by Liz Eeles
She folds her arms and glares at Toby, who taps his finger on the manila folder. Tap-tap-tap.
‘Do you see what I have to put up with in Salt Bay? It’s utterly ridiculous.’
Emmanuel ignores him, gives a tiny cough and pushes his glasses up his long, thin nose. ‘Shall we get on if everyone is here? I do have another appointment at 12.30.’ He glances again at the paper in front of him. ‘This is the last will and testament of Alice Jean Gowan, made before witnesses on October the seventeenth of last year.’
‘October the seventeenth of when?’ A deep furrow has appeared between Toby’s eyebrows. ‘That can’t be right. Alice made her will a few years ago.’
‘Mrs Gowan made a new will five years ago, Mr Trebarwith. I remember you coming into the office with her. But she had her carer bring her in a few months ago in order to supersede her previous will with this updated one.’
‘Did you know about this?’ Toby turns towards me and sniffs in disbelief when I shake my head. ‘Did that Emily girl know about it? Did she tell you Alice had—?’
‘Mrs Gowan sent her carer away and had her come back and collect her later,’ interrupts Emmanuel, who’s starting to look thoroughly peeved. ‘She wasn’t the kind of woman who wanted others to know her business.’
‘OK, mate.’ When Kayla crosses her long, bare legs, Elliott almost faints. ‘So cut to the chase then. What does the new will say?’
Kayla’s never backward in coming forward. She claims it’s a traditional Aussie trait though Roger reckons it’s simply rudeness. Which is rich from possibly the rudest man in the Western Hemisphere.
Emmanuel glances through the papers in front of him and sighs. ‘I can give you a full copy of the will to read at your leisure but the main points are as follows: “I, Mrs Alice Jean Gowan—”’
‘Yes, yes, you’ve already done that bit,’ says Toby, breathing rapidly. Tiny beads of sweat are scattered across his forehead and glistening in the sunlight coming through the wonky window panes.
Emmanuel gives the faintest of smiles. ‘I, Mrs Alice Jean Gowan, leave Tregavara House and its contents to my great-niece Annabella Sunshine Trebarwith, on the proviso that Emily Trengrouse shall live there for as long as she wishes.’
‘Get in!’ yells Kayla, punching the air. ‘Alice Jean Gowan, what a total beaut!’
Toby has jumped to his feet, but I’m frozen to my chair, unable to move, unable to breathe. Tregavara House belongs to me?
‘What on earth is happening?’ blusters Toby, his face puce and damp patches spreading under the arms of his expensive shirt. ‘She can’t leave the house to a woman she only met for the first time last year! My cousin has been manipulated and I’m going to fight this every step of the way.’ He places both palms on the desk and thinks for a second. ‘Alice had dementia, you know.’
‘Ooh, that’s low,’ yells Kayla. ‘Alice had all her marbles and was as sharp as any of us. She certainly knew what you were like.’
‘Will everyone please be quiet!’ barks Emmanuel. ‘Take your seats because I haven’t finished reading the will yet and this is most irregular.’
‘Oh dear Lord, is there more? What a wicked old bat. Rest assured I’m going to fight this every inch of the way.’ Toby sinks into his seat and puts his head in his hands.
‘There is indeed more.’ Emmanuel clears his throat again and starts reading. ‘To my dear cousin, Toby Trebarwith, I leave a family heirloom, the painting of The Lady.’
Toby’s head snaps up. ‘She’s left me the painting? The one by Van Teel? Oh Alice, how generous of you.’
‘Oh, puhleez.’ Kayla glares at Toby. ‘You’d better hope Annie doesn’t claim the painting back if Alice had dementia and didn’t know what she was doing.’
‘I misspoke because I was upset that Alice had forgotten me,’ says Toby, smiling broadly, ‘but now I’ll always have the painting to remind me of her.’
No, he won’t. The painting will be sold as fast as Toby’s pudgy fingers can enter it into the next art auction where he works. And he’ll soon have a big wodge of cash instead. Estimates put the painting at around three-quarters of a million pounds which is more than the house must be worth. But I couldn’t give a monkey’s. All that matters is we don’t have to move out and leave Salt Bay.
‘Are you all right, Miss Trebarwith?’ asks Emmanuel. ‘Would you like Elliott to get you a glass of water?’
I shake my head, unable to speak.
It’s a shame the family painting will be sold but Alice, lovely Alice, must have seen that as a price worth paying to keep Toby off my back. She didn’t know he was Freya’s father when she made her new will, but she obviously pretty much had the measure of Toby. And I’m beyond touched that she judged me to be the better custodian of her beloved house.
‘So now you’ve got your hands on the painting, Toby, you’re not going to kick off about the house. Is that right?’ Kayla nudges me to get involved in the conversation as Toby’s lip curls into a sneer.
‘Tregavara House is old and battered and will prove to be a financial millstone around Annie’s neck. Have you seen the state of the roof? And when it does prove too much, and you come begging for help, Annie, don’t expect me to pay top dollar for what should rightfully be mine.’
I swallow, finding my voice at last. ‘I honestly didn’t plan for this to happen, Toby, and I didn’t know about the new will. Tregavara House has been in the Trebarwith family for generations and it’s true I’ve not been around for long. But I’ll take care of it, I promise. And you can come and stay whenever you’re visiting Freya and bring her round. Things can stay like they are at the moment.’
‘When can I have the painting?’ Toby asks Emmanuel, totally blanking me. But I hardly notice his surly behaviour. Toby can huff and puff as much as he likes and Tregavara House will still belong to me. Me, the girl who’s never owned as much as a car before.
I can hardly believe it. Two years ago I was living in a rented London flat with no relatives, no significant other and no responsibilities. And now I have a family, a steady boyfriend and a house. A big, falling-down house.
Toby’s words about millstones and battered roofs start nudging at my brain but I close my eyes and send up a promise to my beloved great-aunt. Alice, I won’t let you down.
Eight
I’m totally rubbish at work all afternoon. In my defence, it’s hard to show interest in what the chief exec’s doing next Wednesday when I’ve just become a property owner, when the girl who grew up moving from one grotty inner London flat to another has inherited a forever house in a place that feels like home.
I’m still in shock and don’t say anything to Josh when he texts from school to say he hopes the will reading wasn’t too upsetting. Some news is so momentous, it needs to be shared face to face.
And though Lesley and Gayle ask how it went and can tell something’s up from my general uselessness, I keep my answers vague. They’re both broke and the funding situation at work is uncertain so it seems insensitive to announce I’ve just been given a kick-arse house.
A kick-arse house in need of serious dosh – the bloke who patched up the roof warned me a new one would be needed before long, and Emmanuel said something about inheritance tax as I was leaving. But a house nonetheless and I can sort out any problems later. That’s what I tell myself when I buy a huge bar of Dairy Milk from the vending machine in reception and scoff it until I feel sick.
Nothing has physically changed when I get home from work. Tregavara House is still a handsome granite building standing where land meets sea. But it feels different when I turn my key in the lock and step into the hallway. These worn flagstones are mine, and the twisted-wood banisters and the intricate plaster coving too. This is my home and no one can throw me out. Wow, this owning property thing is really blowing my mind.
The first thing I do after kicking off my sandals is run upstairs to Alice’s bedroom. It is exactly as she left it. A faint scent of lily of the valley lingers in t
he air – an echo of Alice – and I often go into her room and sit on the bed. It’s been almost three weeks since my great-aunt died and her floral smell is gradually fading. But for now it envelops me like a hug whenever I perch on the edge of her four-poster.
Sitting on the soft bed, I can picture Alice standing at the window in her pink pyjamas and waving to her adoring public. Was that only last month? Now the candlewick dressing gown she wore is hanging limply on the back of her bedroom door and I’ll have to do something with it eventually. Maybe take it to a charity shop? A wave of grief overwhelms me and I press the balls of my fists into my eyes. All of Alice’s possessions will need to be sorted through and some disposed of, but not yet.
‘Thank you, Alice, for entrusting your most precious possession into my care,’ I whisper into empty space. ‘But are you sure? Toby’s right that I only knew you for a little while so maybe the house should be his. Am I up to looking after this place?’
But there’s no answer. There never will be an answer from Alice.
The fists-in-eyes thing isn’t working and tears start streaming down my face. Here we go. Some women are genteel criers with trembling lips and pink cheeks – think Anne Hathaway all dewy-eyed in a romcom – whereas I am the Gorgon of Sobbing. There’s gulping and puffy cheeks and snot. So much snot… and Storm is just the same. Being crap at crying must be genetic. But sometimes you just have to give in and let it all go.
And it’s while I’m ugly-sobbing that the answer drops into my brain. Alice wanted me to have this house because Toby doesn’t need it or love it like I do. This house is full of Trebarwith history and I belong here. That’s what she knew and now I just have to believe it too.
Five minutes later, when my rasping sobs have turned into tiny hiccups, the front door slams so hard the polished floorboards in Alice’s room judder. Which can mean only one thing – Storm is home and I can share my momentous news at last.
I scrub my cheeks with a tissue and head for the hall to find that Storm and Emily have come in together. Emily’s been for an interview for an office job in Trecaldwith and hit the shops on the way home, judging by the bulging supermarket bags she’s carrying.
‘I don’t mean to be harsh, but you look gross. What’s happened to your face?’ demands Storm. ‘Is Toby evicting us? There’s no way I’m going back to London and moving in with Mugger Mike ’cos he’s a grade one crack head.’
‘There’ll be no moving in with Mugger Mike. In fact, no moving at all.’
‘You what?’ pouts Storm. ‘Has your awful cousin decided that we can stay in his house after all?’
‘It’s nothing to do with my awful cousin any more because it’s not his house. Alice made a new will last year and the house now belongs to me.’
Emily screams – properly screams – and drops her bags, which thunk onto the hall floor. There’s a sharp crack as something glass inside shatters. Then she throws herself into my arms, swiftly followed by Storm, who’s not a huggy person at all.
We’re group-hugging, half laughing and half crying, when the front door swings open and Josh steps in. He’s looking gorgeous in smart chinos and a white linen shirt that’s extra bright against his black hair.
‘What the hell’s going on? Your phone’s been off for hours and I wanted to tell you about a house I’ve found for us in Trecaldwith. It’s perfect.’ He waves the property pages from the local newspaper at us.
‘We don’t need a perfect house in stupid Trecaldwith ’cos the old lady left this house to Annie,’ yells Storm in my ear, jumping up and down on my toes.
Josh freezes for a moment before dropping his heavy satchel onto Alice’s poor tiles. My poor tiles! Then he strides forward and throws his arms around the huddle. My sometimes-buttoned-up boyfriend is joining in a group hug! This day keeps on getting more surreal.
‘Sorry to be all mysterious and incommunicado but I wanted to tell you in person,’ I tell him over Emily’s head, which is buried in my shoulder. ‘It’s good news, isn’t it? Don’t you think it’s great?’
There’s the slightest of hesitations before Josh grins broadly and grasps my hand. ‘I think your great-aunt was a class act.’
‘She left me the house and left Toby the painting of The Lady.’
‘Huh. Seems fitting seeing as the painting is what he’s always wanted the most.’
‘Mind you, he says the house will be a millstone around my neck and too expensive to keep going.’
My excitement is pierced by cold, hard reality and the fizzy feeling that’s been rushing around my body starts to evaporate. How can I afford to keep Tregavara House going when I don’t earn much, Emily’s hardly earning at all and Josh is strapped for cash? He’s still paying back the loan he took out last year to keep his family’s head above water when his mum was ill and Toby wasn’t contributing towards Freya’s keep.
But Josh grasps hold of my hand and holds it tight. ‘We’ll manage, Annie. Whatever happens, we’ll manage it together. All of us.’
‘Yeah, all of us,’ mumbles Storm, her cheek pressed up tight against my hair. ‘We’ll prove your lame cousin wrong and do the old lady proud. You’ll see.’
And as we all stand there hugging, the back of my neck starts to prickle and I get the strangest feeling that Alice is watching us from the stairs. And she’s smiling.
Nine
It’s only a few days since Mr Thistleton dropped his bombshell but everyone in the village knows – of course, because blabbermouth Kayla was there. And everyone seems delighted. No one other than Toby seems to think I started living with Alice to get my avaricious hands on her house and the sitting room mantelpiece is covered in Welcome to Your New Home cards.
Technically, my home is not ‘new’ but Jennifer – never one to miss a retail opportunity – has persuaded people to buy the job lot of cards she got in specially. But she’s pleased for me too. The last time I went into her shop, she gave me a rather stiff hug and declared me ‘a true daughter of Salt Bay’. Which is totally over the top but lovely, nonetheless.
The only person who doesn’t seem delighted is Josh. I’m used to my gorgeous boyfriend being quiet and his brooding, introverted vibe can be knee-tremblingly sexy. But this is something else. Josh, still loving and supportive to all of us, has clammed up as though he’s frightened of what he might say. And though at first I kid myself he’s simply tired from working or missing Alice, inside I know it’s more than that. His hesitation on hearing of my inheritance might have been brief but it was long enough to set alarm bells ringing.
So a week after the will-reading, I grab Josh’s hand when he passes me in the hallway, push open the door to the cellar and pull him down the dusty wooden stairs. A bare bulb swinging back and forth above our heads casts moving pools of light and shade across the bare brick walls.
‘Whoah, what’s going on?’ Josh moves closer and puts his arms around my waist. ‘I’m all for making out in new places but the damp down here has been terrible since the flood and it’s absolutely freezing. We’ll get hypothermia.’
When he kisses the tip of my nose, his lips warm my cold skin.
‘That’s not why I brought you down here. I just needed some peace away from Storm and Emily so we can have a conversation.’
‘What sort of conversation?’ asks Josh, letting me go. He runs a hand across the ancient bricks and frowns at the moisture on his fingers.
‘A conversation about the house and why you’ve gone all weird about it.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fine.’
‘No, you’re not. You’re distracted, which is why I need to know how you feel about me taking it on.’
Josh, who’s rifling through a wooden crate filled with rusty gardening tools, stops and looks up. ‘You didn’t exactly take it on. Tregavara House was thrust upon you.’
‘Which is exactly what I mean. You’re obviously not happy about it and that bothers me.’
Josh shrugs and pulls out a lethal-lookin
g pair of secateurs. ‘Of course I’m happy that Tregavara House is yours, Annie. I know how much it means to you to have a home here, but I can’t help being concerned.’
‘Why, because of the millstone thing that Toby said?’
‘Kind of. Toby is crass and insensitive and eaten up with envy that Alice left the house to you. But I can’t help wondering if he’s got a point and you’re taking on too much. The roof’s still dodgy and then there’s the inheritance tax.’
Ah, yes. That bill’s so big it made me cry and I’m still working out how best to pay it. Inheriting and staying in my ancestral home is going to cost me serious money. I lean against the wall and shiver when cold seeps through my T-shirt.
‘So why didn’t you say something to me, Josh? We’re supposed to talk about things.’
‘I know but I didn’t want to pour cold water on everything so soon after you’d lost Alice. It didn’t seem fair.’
‘But you’re glad that we can carry on living here?’
‘Of course I am.’ Josh’s face is in shadow but he sounds like he’s smiling. ‘Who wouldn’t want to live in a lovely old house by the sea? Just so long as you’re being realistic and know what you’re taking on.’
‘I do. Don’t forget I was the one almost brained by a roof tile. But the repairs have been done and the house is solid and we can relax once the tax bill’s been taken care of.’
‘And there’s always the option of selling up and using the money to buy somewhere more modern that doesn’t need as much upkeep.’ He raises his hand when I go to speak. ‘I’m not saying that’s what you should do but that’s what you can do if it all gets too much. You wouldn’t be letting anyone down.’
‘I know,’ I lie, because even selling to Toby would feel like betraying Alice’s trust in me. ‘But I’m happy here with you and Emily, and Storm too when she’s not deafening us with her music.’
Josh laughs and steps into the light. ‘Yeah, if she doesn’t turn down Kendrick Lamar I might have to chuck her speakers into the harbour. But if you’re happy, I’m happy.’ And then he pulls me into his arms and warms me up with a hot kiss.