The Busybody Book Club

Chapter One

Nova

Nine Days Earlier

Nova Davies closed her eyes and thrust her arm into the murky depths. She could feel the chill of the water through her rubber gloves as she groped around, reaching for the body.

"Any luck?" her colleague, Lauren, asked behind her.

"There's something here, but I can't get a proper grip on it."

"Try and grasp a leg, that might give you something to pull on. Or else the hair."

Nova delved further, trying not to think too hard about what else might be down there. Finally, she managed to close her fingers round a foot, and she yanked her arm back hard, freeing the victim with a loud splash.

"Got her!"

She stood up from the toilet and turned round triumphantly, a soggy plastic doll in her hand.

Lauren shook her head as she opened the black bin bag she was holding. "I bet it was that Daryll Robins. I saw him lurking round the toilets earlier with an evil smirk on his face, plotting our downfall."

"The boy's only six! Here, take Toilet Barbie while I wash my hands." Nova dropped the offending doll in the bag, along with her rubber gloves, and crossed to the sink.

"Man, we do not get paid enough to deal with this nonsense," Lauren said with a dry laugh.

"Good thing we love what we do, hey? And thanks for staying to help."

"No problem. You know St. Tredock Community Center rule number 17: never leave a comrade to face a blocked toilet alone!"

They headed down the corridor together, and Nova stopped outside the small meeting room, sighing when she saw the circle of empty chairs inside.

"No one's coming tonight, are they?" she said.

"Of course they will; you still have a few minutes."

"I'm not so sure. There were only four people last month, one of whom looked like he'd gotten lost on the way to the pub. Honestly, this book club is a disaster."

"Don't be so defeatist. I once ran an over-sixties yoga class here for more than a year and it only ever had one member, and I don't think he even mastered a downward facing dog. Now, that was a disaster."

Nova smiled. "Thanks, that makes me feel a bit better."

"Just give it time. I've told you, this lot are deeply suspicious of anything-and anyone-new, but they'll come round to you eventually."

"This lot" was how Lauren referred to the residents of St. Tredock, the small, picturesque Cornish village where the two women worked. Nova had moved to the area five months ago, but Lauren had lived here her whole life and took great pleasure in affectionately mocking her fellow natives.

"I'm sorry I can't stay and give you moral support, but Sam will never forgive me if I miss tonight's pub quiz. I've got a parting gift for you though." Lauren reached into her rucksack and pulled out a packet of digestive biscuits. "I know what Phyllis is like, and your evening will be considerably easier if you have snacks."

"Oh, thank you. I meant to buy some earlier but forgot."

"No worries. Also, I've never been to a book club before, but don't you need a copy of the book?" Lauren's eyes scanned the empty chairs, and Nova grimaced.

"Ah, yes. Ideally you do, but I can't find mine anywhere. I must have left it at home."

"It's Where the Crawdads Sing, right? I'm sure I saw it on your desk this morning, under a pile of papers."

"Really? You're a lifesaver!"

"Right, I'd better get to the Anchor. " Lauren said. " Will you join us later?"

"I'll see how it goes here. If I don't make it, tell Craig I'll see him at home."

"Will do. Good luck with your crawdads!"

Lauren headed toward the front door, and Nova glanced at her watch; 6:59 and there was still no one here. She walked down the corridor, her footsteps echoing through the empty community center. Nova hated being here alone, and she hummed as she unlocked the door and flicked on the light. The office was really a glorified cupboard, with barely space for the desks of her, Lauren and their boss, Sandy. Nova's was nearest to the door, its surface invisible under assorted junk modeling from the after-school art club, some wilting potted plants she was trying to resurrect and several dirty coffee mugs. No wonder she kept losing things; she really must keep it tidier. Nova located her copy of Where the Crawdads Sing, which as Lauren had said was under a teetering pile of papers, then put on a slick of red lipstick and grabbed a plate for the biscuits.

She flicked off the office light and stepped back out into the corridor. As she was locking the door, Nova heard a sudden bang to her right. Her heart leaped and she swung round, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she prepared to defend herself.

"That wind! There's a storm coming tonight, Craddock, you wait and see."

Phyllis Hudson was stepping into the entrance foyer, untying a plastic rain-hood from under her chin. The septuagenarian was a familiar sight at the community center. Nova saw her squat figure and distinctive blue-rinsed perm at the knit and natter group on a Monday, at the Silver Swans senior ballet class on a Thursday and at the food bank on a Friday. In fact, she was such a regular that Nova had been told to turn a blind eye to Craddock, the elderly, arthritic English bulldog that accompanied Phyllis at all times, in blatant contravention of the center's no-animals policy. The dog was lumbering in through the door now, wheezing like a sixty-a-day smoker.

"Evening, Phyllis," Nova said, fixing a smile on her face.

"What's wrong with you? You look like you've witnessed a murder."

"Nothing, I'm fine. Come on in, I'm just setting up."

Nova hurried to the meeting room and began laying out the biscuits. As she did, she took a deep breath, trying to slow her racing heart. It was just the door banging in the wind.

"Digestives?" Phyllis wrinkled her nose as she fed a biscuit to Craddock. "If you want people to come to your book club then you need to do better than this."

"Sorry, I'm afraid these are all I've got today."

"They're not even McVitie's ones. Beryl used to get us shortbread from M&S."

Beryl had been Nova's predecessor at the center, a St. Tredock local who'd been in the job for thirty years until Sandy caught her drinking whisky out of a coffee mug during the Under-Fives Stay and Play. Although Nova hadn't even been living in Cornwall at the time, she was pretty sure there were some who blamed her for Beryl getting sacked, Phyllis included.

"Next time you want to get some proper biscuits, like a Hobnob," the older woman continued. "But not the chocolate ones, mind, as Craddock can't eat those."

"Noted, I promise," Nova said.

Phyllis sat down in a chair and Craddock lay heavily at her feet, farting with the exertion. Nova glanced at the clock and saw it was almost 7:05. Please, please let someone else come so it wasn't just her and Phyllis for the next hour. They sat in silence for several minutes, the only sounds Phyllis munching biscuits and the snuffling snores coming from the dog's direction.

"Right, well it looks like it's just us tonight, Phyllis. Shall we-"

"Evening all, sorry I'm late!"

The door flew open and in strode Arthur Robinson, a giant of a man dressed in a thick woolen jumper and a pair of green corduroy trousers, his white beard in stark contrast to his ruddy, weather-beaten face. He was followed by Ash, a gangly teenager who was clearly still adjusting to his new height as he bumped into both the doorframe and a chair while crossing the room. He sat down at the far side of the circle and gave Nova an embarrassed nod of greeting before hiding behind his long, dark fringe.

"Good evening both of you," Nova said, trying not to smile at Arthur. Although she knew she shouldn't have favorites, she was always delighted to see the pensioner. He'd stumbled into her first book club meeting by accident, when there was a room mix-up with the Carers Support Group summer social, and the eighty-one-year-old retired dairy farmer was now Nova's most enthusiastic participant. Or rather, her only enthusiastic participant.

"You look lovely tonight, Nova," Arthur said, nodding at her 1950s gingham swing dress. "You always bring a touch of glamour to the community center. Oh, digestives, my favorite." He helped himself to a biscuit and sat down. "I've been looking forward to tonight all week. A helluva book pick, I have to say."

"You enjoyed it, then?" Nova said.

"Absolutely! What a cracker, a real page-turner. Esi and I stayed up well past our bedtime to find out what happened."

"What did she think of it?"

"She loved it, especially the bits with Tate. You know how my wife enjoys a proper love story."

Nova had never met Esi Robinson, but Arthur had told her all about the woman. They'd been married for almost sixty years and lived on a farm a couple of miles inland from St. Tredock. Esi was now housebound and Arthur was her carer. The woman apparently loved romance novels but was no longer able to read them herself, so Arthur read aloud to her every day. Part of the reason Nova had picked Delia Owens's book was because she hoped Esi would enjoy the romance plot.

"I didn't think much of it at all," Phyllis said with a sniff. "Far too slow."

"I thought you might appreciate the whodunit part?"

"I would if the story had focused on that, but instead there was all that nonsense about insects and birds. Honestly, reading it was like getting stuck behind Jimmy Wallis in the post office queue, waffling on about his twitching holidays."

"Esi and I loved all the nature bits," Arthur said. "Although I've never been to America, I felt like I was there among the herons and fireflies of the North Carolina marshes."

"What about you, Ash? Did you enjoy the book?" Nova smiled encouragingly at the teenager, who looked panicked at being addressed directly.

"Erm . . . eh . . . yeah? I mean, I've not really read anything like it before, so, I don't know . . ."

"You're right, lad, it was different, wasn't it?" Arthur said, and Nova saw relief flash across the boy's face before he retreated behind his hair. "Esi and I thought the same, that we weren't sure we'd read anything quite like it."

"It wasn't even a proper murder mystery," Phyllis grumbled. "I worked out who did it by chapter three. And where were the red herrings? The misdirection and twists? And don't get me started on that terrible ending. When he-"

"Before we discuss the ending, why don't we chat about some of the themes in the book?" Nova said. "I thought we could start by talking about Kya's abandonment, which is a running theme starting from-"

She was interrupted by a loud creak as the door swung open. Nova glanced up to see the miserable-looking man who'd come for the first time last month, and who she'd been sure wouldn't come back. His expression was even unhappier this evening, exhaustion etched around his eyes, and there was a large splatter of ketchup on the front of his shirt. He had a bulging bag slung over his shoulder and was clutching a copy of Where the Crawdads Sing.

"Oh, hi . . ." Nova faltered, trying to remember his name.

"Michael," the man said quietly.

"Of course, lovely to see you again. Come on in, we've only just started."

He hovered in the doorway for a moment, his eyes flicking around the occupants of the room. There were two free seats between Arthur and Phyllis, and he took the one next to the older man.

"I see you've got the book with you," Nova said. "Did you enjoy it?"

Michael looked at the book in his hands as if only just realizing it was there. "I only read a bit."

She waited to see if he'd elaborate but he just stared at the cover.

"Right, well we were about to discuss Kya's abandonment by her family," Nova said. "I was interested to know what impact you all thought this had on the young girl, and how it shaped the woman she became?"

She looked round the circle, but the only person willing to catch her eye was Arthur. She gave him a small nod.

"I thought it was heartbreaking. Especially her being left by her own mother aged just six. It made Kya think she was unlovable, and she carried that her whole life."

"It wasn't the mother's fault," Phyllis said, squinting at Arthur through narrow eyes. "That husband of hers was a violent thug who drove her away and threatened her kids if she ever came back."

"That's true," Nova said. "Clearly Kya's mother was terrified of her husband and-"

"That's no excuse," Michael interrupted.

They all turned to look at him; at the last meeting he'd not uttered a single word.

"How do you mean?" Nova asked.

"Given she knew how awful life would be for Kya when she left, why didn't she take her daughter with her? What kind of a monster abandons her own child like that?"

"Hang on a second," Phyllis said, crossing her arms. "The book tells us the woman had a nervous breakdown, and yet somehow you're blaming the poor bird for everything. That's typical bloody men!"

"Here we go again," Arthur muttered to Nova. Last meeting, Phyllis had taken umbrage when Arthur had made a critical comment about Agatha Christie's The Murder at the Vicarage, and she'd spent fifteen minutes berating the man.

Nova cleared her throat to cut Phyllis off before she could launch into another rant. "I thought it was interesting how Kya uses examples from the animal world to try and understand the behavior of humans. Did anyone else pick up on this?"

"Like that mother fox who abandoned her babies for her own survival," Michael said with a grunt. "Kya's mother did the same, leaving her kids in danger to protect herself like a-"

He stopped as his phone pinged. Michael pulled it from his pocket and looked at the screen, the color draining from his face as he read the message. He thrust it away again and closed his eyes. Nova was about to ask if he was okay when Ash spoke up.

"I don't think it was the mum's fault," he said, his voice so quiet Nova had to strain to hear him. "I think even Kya comes to understand her mum's actions."