The Man in the Street

by Martin Howe

  The room smelled of freshly ground coffee and seemed lighter than David remembered it. He had only been here once before as part of his induction programme when he joined the company just over a year earlier. The view was unchanged – the traffic surging down High Holborn ten floors below – otherwise he wouldn’t have known it was the same place.

  He had arrived early, just by a couple of minutes, but he was the first one there and the secretary had shown him into the office in silence. His department had been given no advance notice of the meeting, just a terse top-line message when they had arrived that morning – “Briefing in Larry’s office on the future at 1300 today, all should attend. Sandwiches will be provided” – and he wasn’t sure all his colleagues would be able to make it. David had a feeling this was going to be the “crunch” meeting when their fate would be revealed, others had not been so sure – “He’ll just be laying out his plans for the future of the company”, “How we fit into the corporate strategy, that sort of thing.”

  There had been rumours of changes ever since Larry Beckinsale had been appointed Chief Executive a few months before. David had decided he’d better take a note of what was said, but realized that he’d brought a pad but no pen. The office was bare, as he looked furtively round, all surfaces clear. It was annoying. David trusted his instincts even though they were wrong as often as they were right, largely because he was a pessimist and enjoyed looking on the dark side of things. He now felt uneasy and as the minutes ticked by he became more and more depressed. His discomfort put David in mind of another meeting many years before – it had been the week of his seventeenth birthday and he was still unhappily at school re-sitting his O-levels – that had started with the same nervous wait, the same sick feeling in the stomach and, as he remembered it, had ended in profound disappointment.

  The offices of Messrs. Evans, Barmthwaite and Craddock, Solicitors, were located above Millers, the local grocer on Bridge Road, the main street of Dumpton Gap. A narrow black door with a shiny brass knocker opened off the pavement directly onto a steep stairway that led up, via a sharp right-hand bend, to the cramped reception area, where a Miss Collins had her desk, typewriter and a large brown Bakelite telephone. She had seemed flustered when David, his brother Daniel, their mother and father and Uncle Freddy had arrived out of breath, fearing they were late.

  “There was no need to rush,” she snapped, “Mr Evans sends his apologies but ummm…” She coughed loudly and dabbed at her mouth with a handkerchief, cheeks flushing she continued, “… he’s tied up with another…er…client. He shouldn’t be long, please take a seat. I would offer you a cup of tea but we’ve run out of milk.”

  She sat down and began typing a letter. The percussive tapping of the keys reverberated around the wood and glass partitioned ante-room as the Coxon-Dyet family sat in embarrassed silence. David fidgeted with his collar – it was too tight and he was not used to wearing a tie – and watched a fly buzzing in tight circles around an electric fan set in the clouded glass panel above Miss Collins’ desk. He was happy to be missing a day of school, but nervous of anything to do with his grandfather. He didn’t want to be here.

  “It’s important you come David, it really is,” his mother had said when he’d pulled a face at the news of the family trip to the solicitors, “he would have expected it. He really would. Come on, you liked him. He certainly had a soft spot for you.”

  David did agree with that.

  His uncle Freddy suddenly broke in.

  “It’s bloody typical Stephen, everything to do with this business of Dad’s is a problem. I’m fed up with the whole thing.”

  “Please Freddy, not now, the children are here.”

  “It’s all very well.”

  “I’m not a child,” said Daniel. He was three years younger than David and sensitive about his age. Perplexed Freddy glanced at him and then continued.

  “It’s alright for you Helen, but you didn’t have to put up with him all your life. You think you’ve come to terms with everything. Never see the old bugger and then he springs all this on us … it’s bloody…, bloody too much I can tell you.”

  “You didn’t have to come, you know, if it’s too painful. Stephen and I could have sorted it out.”

  Freddy looked at her aghast but said nothing. He then stood up.

  “I’m going out for a fag, give me a shout when he turns up will you.”

  They listened to his heavy footsteps descending the stairs and heard the front door slam shut. Then his mother turned to David and spoke in a whisper.

  “He’s only jealous you know. He’s come all this way out of curiosity to see how much his father was worth, but he knows he’ll get nothing. Mind you neither will your dad. Both of them never had much time for the old man, but you love, you were his favourite, you should do alright. You mark my words.”

  “Oh Mum, I’m not bothered.”

  “Don’t be daft, this could set you up nicely. A tidy little nest egg to get you started when you leave school. You can’t go on sponging off your old mum and dad forever you know. Mind you, you’d better bear us in mind if you get it all. Remember everything we’ve done for you.”

  She leaned over and pinched David’s cheek shaking it roughly.

  “Mum, that hurt.”

  “What about me, won’t I get anything?”

  “Oh Danny darling, I’m sure there’ll be something for you. You got on with old grandad didn’t you?”

  “But I hardly ever saw him. You wouldn’t take me. It was David who got to see him. It’s not fair. I always miss out, ’cause I’m the youngest.”

  “Come on Danny it’s not like that. I’ve told you before. Anyway, whatever happens David will share whatever he gets with you, won’t you son?”

  David had been feigning lack of interest, but was intrigued at the prospect of getting his hands on some money. He had been sitting there pondering what he would spend it on – a motorbike and record player were top of the list. As his mother spoke a wondrous thought struck him, he would buy Penny the necklace she wanted and then he could ask her to spend the night with him over at John’s one weekend. It was a delight dwelling on the prospect of seeing her body, long legs and pale skin, all his to do what he wanted with.

  The thought of sharing his new found wealth with his brother was not a happy one and he almost cried out at the prospect. He got on with Daniel, but the idea of his brother coming between him and a naked Penny didn’t bear thinking about.

  “We’ll see, maybe,” was all he said as he crossed his legs. There was the sound of steps on the stairs. Freddy appeared cigarette still in hand, “He’s here.” Close behind him was the solicitor, Mr Evans, sweating, an anxious look on his ruddy face. He was breathing heavily and leant against his Secretary’s desk to regain his composure. After adjusting his tie and glancing at a mirror hanging on the wall, he took out a comb and ran it swiftly through the thin strands of hair plastered across the top of his bald head and patted them gently into place. Satisfied he turned to face his clients. Freddy bent over and stubbed his cigarette out in the green metal wastepaper bin under the desk. He took great care to extinguish it, all the time staring at Miss Collins’ legs, which were stretched out either side of the bin. She was too absorbed in her work to notice, but Mr Evans caught Freddy’s eye as he stood up. David had never seen his uncle so florid before and thought he should cut down on smoking.

  “Mr and Mrs Coxon-Dyet, Mr Coxon-Dyet, David and Daniel, that’s right isn’t it? I’m very sorry to have kept you waiting. I had to check something with an associate and it took much longer than I anticipated. Do forgive me. Please come into my office.”

  He opened a door in one of the partition walls and held it open as they passed through.

  “Has Daphne been looking after you? I do hope so. Tea everyone? I know I could do with a cup. Daphne.”

  “Mr Evans, we haven’t any milk
.”

  “Get some will you. Use your initiative.”

  “But Mr Evans.”

  “Look, these good people would like some tea, so can you please see to it.”

  He shut the door, shook his head in a co-conspiratorial way, straightened his tie, pulled down the front of his suit jacket, then walked across to his desk, positioned in a large bay window that overlooked the main street of the village. The Coxon-Dyet’s sat down on chairs arranged in a row facing him.

  “It’s just like school”, muttered Freddy and Daniel, who was sitting next to him, giggled.

  Leather bound legal books lined the walls and piles of papers and rolls of documents, all tied with ribbons, were heaped on and beside the desk and along the partition wall behind them. The air was heavy with dust and David sneezed.

  “It is a problem all these papers, but I’m afraid it’s an occupational hazard.” Mr Evans laughed self-consciously. “Here let me open the window, it’s such a lovely day.”

  David managed to blurt out his thanks, before he was again convulsed by sneezing.

  “I must be allergic to something.”

  “Would you like to get some fresh air? We could reconvene again in a few minutes when you’re feeling better?”

  “No, no I’ll be fine.”

  “Very well then, if you are sure.”

  David nodded. Mr Evans reached into the top drawer of his desk and took out a folder, glanced inside, then placed it on his desk. Then he very deliberately opened a battered black spectacle case, took out a gold-rimmed pair of half-moon reading glasses and placed them carefully on his nose. He looked up and waited until he had everyone’s attention.

  “Let me begin by saying how sorry I am at your loss of a dear relative. It is particularly painful for me as I knew the Reverend Anthony Coxon-Dyet very well. Indeed l had known him for many years, ever since he came to the village as a young vicar, and I don’t think it is too presumptuous of me to say that we had become friends. It was therefore a great shock to learn of his death, particularly as I am almost certain that I was the last person to see him alive. He came to me you know just before he died. The very day, just before Christmas last year. Funny it seems just like yesterday. It was most irregular.”

  He took off his glasses and polished them on a starched white handkerchief he plucked from his breast pocket.

  “I never see clients at home and certainly never in the evening, but you know he was a friend and as it happened I wasn’t doing anything in particular, so I thought I’d make an exception in his case. Anyway Anthony, I hope you don’t mind me calling him Anthony?”

  “He preferred Tony,” David said his eyes watering.

  “I never knew that. In all those years he never said anything. Well, I am surprised.”

  His voice trailed off and he stared out of the window. David’s father glanced at his wife then said, “He answered to both and no, we don’t mind you using either. Now can we get on.”

  It was the first thing he had said since they had arrived in the village.

  “Yes sorry. Where was I? Yes he was good company, Tony, so I agreed to see him. But it was a surprise when he told me what he wanted. That he needed to change his will.”

  Freddy leaned forward and looked at his brother.

  “You mean he changed his will just before he died?”

  “Yes, obviously at the time there was no way I could know that was the case. He did seem a bit on edge and I tried to talk him out of it. I told him it was late and couldn’t we do it in the office in the morning. But he was most insistent and appealed to our friendship, so in the end I agreed. My wife and I witnessed the whole affair and he was with us less than an hour and then he was gone, pleading work to be done and that was the last time I ever saw him.”

  Freddy was shocked at what he had heard.

  “Did he say why he had to change it then? Why it couldn’t be done in the morning?”

  “Well, he just kept saying he’d had a change of heart and he wanted to sort things out. Simplify things as he put it. If he didn’t do it now, he might forget. He said he needed to rewrite his will and please, as a friend, would I do it and not ask any more questions.”

  “But he couldn’t do that could he? It’s not legal is it?”

  “It is. Anybody’s entitled to change their will as they see fit, provided they are, of course, of sound mind and not under any duress. And there was no reason at the time to think that was not the case with Anthony. Obviously, in the light of events I was obliged to report what had happened to the police. They are satisfied that the change to the will had no direct bearing on Tony’s death and I am, therefore, able to read the will to you.”

  “I’m not happy about this.”

  “Freddy shut up will you. I doubt either of us were going to get anything under either will, so let’s hear what’s in it and then we can be gone.”

  “Look I understand your concerns, but let me assure you that as things stand this is a legal and binding document. Relatives obviously can challenge a will, but they do need very firm grounds for doing so. It is not something that should be entered into lightly as it can be an expensive business.”

  “We understand, now let’s get this done with.”

  Mr Evans peered over his glasses and looked at each person in the room in turn.

  “If we are all agreed?”

  He took a single sheet of paper out of the folder on his desk, coughed once and began to read in a deliberate, sonorous voice, clearly enunciating each word. David couldn’t help smiling, the tension was excruciating and it was hard for him to contain his excitement. He would soon be rich.

  “This is the last will and testament of the Reverend Anthony, William, Sidney Coxon-Dyet, currently residing at Flat 2, Penrose Mansions, the High Street, Dumpton Gap, Somerset and dated the 3rd of December 1975. I revoke all previous wills and codicils and I appoint as my sole executor Peter Erskine of 39 Macclesfield Terrace, Birmingham and I leave everything I own to him. Signed Anthony Coxon…”

  “Hold on,” Freddy’s voice was questioning, surprised. He was looking at his brother as he spoke. Stephen gazed back with a puzzled expression on his face.

  “…Dyet, witnessed by Peter Gareth Evans and …”

  “Look, who the hell…”

  “… please let me finish.”

  David was confused. He couldn’t believe what he had heard. He knew his grandfather loved him. But he’d been left nothing. His left eye began to flicker.

  “… and Dorothy Patricia Rosemary Evans. I understand this must be a surprise.“

  “You’re telling me, who is he?”

  “He’s one of his boys, isn’t he?”

  David’s mother covered her mouth with her hand as the shocked realization of what she had said sank in.

  “Oh my God.”

  The room fell silent. Mr Evans shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

  “I’m afraid I know very little about him. I have no recollection of him ever having stayed at the vicarage. I assume that’s what you are referring to?”

  Blushing, Helen nodded her head.

  “As the local solicitor I dealt with most of them – the boys as you call them – at one time or another. When they came before the courts that sort of thing and I have no records of him. He’s certainly not a local lad. I’ll be writing to him at the address that’s given and doubtless I’ll learn more. The police have been in touch with him, but they’ve not told me anything. You obviously don’t know him?”

  David’s father shook his head.

  “Never known an Erskine, the name means nothing.”

  “Me neither.”

  Freddy was leaning back in his chair, a faintly disgusted expression on his round full face.

  “He had all sorts of boys there, didn’t he? Is it one of those that took him to court?”<
br />
  David’s mother was deeply ashamed of what she was saying, but couldn’t help herself. Her hands twisted convulsively in her lap as she spoke and a hint of perspiration glistened on her top lip. David had never seen her so agitated.

  “Oh my God.”

  “Mrs Coxon-Dyet, I acted for your father-in-law in both the cases to which you refer. In the first – the allegations of gross indecency were shown conclusively to have been a tissue of lies concocted by two young lads who Anthony had taken in and encouraged to join the choir. They abused the confidence he had placed in them and he suffered for it. It was deeply embarrassing for a man in his position, but the verdict of the court totally exonerated him. There was never any question in anybody’s mind in the village that he could have done such a thing. The boys in question have long since left the area and I can assure you neither of them was called Peter Erskine. A handkerchief Mrs Coxon-Dyet?”

  Helen was crying quietly to herself.

  “Mum?”

  David touched her gently on the back.

  “Give over Helen, we can do without the waterworks. It’s not as if we were expecting anything from the old git anyway.”

  “Stephen, please.”

  “Leave her alone will you Stephen, that’s not the point. It’s family money, we don’t want it going to any old Tom, Dick or Harry.”

  “That’s right Stephen, what about David? He liked David, why’s he got nothing?”

  “I dunno. I’m just sick of all this. He got up my nose when he was alive and he’s getting up it again now he’s dead.”