Jack’s Jams

Hello, and welcome to my 2025 Blogging From A To Z April Challenge! This year, I’ve written you a complete murder mystery novelette. The setting is rural England, a few years after WWI. The extra challenge that I set myself for this story is that the first murder will not take place until the letter “M”–halfway through! And the second murder will happen at “S.” There may be murders after “S,” of course, but they are less structural or foundational or something.

And now, without further ado…

Jack’s Jams

That afternoon, Penny wandered into the morning room to find her father there alone, idly reading a newspaper.

“Hi Pa! How was the fishing?”

Jack grunted. “Finally managed to mention the subject of money to my brother,” he said. “So now he knows he’s not getting cut off with a shilling. As soon as old Jacobson gets my will drafted, we can go back to America. I guess you’re probably pretty sick of this place already, with nothing much to do.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Penny, in a way that made her father put down his newspaper and look at her closely.

“Say… you do want to come back to America with me as soon as we get our business done, don’t you?” he asked.

“No, I want to stay here and marry Dr. Camphor,” said Penny.

Jack laughed, feeling absurdly relieved. “That old codger! Good one, kid. Not that you should make fun of him.”

“I’m not kidding, Pa. I know it’s kind of out of the blue, but there it is. I don’t think he’s got the idea himself yet, but I figure if he keeps tripping over me, he’ll think of it eventually.”

“But he’s an old duffer. He leans into the role of old duffer.”

“Yeah—it’s cute on him.”

“If it was Reggie, now, I’d understand—he’s a bit long in the tooth, but kinda charming. Still has a youthful bounce. Not that I’d approve—but I’d understand,” Jack spoke slowly, thinking it over, still half in hope that Penny was kidding him.

“Too skinny. Oily. No, Dad, ask any woman what she thinks of Rupert Camphor, and she’ll tell you exactly what I’m telling you.”

“In ten or twenty years, he’ll be old. Actually old,” said Jack, almost pleadingly.

“And I’ll be respectably middle-aged myself—or anyway I can be if I decide to. It’ll be nice and relaxing.”

“But…but I don’t like Dr. Camphor! He’s a fuddy-duddy! And I repeat, he’s too old for you.”

“Remind me how old you were when you married Ma,” said Penny coolly.

“That was different,” said Jack, realizing as he said it that it sounded like a pretty weak argument. “Listen,” he said. “I’ve said I don’t like your doctor, and I guess I don’t. But that’s not the real issue here. You can’t stay here and marry anyone. You’ve gotta come back to America with me so you can start learning the jam business. And you can’t learn the jam business in America if you stay in England and marry a country GP.”

Penny blinked. “You want me to learn the jam business?”

Jack looked at his daughter with real dismay. “Well, yeah, that’s the idea. Thought I’d start you off as an apprentice as soon as we get back to America, give you a chance to get your feet wet, and then in a year or two I’d retire and you’d take over.”

“And you were planning to tell me this—when?” asked Penny, looking slightly queasy.

“It’s in the will,” said Jack. “And it’ll go in the new one, too. I thought you kinda knew. Don’t you want to take over?”

“The idea that I might hadn’t occurred to me.”

Jack waved this aside. “You see why Dr. Camphor isn’t a live proposition now, don’t you?”

Penny looked miserable. “This is a curveball you’ve pitched me right here, Pa. I gotta think. I was all settled in my mind, ready to be the wife of a country doctor over here in England, and liking the prospect just fine. But—the jam business! Gee! I’ve always liked the old firm, and I don’t wanna let the boys down. I know if we sell, it’ll be old Scumble who’ll buy—and he’ll just move his own jam guys in. Our boys’ll be out in the snow.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah—glad you see it.”

Penny blew up. “I see it? I see it? You’re talking like it’s all sewn up!”

“Well, isn’t it? Like you said, you can’t let the boys down,” said Jack. He made a face. “Besides—” and then he stopped. But it was too late.

“Besides, Dr. Camphor is a goofy old codger and you don’t like him,” said Penny angrily.

“Well, he is old,” said Jack.

“Not really. He’s forty-one. How old were you, again, when you married Ma?”

“But I was much younger-seeming than he is,” said Jack, knowing he shouldn’t but unable to stop himself.

“Ha ha—horse’s laugh to that,” said Penny. “Why in tarnation didn’t you tell me you were handing me the works?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” said Jack. “For your twenty-first birthday.”

They looked at this idea together for a moment, in mutual misery.

“Well…I think I’ll go to my room,” said Penny. And she drifted away. She closed the morning room door very gently behind her. Jack didn’t like that gentleness. It would have been a better sign if she’d banged it. Banging doors was normal for Penny when she was upset. He was still staring at the door, wondering how badly he’d messed things up, when it opened again and Lottie came in.

“Jack,” she said, smiling at him in a way that tugged at old heartstrings. “Hettie said I’d find you here. I wanted to ask you—now, what was it? Oh yes—did you tell Frank?”

“Yeah, I told him,” said Jack, surprised at the question. But then Lottie always had known what he was thinking. “Told him all about it. Cornered him while we were out fishing and let him have the straight dope.”

Lottie looked relieved. “Oh—that’s all right then. Or is it? I really don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.” And she turned to leave the room.

“Going back upstairs? I’ll walk you up. I gotta go write some letters anyway.” And he and Lottie walked arm in arm into the hallway—narrowly avoiding tripping over Kate, who was dusting right outside the morning room door.