Elizabeth Duncan: A Killer's Christmas in Wales

“Right then. Here we go.”

The opening strains of a Viennese waltz filled the room and the dancers took their first tentative steps. They moved awkwardly at first, many of them seeking reassurance by looking at their feet.

“Don’t look at your feet,” Harry called out. “They’re right where you left them!”

The dancers laughed and mumbled apologies as they stepped on their partners’ shoes or lurched backward when they should have glided smoothly and confidently to the side. Most of the people who had turned out had taken to the dance floor, Penny noted, although with the shortage of men, a couple of women were partnering each other.

As the music ended, the dancers applauded and inquiring eyes turned to Harry.

Holding a beaming Mrs. Lloyd by the hand, he asked if they were enjoying themselves, and in response, the little group applauded. Their enthusiasm seemed to encourage him, so he demonstrated a few more steps, and as the music started up again, the dancers set to work incorporating the additional steps into their routines.

Keeping an eye on the dancers, Penny wandered along the length of the hall to the end nearest the kitchen where a few chairs had been placed. She sat down and a few minutes later was joined by Glynnis Bowen, whose husband Huw organized most of the events in the community centre. At least a decade younger than her husband, the local bank manager, Glynnis was still attractive in a faded, what-might-have-been kind of way, and while she hadn’t exactly let herself go, she didn’t take the same care with herself as she had before she was married. At one time, Penny recalled, she had been a regular in the salon; now she booked a manicure only at Christmas, if that.

The two women greeted each other.

“I hear the new salon is coming along well,” Glynnis said, sliding onto the chair beside Penny. “I’ll be sure to make an appointment when you open. When will that be, do you think?”

“We’re aiming to have everything up and running in time for Christmas,” Penny replied. “Things have gone pretty well, all things considered. We’ve had some setbacks, that’s for sure.”

Glynnis nodded. “Penny, I’ve been thinking about asking you this for some time now. When I was younger, I used to really enjoy drawing and I wondered if I might come along with your sketching group sometime.”

“Yes, do.” Penny smiled at her. “We’d love to have you. We’re just an informal group, but we enjoy our day out together and you’d be most welcome to join us. Why don’t you give me your number and I’ll ring you. Not sure where we’re headed for next, but there’s no shortage of beauty spots in these parts. And our Christmas lunch is coming up soon. We’re going to a smart new restaurant in Conwy for that.”

A few years ago Penny and Alwynne Gwilt, who looked after the local museum, had started what they called the Stretch and Sketch Club. Members, mostly middle-aged women, got together once a month or so to ramble over the rolling green hills and through the leafy, wooded areas that surrounded the town. Some brought sketchbooks, others brought easels and paints. They usually had a destination in mind and would set up when they got there, drawing and sketching the natural beauty that lay before them. In spring, it might be wildflowers peeking through the hedgerows, in summer a flock of sheep grazing contentedly in the high pastures, or in winter the rugged handsomeness of Mount Snowdon, its snow-covered summit basking in celestial light.

A warm, friendly man transplanted from Yorkshire had recently joined them, taking stunning photographs, which he incorporated into an award-winning blog.

Penny sold her watercolours in local gift shops and during the high tourist season found it difficult to keep up with demand. She wondered, though, if that would change with the greater demands on her time of running the spa.

Realizing that she had missed something Glynnis had said, she turned her attention back to her.

“… don’t you think?”

“I’m so sorry, Glynnis. I was miles away. What were you saying?”

“Oh, nothing, really. I was just saying that Mrs. Lloyd seems very animated tonight. I think she’s really enjoying dancing with that man.”

Penny followed her gaze to the centre of the room where the dancers were just finishing the waltz.

Something about the wistfulness in Glynnis’s voice caught her attention.

“Did you not want to dance, Glynnis? Surely Huw would give you a turn or two around the floor?”

Glynnis shook her head.

“No, not one for dancing, is our Huw. He likes playing bridge, but that’s about it. He’s really more interested in organizing the events because he likes to make sure the community centre is well taken care of. For some reason, he feels very proprietary about it.” She shrugged. “He just likes things to be done right, I suppose, and the right way is always his way.” She glanced at the group of dancers. “But I might ask the same thing of you. Would you like to join the dancers?”

“I’m not bothered. Really, I think I’d rather just watch.”

The music stopped and the dancers broke away from their partners. Penny and Glynnis looked up as Mrs. Lloyd led Harry Saunders over to them.

Talk about proprietary, thought Penny.

“Oh, Penny,” she exclaimed, holding her right hand over her heart. “I told Harry I’d sit this one out with you and give someone else a chance to dance with him. What about one of you?” She looked brightly at Glynnis. “How about you, dear, since Huw doesn’t seem up to it? Harry will show you the steps and you’ll catch on in no time.”

Harry held out a hand, and with a small shrug, Glynnis took it. As the two joined the dancers, Harry gave the signal and the music started up. Mrs. Lloyd and Penny watched as he put his arm around Glynnis and they started to waltz. They moved smoothly in time to the music, turning gracefully and rhythmically.

“Well, what do you think, Penny?” Mrs. Lloyd asked. “You can’t have enjoyed yourself very much sitting here on the sidelines. You’ll have to get the policeman of yours here next week.”

“You’re right, Mrs. Lloyd, I will.”

“Why isn’t he here tonight?”

“He’s with the major crimes unit, Mrs. Lloyd. You know how it is. It’s always something.”

“Well, I’m sure it is, but he shouldn’t let his police work get in the way of his personal life. Policemen tend to put the job first. They should pay more attention to all that talk about balance in their lives that everybody’s going on about these days. In my day, you went to work and you came home. You arrived on time and you left on time, and that was it and nobody thought any more about it. I think the problem is all these mobile devices everywhere. No one can survive five minutes without checking their e-mail. Is everybody so important the world’s going to come to an end if they don’t check their e-mail? Or send one of those awful text messages.”

Penny knew from long experience with Mrs. Lloyd in the salon that once she was off and running it was best just to wait it out, with the odd “mmm hmm” and “you may be right” sprinkled in every now and then to let her know that she had your full attention.

“And Harry and I have come up with the most wonderful idea for New Year’s Eve. He’s going to announce it at the end of the class tonight. You’ll want to get your policeman in on this, that’s for sure.”

At the end of the dance Harry returned with Glynnis, and Mrs. Lloyd stood up, smoothing down her skirt.

“Last dance,” Harry announced. “Evelyn, may I have the honour?” He turned to Glynnis. “Thank you, my dear, it was a pleasure.”

As the dancers resumed their positions, Glynnis turned to Penny.