The Bronze Lady (Woodford Antiques Mystery Book 2) by Kathy Morgan Page A
Authors: Kathy Morgan
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was host to the Christmas parties for almost all of the local businesses, groups and clubs, as well as being a favourite party venue for families who either didn’t have the space to accommodate everybody at home, or who wanted to go where someone else would be slaving in the kitchen both before and after the meal. Even on Christmas Day both Sarah and Mike were up and working by six thirty, despite the fact the Christmas Eve celebrations didn’t end until three o’clock that morning, and when they finally locked the pub doors at six o’clock in the evening they chose to cuddle up on the sofa with a cup of tea before both falling asleep where they were.
Every year Sarah vowed it would be the last time they worked such a hectic schedule, and her dream was to either leave the pub in the capable hands of the staff or close it completely for a fortnight. Mike would not even consider closing the pub for one day, let alone a couple of weeks, and it was at his insistence that they worked until they dropped. Many of the town’s residents were very grateful for the Handley’s continuing hospitality, both as customers and as employees, and so when the subject came up for discussion in public Sarah’s was inevitably the lone voice.
New Year’s Eve in Woodford was traditionally a Fancy Dress party for anyone who wanted to join in. There were three public houses, and the first revellers would begin as early as five o’clock in the afternoon at The Boot, which was officially in Brackendon but all the locals referred to it as a Woodford pub. After a few drinks the party would make its way along Farnham Road towards Woodford, and after a mile they would reach the next pub, The Royal Oak, where those less energetic would already have gathered. By ten o’clock The Boot and The Royal Oak were empty of customers and so both pubs closed up for the night and the staff joined in with the party half a mile along the road in The Ship Inn.
The theme for 2015 was British Weather, which produced outfits ranging from ponchos over bikinis - a favourite amongst many of the men - to rain drops, bright yellow sun costumes, and one imaginative couple managed to create a windswept look from head to toe. Without fail every member of the party, which by eleven o’clock comprised of over four hundred people, wore wellies.
The Ship Inn was the final destination because it backed onto the village green, where there was plenty of room for overspill from the pub, which legally could not hold that many people, and so every year they prayed for dry weather.
Sarah noticed Mike was looking a bit pale, and left her place behind the bar to go over to him where he was now sitting on the bottom of the stairs between the bar and the kitchen, which led up to their flat.
‘Mike, darling, are you alright? You are looking a bit tired.’
‘Sarah...’
‘Mike. Mike. MIKE.’
Sarah’s screams pierced the noise of the party. Starting as a ripple and ending as a wave people began to tell their neighbours to ssssssh, the individual noises silenced all the way through the pub and out to The Green and the High Street. Murmurs and whispers started to build as the message was passed that Mike was ill, an ambulance had been called, and the community collectively broke up their party atmosphere electing instead to stay together in quiet concern.
By the time the rare sound of the ambulance’s sirens could be heard the blue lights had been visible for several minutes, flashing their way along the lanes towards Woodford.
At twelve forty two on January 1st 2016 the worst news possible was announced: Mike Handley was dead.
Chapter 19
Wednesday 13 th January 2016, 9.30am
The church was booked, the guests had accepted their invitations, the outside caterers were arranged, and she had bought a new outfit suitable for the occasion. As she looked around the Garden Room of The Ship Inn Sarah Handley reflected that of all the events she had expected to be
Every year Sarah vowed it would be the last time they worked such a hectic schedule, and her dream was to either leave the pub in the capable hands of the staff or close it completely for a fortnight. Mike would not even consider closing the pub for one day, let alone a couple of weeks, and it was at his insistence that they worked until they dropped. Many of the town’s residents were very grateful for the Handley’s continuing hospitality, both as customers and as employees, and so when the subject came up for discussion in public Sarah’s was inevitably the lone voice.
New Year’s Eve in Woodford was traditionally a Fancy Dress party for anyone who wanted to join in. There were three public houses, and the first revellers would begin as early as five o’clock in the afternoon at The Boot, which was officially in Brackendon but all the locals referred to it as a Woodford pub. After a few drinks the party would make its way along Farnham Road towards Woodford, and after a mile they would reach the next pub, The Royal Oak, where those less energetic would already have gathered. By ten o’clock The Boot and The Royal Oak were empty of customers and so both pubs closed up for the night and the staff joined in with the party half a mile along the road in The Ship Inn.
The theme for 2015 was British Weather, which produced outfits ranging from ponchos over bikinis - a favourite amongst many of the men - to rain drops, bright yellow sun costumes, and one imaginative couple managed to create a windswept look from head to toe. Without fail every member of the party, which by eleven o’clock comprised of over four hundred people, wore wellies.
The Ship Inn was the final destination because it backed onto the village green, where there was plenty of room for overspill from the pub, which legally could not hold that many people, and so every year they prayed for dry weather.
Sarah noticed Mike was looking a bit pale, and left her place behind the bar to go over to him where he was now sitting on the bottom of the stairs between the bar and the kitchen, which led up to their flat.
‘Mike, darling, are you alright? You are looking a bit tired.’
‘Sarah...’
‘Mike. Mike. MIKE.’
Sarah’s screams pierced the noise of the party. Starting as a ripple and ending as a wave people began to tell their neighbours to ssssssh, the individual noises silenced all the way through the pub and out to The Green and the High Street. Murmurs and whispers started to build as the message was passed that Mike was ill, an ambulance had been called, and the community collectively broke up their party atmosphere electing instead to stay together in quiet concern.
By the time the rare sound of the ambulance’s sirens could be heard the blue lights had been visible for several minutes, flashing their way along the lanes towards Woodford.
At twelve forty two on January 1st 2016 the worst news possible was announced: Mike Handley was dead.
Chapter 19
Wednesday 13 th January 2016, 9.30am
The church was booked, the guests had accepted their invitations, the outside caterers were arranged, and she had bought a new outfit suitable for the occasion. As she looked around the Garden Room of The Ship Inn Sarah Handley reflected that of all the events she had expected to be
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