Cowrie Beach , livre ebook

Troubador Publishing Ltd - Catherine Trimby

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134 pages

English

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Jenny had tried unsuccessfully to forget the time, over fifty years ago, when she found the body and the ruby ring on the Devon beach. It was easy to hide the ring in her special box, but not so easy to hide the guilty memories. Now aged 65, she lives a comfortable and enjoyable life in Bristol. Then her granddaughters visit; they discover the ring and Jenny's cosy world changes. Her granddaughters insist she tries to find the owner of the ring and return it. Jenny embarks on a mission that re-unitesher with her cousin Margaret. They return to Devon to attempt to piece together the events. Was it a murder or anaccident? Did the dead woman have a family? They track down a reporter who covered the story at the time. But is hetelling the truth?The surprising journey to find an owner for the ring takes them from a world of street prostitution, child abuse andabduction to a possible cover up by the Catholic church. A young woman's life is changed by Jenny and Margaret'sintervention and Jenny herself discovers a new perspective on her own life.

Informations

Publié par	Troubador Publishing Ltd
Date de parution	18 mars 2020
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781838598518
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	2 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0100€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

About the Author

Catherine Trimby is retired and lives in rural Shropshire with her husband. She has five grandchildren. She has done extensive voluntary work including 34 years as a magistrate and 8 years as an Independent Monitor for a women’s prison.

Also by this author

Badger and Crab’s Adventure
Badger and Crab to the Rescue
Badger and Crab and the Flood
Josie

Copyright © 2020 Catherine Trimby

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Matador
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Wistow Road, Kibworth Beauchamp,
Leicestershire. LE8 0RX
Tel: 0116 279 2299
Email: books@troubador.co.uk
Web: www.troubador.co.uk/matador
Twitter: @matadorbooks

ISBN 978 1838598 518

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd
For Penny
Contents

1
Bristol
February 1964
2
Bristol
February 2016
3
Bristol
May 1963
4
North Devon
May 1963
5
North Devon
May 1963
6
North Devon
May 1963
7
Bristol
February 2016
8
Bristol
February 2016
9
London
September 1973
10
London
September 1973
11
Bristol
February 2016
12
Bristol
March 2014
13
Bristol
March 2014
14
Bristol
March 2015
15
Bristol
July 2015
16
Bristol
July 2015
17
Bristol
October 2015
18
Cotswolds
March 2016
19
Bristol
March 2016
20
Bristol
April 2016
21
North Devon
June 2016
22
Bristol
June 2016
23
Bristol
June 2016
24
Bristol
June 2016
25
Bristol
June 2016
26
Bristol
June 2016
27
Bristol
June 2016
28
Bristol
June 2016
29
Bristol
June 2016
30
Bristol
June 2016
31
Bristol
June 2016
32
Bristol
June 2016
33
Bristol
June 2016
34
Bristol
July 2016
35
Bristol
July 2016
36
Bristol
July 2016
37
Bristol
July 2016
38
Bristol
July 2016
39
Bristol
August 2016
40
Bristol
August 2016
41
Bristol
August 2016
42
Bristol
August 2016
43
Bristol
August 2016
44
North Devon
August 2016
45
Bristol
February 2017
46
Bristol
April 2017
47
Bristol
April 2017
48
North Devon
April 2017
1
Bristol
February 1964
The big wooden door slammed decisively shut. A key turned irrevocably in the lock. Heavy footsteps plodded away along the passage, the sound gradually diminishing. The oak stairs creaked as the footsteps laboured ponderously downwards. The sound finally evaporated in the chill air leaving a reproachful silence hanging over the bleak, unfurnished landing.
Lily stood in the cold, empty room behind the locked door. Her face was blank, expressionless. Her thin, bruise-smudged arms fell limply to her sides as she listened impassively to the retreating footsteps of Sister Angelica. Slowly she turned away from the uncompromising door and looked up at the grimy, fly-blown window in the sloping attic ceiling. Rain, drumming heavily on the dirty glass, had caught her attention. Daylight was fading. There was no light bulb in the solitary pendant hanging from the centre of the ceiling. The child knew this. She had been in this room before, many times.
She stood immobile for some moments. Then she looked down. Her face showed no reaction to the stream of hot liquid coursing down her legs and settling in the joints of the floorboards in amber puddles. Resignedly she watched as the puddles grew larger and spread across the floor, wisps of steam aimlessly rising from them in the cold air. She turned and walked slowly but purposefully to the corner of the room. She knelt on the bare floor and then allowed her body to shift sideways until she was curled up in as small a ball as she could manage with her bare arms circling her head, nestling herself into the angle of the walls. It would be a long, cold, hungry night.
2
Bristol
February 2016
‘Granny, what’s this?’
Jenny’s heart missed a beat as she looked at the ring held in the child’s hand. Memories raced round and round her head; she wanted to pin them down but they eluded her grasp.
Ellie was waiting for an answer. She was still holding her hand out.
‘Gran?’
Jenny focused on the little girl. ‘It’s a ring I found once, on a beach,’ she said.
Rachel was busy arranging the cowrie shells she had found in the bottom of the box into a line in order of size across the carpet. She paused and looked up at the ring in her sister’s hand.
‘Is it real?’ she asked.
‘A real gemstone, do you mean?’
‘Yes, is it valuable?’
‘I don’t know, darling. I just put it in the box years ago and forgot about it.’
That was a lie. She knew she hadn’t forgotten about it. She knew she had never mentioned it to Aunt Hilary or even to her own mother at the time, and then there had been that awful business with Charlie. She knew she should have done something about it after that, never mind since then. She had told herself she would, but she hadn’t. Why hadn’t she? It wasn’t her ring. Jenny’s thoughts were broken by Rachel.
‘If it’s valuable shouldn’t you have given it to the police when you found it? Mum always says you should hand stuff in. Can I see it?’ Rachel took the ring from Ellie’

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