The Westport Whisper Edition 8

Danny & Andrew — the salon, the scandal, and the bingo hall nobody asked for

There are two places in Westport where information travels fastest. The Café by the River is one of them. The other — and this correspondent would argue the more reliable of the two — is Danny and Andrew’s salon on River Road.

On Thursday evening, the salon was closed to the public but very much open to the Fuller family, which amounts to the same thing with considerably more wine. Lizzie was in the basin chair. Molly was on the couch. Andrew was pouring. Danny was talking, which is his natural state, and his hair — currently a shade this correspondent can only describe as aggressively coral — was catching the light in a way that Andrew has apparently stopped commenting on.

The topic, which began as baby names and escalated rapidly, was the new bingo hall.

Word has reached River Road — as word always does — that the person behind the new hall is none other than Victor Hale. For those who need reminding, Victor Hale sold the old St Pat’s committee their last set of bingo equipment at a price that Westport has never forgiven, owns three investment properties on the good side of town, and has the sort of smile that makes you want to count your fingers afterward.

Danny’s response to this news was entirely unsuitable for print in its original form. Andrew’s response was quieter and considerably more devastating — he simply noted that Victor Hale would not be putting that hall together out of the goodness of his heart, and that Westport would do well to read whatever he puts in front of them before signing anything.

Lizzie asked what exactly he was planning to charge for membership. Nobody knew. That, Andrew said, was precisely the problem.

Molly, from the couch, pointed out that Grandma Mabel was going to be furious.

She is not wrong.

Grandma Mabel — everything worth knowing you can learn by watching where the birds go

The Westport Gazette ran a very nice piece this week on the Golden Dauber Bingo Palace — which is, for those who have not yet heard, the name Victor Hale has given to his new bingo hall, currently under construction on Church Street. The article featured a photograph of Victor Hale with his arms around the Grandmother Banksia, the 150 year old tree that sits on the property line and around which, by order of the environmental permit, the entire hall must be built.

He was smiling the way people smile when they know a photograph is being taken and want to look like the kind of person who hugs trees. The Grandmother Banksia, for its part, did not look especially pleased about the arrangement. This correspondent notes this purely as an observation.

Mabel read the article on Thursday morning over her tea. She read it carefully, which is the only way Mabel reads anything, and then she set it down and looked out her kitchen window for a while.

What she was thinking, she has not said. What she said to Eunice, over the phone on Thursday afternoon, was this — the yellow-tailed black cockatoos have not been in the Banksia this week. They come every autumn without fail, noisy and spectacular, to feed on the Banksia cones. Every autumn for as long as Mabel has been in Westport. This year they have not come.

Eunice pointed out that birds move around. Mabel said she knew that. She also said she knew the difference between birds that have moved on and birds that have been moved on. Eunice asked what she meant by that. Mabel said she wasn’t sure yet. But she intended to find out.

She called Lizzie on Friday morning. Lizzie, who had been due at the new renovation house with Riley by eight, redirected herself to Mabel’s front door by seven forty-five instead — because when Mabel calls and says she needs a favour, Lizzie comes. This is simply how it works.

Lizzie drove her to Church Street and waited in the car — Riley was meeting her at the house and was, by all accounts, characteristically patient about the change of plan. Mabel took her good torch and her phone. Lizzie taught her how to use the camera some time ago and Mabel has found it, as she finds most useful things, quietly indispensable.

She was back at the car by eight fifteen. She said nothing on the drive home. Lizzie, who knows her grandmother, did not push. She dropped Mabel at her front door, watched her go inside, and then drove to the renovation house with the particular expression of a woman who has just realised she has been used as a taxi for something she doesn’t fully understand yet.

Mabel made a fresh pot of tea when she got home. She sat at her kitchen table for a long time.

She did not drink the tea.

In sixty years of knowing her, Eunice has never once seen Mabel leave a hot cup of tea undrunk.

Something is wrong with that tree.

Gracie & Aaron — the newspaper, the dress, and a visitor nobody expected

Those who missed this week’s edition of the Westport Gazette would do well to find a copy. Page three carries a lovely piece on The Ivory Veil Bridal Boutique — the mystery of the old ivory lace dress that turned up in the attic, the story it unlocked, and the new chapter the shop has entered under Aaron Douglas’s ownership. It is, by all accounts, a thoroughly good read. Nancy is quoted twice. She is, predictably, excellent.

The photograph that accompanies the article is the one that has people talking. It shows a young Leonora Saunders — Gracie’s grandmother — wearing the dress. She is seventeen, striking, and looking directly at the camera with the particular expression of someone who knows exactly what they are doing. On her lapel sits a brooch. Small, unusual, the kind of piece that catches the eye without demanding it.

Most people who saw the photograph admired it and moved on. One person did not.

A woman came into The Ivory Veil on Wednesday afternoon, just before closing. She was not a regular. Nobody recognised her. She was polite, unhurried, and asked Gracie very specifically about the brooch in the photograph. Not the dress. The brooch.

Gracie told her she knew nothing about it. The woman nodded in the way people nod when they already knew the answer and simply needed to hear it confirmed. She thanked Gracie and left.

Nancy, straightening a display near the counter, said nothing. Though those who know Nancy well would note that she did not look up from what she was doing when the brooch was mentioned. Not once.

The woman has not come back to the shop. She has, however, been seen twice in the street near Leonora Saunders’ home.

Gracie has been informed. Gracie has thoughts about this. Aaron, when told, went very quiet in a way that had nothing to do with the shop and everything to do with something else entirely.

Westport is watching. This one is just beginning.

The Westport Whisper sees all, says most, and leaves just enough unsaid to keep you wondering. A bingo hall with a very suspicious benefactor. A 150 year old tree whose birds have gone quiet. And a photograph in the local paper that has just set something in motion that nobody is ready for.

Until next time — your faithful correspondent remains, as always, delightfully anonymous. 🕯️