Where There's A Will

by Mary Malone

  Entering the house, Kieran pulled open the drawer in the hall table, eyeing the package addressed to John Kilmichael and toying with the idea of opening it. He picked it up, twirling it around between his fingers. But loyalty to Polly and the freedom she’d afforded her son forced him to put it back again. His aunt had obviously placed some sort of trust in John. But what Kieran couldn’t fathom was why she’d gone to the trouble of reuniting with him yet had never disclosed their blood relationship.

  Pushing the drawer shut again, Kieran inhaled the faint scent of lavender as he walked upstairs, unsure if the aroma was real or imaginary, but knowing that his decision to allow the man his privacy would have met with Polly’s approval and in his heart he liked to think she was showing him that.

  Chapter 19

  Beth pushed her legs out straight in front of her, moving the swing higher and higher and leaning her upper body backward until she could look up at the sky. She’d arranged to meet her mother in the Ballydehob playground. They hadn’t wanted Frank walking in and overhearing their conversation. Her mother had explained how he’d forbidden any interference in Polly’s will, so with that in mind they’d agreed to work in unison without his knowledge, relying on Charlotte to delve into the legal requirements instead. Meeting Kieran a few times, she’d chickened out of her planned confrontation, the words she’d rehearsed dying on her lips.

  “How’s life in Schull?” she’d asked when they’d bumped into each other in town one afternoon, her heart sinking when she noticed him carrying a bundle of DIY materials, hardly the evidence she’d wanted to see and dissolving any hope she’d retained that he’d have a change of heart and take off across the world once more. Venturing into the safer arena of small talk, she’d spent a few awkward moments with her brother before rushing away on some pretence or other.

  Dropping her feet to the ground and lowering the swing to a near-stop, she swayed gently and watched the activity around her. Two sisters raced each other to the giant slide, their legs clambering up the steps, their excited laughter ringing in Beth’s ears and reminding her of the fun she and her sister had enjoyed in this same playground. The equipment was less sophisticated back then of course, but the thrill of whooshing down the slide or clambering onto the old steel see-saw had been exactly the same.

  Charlotte’s contact had been minimal in recent days, little more than hurried emails, her marketing instructions easier said than done.

  Let it go live to test the market but keep updating it. Polish, polish, polish – it has to stand out in the market place. Generate some props around the place – borrow a few horses for photos if you must. Customers need to see its potential.

  Beth had responded to her suggestions with more questions, taking the opportunity in one of her emails to enquire if she’d spoken to Kieran. She must be up the walls at work, Beth decided, when there was no response, envying her sister’s well-paying job and hectic life. Anxious to get things moving, she’d forwarded Charlotte a selection of photos for her opinion.

  Receiving a text from Carl saying he’d uploaded photos on the computer had come as a surprise, one less task for her to do. But still it didn’t alleviate the humiliation she’d felt after her ridiculous (at least by her consideration) physical reaction to his close proximity. Unpredictable lust playing its usual tricks, she’d decided, trying and failing to obliterate the delicious feelings of quivering heat floating through her body when she’d inhaled his scent as he’d crouched beside her. Dismissing it as unfulfilled hunger and refusing to acknowledge the possibility that it could be a revival of the intense attraction they’d once shared, she’d strived to keep her mind busy, only relenting to her expanding fantasy as she lay under the quilt at night time, her soft skin tingling as she allowed her imagination free rein.

  “You’re too big to be on a swing.”

  A startled Beth swung her head around, smiling when she looked into the face of a little girl – three or four years of age at most. She stood to the side of the swing, hands on hips and a petulant look on her impish face as she waited expectantly for a response from Beth.

  “But my bum fits,” Beth teased, inching to the left of the red plastic seat to prove it. “Want to give me a little push and then I’ll get off. Promise.”

  “Victoria, don’t be annoying the lady!” came a shout from behind the playground’s wooden maze. Dragging a little boy by the arm, a visibly stressed woman appeared a brief moment later.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said to Beth and then turned to scold her daughter, her little boy doing his utmost to pull his hand out of her tight grasp. “Victoria, what have I told you about speaking to strangers?”

  “But she’s on a children’s swing, Mum! Daddy says adults shouldn’t be on these swings. She could break it! Then there would be nothing for the boys and girls.” Her lower lip protruded, hands on hips and eyes accusing.

  Beth got to her feet. “Best do what I’m told,” she said, bestowing an apologetic smile on Victoria. “Your daddy’s perfectly right. The swings are for little people not sad old fogies like me!” Despite the smile on her face, a deep sense of sadness seeped through her. Is that what I’ve become, she thought, a sad old lady – well, maybe not that old but certainly sad – who has taken to mooching around a swing in a children’s playground? All I need now is a few cats crawling over me to complete the picture!

  “So sorry to ruin your few minutes of relaxation,” the woman said, glancing around her before asking, “Your kids are hiding around here somewhere?”

  Beth shook her head, a familiar ache crossing her chest. She struggled to maintain her composure, her eyes bright with tears, her smile disappearing. Such a giveaway. Will I learn to hide the heartache?

  Instantly, the other lady apologised. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I’ve spoken out of turn. Ignore me, I never think before opening my big gob.”

  “Swing now!” The little boy pulled free of his mother’s grip and threw his arms over the seat of the second swing, lifting his knee and attempting to climb in a cumbersome and dangerous fashion.

  “Wait!” the mother warned, grabbing him deftly and guiding him towards the toddler swing. Lifting him up, she avoided his kicking legs, eased his wriggling form into the safety seat and then breathed a visible sigh of relief. “Sorry again,” she mouthed, giving her son a quick push before helping Victoria onto the swing Beth had vacated. Making sure the little girl was holding on to the chains with both hands, she gave her a push while keeping an eye on her little boy at the same time. “Peace for a few minutes,” she commented.

  “Your hands are full. I’ll leave you to it. Here’s my mum now anyway.” Beth turned away from the familiar sympathy and pity in the other woman’s eyes.

  “Isn’t she too big to be at the playground with her mummy?” she heard Victoria ask as she walked away from the swings and the young family.

  What a perceptive little girl, she thought, forcing a smile on her face as she approached her mother. Funny, she couldn’t remember Marian ever pushing them on the swings. Her memories were of Charlotte standing behind her, picking her up when she fell over and making everything okay again – exactly as I’m expecting her to do now, she realised.

  “Beth, I’m sorry I’m late,” Marian gasped as she hurried towards her daughter, air-kissing her on both cheeks as per usual. “You wouldn’t believe the morning I’ve had.”

  “Nothing to worry about, I hope?”

  She shook her head, eyes bright with enthusiasm. “Quite the contrary, a bit of hopeful news for a change.”

  Drops of rain pattered on the ground around them.

  “Damn, we’ll get soaked! Quick, let’s run to the café,” Marian squealed, taking an umbrella from her handbag and holding it over them as they made a dash for the local coffee shop. “I’ll fill you in when we get there.”

  “Heard from Charlotte?” Beth asked, hurrying to keep up with her mother whose regular walking, tennis and golf games maintained her fitness levels, despite her smoke
r’s cough.

  “Not a word! I still don’t know if she’s spoken to Kieran. Although, knowing her meticulous attention to detail, she could be beavering away in the background and getting to grips with what we’re taking on. She might have it all under control when she eventually surfaces.”

  “That reminds me, she promised to get me some info on liability insurance too.”

  Arriving outside the café, Marian shook the rain from her umbrella and closed it. “Insurance?” she enquired.

  “Charlotte suggested I try and lease out the grounds for a variety of activities.” Each time she mentioned the notion, she gained more confidence, was less fearful of the implications.

  “Not a bad idea either. You should talk to your dad about that. He’d be impressed you’re being proactive and I’m sure would have sound advice to offer. And maybe if he sees you’re making an effort –”

  The bell tinkled overhead when she pushed opened the café door, drowning out the end of her sentence, but Beth had the gist of what she was saying. Connecting with her dad on a neutral topic might make him more sympathetic. She might have a point, Beth thought, following her mother through the glass door and groaning inwardly when she noticed Carl seated at a nearby table, his head stuck in a car magazine, apparently oblivious to the world and the problems going on around him. Bitterness rose inside her and an image of the unpaid final bills thrown on the hall table instantly came to mind. But at least that was easier for her to deal with right now rather than an image of him sending shivers through her entire body. Stop! she screamed inwardly, worrying about the pathetic confused mess she was becoming. Confused emotions, inability to make decisions. Who’d believe she’d once held the coveted position of being top of the élite science group in second-year at university?

  Marian turned to face her, giving her a questioning look.

  “Keep going, Mum,” Beth instructed, appreciating her mother’s consideration but determined to retain some modicum of pride. It was about all she had left and she wasn’t leaving just because he was there. God damn him! Didn’t he know she often spent a morning there with her mum or a friend? Couldn’t he have gone elsewhere?

  “You get the seats, love. I’ll order coffee and scones.”

  “Cream and jam with mine, Mum, please,” Beth requested, knowing that if she didn’t state her preference, her mother would arrive with low-cal spread and probably one scone between them! Marian’s calorie-counting diet wouldn’t fulfil Beth’s desire for something wicked and, on her current budget, a treat from her mother was as near to wicked as she would get.

  While her mother went to the counter and queued, Beth, needing something to prevent her from glaring in Carl’s direction, checked her emails on her mobile. With surprise, she noticed a few enquiries about her new website. Tired of waiting for Charlotte to get back to her, she’d pored over the website detail time and time again (as much to keep her brain occupied as anything else) until finally she felt it included nothing incriminating and was safe to transmit to the outside world. Pressing the publish button to let it go live, she hadn’t made any other great efforts to advertise apart from posting links to a few social-networking sites and emailing a few local heritage sites. She’d sent Carl the links but hadn’t bothered to ask if he’d posted them anywhere. And he hadn’t bothered to enlighten her.

  Reading the emails now, she gripped her phone tightly, a mixture of excitement and anticipation flooding through her. Top marks to Charlotte for her brainwave – nothing unusual there of course! Beth had assumed her amateur website would remain under the radar but apparently not. Scanning through the enquiries with interest, she checked the email addresses and was as confident as she could be that the majority were genuine. Unbelievable, she thought, reading through them again, unable to believe the number of responses. Glancing at Carl, the teeniest part of her wanted to share the news, let him be part of it and try and work together to make it work. Reading each one in turn, she responded with a promise to forward details of prices and availability as soon as possible. A good start, she thought, smiling as she scanned the next one: My daughter has her heart set on a barn dance for her 21st and what you’re offering looks ideal.Beth chewed her lower lip, suddenly overwhelmed and apprehensive. Attracting interested parties was easy. Providing a quality service, however, could be a completely different matter. She took a deep breath and contemplated the reality of handling the project. She’d need assistance, couldn’t manage every aspect alone, the practicalities being beyond her ability.

  Stealing another glance in Carl’s direction, she watched him flick through his magazine and twirled her phone between her fingers. I’ll have to broach the subject with him sooner rather than later, she thought. Otherwise he’ll step outside the door one day and find potential clients rambling around our property! Tempted to take the cowardly route and send him a text later, she wondered about her best approach.

  Her phone beeped again, another new email in her inbox, one of the photos from the site included in the message. She was warmed by the image of their Goleen residence coming to life before her.

  “Nice to see you smiling for a change,” Marian commented as she placed the tray on the table.

  “Some enquiries about renting the stables.”

  “That was quick!”

  “Tell me about it. Too quick – we’re nowhere near organised for viewings.”

  “Still, it obviously has potential.”

  Beth agreed but still had lots of unanswered questions. She’d have to get advice. Would it be wise to allow people on the grounds for viewing before sorting out insurance? And should she have a guaranteed market before investing money? Groaning inwardly, she realised outlay would still be required to get the project up and running and, even if it turned out to be a successful venture, it would take substantial capital investment to get it off the ground. Polly’s inheritance would really be the answer to all of her prayers. It would allow her keep the Goleen house and get her activities business off the ground. At a stretch, she hoped she could use it as financial support while studying again for the degree she’d walked away from years before.

  Snapped out of her trance when her mother cleared her throat to get her attention, Beth poured milk into her coffee, spilling a little over the edge of the mug.

  “You said ‘we’, Beth. Is Carl in on this project of yours?”

  Beth shrugged. “If it’s going ahead, he’ll have to pull his weight. I’m not exactly equipped to erect fences and create dirt tracks!” She took a sip of coffee, wincing as the burning liquid stung the roof of her mouth. She reached for the milk jug once more. “You were going to tell me what delayed you?” She was happy to change the subject.

  “Oh yes. Seth called as I was leaving. I’ve been leaving messages for him.”

  “Uncle Seth?” She put her phone back in her bag. “How’s he keeping? Is he still seeing that fashion model?”

  Marian laughed. “I never thought to ask but with his track record, it’s unlikely.” She picked the raisins, peel and cherries from her scone, dropping them onto the plate. “I don’t know why they don’t do plain baking here,” she complained.

  Beth smiled. She’d watched her mother decimate food for years, nothing new to the measures Marian went to reduce her calorie intake. But she ignored her complaint.

  “So, Mum, has the good news you mentioned have something to do with Seth?”

  “Yes.” She chewed her food slowly, sipping from her mug and dabbing her lips with a serviette.

  “Yeah? And?” Whatever it was, there had to be a twist. Nothing was straightforward where her uncle was concerned.

  Seth was Marian’s brother, the ‘brains of the Brixton family’ as she referred to him. He was an authority on most subjects, a tried and tested businessman in many industries. ‘A gangster’ was how Frank described him – no love lost between the brothers-in-law.

  Over the years, Beth had overheard numerous arguments between Marian and Frank, with Marian regularl
y comparing Frank to Seth, making no secret of her belief that her husband paled in comparison. Though she’d never been brave enough to voice it, Beth often felt like reminding her mother that Frank was the one with the solid profession and regular income while Seth floated on the cusp of many a wave, scraping through deals by the skin of his teeth. One thing he had been born with, however, was luck and good fortune. And though there were many occasions he’d teetered on the edge – had even made the headlines with a few appalling decisions – Seth Brixton seldom failed.

  Marian took a sip from her Americano, running a finger around the rim of the cup to remove her lipstick stain. Her brown eyes were intense as she brought her daughter up to date on her conversation with Seth. “I called him last week about the will. Without your father’s help, this is too big for us to manage alone.”

  Beth’s breath caught in her throat, the prospect of Seth’s involvement even scarier than Marian being in charge! “I feel something illegal coming down the tracks, Mum!”

  “We will only get one opportunity to turn this situation with Kieran around to your satisfaction . . .”

  Beth groaned – really scared now. “You make it sound like I’m the only one to benefit here! Aren’t you forgetting Charlotte and Kieran’s shares too?”

  Marian exhaled but didn’t make any attempt to appease. “Of course not! But you’re the one depending on it.”