The Daughters Of Red Hill Hall. Kathleen McGurl
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been shot, when, and why? She had an overwhelming urge to research everything she could find about the shooting. If it was described as ‘infamous’ by whoever wrote the label on the bottom of the pistol case, then it must have been covered by newspapers of the time – whenever that was. She turned to the museum’s computer, opened up a Google search page and started typing ‘shooting at Red Hill Hall’. But before she could press the Enter key Roger came back.
‘Gemma, could you take over at the front desk, please? The café’s short of milk and I told Jean I’d pop up to the Co-op to get some. Won’t be long.’
‘Sure. Coming.’ She shut the laptop’s lid and left the back room, locking the door behind her so that no visitors would be tempted to wander in. The research would have to wait until later.
As it turned out, she did not get a chance to return to the back office that day. A coach party arrived and she was kept busy at the desk and in the small souvenir shop until closing time. All afternoon thoughts of the pistols ran through her head. Had someone been killed in this shooting? She supposed so – otherwise why would it have been described as infamous?
‘Roger, have you seen what’s on the underside of the pistols’ case?’ she asked, as they tidied the little museum shop after closing time.
He hadn’t, so she told him. His eyes lit up. ‘Well, I haven’t heard of this shooting but it certainly sounds like something worth investigating. Feel free to do it here; perhaps start searching online tomorrow?’
‘I was hoping you’d say that,’ she said, grinning at him. Something to look forward to at work tomorrow – infinitely better than measuring and describing endless ammonites for the catalogue!
‘You look lovely tonight,’ said Ben, kissing her as he stood to greet her in the Men At Arms pub, just a little way up the high street from the museum. It was her favourite pub – dark and cosy, old and full of character. ‘We’ve bought a bottle of Sauvignon. Nat chose it. Hope that’s all right for you?’
‘Fine, thanks. Hi, Nat,’ said Gemma. Actually she was more in the mood for a pint of bitter but as Natalie had got there first it seemed reasonable for her to choose the wine. Ben was so easy-going he’d drink anything. They were sitting at a table in a snug, its walls covered with dark wood panelling and hung with prints of Victorian country houses. She pulled an upholstered stool from under the table and sat down.
‘Cheers, then,’ said Nat, pouring her a glass and handing it over.
‘Cheers!’ Gemma clinked her glass against the other two and sighed happily. It was one of her favourite times of the week – being out for the night with her boyfriend and her best mate, the two people she loved best in the world. The three of them were inseparable, and had been ever since she and Ben had got together. Actually, she and Nat had been practically joined at the hip since school days.
‘Gemma, did you get Anna and Jake’s wedding invitation?’ Ben asked her.
‘I did. Can’t wait! It’s not till June though, is it?’
‘Nineteenth. I got one too. We’ll have to go shopping for new frocks,’ Nat said, with a wink at Gemma. ‘You’ll need something really smart. You can’t wear your usual tatty jeans and a fleece to a wedding, you know.’
‘Cheeky! Of course I’ll get something nice.’ Gemma gave Nat a playful punch on the arm. Anna, she hoped, would one day be her sister-in-law, if only Ben would get around to popping the question. And if he didn’t, well, next year was a leap year, so she’d do it herself. They’d been together seven years. It was time to make an honest man of him.
She suddenly remembered the wedding venue. ‘Hey, Ben, have you ever been to Red Hill Hall?’
‘Where?’ He looked blank.
‘Where Anna’s getting married, you dolt.’
He looked sheepish. ‘Oh yes, of course. No, never been there. Have you, Nat?’
‘No. It’s only just reopened under new management, hasn’t it? I think it was closed for years before then. I had a look at the website. Looks like a gorgeous setting for a wedding – all sweeping staircases and high-ceilinged ballrooms.’ Nat winked at Ben. ‘We’ll have fun there, won’t we – playing at lord and lady of the manor. Gemma, you could be my paid companion.’
‘Aw, why can’t I be the lady and you the companion?’ Gemma pouted.
Nat laughed. ‘You’ll need a very expensive dress if you want to upstage me, my dear. I intend buying something really fabulous. I’ll look amazing. Amazing, darling!’ She fluttered her eyelashes at Ben, who grinned and blew her a kiss, but caught hold of Gemma’s hand under the table and gave it a squeeze.
Gemma smiled. Nat liked to play the prima donna and Ben would play along. It was part of their group dynamics. She had no doubt that Nat would look fantastic, and no doubt better than she would herself. Nat was a beautician, currently working at a salon at the far end of town. She’d had many jobs over the years, never staying at any of them for very long. She’d only started at the salon a few weeks ago. Gemma hoped she would stick at it a bit longer than she had at the others. Poor Nat. She’d always struggled finding a job she liked. Before Gemma started working at the museum the two of them had often gone out drinking together to drown their sorrows about their rubbish, dead-end jobs. There was no better person than Nat when you needed a sympathetic ear. She always understood better than anyone else, because she’d been through it all herself.
‘Anyway, the hall sounds lovely,’ Gemma said. ‘I’ll definitely take a look at their website. I came across something at the museum today, relating to Red Hill Hall. Bit of a coincidence, having had the wedding invitation this week as well.’
Ben looked at her with interest. ‘What did you find?’
‘More fossils?’ Nat rolled her eyes.
‘Guns. Well, duelling pistols. Apparently they were used in a shooting at the hall.’ Gemma picked up the half-empty bottle and topped up everyone’s glasses.
‘Oh my God. Don’t tell Anna that – she’d have a fit if she thought someone had been murdered at her wedding venue.’ Ben took a sip of his wine.
‘Duelling pistols? So was there, like, a duel there? Does a duel count as murder?’ Nat looked as though she wanted all the juicy details.
‘Well I don’t know yet, whether it was a duel or even if anyone died. I came across the pistols – very ornate ones – in their case, and there was a note saying something about an infamous shooting. Tomorrow’s job is to research it and try to find out what happened.’
‘Wow. Your job is so much more interesting than mine. Most excitement I get is to work out lifeguard rotas and arrange five-a-side tournaments for school kids.’ Ben’s job was manager of a sports centre. He shook his head and laughed.
‘I don’t know. I’d rather do what you do than faff around with dusty relics all day like Gemma does.’ Nat flashed him a look. ‘I reckon my new job’s the best one though. All day playing with make-up and doing people’s nails – like being a little kid at your mum’s make-up drawer. I love it. Well, I would love it, if only Bitchface Boss wasn’t always on my case.’
Gemma smiled but didn’t say anything. How she and Nat were such close friends was a mystery. If she was honest, they didn’t really have a lot in common, other than their shared memories of course. Nat liked gossip mags, reality shows and loud, modern nightclubs. Gemma preferred historical novels, costume dramas and quiet, ancient pubs. And she’d been with Ben for seven years whereas Nat’d had a string of boyfriends, none of them lasting more than a month or two. Still, ever since starting secondary school at the age of eleven they’d been best friends. They’d been put next to each other in maths class, and Gemma had whispered the answer to a question when the teacher put Nat on the spot. In return Nat had picked Gemma first for a netball team, and the two had become inseparable. Over the years they’d each spent time doing what the other