Murder On Bwytheney by Elizabeth. Newby (phonics story books TXT) 📗

see all over Wales and the islands. It was the same house that she was born in 84 years ago. But Beryl had done a better job of keeping herself up-to-date than the house. The only heating came from the black aga in the kitchen or open fire in the lounge, and the electrics looked like they were last updated back in the fifties.

But the locals had made sure she was connected to the internet so she could speak to her son every week. He wanted her to move to the new sheltered accommodation on Port Ynys. But Beryl was adamant, "I came into the world in this house, and I'll leave it from here too!".

Beryl was also an avid reader, and although she wasn't interested in joining a book club of youngsters, she did enjoy sitting down to talk about books with me. She was also one of my biggest fans and read every post on Nord Isle Living as well as all my manuscripts. Despite having written quite a few novels during my years on Bwytheney, most had not been seen by anyone other than myself or Beryl. She had also asked that I start recording her memories. There were not many people left whose memories of The Nord Isles went quite as far back, and Beryl seemed to be scared that the history would get lost.

So, with over eight decades of living near Islethorpe, if anyone could tell me more about Melissa and her past, it was Beryl. Usually, I tried to visit weekly, but it had been a little longer than that with so much happening.

We were sat in her front room that commanded views across the sea towards Wales, although it was too foggy to spot the land in the distance today. I was sat in one of the wing-backed chairs by the fireside, and Shadow took up his spot by Beryl's chair, knowing she always had a treat or two for him. Both arms of my chair had pieces of cloth covering them. They disguised the threadbare material below. I wondered how many people had sat in this exact place over the years. It was twenty years since Beryl's husband had passed away after a heart attack, and since then, the villagers had been proactive in ensuring Beryl did not get too lonely.

"Here you go, dear," said Beryl as she placed a cup of tea down on the wooden table at the side of the chair. The cup was Beryl's finest china, and it clanged against the saucer and spoon as she struggled to contain the shaking that came with age. I had long ago learned not to try and help out in Beryl’s house. She prided herself on her independence and was horrified by the idea that a visitor would make their own cuppa or do the dishes. Beryl reached into the pocket on the front of her floral pinny and pulled out a gravy bone. “And this is for you, boy,” she said to Shadow while patting him on the head.

“How have you been?” I asked.

“All the better for reading this,” said Beryl, holding up my latest manuscript, “you really ought to see if you can get it published. It’s a marvellous read. Kept me guessing right to the end.”

I gave a little laugh, "Well, I'm glad it entertained you."

“And that article you published on Pete this morning was great too. It’s so lovely seeing younger people coming to the island. I reckon he’s going to fit in great around here.”

“Yes, he seems like a nice guy. And finally, I’m no longer the new kid on the island.”

Beryl laughed. “Have you heard any more about our Melissa? It’s such a shock. Nothing like this ever happens here. She was such a lovely girl.”

“No, not heard a thing. Only what’s been in the papers. I have to admit I’ve been locking my doors at night.” Taking a deep breath, I decided this was the moment to broach the subject, “Did you know Melissa when she was younger?”

“I’ve known her all her life. I knew her parents and her grandparents too. Watched her growing up on that farm and then help her dad turn it into that campsite. Who would do such a thing?”

"I wish I knew. She was always so friendly to me, right from the moment I arrived. I can't imagine anyone ever having a grudge with her."

"Oh, just like anyone, she had her moments, especially as a teenager. But you're right. I've not heard anyone say a cross word about her for ages. The last one I remember was that couple who arrived last year expecting the place to be the Ritz."

“Oh, gosh, yes. I remember them. Stayed one night in one of her tents and got the first boat back to the mainland the next day!”

“There’s no pleasing some, eh? Honestly, you’d think the word campsite would be a giveaway.”

“You’d think,” I smiled at Beryl. “So, what happened when she was a teenager?”

“Oh, the usual teenage stuff. There were a few boys and parties. Mostly harmless. But you know the sorts of things they start saying when a girl goes out with a few different boys, especially back then. Her first boyfriend was a lad from her class at school, Mark. They would have been about sixteen or seventeen. He now lives over on the other side of the island in Hulme. You might have met him – runs the bank?”

“I think I’ve seen him about, but we’ve not spoken.”

“Well, it was after him that the tongues started wagging. Melissa started seeing a lad who was a little older than her, Nick. There were only a few years between them, but it was frowned upon.”

"Nick, who has the garage?"

“That’s the one.”

“Wow, I didn’t know they had any history.”

"Oh, everyone has a history with everyone here. It comes with island life. As does gossip, as I'm sure you know."

“Haha, yes, I may have noticed that.”

“Yes, well, once you become the focus