-enacting the early years of the grand dame. Plus, there would be acting out of some of the more familiar parts of the story. And, to cap it all, there would be songs, especially composed and performed by youngsters in the Music and Recording Science faculty. It would be a hoot, she said – after a few more rehearsals.

Melia looked again at the dress. It was so flimsy! Liv was like Melia, well built and shapely; they were both rather dependant on modern underwired support to make them look good. In that thing – well, Melia, was afraid her cousin would be letting herself down.

It would be a shame. Liv had recovered well from her recent run-in with politics. For a while, she had let herself go completely, but her hair was now freshly washed, cut, and the mass of blonde curls cascaded around her head in an attractive bob, an alternative to Melia's long, luxuriant tawny tresses. Her eyes were bright again, sparkling, and the dark eye shadow she favoured set them off well. She had brown eyes, as opposed to Melia's clear blue, but her gaze had always been steady and, for men, challenging. The cousins made a formidable team when they went out clubbing together in their teens. Now, a little older, and much more experienced, they could be daunting to any but the most confident men. Liv, for one, liked that: she wasn't attracted to wimps. Melia wasn't so worried: she had Mickey. She didn't have to go out on the pull at weekends like she used to, as a gawky teenager. She was calmer now, steady, almost 'settled down'. Still, with her confidence, and style, she looked good and felt good. She favoured tight jeans, to emphasise her long legs; strong leather boots; tight tops, but not too revealing, as they were usually concealed under short leather jackets, (which gave her space to conceal her shoulder holster). She smiled: she was a package, all right.

Still, 'The Secret Garden' references were causing her to pause for thought.

You sure you've got your years right? Melia insisted. She was very vague about literature; she might have seen a film version of the story, but she certainly hadn't read the book. She couldn't remember the costumes, but this looked TOO Jane Austen.

The book came out in 1810, Liv assured her, but only in episodes. It was quite the common thing, then, to issue novels in parts. It was finally published as a whole in 1812, so we're dead on with making a fuss this year.

Parties? It was all going on at the moment; the election for Mayor in Salford had just finished, and the winners were still busy crowing about that. Meantime, preparations were in hand to make something out of the Queen's Jubilee in June, and then it was the Olympics, of course. (Melia knew about that: she had been commissioned to protect one of the Royal Party. She would have to report for duty soon.)

Meanwhile, she was happy to see her cousin Liv again, after her recent ordeal, and short period of incarceration. Pondering, Melia strolled over to the other side of the room. There she saw a large corkboard fastened to the wall. There was a jumble of pictures and photos pinned up. More were piled on the table nearby.

And this? Melia asked, indicating the assortment.

My family, Liv said proudly, glad to be talking about her bright future.

Her past was darker. It had been a mad few months. Cousin Liv was a Salford resident and the whole damn city had recently been convulsed by the spectacle of an election for Mayor, (the first time ever). Melia, who lived in Manchester, a few miles away, would have preferred to stay aloof, as she usually did, from the happenings across the river. She might have done so too, but her Uncle Mart, Liv's dad, decided to get his hands dirty, and enmired himself in the election race, first of all supporting a friend of his, then taking the bold step of making himself a candidate. It didn't turn out too well for him; firstly, he lost his deposit, having secured only a tiny number of votes from the populace, and secondly, his daughter had been arrested for attempted murder – on his friend.

Liv had given the authorities a problem. Her story, as she wasn't afraid to relate, was that the man had raped her, and that she had simply taken the opportunity for revenge, siezing her cousin Melia's gun and shooting the man. It was fortunate for her, perhaps, that Melia was some kind of dark and mysterious 'Secret Agent', employed by the government of Britain on a series of dangerous and complicated assignments – which meant that she possessed a licence for action and a gun that could be 'borrowed' when needed, (even though Melia had certainly NOT given permission). It was also a happy outcome that the victim hadn't died, which saved Liv from being charged with the most heinous of crimes, and it was doubly fortunate that Liv's inexpert shot had missed most vital organs but had penetrated a delicate part of the man's lower abdomen, which meant he wouldn't be bothering any more ladies in the near future.

The problem, for the Crown Prosecution Service, was that they now had in custody (and in hospital) a man who could be charged with rape and a woman (outside) who could be arraigned for attempted murder. Which to prosecute first? The man was recovering from his wounds and wasn't fit to stand (literally), but that meant that if they charged the woman, the jury would want to know if her allegations were correct – did he rape her? As long as his case hadn't been tested, there would be doubt in their minds and her motive wouldn't be validated. If, on the other hand, he was put into court before her, then his crime would be assessed and a verdict delivered. If he was found innocent, Liv would look like a crazy harridan and swiftly convicted of unfounded assault - a good result for the Crown Prosecution Service. If he was found guilty, well, then the only question would be whether it was fair or right that a woman affronted and attacked had any kind of 'right' to seek vengeance on her attacker. The CPS was doubtful that a jury would convict her, especially such an attractive and vivacious character as Melia's cousin. Still, they would be willing to try: it was a serious point of law, and they wanted to test it. Meanwhile, while they were waiting for the man to get well enough to walk again, they were happy that Liv could go home on police bail and get on with her life.

Which she was doing. After all, now she had something to live for.

Look at them all, my family, she said proudly, showing Melia the pics.

Over on a corner of the sideboard was Liv's laptop computer and a colour printer. She had been sent a USB memory pen of photos from Poland of her ex-husband and various members of his large and extended family, (after an abortive recent visit to the country, when she tried to meet them in person – and all but failed completely). She had gleefully printed out a selection of the family snaps supplied and pinned them up for display. She was proud of all these newly-discovered relatives. Which was odd, considering that they belonged to a man that was strictly speaking her ex-husband.

When we get back together, Liv said excitedly, we're going to have a massive party and all these people will be invited. By that time, Liv said, determinedly, she would know all their names and be able to greet them like a dutiful daughter-in-law.

It couldn't happen immediately because her ex-husband was in prison. Also.

When I was in Warsaw, I saw him, him, her, and him - Liv said, pointing.

But you never got to see Janosch, your ex, Melia felt like saying. They wouldn't let you in the high-security lock-up, would they, Liv? Melia sighed. She couldn't be so cruel as to say it out loud, but it was a good point.

Melia sipped her wine and looked carefully at her cousin. Liv was not quite as tall as herself, but had an attractive face and a ready smile. She had a warm heart and a loving nature, and could charm any man with a pulse. She had