A Murder of Sorts

By Sanitee T'Chong

In 1970 London, Constance Foster takes care of identical twin girls, Melody and Melanie Markle, forsaken at birth by their mother. Given a new lease of life from the pitiful orphanage they had known for 12 years, the twins travel to Venice with Connie and her friend, ‘aunt’ Amanda. There they stumble upon a cold case of alleged murder, for which Eddy Downton is about to be hung. Can they save him from the gallows at the eleventh hour, and expose a nefarious kidnapping scheme at the same time? Will the twins be reunited with their long-absent mother? A charming, traditional and intricate British mystery. No damsels swooning at the feet of narcissistic macho-men, but ample drama and romance, antics and laughter, a touch of cuteness, and twists and turns at every step from London to Venice. Follow the footsteps of this feel-good drama to uncover mysteries, where nothing is quite as it seems.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Warrior Publishers
• Release date: Oct 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005674182

Sanitee T'Chong

Sanitee T'Chong is a mysterious, low profile academic...

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A Murder of Sorts

Sanitee T’Chong

Copyright 2022 Sanitee T’Chong

Published by Warrior Publishers at Smashwords

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FICTION

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Steal not this book my honest friend

For fear the gallows should be your end,

And when you die the Lord will say

And where’s the book you stole away?

Cover design by Sanitee T’Chong

Table of Contents

1. The Twins

2. Paris

3. Rome

4. A Murder ?

5. Naples

London, Tuesday

Naples, Friday

London, Saturday

6. Florence, Sunday

Pisa

7. Venice

8. Going Home

9. Our Home

10. Making Connections

11. Kidnappings!

12. Strategies

13. Out of Africa

14. At Home

15. Return to Venice

16. London: The Final Chapter

Other Books by Warrior Publishers

Main Characters

Jonathan Ashbourne. A chef and restaurateur in London, and landholder (of Holtbrooke Hall and Maiden Hall) in Dunsborough, Norfolk.

Stella Ashbourne. Jonathan’s wealthy, widowed grandmother in London.

Philip and Andrea Ashbourne. Jonathan’s parents in London.

Mrs. Constance Foster. A middle-aged widow who works in a bookshop in London, and who formerly owned a bookshop in Dunsborough.

Amanda Romanie. A young single woman from Dunsborough, Norfolk, who was a former ward of Constance and who, at 21, now works for Jonathan.

Melody and Melanie Markle (M & M). Identical twins from a London orphanage (St. Patrick’s), about 12 years old, who are currently Constance’s wards.

Patrick. A young man of 20 years, formerly from the orphanage, who currently works for Jonathan.

Sister Nora. A senior, older Nun at the orphanage.

Sister Teresa Prowse. Mother Superior of the London orphanage.

Dr. Lennox. A paediatrician who attends to medical matters at the London orphanage.

Mr. James (Jim) Kilcullen. A solicitor at Lawson and Lawrence law firm, London.

Olivia. A mysterious middle-age woman with whom the twins become acquainted.

Edmond (Eddy) Downton. A suspected murderer, currently on trial.

Lillian Downton. Eddy Downton’s wife.

Angel. Eddy Downton’s girlfriend and eventually second wife.

Other characters are revealed as appropriate.

Chapter One

The Twins

With routine familiarity Constance Foster waited for the tea to draw in her small cozy-clad porcelain pot and for two slices of toast to comfortably brown in order to join the three boiled eggs cooling in their stone-ware cups on the small round kitchenette table. Just then there came a loud, quick rap-rap-rap on the front door of her small flat. Startled, she eyed the small clock on the small mantel over the gas fire-range, noting it had just turned eight o’clock.

Who could that be at such an early hour? she murmured to herself, while also espying the twins, M & M, alarmingly peering from their slightly ajar bedroom door.

Before she could shuffle the few steps to the threshold Constance recognized the distinct sound of a key entering the silver Lockwood lock and turning of the tumbler to pull back the bolt. In an instant Amanda had flung open the door. Had Connie been any closer she would have been knocked over, especially as she was of only small stature.

Morning Constance! Ah, I smell toast almost burning, she declared with a Cheshire smile, as she dashed past in her usual flourish and turned off the electric contraption.

The social vacuum was filled by grandmama Stella Ashbourne, who stepped sprightly inside, carrying an ornate, silver-knobbed walking stick, used more for show than functionality, although on this occasion it explained the loud knocking.

Morning Constance, Stella sweetly remarked. "I do hope we didn’t surprise you. Where are the girls?"

"Ha! Indeed you did. Saturday, you know, one of only two days on which we get to sleep in. But good morning to you, also, Stella. The girls are barely awake. I’ll call them. Please, take a seat."

By this time M & M did not need fetching, but had timidly entered the close dining-lounging area, that was now quite full with five bodies.

Morning girls, Stella greeted.

Morning ma’am, Melanie and Melody demurely chorused in unison.

Come girls, Connie directed. Breakfast is ready. I suspect gran-Stella and auntie Amanda may have some news for us if they have visited so early.

Oh yes, Connie, indeed we have. And that’s exactly why we’re early! Amanda excitedly explained. Sorry Mrs. Foster, she added with a slight curtsy, but it’s all about shopping!

Shopping? Constance queried.

Yes my dears, Stella interrupted with an initial explanation. "We are all going shopping for new outfits, travel outfits…"

"Travel?" Connie again exclaimed, her early-morning head almost whirling.

Of course, Connie, have you forgotten our conversations? It’s almost the school summer holidays and we are to go travelling… Paris, Rome, Venice…. Oh I can barely wait!

M & M stared at all present, agog, hardly capable of comprehending what all this meant, for apart from almost 12 years in an orphanage they had never been anywhere in the last 6 months other than their London school and some local art and museum places in the city. They had not an inkling of the wider world.

Constance just had to sit down before she might collapse. But… But this is so sudden…

"Oh not so sudden, Connie, we discussed this several times, you will recall. Now the time has come…to prepare!"

So, finish your eggs and toast, Amanda directed, then quickly get dressed, something simple, I should think, we will be trying on many dresses, and Jonathan is waiting in the car.

The girls abided by the directives, hastily spooning out their soft-boiled eggs and munching on buttered toast, before scampering back to their bedroom amongst whispers that only identical twins could comprehend.

Connie, meanwhile, provided a cup of tea to Stella, saying, This is all very unexpected, I must say. I haven’t planned anything or even have a budget for new clothes…

Stop right there, Connie, Stella commanded kindly, putting up her hand as if to stop traffic. As Jonathan organized, he and I will assume much of the financial costs for the girls. So, don’t you worry on that account, my dear.

Mmm. Thank you. But even so, I am not one for shopping. Perhaps I shall skip this shopping excursion. I might leave it all to you ladies to choose something fitting for myself, if you wish. Amanda knows my size and taste.

Oh, Connie, what a shame. But I have a better idea, Amanda interceded. We will go ahead with the girls and find a few things you might like, then we can all meet up for lunch at Foyle’s dress-shop. They have quite a nice café on the second floor.

A good idea Amanda, Stella noted approvingly. And then we plot and plan an itinerary.

She stood up in preparation of a departure as sudden as her arrival, as the twins stepped out of their room dressed in plain beige skirts pleated from the waist down, white blouses, blue cardigans and flat shoes.

Come, people. Jonathan is waiting. We shall meet you at noon, then, Connie? Stella affirmed more as a command than a question.

Constance could barely nod acquiescence before the four women left, leaving Constance to have another much needed cup of tea and contemplate the current incursion, and the future. Yes, she thought, she did recall speaking with Jonathan, Stella and Amanda over the last few months, but always thought the plans were somewhat distant if not rather fanciful. Now, so it seemed, her friends had moved forward substantially, and she considered that indeed the twins’ school holidays would commence in a mere three weeks.

With these and a hundred other related thoughts twirling about in her mind, she finished her own boiled egg and now cold toast, cleared away the breakfast things, then peeped into the girls’ room. It was a little untidy, not to be unexpected given the early interruption to their Saturday routine. Constance refrained from cleaning up the disarray; she and the two girls had long ago come to an understanding that they would be responsible for their own living quarters, which would teach them domestic tasks. But she need not have worried, the girls had been vigilant in their domestic chores and contributions. They were, indeed, good girls.

Their twins’ shared bedroom had been Amanda’s for ten years, before she left to stay with Jonathan Ashbourne in Norfolk, the little village of Dunsborough. An additional single bed had been acquired and neatly fitted in amongst the other limited furniture of a substantial study desk, a small wardrobe that was complemented by clothing storage in Constance’s own sparse closet, a low-boy that doubled as a mirrored dressing-table, and several shelves had been added. In any case, the girls didn’t own much, and they were quite content with just having a private space they could call their own, in great contrast to the orphanage dormitory they had previously shared with ten other girls.

Once Amanda’s alleged murder-mystery in Dunsborough had been resolved a few months previously, she stayed on at Holtbrooke House helping to decorate and organize that dwelling as well as the newly re-acquired Maiden Hall. Jonathan’s mother, Andrea, was a frequent visitor and advisor there, from whom Amanda learnt much. The latter had certainly matured from the scrawny eleven-year old of 1959. She was now tall and attractive, having lost much of her childhood girly looks, and very womanly, as well as being well-spoken when she wanted. Overall, her mildly round face of fair skin was quite pretty. She retained some light freckles across her cheeks and short, almost bulbous nose that comfortably sat above a wide mouth. Her barely-arched soft brown brows ornamented bright gray eyes. But Constance still had a problem coming to terms with Amanda’s rather puffy, wiry hair that scraggled in all directions from her scalp.

Constance, on the other hand, had soon returned to her lonely flat in Norbury, London. She was happy that her former ward, Amanda, had found opportunity in Dunsborough, and possible blooming romance with Jonathan. And she was equally content to return to a familiar quiet routine of her bookshop job—although she did at times miss her friends.

These first few months of solo-living, however, were occasionally interrupted by visitations from Jonathan and Amanda when they came to London. They invariably invited Constance to lunch or dinner, commonly held at the home of Jonathan’s petite grandmother, Stella, who was a little shorter than herself, with soft graying hair that must have been a devilish blonde in her youth. In this way the two older women became more acquainted with one another, and at such times Jonathan raised the possibility of Constance taking charge of the twins, Melanie and Melody Markle, affectionately dubbed M & M by Amanda. After a few weeks he managed to organize for Constance to visit the orphanage to meet the girls, closely overseen by Her Holy Mother Superior.

This initial meeting, however, encountered some preliminary conditions, of course, that were met only by Jonathan and Andrea providing a sumptuous luncheon for the senior nuns, and Stella pledging a significant donation to upgrade the orphanage kitchen.

Constance and her party toured the premises, particularly the dormitories; while neat, clean and adequate, their general physical and unhomely sparseness touched Constance’s heart. She inwardly felt that every child, and perhaps more so young teenagers, should have nurturing familiarity with their carers. Oh it wasn’t that the Nuns were cold or cruel, but simply they were not mothers; their nurturing roles were driven by their ideology and vocation, and with so few Nuns and so many orphans they could not give or even show favouritism.

Her Holy Mother was open to the offer for Constance to take the twins, who, almost twelve years old, soon would be a greater burden on the Church’s resources, and She agreed it would be a travesty to separate the girls from one another. With Amanda’s attestation that her own time with Constance had been more than fruitful, and that Stella and Jonathan would underwrite all expenses, Her Holy Mother agreed to such an arrangement for a trial period of one year and biannual assessments, along with the conditions that the two girls attend Mass each week and be enrolled in a Catholic school.

With no further objections or issues, all parties acquiesced to the arrangement. With that in hand, Amanda and Constance took it upon themselves to actually ask M & M for their views. This proved hardly necessary, as the girls, perhaps naïvely, were more than enthusiastic to escape the stuffy confines of the orphanage, and genuinely took to the warmth and sincerity of the two women, on whom they bestowed the reverence of benign aunts.

And this indeed was the first time that Constance had of a close meeting with the twins. They were, indeed, pretty. The girls were just nudging four-eight or nine in height, and still slender, not yet womanly, although Constance thought that would soon change within the year. Brunette hair hanging about their shoulders in cute golden end-curls adorned their identical angelic faces, which were mildly oval or heart-shaped, with fair smooth skin without a blemish to be seen. Each modeled a smallish nose and bridge that separated brown-hazel well-proportioned eyes that indeed sparkled as the light caught them. And almost pencil-line lips with a mild butterfly wave adorned mildly round fleshy cheeks and firm chins.

All things settled, it called only for yet another luscious luncheon the following weekend, and to include the twins’ dorm mates to fare them well, amidst tears, hugs, and promises to keep in touch.

And so it came about that in March of the Spring of 1970, M & M with their meagre belongings arrived in Jonathan’s car at Constance’s humble but homely abode. All was ready in terms of necessary furnishings and linen, food now for three, and a welcome cup of tea.

High School enrolment and attendance quickly followed with grateful obedience, and a homely routine and relaxed domesticity established. Constance was happy with the companionship, and took on the tasks of cooking instructions to the girls and encouraging them to read, to which they were not adverse. Weekends were filled with simple pleasures of walks in various London Parks and visiting historical sites and museums, with insightful commentaries from Constance, and the occasional movie at the cinema.

Thus it was that the early Saturday morning visit by Amanda and Stella was more than unexpected but indeed somewhat disruptive to the contentment into which Mrs. Constance Foster had fallen. Despite some mild misgivings and audible sighs, she rose to this occasion, just as she had to the various antics of Amanda, her former ward. With little else to do, she had a quick bath, tidied up the common area, changed into some simple slacks and top, a light coat, bobbed her dark-brown hair, and soon set off to meet her friends at Foyle’s, casually stopping at shop windows that attracted her attention.

She arrived quite early, and had no trouble finding the four women, as she now thought of them, scrambling about a wide range of clothing racks and shelves. M & M espied her and squealed school-girl delights as they pranced around her for approval of the several items they displayed.

Oh good gracious, girls, they are all beautiful. But my taste is, well, poor, I suspect. You best ask Amanda I think.

Just in time Constance was rescued by Jonathan: Mrs. Foster. Welcome. Shall I whisk you away to the café upstairs? Let us leave these feminine antics of which I have no notion…

Oh yes, Jonathan, she affirmed, looking into his blue eyes, over which bushy eyebrows arched. He was always attractive, she momentarily thought, with his tall, upright posture, broad shoulders, and firm chin squaring off otherwise gentle features. "But it seems I may be saving you from their demanding approvals. I do hope they have not bought any blaringly pink dresses!"

Haha. Indeed. And yes, we shall save each other. Come. And with that he led Constance away from what seemed a cackling quartet and upstairs to a refined café.

Jonathan ordered two much needed cappuccinos as they took a table for six, in expectation of the others joining them.

So, Constance, I assume Amanda has filled you in on our plans?

Not a bit. Only the sudden announcement this morning that we are all to go shopping and soon to travel.

Ha! Typical grandma! Well, I best explain. But first tell me, how are things with the girls?

Fine. They’re a lovely pair. Very quiet and polite.

Good. Good. That’s to be expected, I dare say, growing up in an orphanage.

Indeed. But tell me, do you know how or why they came to be orphans? she asked, having been curious about this for some weeks, now.

Very little, in fact. The nuns were sworn to secrecy, I’m afraid, so I have only rumours and innuendos to go by. And the twins were mere babes, so they have no other recollection.

Oh dear… But, how do you know even that?

"Ahhh. Loose tongues. You know I have been giving cooking classes there for some time, and one makes friends, of sorts, among the children and the nuns. As much as we may view the latter, they are very much human and like to be sociable, albeit reserved. Essentially, people do like to talk."

Talk? In Dunsborough I would have thought it would be called gossip!

Exactly. There is a village or two in every institution. Besides, Patrick, my apprentice of sorts, you know, also grew up in the orphanage. But he was a little older, about ten years old when the girls came, and for some odd reason he was given the task of caring for the twins, which of course enabled him access to some greater tidbits.

So that’s how you became interested in them?

"Not entirely. Acquainted, yes, but it took several years to know them, and of them. I knew then that I had to know more, and do more. I encouraged Patrick to snoop, shall we say, a bit more, and one of the older nuns sensed my heartfelt interest. So she told what she could."

Oh, so you’re quite the detective then. Amanda would be proud. Have you told her yet?

No. And now, it seems, is not the time. Here comes the squawking shopping squad, I dare say.

Constance had barely a moment to glance over her shoulder before she was swamped by Stella and her three younger companions, chattering, giggling and jostling, as they dropped at least two dozen bags, boxes and packages of various sizes about the table.

Stella fell into the nearest seat, with a smile and glimmer in her eye. My, what fun, she declared, and exhausting. Do order some sandwiches and coffee, Jonathan, please.

Amanda plonked herself down next to Constance. We got you something, Constance.

More than one thing, aunty, continued Melody with a smile.

Good grief. Not a pink dress I do hope!

Don’t be daft, Constance, you’re not going to a Cinderella ball.

No, ma’am, Melanie explained, something kaki and tropical.

And travel shoes. Flat, and beige. Hope they fit!

Oh dear…. I do wonder.

Not to worry, you can always return them, Amanda assured her.

We will look at them all this evening, Stella commanded. After dinner at my house. Jon will take this lot home, and cook up a storm, while we go off for another round.

"And, Constance, Stella had a brilliant idea: she has oodles of former clothes in her closets, she hasn’t worn for years and years. And since she is a smallish lady some may well fit M & M or yourself."

Yes. Assuming they are still suitably fashionable, of course, Stella announced as she looked about her brood. Otherwise they will go to the orphanage, I should think.

Oolala, nothing too risqué, I hope! Amanda teased.

At this point Jonathan returned with a large plate of mixed sandwiches, accompanied by a waitress with a pot of coffee.

Help yourself girls, don’t be shy, he chided.

Neither Stella nor the twins needed any further encouragement, each having had barely a bite for breakfast. And it gave Constance the opportunity to inform him of Stella’s grand plans, adding she would accompany him to his grandmother’s home, and let the foursome continue on their quest for travelling outfits.

As for the itinerary, what is it you people have in mind? she finally broached.

Oh grandmama is wanting to get a boat across the Channel, pick up a train at Calais to Paris….

Paris! M & M jointly squealed. Although somehow they had heard of the city and its glamour, perhaps from history or geography books at the orphanage school, it was doubtful if they had any real conceptual sense of the destination.

Yes, then a train to Rome, or perhaps a ship, and Naples, and so on. But, finally, Venice! Oh I so love Venice, Stella swooned.

Oh my, Constance audibly murmured. That will cost a fortune!

Mere money, Constance. Besides, gran has the notion you young women will swab the decks to pay your passage, teased Jonathan.

They all gave a hearty laugh, with Melody cheekily adding, We know how to mop floors, Mr. Jonathan.

Connie and Amanda couldn’t help but note how the twins were now slowly emerging from their reclusive shells, and it provoked Connie to wonder how their underlying personalities might develop.

Well, then, ladies, Connie and I will take your new acquisitions and be off. We shall see you at four?

Indeed, Stella affirmed, as she stood up to lead off to the next destination. Come girls, we still have more to appraise, and suitcases to acquire.

And so off they went, each with a handful of sandwiches, leaving Jonathan and Connie to juggle all the ladies’ packages to the car, and then onward to Stella’s home. There the maid answered the door and assisted in placing the shopping in the parlour.

Come Constance, we shall enjoy a nice Sherry before starting tiffin.

Yes, thank you. A short one for me, if you please. What do you plan for dinner, Jonathan?

Oh something simple, actually, to suit the rather bohemian day. Pizza! From my Italian restaurant. I’m sure M & M will love that! And French fries. And salad.

Yes, it would make a nice change to the rather bland chops, sausages and vege that is our staple diet in my small flat, she affirmed, taking a seat at the dining table.

Ah, yes, I’m sure, but probably far tastier than the bland gruel of the orphanage. So, how are they settling in, Constance? Jonathan again enquired, taking a seat opposite.

Fine, Jonathan, fine. Quiet, courteous, polite. They offer no complaints, although I am certain they discuss things between them in private.

Yes, I’m sure. But give them time.

So, you were telling me, Constance pursued from their interrupted conversation at the café, you came to know them by, shall we say, surreptitious means?

Not really. If it was surreptitious it was for a purpose. The friendly nun, Sister Nora, and Patrick, let me know of their impending fate, as they grew older. No one would adopt them at such a mature age, and if they did, the twins would be devastatingly separated. At best they would be apprenticed to some aristocratic household as scullery maids, or even a factory, God forbid!

Had it not been for fortuitous opportunity, then, of you meeting up with myself and Amanda in Norfolk…

Very fortuitous. I was thinking of taking them on myself, at Holtbrooke House, but I dare say Holy Mother would not agree to such an arrangement, myself being a bachelor and so forth. Indeed, she would insist I marry!

And no one as prospect?

No. So there you have it. The status quo. Fortuitous.

So, you think you have an obligation to myself and…

Oh no no, …well…, yes…, in a way. It seems I had a responsibility to the girls, to the orphanage for the work they do, and, as you said, just fortuitous, that Amanda came to work with me, leaving you somewhat in need of purpose, perhaps, and Stella also. Everything just seemed to fit.

I see. Well I can hardly complain, so far. But I am still curious to know how they came to be orphans. And, how did you know their surname was Markle?

"Ha! I didn’t. I was told all the orphans are assigned last names. And Her Holy Mother, it seems, was taken by the girls’ sparkle in their eyes, but ‘Sparkle’ was hardly suitable. It therefore drifted into ‘Markle’, which had a certain ring to Melody and Melanie."

So, you don’t know their real name?

Unfortunately, no. Nor the exact circumstances of why they were orphaned. Some say their mother was single and could not raise two girls, others say she died in childbirth, and the father, if he was known, likewise could not deal with them.

Mmm. I can surely imagine the difficulty for either of the parents.

Yes. But others however say they were illegitimate, the father being some rich bastard.

Do you think M & M wonder? That they might want to know?

Perhaps. But I think they are a little too young, yet, to ask such a question seriously, right now.

Maybe. But I suspect soon they will, and then what are we to tell them?

I don’t know. Stella and I are working on it. We do have solicitors making enquires.

Good. But, I also wonder if their mother, or even the father, might be even curious about their welfare, of what became of them? I mean, it must be heartbreaking to give up a baby, and doubly so identical twins!

"That question opens a Pandora box. Would any of them even want to know, or perhaps even meet?" Jonathan pondered.

A lot to consider Jonathan. Just the kind of issue for which a ship cruise might be useful. We need to discuss this with Amanda, in the least. Meanwhile, we should prepare those pizzas for the hungry horde soon to arrive.

Constance watched Jonathan with the dexterity of a chef mix a bowl of salad, then place four home-made pizzas in the oven, accompanied by a large serving of French Fries into a cauldron of hot olive oil. As she watched, she thought to ask how Amanda was getting on with her tasks in Dunsborough.

Oh, fabulous. Quite. Very quick to learn from my mother and take advice, but does not hold back with her own opinions and questions. And a great sense of humour.

That’s good. Exactly as I knew her. Very companionable. Has she been writing, also?

Oh I dare say she has. She insists on her ‘quiet’ time, as she calls it, and reads me snippets when it takes her fancy.

Ah, very much Amanda. And she has two books to occupy her mind.

I think three.

Three?

Perhaps. You will need to quiz her on her newfound mystery. It seems she is rather preoccupied with a new case, a current one, I believe, all over the papers it seems, which I have not even had a glimpse. About some fellow, by the name of Downton I think, who murdered his wife some twenty years ago.

Oh my, another cold case.

"Not exactly, from what I gather. It’s a current court case, but about an old murder. You don’t know of it?"

No, not at all. I rarely glance at the papers. I will ask my bookshop colleagues next week. So, it’s a cold contemporary case? she asked somewhat confused.

Or vice versa, Jonathan shrugged, as he turned down the oven and drained the fries. I’m sure it will be just the ticket to fill the monotony of an ocean cruise. But no time for monotony now, if the hubbub at the front door is any indication.

Almost on cue, at a little after 4pm, the female squad did arrive amongst another twenty or so bags, boxes and parcels which they unceremoniously dropped in the parlour.

Oh I can smell pizza! Stella declared. I famished. Girls, come, the kitchen! Jonathan, be a darling and feed us hungry chicks, right girls. Leave those things there, ladies. Plenty of time to try them on later.

M & M more than giggled, and dropping their newly acquired assets and coyness made all haste to the kitchen on the heels of Stella. Jonathan quickly panned out the fresh hot pizzas from the oven, which M & M had neither seen nor even smelled before. Amanda, close to follow, carved up the food, with warnings to the uninitiated of it being hot, as Jonathan added the fries to the fray.

Oh my, Constance sighed, as she took up Jonathan’s invitation for coffee in the dining room, leaving the three generations of chattering females to their indulgence. What a spectacle! I do wonder now what this continental journey will bring forth.

Not to worry, Constance, he assured, patting her on the arm. Grandmama is only crazy at home.

Perhaps so, Jonathan, but I wonder what influence she may have on the twins.

I will have a word with her, to be on her best behaviour, he chuckled. You better go and get some pizza, if you can, Constance, or help yourself to whatever. I’m going off to run my restaurants. Work to do, you know. That will enable all you girls to giggle and squirm over the new outfits.

Jonathan duly departed, leaving Constance to explain his absence to the others. The women, nonplussed, soon moved to unpack and show off their newly acquired outfits, and subsequently raid Stella’s several closets.

By 7pm they were exhausted, and after a quick round of sandwiches, reheated pizza pieces and coffee, and hugs and thanks all round, Constance took M & M home in a taxi. They were all tired, and so left their boxes and bags scattered wherever in Constance’s small flat.

We’ll sort this lot tomorrow, girls, Constance directed. "Sleep time now, I should think.

Yes, aunty, and thank you, Melody piped, as she hugged Constance, immediately joined by Melanie.

"Thank you for everything, aunty," she added with a light kiss on the cheek.

Chapter Two

Paris

Over the ensuing three weeks Amanda telephoned Constance several times about the travel arrangements, and she, with M & M, visited Stella for lunch, and to pick up their relevant passports which Stella’s solicitor had organized—something that Constance had never even considered. Amanda gave numerous instructions about what to pack, about turning off the gas and lights in the flat, where and when to meet, and asked if Constance could leave a spare key with a trusted neighbour in case it was needed. She added that Patrick might also visit London and stay at Jonathan’s flat and split his time between that and looking after the Houses in Dunsborough.

The girls of course were quietly excited, knowing something kindly momentous was about to occur, but not yet fathoming exactly what. Being catapulted from a pitiful orphanage that they had known almost all their lives to international travel had never been in their imaginations.

During one of Amanda’s calls Constance raised the issue of cost. As a simple woman who always tried to pay her own way, she was quite concerned about the financial if not moral debt she might owe to Jonathan or Stella.

Constance, we discussed this before, Amanda assured her. "Stella is rich, very rich. Indeed the whole family is rich. They have investments and property, Connie, everywhere. As Jon told us, Stella likes to have youngsters about, it gives her a sense of excitement and purpose, but she doesn’t want the botheration of being a mother, more of an aunt she sees herself, a rich aunt. She’s happy to pay for that privilege. And Jonathan, well, you know, he has a strong sense of social responsibility. And, Constance, it’s not as if you’re freeloading, you are playing a noble role for which you are entitled to be compensated."

At a cognitive level Constance could readily understand and even agree with all that Amanda had espoused, but still, she felt that looking after two beautiful deserving children and being a friend to Stella hardly warranted the label ‘work’ or deserved compensation. Her idea of work, as in the bookshop where she had met her former husband, and in previously setting up her own bookshop in Dunsborough, was physical, of somehow being directly productive.

But for now she need resign herself to the present circumstances set in train by Stella and others, and about which the twins were now thoroughly excited. At worse, she could rationalize it as part of their education.

Regardless of her concerns, the first day of May loomed large when Constance and M & M would finally pack their suitcases that Stella had insisted upon, lock up their small homely flat and follow Amanda’s other instructions, then set forth to meet the rest of their party at Victoria Station by 8pm, sharp.

Melody and Melanie of course had never been to a steam train station, least of all been up close to such a large steel monster seemingly hissing and spewing steam and fire, and so kept close to Constance. Fortunately for the girls Jonathan and Amanda were readily on hand to direct them to a First Class sleeping carriage which the girls found somewhat squeezed and smelling of oil, steam and polished varnish wood. Amanda opened their compartment door and ushered in Constance, followed by the two girls, who thought it all so tiny compared to their own bedroom and even more so the large open-design of the orphanage dormitory.

Jonathan followed with their respective three suitcases, small enough to be accommodated under a bunk-bed and in the overhead baggage racks. Then he showed the mesmerized girls how the seats would fold down and out to make narrow beds: one bunk-bed set M & M would use, and on the other side a single for Constance.

That achieved, he said: Right, ladies. The train leaves at nine. So come along, say hello to Stella in the next compartment, who, if I judge correctly, is having a nightcap. And, ladies, remember your cabin number, Sixteen.

Why do we need to remember that Mr. Jonathan? Melanie innocently asked.

Well, in case you go for a walk.

You mean we can walk around this, this machine? Melody pursued.

Well of course you can…

But… Walk to where, sir?

Outside, girls, along the corridor, to see the sights, and to the dining car….

The girls looked at one another, thinking the same thing, mentally checking with each other that they had heard Jonathan’s comments correctly.

You mean, Mr. Jonathan, we can eat here? Melanie again boldly queried.

Of course girls. We will soon have a light supper, and tomorrow breakfast.

Breakfast! the two M’s exclaimed in unison.

Yes girls, it’s fine, Amanda thought to assure them.

But, aunty, Melanie pleaded, we have no such money for breakfast.

It’s all right girls. It’s free. Or rather, included in the price of the ticket.

Why are we having breakfast here, on the train? How long will it take to go to Paris, Melody almost wailed.

"About twelve hours, young ladies. That’s why you have beds. But at six, we shall wake you so you can see the French countryside and be eating croissants with honey and jam and drinking hot milk chocolat," Jonathan explained.

Melody whispered to Melanie: "What’s a crusty ant? I don’t like the sound of that!"

Melanie just shrugged then whispered back: "Maybe they boil the ants in oil and make them crusty, like chips. So you will have a crunchy sound from that!"

By this time Constance had taken a seat and was almost beside herself with inward amusement at the innocence of her two sweet wards. She realized now that perhaps she should have prepared the girls a little better about travel, trains, boats, and France. A map would have been useful, she thought, but even that may have been beyond their comprehension—short wiggly lines on paper might confuse them even more. Why would one want to sleep if travelling only a few inches?

Let’s go and see Stella, girls, he said. Then I will take you along the carriage before we start moving.

With that Jonathan stepped outside into the corridor, turning to add: It may be wise, girls, in the beginning, that you don’t wander off without one of us to accompany you.

He knocked on the door of the adjacent compartment, and hearing Stella command an entry, he opened the door and ushered in the four women. We’re all here grandmama, safe, secure, and befuddled, he chuckled.

That’s good. I like befuddlement. Come in, come in, take a seat where you can. I’m having a night cap, as you can see, she indicated as she sat back from a small fixed table that displayed a large gin and tonic, and a novel. Do you care to join me? she asked, looking at her visitors.

Perhaps later, gran. We will show the girls about the train first, and get their supper. Then most certainly we shall return.

Good. We need to settle in before the ferry…..

"Ferry?! Melanie wailed, clutching her sister’s arm. But this is a train, ma’am."

I should hope so, Stella smiled.

Don’t worry, Stella, the girls are a little overwhelmed by the novelty, Amanda explained. Come, ye all, to have supper and we shall explain everything.

Jonathan, still standing outside the open door for want of space inside, assured his grandmama they would return shortly, and then directed the party to follow him, seemingly a long way, down one corridor, through a carriage door at the end, across the step-plate, down another carriage, and finally into the dining carriage. It was largely empty, apart from a paunchy man in a black suit at the far end, and a woman perhaps in her fifties, sitting alone further down. She was dressed in a brown overcoat and matching beret-type hat with a feather, keeping her head down, focused on her food.