‘I haven’t been staying at my flat. I had a few problems… but the answer is, possibly, it depends what it’s about.’
Bradley was quick to reassure her. ‘The company I represent was given the task of administering your great grandmother’s will. There is also a Family Protection Trust that she set up a couple of years ago. Mrs Alice Mollison was a relative of yours, I believe.’
‘That’s right, but it was Ms Mollison, she never married.’
‘Ah, I see, but I do have the right person. Ms Mollison was your relative?’
‘She was, I’ve just been at her graveside as it happens.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry to have disturbed you,’ Bradley Wilson said, sounding as if he genuinely meant it.
‘That’s okay, I’m back on Main Street now,’ replied Jessica.
‘Thank goodness for that. I would have felt guilty all day.’
Jessica felt that she liked the man already. Suddenly a light flashed in her brain.
‘Wilson. Beanney… Are you the same Wilson, Kendall and Beanney Solicitors that used to have a Godfrey Wilson as a partner?’
‘He was my great grandfather,’ said Bradley. Did you ever meet hi…? No, you can’t have, you’re far too young, Godfrey died about forty years ago.’
‘Alice knew him very well,’ replied Jess. ‘It looks like she’s been using your company’s services for eighty years or so.’
‘Now that’s what I call a loyal client,’ Bradley said with a laugh. ‘So, how should we proceed? Could you spare a little time to go over the details this week?’
‘I’m good all day tomorrow, and I’m okay again on Friday afternoon. I’m tied up the rest of the week.’
‘Friday afternoon it is then. I look forward to meeting you, Ms Griffiths. Shall we say, two o’clock. Our offices are in…’
‘I know where they are,’ replied Jess. ‘I drive past there most days.’ Jess didn’t mention the fact that she had parked up outside those offices whilst researching the novel she was about to write, using Alice’s hand written memoirs as the source material.
‘Fabulous. Until Friday then.’
The smooth-as-honey voice vanished, leaving Jess wondering why she felt so attracted to a man she had never met, what the heck a Family Protection Trust was, and how it would affect her life.
Chapter 3
‘You have to go back to your flat sometime, Babes. You must be sick of wearing the same clothes.’ Sam clicked ‘like’ on the Facebook post she’d been reading and looked across at her best friend.
‘I know, Sam. I’ve been telling myself that all week. I know you want the place to yourself but what happened really freaked me out. I used to love my flat, but after that shenanigans with Calvin, well, it just wouldn’t be the same now. It had a lovely atmosphere, but now he’s spoiled it.’
Sam sat on the sofa next to Jessica and put her hand on hers.
‘I’m not chucking you out, you silly mare. I just think it’s something you need to do, even if it’s just to get a car load of your clothes. You won’t get away with t shirt and jeans at the Sapphire bar on Saturday. They won’t let you in.’
‘I’m not sure I’m going if I’m honest, Sam. It’s not really my thing, and I don’t like playing gooseberry, you know that.’ Jess pulled a face.
‘Don’t be silly. Jamie won’t mind, he likes you.’ Sam patted her hand reassuringly.
‘I’d still be the spare in a three,’ Jess replied. She thought for a moment, then slapped both hands on her thighs and stood up. ‘Come on, I’ll get my big girl’s pants on and I’ll go back to the flat. There’s a solicitor’s letter I need to pick up anyway. I’m meeting him this afternoon.’
Sam got her keys from the mantle.
‘No going back on it this time, lady. You need to get inside that place again to let the emotional phantoms out. You’ve nothing to fear. Calvin has long gone, we took his keys, remember.’
Jess pulled on her overcoat and wrapped a white, knitted scarf around her neck. The weather had taken a cold turn during the last week.
As she climbed into Sam’s Volkswagen Golf, Jess’s mind went back to the last time she had been in the flat. The day her once funny, loving partner, Calvin had attacked her and tried to strangle Sam. The day her world had fallen apart, the day she received that awful phone call telling her that her beloved Nana was dying. Together they had managed to fight the deranged Calvin off and had thrown him out of the flat. She had heard nothing from him since, although he almost certainly knew where she was staying. She found herself continually staring in the rear-view mirror when she was out in the car in case he was following her and, at night, when Sam had gone to bed, she’d turn out the lights and peek through a crack in the curtains to see if he was keeping her under surveillance. Calvin wasn’t a man to give in when he thought he’d done nothing wrong, which was just about one hundred percent of the time.
It was a short drive across town. Sam pulled into the empty, double parking space, pulled on the handbrake and killed the engine. She turned her head to the left and gave Jess what she hoped was an encouraging smile.
‘Come on, tiger, let’s do this.’
Jess took a deep breath, undid her seatbelt and climbed out onto the tarmac. She looked nervously at the entrance to the flat, thought for a moment about getting back into the car, then summoned up all her courage and slammed the door behind her.
Sam clicked the lock button on her fob as if she had read Jess’s mind. She waved the key at her best friend. ‘Too late,’ she said.
Jess took another deep breath, reached into her bag, pulled out the flat keys and stepped smartly across to the front door. She slipped the key into the lock, turned it and pushed the heavy wooden door open.
She jumped as Sam put her hand on her left shoulder.
‘Shall I go first? He won’t be in there, love. His car isn’t here.’
‘I know,’ Jess replied. ‘It isn’t that…well, it is, but it’s mainly that I was so happy here for so long. Until those last few weeks, I was the happiest I had been in my life. Bloody Calvin.’
‘Try to remember the times before he moved in,’ Sam suggested. ‘The times I came around in the evenings and we’d get riotously drunk watching Dirty Dancing for the hundredth time.’
Jess bit her lip, put one foot on the doormat, then stepped back again. ‘I can’t…’
Sam slipped behind and gave Jess a two-armed push. She hurtled forwards and steadied herself at the foot of the stairs. ‘That’s cheating.’ She laughed nervously.
Sam pointed towards the landing. ‘Up, Missis,’ she ordered.
Jess climbed the stairs slowly. When she reached the top step, she stuck her head into the flat and looked left and right. The place seemed to be as they had left it a few weeks before. She blew out her cheeks and stepped into the open lounge. Sam followed, reassuring words on her tongue.
The flat was spotless. Jess tried to remember when she had last cleaned. It would have been her that did it. Cleaning was women’s work, as Calvin had often told her, and, he had insisted, it was her flat after all. Calvin was a stickler for cleanliness and didn’t like even a single cushion to be out of place, but he drew the line at starting up the Dyson himself. He had once called Jess into the bathroom and showed her a smudge of dirt on the floor of the shower. She had had to clean it and rinse off the chemical spray before he would go in.
‘Let’s be fair, Jess, you wouldn’t like to have athletes’ foot, either.’
Jess, who had never suffered from the fungal infection, had said nothing and went back to making their lunch.
Jess wandered into the kitchen, filled the empty kettle and put it back on the stand. ‘We may as well have a coffee while we’re here.’
She reached into the cupboard and took out a jar of good-quality instant. Calvin’s designer packet of Barista was in its place on the bottom shelf. On impulse she picked it up and shook it. I’m sure that was almost used up, she thought. She remembered Calvin complain
ing that he’d be running out soon and needed a top up when she did the weekly shop.
Puzzled, Jess walked through to the bedroom. The bed was made, but there was nothing of his in the bedside cabinet, nor anything in the built-in wardrobe. It was the same in the spare room.
Jess breathed a sigh of relief. Sam had helped her clear all his things out the morning after Nana had died. They had left his stuff outside on the parking bay as they had promised they would. She hoped he was there in time to pick it all up before the local lads spotted it. She hadn’t hung around long enough to find out.
She tutted at herself for caring, and walked through to the bathroom. Just inside the door she stopped and sniffed. Tom Ford aftershave, there was no mistaking it. Calvin was the only man she had ever known that used it. It was just too expensive for most people. Jess couldn’t even afford to buy it for him as a Christmas present.
‘Blimey, that scent hangs around,’ she said aloud.
Sam came into the bathroom and handed Jess a mug of coffee. She sipped her own and sniffed.
‘Ugh. I have expensive tastes myself as you well know, but I never could understand why anyone would pay hundreds of pounds for that muck. It’s awful.’
‘You get used to it,’ replied Jess. ‘And, if you can still smell it weeks after you dabbed it on, then it might explain the cost.’
‘Nothing lasts that long in the air,’ said Sam suspiciously. ‘Oh shit,’ she said and pointed to the lavatory seat.
Jess groaned as she saw the envelope sitting on the closed, grey, lid.
‘Shit,’ she echoed. Turning on her heels, she hurried out into the lounge.
Sam found her sitting on the sofa with her head in her hands when she followed a few seconds later, the letter in her right hand. She put her coffee mug on the table and set next to Jess.
‘Shall we burn it, shred it or dissolve it in hydrochloric acid?’ she asked.
Jess sighed heavily and took the letter from her friend. On the front was the single word ‘Jess’ written in his elegant handwriting, it was surrounded by a drawing of a broken heart. With shaking hands, Jess tore it open and slid out a single page. She wiped a tear from her cheek and unfolded the letter.
My Darling, Jess
So, it has come to this.
Never, even in my worst nightmare did I think I would have to write this letter. I thought we were bonded together, solid, unbreakable. I thought our love was a thing of pure beauty and could never die.
I hope we can put this thing behind us and start over. I have already forgiven you for your over reaction and I hope you can forgive me for any perceived failings. I didn’t mean this to happen, I honestly didn’t. I like Sam and I would never want to hurt her, but I was forced into a corner by lies and jealousy and I did what I tend to do when I find myself in those circumstances, and tried to defend myself as best I could. I was forced to do similar things as a child, at home when my father turned on me. It’s not something I like to shout about, but it kept me alive back then. I suppose I don’t know my own strength when I’m cornered and in fear. I hope Sam is okay, please give her my best regards. I know I probably frightened her and I really regret that.
The thing is, Jess, I was going through a bad patch. I was struggling to find work, and you, my usual reliable rock, was spending all your time with your Nana. I can understand why you did that, but I felt lost and alone over that last couple of weeks. You were always there for me in the past, and I didn’t know who I could turn to.
I ended up falling into Tania’s trap. She had been trying to tempt me for weeks, cornering me after the classes I gave at Uni, following me into the café when I dropped in for coffee. I wouldn’t normally have been so weak, but I was so lost, my darling, I just needed the company.
I’m not blaming you, or Nana, for it. Sometimes things can’t be helped and this was one of those times. If Nana hadn’t fallen ill when she did, none of this would ever have happened. It was just fate, trying to test us.
I haven’t been in touch by phone or text because I thought I’d give you a chance to calm down. I know you were upset by the whole thing and your Nana’s death won’t have helped with that.
You may have news about her will by the way. There is a solicitor’s letter with a few others, mainly junk mail and bills, in the drawer of the coffee table. I hope there are good tidings inside.
Don’t forget your friends when you are rich. Ha Ha.
Speaking of money. I’m managing to survive by doing a bit of home tutoring and I’ve been sofa surfing for a while. I really could do with moving back in here, but the rent and utility bills are due and I don’t have the funds to pay them. I don’t know if you mean to keep the place on or whether you’ve moved in with Sam, permanently. Could we meet up here, or on neutral ground, to discuss things? I’m really getting a bit desperate now.
All my stuff is in a friend’s garage and it’s a right pain when I need something. When I say friend, he only put me up for a few nights. He said his girlfriend didn’t feel right having sex, with me sleeping on the sofa. I snuck back in here for the odd night, though I only brought a bag with me, I didn’t want to move all my stuff back before I knew we were going to be all right again. I always kept a spare key in the car. I know that was a bit naughty of me but I was scared of losing the main set you gave me and being locked out.
So, Jess, my darling. I hope you have calmed down. Even if Sam can’t forgive me, I think that maybe you can. We had so much, let’s not throw it away over a silly moment brought on by extreme stress.
We were so good as a partnership, Jess. We were meant to be together. I even gave up my mother to be with you, she didn’t think you were good enough for me, but I didn’t care.
Please leave your reply where you found this. I’ll pick it up the next time I’m passing. I always ring the bell before I let myself in, just in case you’re here.
My love for you remains as strong as it ever was and I think, deep down, you feel the same.
Please don’t throw it all away now. Take your time and remember what we had.
I love you.
Calvin.
Xxxx
When she had finished reading, Jess dropped the letter on the coffee table and burst into floods of angry tears. Sam wrapped her arms around her.
Eventually, Jess stopped sobbing, eased herself out of Sam’s arms, and still sniffing, pulled a tissue from the box on the coffee table and blew her nose.
Sam picked up the letter. ‘Do you mind if I read it?’
Jess nodded and blew her nose again.
‘He’s right, we did have a lovely relationship once.’
Sam snorted as she reached the part about her.
‘Arrogant bastard… Sorry, what was that?’
‘I’m just saying. It wasn’t all bad. We were really close for a long time.’
‘What! Jess, please tell me you aren’t considering taking him back? You have to be kidding me.’
She stared hard at Jessica, who dropped her head and began to sob again.
Chapter 4
Martha lay on her side, her turban-covered head nestled into the deep pile of down pillows. Her bedside clock read four minutes past seven.
‘Late again,’ she said under her breath.
She rolled onto her back and studied the thick crack in the ceiling that she was sure had spread further over the last few days. She would have liked to get it fixed but the young man she had booked to give her a quote had looked like a bit of a rogue builder, although he claimed to be a member of the Master Builder’s Federation. Martha didn’t believe a word of it, there were a lot of rogues about these days. At one time you could get a local builder who would take pride in his work, knowing that if he messed up, the word would quickly get about, but now, all the trades seem to come from a minimum of twenty miles away and they wouldn’t give a damn about receiving a complaint. Just look at that Rogue Traders program on TV. The country was full of cowboy builders.
Only last week
, old Mrs Hardy a few houses down the lane had been told by a ‘passing builder’ that the roof of her old bungalow looked in danger of collapse. After an inspection, he blew out his cheeks, shook his head and told her it couldn’t be repaired for a penny under ten thousand pounds. The silly old woman had agreed to have the work done, but luckily her son came over to visit at the weekend and he had brought in his best friend, a builder himself, to have a look. Finding no fault, he suggested they ring the police. Mrs Hardy’s son, who was no saint, was reluctant to get them involved, so he just rang the number on the card she had been given, and cancelled the job, warning the builder that he was onto him and he shouldn’t show his face around the area any time soon.
Martha scratched an itch just below her right eye and looked towards the door.
‘Marjorie, where in God’s name have you got to?’ she muttered.
She shook her head and thought about the meeting with the solicitor later that day. With just the tiniest, and long awaited, bit of luck she so thoroughly deserved, she wouldn’t have to worry about the cost of repairing a crack in the ceiling ever again. She could afford to get the modern equivalent of Sir Christopher Wren to do the job if she felt like it. An unexpected mention in her late mother’s will could mean she would never want for money again. The old girl had been loaded when she died. The big, old farmhouse she had lived in and the couple of acres of land around it, must be worth at least three quarters of a million pounds these days. Then there were the proceeds of her land sales. The farm had once boasted a hundred acres but Alice’s astute selling of parcels of land had netted her a fortune over the years. She had invested a lot of the money in London property and stocks and shares. God knows how much those assets were worth now.
The Legacy: Trouble Comes Disguised As Family (Unspoken Book 2) Page 2