Colin said. “Yes, my goodness, I’ve known Bronwen since she was a small child. Bronwen Jones? You must have met her. Daughter of one of the brewery brothers. That’s her husband, the estate agent in the marketplace, Evans & Jones.
“Of course,” said Deirdre. “And which Jones brother was her father? I should know, shouldn’t I, but we didn’t exactly move in the same circles!”
“You didn’t miss much. In spite of George’s success, the family was somehow unlucky. Things didn’t go right on a personal level, even though the brewery flourished. Oh, and Bronwen’s father was the younger brother, William. And don’t ask me questions about him. The less said about that nasty piece of work the better! Mind you, I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but . . .”
“It’s no good telling me that, Colin! Now of course I want to know about him. Go on, do tell.”
“It’s a long time ago,” he said. “But I still remember wondering how George managed the scandal so efficiently. His brother William had always been trouble. He was bright enough but couldn’t be bothered to work. If there was an easy way of making money, William would take it.”
“But what was the scandal?” Deirdre persisted. She guessed what was coming but hoped for a small snippet of extra information that might help in their investigations.
“He gambled away everything he earned,” Colin said, and sighed. “Shame, really, as he was a clever bloke. George gave him a job in the brewery, and why it had to be in charge of finances I’ll never know. Needless to say the books were cooked. There were unpaid bills all round town by the time George got to know about it. My folks’ business was one of the victims.”
“But what happened? The brewery survived, after all.”
“Fortunately,” Colin said, “it was a very profitable year for them, and George made sure all bills were settled. Then things went quiet, and the next thing we knew, William had gone. Kicked out, everyone said.”
“And his wife?”
“Wife and daughters,” Colin said. “Well, Alwen Jones was a wonderful woman. Just buckled to and remade her life. Brought up the daughters and ended up head teacher in Thornwell Primary. Wonderful woman,” he repeated.
Deirdre drained her glass. “Gosh, that was just what the doctor ordered!” she said. “Well, it sounds like it was good riddance to bad rubbish. What happened to William?”
“Vanished. Never heard of again. Never mentioned by any of the Joneses. It was just as if he’d never existed.”
“But his daughters? They must have wanted to know about their father?”
“Maybe,” said Colin, rising to his feet. “But if they did, and Bronwen Evans had set about finding him, you can be sure she succeeded. Chip off the old block, that one. And, of course, later on she worked in the brewery. Brilliant publicist, apparently. She’d know exactly how to find William Jones, but I doubt if any of the family wanted to. You could put money on it.”
“Perhaps not, under the circumstances! Anyway, thanks for the drink, Colin. Would you and Dorothy like to come over for dinner sometime soon? I’d like you to meet some new friends of mine.”
“Love to,” said Colin. “We’ll be in touch.”
Sixteen
“DID YOU HAVE a good weekend, Ivy?”
“Weekends are much like any other days in this place,” Ivy said, looking round her room. “Except for the excitement of going to church, of course. How about you?”
Deirdre put her hand over the phone and mouthed to Gus that Ivy was in a bad mood.
They were in the kitchen at Tawny Wings, where the dishwasher toiled in the utility room next door. Gus pulled the door shut, and motioned Deirdre to continue.
“Oh, my weekend was about as boring as yours,” she said. “Gardening, writing letters to my distant daughters, that sort of thing.”
“You should be grateful you’ve got daughters, Deirdre Bloxham,” the sharp voice replied. “Anyway, have you rung up
“Of course,” said Deirdre. “And which Jones brother was her father? I should know, shouldn’t I, but we didn’t exactly move in the same circles!”
“You didn’t miss much. In spite of George’s success, the family was somehow unlucky. Things didn’t go right on a personal level, even though the brewery flourished. Oh, and Bronwen’s father was the younger brother, William. And don’t ask me questions about him. The less said about that nasty piece of work the better! Mind you, I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but . . .”
“It’s no good telling me that, Colin! Now of course I want to know about him. Go on, do tell.”
“It’s a long time ago,” he said. “But I still remember wondering how George managed the scandal so efficiently. His brother William had always been trouble. He was bright enough but couldn’t be bothered to work. If there was an easy way of making money, William would take it.”
“But what was the scandal?” Deirdre persisted. She guessed what was coming but hoped for a small snippet of extra information that might help in their investigations.
“He gambled away everything he earned,” Colin said, and sighed. “Shame, really, as he was a clever bloke. George gave him a job in the brewery, and why it had to be in charge of finances I’ll never know. Needless to say the books were cooked. There were unpaid bills all round town by the time George got to know about it. My folks’ business was one of the victims.”
“But what happened? The brewery survived, after all.”
“Fortunately,” Colin said, “it was a very profitable year for them, and George made sure all bills were settled. Then things went quiet, and the next thing we knew, William had gone. Kicked out, everyone said.”
“And his wife?”
“Wife and daughters,” Colin said. “Well, Alwen Jones was a wonderful woman. Just buckled to and remade her life. Brought up the daughters and ended up head teacher in Thornwell Primary. Wonderful woman,” he repeated.
Deirdre drained her glass. “Gosh, that was just what the doctor ordered!” she said. “Well, it sounds like it was good riddance to bad rubbish. What happened to William?”
“Vanished. Never heard of again. Never mentioned by any of the Joneses. It was just as if he’d never existed.”
“But his daughters? They must have wanted to know about their father?”
“Maybe,” said Colin, rising to his feet. “But if they did, and Bronwen Evans had set about finding him, you can be sure she succeeded. Chip off the old block, that one. And, of course, later on she worked in the brewery. Brilliant publicist, apparently. She’d know exactly how to find William Jones, but I doubt if any of the family wanted to. You could put money on it.”
“Perhaps not, under the circumstances! Anyway, thanks for the drink, Colin. Would you and Dorothy like to come over for dinner sometime soon? I’d like you to meet some new friends of mine.”
“Love to,” said Colin. “We’ll be in touch.”
Sixteen
“DID YOU HAVE a good weekend, Ivy?”
“Weekends are much like any other days in this place,” Ivy said, looking round her room. “Except for the excitement of going to church, of course. How about you?”
Deirdre put her hand over the phone and mouthed to Gus that Ivy was in a bad mood.
They were in the kitchen at Tawny Wings, where the dishwasher toiled in the utility room next door. Gus pulled the door shut, and motioned Deirdre to continue.
“Oh, my weekend was about as boring as yours,” she said. “Gardening, writing letters to my distant daughters, that sort of thing.”
“You should be grateful you’ve got daughters, Deirdre Bloxham,” the sharp voice replied. “Anyway, have you rung up
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