by Mary Malone
“I’d like to think so,” John responded. “When did Polly go there?”
Jess intervened at this point, glaring at John, unimpressed that he was resorting to quizzing Greg. “Seriously, we must leave. Grab your bag, Greg. Kieran will call over when he’s ready to go to the park. Won’t you, Kieran?”
“Shouldn’t be too long, mate,” he promised, tossing the little guy’s hair and gaining a laugh for his trouble, his eyes swiftly meeting Jess’s.
“See you later so,” she said. “Nice to meet you, John. Let’s go, Greg.”
Accompanying them to the door, Kieran closed his eyes and shook his head when Jess eyed him curiously. “I’ll explain later,” he whispered, closely followed by, “if I can!”
He let them out and returned to the kitchen.
“Actually,” he said, meeting John’s gaze head on, “Greg was telling the truth. Polly has passed away.”
“Since my last visit here?”
It was tempting to lie again but he resisted, knowing the date of somebody’s death was freely available on the Internet to anyone who cared to check.
He shook his head. “A short while before that.”
John stared at him, perplexed, the colour draining from his face. “But why lie? I’m sure the whole of Schull were at the funeral? Why hide it from me?”
Kieran sighed, still fumbling for an answer or an acceptable reason when his mobile rang. Glancing at the screen, he realised it was Olivia. Great timing, he thought, more bad news!
“Excuse me,” he said, “this is important. Back in a moment.”
He went into the living room to take the call, closing the door behind him, beyond caring whether he could trust Kilmichael alone in the kitchen or not. And he figured his guest was probably beginning to feel the exact same way about him – and with good reason. Yet he doubted he was ready to leave just yet.
“Olivia, how are you?” he asked, flopping into the armchair and waiting for the next chapter in the saga that Number 5 had become.
“Kieran, I must apologise for not getting back to you before now. I just didn’t get a chance. Right – you remember I told you there were two separate claims submitted?”
“Yes?”
“One is, as you rightly suspected, from family members citing their claim to an equal share.”
“On what grounds?”
“I’ve received two geriatric assessments, one dated before and another dated after I witnessed her will, supposedly verifying memory slippage and traces of onset dementia.”
Kieran inhaled sharply. Inconsiderate, selfish bastards, he thought, horrified his own flesh and blood were capable of such a low act against Polly. He’d rather hand them the keys and walk away than allow that case continued. He clenched his fists tightly.
“My mother and sisters?” He wanted clarification.
“Both sisters were named in the original letter but I have only one signature,” Olivia declared.
Probably Beth slow to commit as usual, he thought, Charlotte the more professional of the two and unlikely to drag her heels in any situation.
“Hang on a minute, Olivia,” he said then, suddenly nervous that his conversation might possibly be overheard by John.
Taking the stairs two steps at a time, he went up to his bedroom and closed the door, forgetting in his haste to enquire which sister’s signature was present on the document.
“Had Polly been attending the geriatrician?” he asked, sitting on the bed. “Or is this the first you’ve heard of it?”
“Other than the documentation in front of me,” Olivia said, “I’ve got nothing to go on. I’m waiting on hospital records but these things often take time. And, regardless, I’m obliged to follow through even though I’m positive they’re wasting their time.”
“But didn’t you mention that it’d go to my sisters if I broke the terms and conditions?”
“A different scenario entirely, Kieran. Objections of this sort can only come from the deceased’s next of kin and, though the girls have lodged a written petition in the hope of overturning the will, I’m happy to tell you that it’s a definite non-runner.”
Knowing little about these matters, Kieran was confused. “But aren’t we next of kin as well as Dad? She didn’t have any children so surely Beth and Charlotte can make their claim on the place?” The words stuck in his throat, the man downstairs in the kitchen testament to the facts being otherwise.
“With your father – Polly’s brother – still alive, over-turning the will would revert full right of inheritance to him.”
And that’d explain why Frank hadn’t been too bothered about Marian’s threats. He knew she’d be wasting her time unless they managed to get me out. Is it naïve to assume Dad has no part in this, he wondered, finding it difficult to believe his father would ever show such disrespect for Polly.
“So I continue living here in the meantime as though none of this has happened?” he asked. “Or will I be thrown out until it’s resolved?”
“Not at all, you must stay. It’s very important you do,” she clarified. “Now, the second objection is more complex and unexpected. It’s something that was news to me unfortunately. It has put me at an instant disadvantage, particularly when Polly’s not around to clarify the situation.”
Recognising uncertainty in Olivia’s tone, Kieran got to his feet again, going to stand by the window. The rain had stopped. He smiled as the secondary-school students passed down the road in various groups, messing and teasing, belting each other with school bags and letting off steam after a day’s confinement in a classroom. Olivia’s voice jolted him back to the present, her words ringing loudly in his ears.
“John Kilmichael is the name on your second objection,” she told him. “Ever heard of him?”
Struck by the irony of the situation, he grimaced. “Heard of him? He happens to be less than twenty feet away from me right this moment. He’s standing in the kitchen demanding to know if Polly’s dead or alive, yet you’re telling me he has already contested her will?” More than anything, Kieran hated being made a fool of. And unless he was seriously mistaken, he was being taken for a mug by the man who’d hovered over him demanding answers moments before. Now who was being secretive and devious? Now who was playing silly games?
“He’s known to the family then?” Her surprise was evident.
“My dad met him on a few brief occasions. And he’s called twice since I’ve moved in.”
“I have a detailed statement here in front of me where he’s declaring himself as Polly’s official next of kin.”
“Her son?”
“You knew?” Again, Olivia sounded surprised.
“Dad told me. But, according to his version, John wasn’t privy to this information. He doesn’t know he’s Polly’s son.”
“Somebody’s lying to you, Kieran,” she said, stating the obvious.
“And it can only be one of two people,” he seethed, an image of his father’s uncharacteristic reaction rushing to mind, followed in close succession by the accusatory tone of John Kilmichael a short while before. “Have you concrete evidence that he’s her son by any chance?”
“I’ve requested it but am still waiting, I’m afraid.”
“And there’s nothing I can offer to do to help. I’ve no idea where he was brought up or by whom. I’m guessing this would matter?” Kieran forced himself to contemplate the options, the reality of John Kilmichael disappearing quietly from their lives unlikely.
“Yes, very much so. New rules have been implemented to protect the rights of children born out of wedlock. Each case has to be analysed on individual merit, other factors impacting too.”
“Such as?” Kieran turned his back on the schoolchildren, staring at the mantelpiece ornaments instead, smiling wryly at the headless ballerina, unable to believe Polly had left the pink china doll sitting there after he’d knocked it to the ground and decapitated it.
Using a whole tube of Super Glue, he’d stuck the torso back toge
ther, her head in smithereens, cast around the fire grate and beyond repair. ‘We’ve our very own Humpty Dumpty,’ he’d laughed with Polly when he’d handed his aunt her ornament, relieved when her eyes crinkled and her lips shaped into a mischievous grin. ‘That’s the last time I’ll get you to do the dusting!’ she’d said, her feigned stern look followed by a hearty laugh. That was one of the things he’d loved most about her, her ability to accept imperfection in others.
Olivia explained some of the consequences. “If Polly had her son adopted, the situation would be different and his right to inheritance would then be from his adopted parents, anything he’d receive from Polly needing to be specified on the will. It’s a complicated affair to be honest and I’ll need to establish all the facts before making a proper assessment or decide how best to challenge this counter claim.”
“Have you met him yet?” Kieran asked out of curiosity.
“No. But I’ve set up an appointment for later in the week. Correspondence so far has been by post.”
“Thanks, Olivia.” Armed with that nugget of information, he ended the call and immediately dialled his father’s number. If Polly had wanted John to benefit, she’d have put a procedure in place.
“I think you need to get to Number 5 now, Dad. Kilmichael’s here and knows a lot more than he’s letting on. He’s claiming to have an entitlement to inherit as Polly’s next of kin.”
There was a brief silence, then Frank said curtly, “Be with you in two minutes. As it happens, I’m just driving up the main street.”
When Kieran returned to the kitchen, John was sipping a glass of water and staring at one of Polly’s many wall photos.
“Making yourself at home?” Kieran snapped, startling him.
“You asked me to wait while you took the call. The glass was on the draining board. It’s not like I was prying in the presses or anything!”
No longer in the mood to placate the other man or be taken in by him, Kieran came straight to the point. “That was my solicitor, Olivia Jacobs. But then I think you’re already acquainted?”
“Olivia Jacobs – no – I don’t know any Olivia Jacobs. Why do you think I do?” He rinsed the glass and replaced it on the draining board.
“Cut the innocence. Olivia just confirmed that you’ve lodged an objection to Polly’s will.”
John’s eyes narrowed. “So she is really dead! I wasn’t sure if you were telling the truth.”
“Hardly a joking matter,” Kieran deadpanned.
John ran a hand over his clean-shaven face, confusion etched on it. “But what would give me the right to stake a claim to your aunt’s inheritance? I don’t follow.”
“Yes, Kieran, perhaps you’d enlighten us by responding.” Frank’s face was black as thunder, a steely warning in his green eyes as he walked in the back door in time to catch John’s final question.
Looking from his father to John and back again, Kieran’s head thumped. “Your name is definitely John Kilmichael?”
“Yes.”
Frank continued to glare at his son. “Kieran, for God’s sake! Quit pussyfooting around. What the hell are you on about? Why should a stranger have any such rights?”
“You’ve met John here before, Dad? Yes?”
His father nodded but didn’t speak.
“Olivia has the documentation in her office,” Kieran said. “And,” he added with vengeance, stabbing a finger in John’s direction, “she’s meeting with him later in the week.”
“First I heard of it,” John retorted.
“You’ve obviously got your facts wrong, Kieran,” Frank spat, the veins in his temples throbbing. He looked like he was about to explode.
“Were you adopted?” Kieran blurted out. He was tired of secrets and undercurrents, preferring everything to be thrown out in the open, the only way he believed issues could be resolved.
“That is none of your business,” John responded evenly.
“It’s very much my business if you’re trying to get me out of this house!” he shot back. “And Dad’s business too.”
Frank scowled at his son, his mouth opening and closing but no words coming out. He threw his hands in the air, disgusted with his son’s behaviour after he’d specifically asked him to keep his mouth shut.
But Kieran wasn’t about to be silenced. His tirade of unanswered questions continued.
“Care to tell me where you were born and who raised you?”
John was visibly taken back by his onslaught. “I might reconsider seeing that solicitor this week after all,” he announced. “I could do with harassment advice! What did you say her name was? Olivia something or other?”
Kieran shoved his hands in his pockets. “Finally we get the truth.”
John ignored him. “There should be a package here with my name on it – something I ordered – it would have been delivered by the company. If you know where it is, I’ll take it and be out of your hair.”
“And why was it delivered here?” Kieran didn’t see any point in denying the package had arrived.
“It’s something Polly asked me to order but, seeing as she’s not here, I’ll take it with me.”
A shiver ran over Kieran’s body, a vivid image of his aunt coming to mind, forcing him to rethink his attack on the other man. He had been welcomed into the house by Polly after all. Frank had testified as much. John probably didn’t deserve the animosity he’d been shown but it was too late now for recriminations. The damage had already been done.
“I’ll show you out, shall I?” Kieran led the way into the hallway where he pulled open the drawer in the hall table and took out the package, handing it to John. Then he opened the front door and gave a curt nod as John passed him.
“Kieran,” John began, stepping outside the house and pausing a moment. He ran a finger around the outer edge of the rectangular package, pursing his lips as though contemplating what he was about to say. He looked at Polly’s nephew, the young man’s cold expression changing his mind on what he’d been about to share. Now wasn’t the time. “I’ll be off so.”
“See you, John.” Kieran banged the door closed and leaned his forehead against it. He still had to face his father’s wrath. Bringing a hand up and releasing the catch on the door once more, he was tempted to step into the sunshine and walk and walk, letting fate decide his destination, forfeiting ordinary life and its tedious issues for the freedom of travel and a nomadic lifestyle.
His father’s booming voice came down the hallway. “Kieran, what on earth was that all about? I specifically asked you not to tell him anything!” He stepped into the hall.
“Are we going to the park now?” Greg’s innocent plea followed closely behind, his indignant face appearing at Frank’s side.
“Greg, get back here this instant!” Jess scolded her son from the kitchen doorway, the tiny hallway already crowded. “I told you Kieran had visitors!”
Groaning inwardly, Kieran turned to face them. Fate’s intervention was already at work, Pier Road and its issues calling on him to stay.
Frank had swivelled around at the sound of Jess’s voice, embarrassed his accusation had been overheard.
“Hello,” Jess smiled, making a discreet grab for Greg’s arm and trying to coax him to her. “I’m sorry he’s barged in. Without permission, I can assure you!”
“Dad, this is Jess,” Kieran introduced them, welcoming the distraction and the opportunity to delay an explanation that he didn’t have for his father as yet. “And this impatient little guy is Greg. I’d promised him a trip to the park but John’s visit delayed things.”
“Nice to meet you,” Frank said, turning to follow Jess into the kitchen. “We’ve met before, I’m sure,” he commented, stumbling a little as Greg dashed around him.
“Greg!” She pulled him by the arm. “Will you be careful? Apologise to Mr Dulhooly.”
“Sorry,” Greg said chirpily, jiggling his bum, unable to stand steady.
“Call me Frank, please, Jess.”
&nb
sp; “I was often chatting to Polly when you pulled up outside, Frank.” Jess brought Greg to stand in front of her, holding him by the shoulders, much to his dislike.
Frank studied the little boy and his young mother for a moment, glancing at Kieran and back to the duo again. “I couldn’t have it on my conscience to delay a trip to the park any longer. He looks like he’s about to burst!”
“No, don’t be silly,” Jess insisted. “Tomorrow’s another day. Apologies again for barging in unannounced.”
“No, Mum!”
“Greg,” Jess took his hand firmly in hers, “what have I told you about bad manners? We’re interrupting Kieran and his dad. Now come on, you’ve got homework to do.”
“Too nice a day to waste indoors,” Frank offered kindly.
Kieran watched their exchange with interest, surprised at his father’s understanding of Greg’s impatience. He’d have expected him to encourage them away, thought he’d be gunning for an explanation about John.
“Join us for a kick around in the park, Dad?” he invited on impulse.