‘Furthermore, Mrs Sanders requested that her sister, Miss Isabelle Morton, make a permanent residence in Seahouses to facilitate her sharing joint responsibility for the children until the youngest, Elizabeth Sanders, reaches eighteen years of age.’
There was a loud gasp, and it took a second before I realised it came from me.
Everyone stared, waiting for a response that I couldn’t give. The room started to spin, and I spread my palms on the table to steady myself. In the corner of my eye, I saw Mike bury his face in his hands.
‘That’s…’ I stuttered. ‘I mean, er, perhaps you can explain?’
‘Mrs Sanders predicted such a reaction from you, Miss Morton,’ Charles said, almost with a chuckle. ‘She left a letter for you by way of explanation. I advise you to read it carefully.’
Mike’s mouth was set in a tight, hard line and Auntie Sue looked like she needed a lie-down. I sensed the shocked stares of the children on me.
Mum’s eyes were glistening.
‘But that’s wonderful news, Izzy. Now you can come home.’
I flopped onto Lucas’s bed. When Mike and Amy had first bought their house, this had been the guest room. It was the room I had stayed in whenever I’d visited, until Lucas had arrived and the floral wallpaper was replaced with a spaceship decal and bunk beds.
I took the hip flask from my pocket and had a swig. Amy’s letter was in a sealed envelope and she had written my name on the front. I traced the lines of her handwriting. Why had Amy replaced her will behind Mike’s back? And shouldn’t she have asked me if I would mind babysitting her kids for the next ten years?
No way could I move back to Seahouses. My entire life – my career, my friends – everything was in Hong Kong. What had Amy been thinking? Surely, she must have known I could never come back here. I would make an appointment with another solicitor and check the legality of it. There must be some way to politely decline.
And I wouldn’t be any help anyway – I didn’t know the first thing about kids. Amy might have made it look easy, but the past few days had reminded me why I had chosen a child-free existence. Mike could manage on his own, especially with Rachel on hand and Mum and Auntie Sue living around the corner. Auntie Sue had been our rock after Dad had died and Mum left.
I couldn’t think about that right now. Too many upsetting thoughts in one afternoon. I fired off a text to Amy:
What have you done???
Amy had also made some provisions for the funeral, so there wasn’t much for us to do. Rachel seemed almost disappointed that the hard work of organizing had been done for her.
Adam brought fish and chips over for dinner, and having a fresh face broke some of the tension. After the meal, with Rachel busy washing up and Adam holding court in the living room, I slipped out into the back garden for some fresh air.
Mike was sitting on the step, smoking. He eyed my drink.
‘Is that whisky?’
‘Depends. Is that a cigarette?’
He shrugged. ‘I haven’t smoked in years. Amy made me quit when she was pregnant with Hannah.’
‘We all need something to take the edge off today.’
I handed him my glass and he took a sip.
‘I don’t understand, Izzy. Why would she do this? Did she say anything to you?’
‘Is this the face of someone who was prepared?’
Mike laughed – a sad chuckle. ‘We can challenge it, you know. At least find out what our options are.’
‘I was thinking the same. Let’s speak to Charles, see what he suggests.’
Back at The Ship, I took a scotch up to my room and steeled myself to read Amy’s letter. I used my nail scissors to carefully slice the envelope open.
Dear Iz,
I’m writing this in the hope that you will never have to read it – so if you are, I am truly sorry for what you’re going through.
Although I hope it never comes to this, I want to be prepared. It seems extreme, but we never know what curveballs life has in store for us. We learned that the hard way, you and I. Just in case anything ever happens to me, I’m making sure there’s a plan.
By now you will know that my lasting wish is for you to come home and raise my children. I hope you didn’t swear in front of them. I warned Big Charlie that you might have to be revived with smelling salts.
I wanted to discuss this with you, but I am running out of time. There never seems to be the right moment, or the right mood, and it is important that I get this sorted.
It matters to me, Iz, and I hope you understand that. But I cannot force you to do anything you don’t want to do. I’m writing this letter to explain my reasons, in the hope that you will understand and agree.
When Dad died, our world imploded. Everything went to pieces. Remember how we started sleeping in the same room? We never wanted to be apart. You were the only person who understood what I was feeling, and you fixed me. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have got through it.
I have never known pain like it. And the pain never disappeared – not even after all these years. It just got easier to deal with.
I can’t bear the thought of my kids having to be without me. Knowing the same loss that we did. So, here’s the thing: if I’m not here, I want them to have the closest thing to me – and that’s you.
Mike does his best and he’s a great dad. But the children need more than he can give them.
Me and you, we’re cut from the same cloth. We chose different paths and our lives are worlds apart, but you know me inside out: you know me better than anyone. You know best what I would want for the children.
You will have loads of help – Auntie Sue will be there for you, too.
Mum is what she is. Please give her a chance, Izzy. We all make mistakes, and nobody is perfect. None of us can say for sure how we would react in her situation. She’ll be a big help, just let her do things her way.
I don’t have answers for the big questions. I can’t tell you where to live or what to do about work. All I know is that if I’m not there, I want you to raise my children, the way I would.
Please Izzy, I hope you understand and you find some way to grant me this wish.
I love you forever, no matter what.
Your sister,
Amy
The next morning, I asked Adam to drive me up to Alnwick. I still felt too shaken to get behind the wheel. Amy’s request was weighing on my mind and I’d lain awake for most of the night, tossing the idea around. There was no way it could work. Hopefully Charles Moore Jr. could explain my options.
Moore, Moore & Ridley Solicitors was in an old building opposite the market square. I was greeted by a lone secretary sitting at a huge desk inlaid with worn green leather.
‘I’m sorry, but Mr Moore is in court this morning.’
Damn it, I thought, realising I should have made an appointment.
‘Is there anyone else I could talk to?’
With a kind smile, the secretary led me into one of the offices and told me that another partner would be along soon.
The room was like travelling back in time – everything was brass and varnished wood and smelt of old books, with large windows overlooking the riverside. I was admiring the view when the door creaked open behind me.
A tall, dark-haired man walked in and promptly tripped over, falling to his knees and scattering his papers everywhere. I resisted a giggle as he scooped them back up, muttering to himself. He was about my age and had that whole Hugh Grant bumbling-hottie vibe nailed, complete with floppy hair streaked with grey. Out of habit, I checked for a wedding ring. His hand was bare.
‘Sorry about that.’ He pushed his glasses back up his nose. ‘Jake Ridley.’
Jake offered a handshake.
Always look someone in the eye when you shake their hand, Dad used to say – you’ll know right away what kind of person they are. Jake had brown eyes framed by thick dark eyelashes, and I caught myself looking into them a little too long.
He e
xplained he was the newest partner in the firm, but assured me that he was aware of the particulars of my sister’s case, and offered to give me the same advice he and Charles had given Mr Sanders about the process of contesting Amy’s will.
‘What do you mean, the advice you’ve given Mike? When?’
‘Mr Sanders came by earlier this morning. He indicated that the family intends to challenge the will, and we explained that there are very poor grounds for doing so. Contesting a will is a serious business and shouldn’t be undertaken lightly. Your sister was in a sound state of mind and knew what she was doing.’
Blimey, Mike was keen. He really wanted to make sure I wouldn’t be sticking around.
‘Well… actually… we haven’t decided for certain that we’ll contest it. I just want to understand what my options are on the legal guardianship thing. It’s quite difficult for me to consider moving back here. I know it’s what my sister wanted, but she never actually asked me…’
The words lodged in my throat. Jake’s eyebrows knotted into a frown.
‘Mr Sanders – er, Mike – suggested the family’s main concern is the life insurance being held in trust. He didn’t mention the issue of guardianship.’
That was weird. Mike and I hadn’t even discussed the trust fund. It was a huge amount of money and to me, it seemed like a wise move to put it away until the kids were old enough to spend it sensibly. I thought the problem was Amy appointing me as a guardian.
Jake registered my confusion.
‘Can I suggest that you speak with your brother-in-law about the family’s financial situation? That seems to be the main concern of Mr Sanders.’ He gave me a sympathetic smile. ‘As for guardianship, well, that’s really up to you. Nobody can force you to do anything. It was your sister’s wish, but she understood that it would be your choice.’
I thanked Jake for his advice and he told me to call him if I had any further questions. He gave me his business card and by reflex, I gave him one of mine in return. He insisted on seeing me out, but struggled to open the door and shake my hand at the same time, prompting an awkward dance between us on the threshold. I blushed as we finally said goodbye.
I walked along Market Street, my head spinning. Why was Mike so concerned about the money? He had a good job, and he and Amy owned their house outright.
Surely the real issue was that my sister had asked me to euthanise my career and kill my every chance of future happiness by confining me to lifelong spinsterhood back in the village I had done everything to escape?
I found Adam in Barter Books, sipping a mug of steaming coffee while flicking through a hardback of vintage fashion adverts.
The bookshop had always been a favourite place of mine and Amy’s. We would go after school for tea and a scone, then take the late bus back to Seahouses. Books were our window to the world and we were avid readers as children, devouring anything that conjured up far-away places and exotic characters. We kept a detailed list of all the places we wanted to visit, and frequently debated where we would eventually live. Our imaginations took us far from Northumberland. My dream was to move first to New York, then relocate later to Paris. Amy wanted to have a villa somewhere warm, where she would grow her own lemons and olives and where she could swim in the sea all year round.
We had a mutual understanding that there was nothing for us in Seahouses and we would leave as soon as we were old enough. Even Newcastle was too provincial for us. We had grander plans.
Then, when Dad died and Mum left, there was nothing worth staying for.
Both of us went away to university – me to Edinburgh, and Amy to Leeds. But we found the distance between us too great and she joined me in Scotland after her first year. That was when she met Mike, and from that moment on, her priorities started to shift.
I’d been working at The Scotsman as a trainee reporter in my first year after graduating from my English degree, waiting for Amy to finish. Our bigger plan had been to move to London together, but first we intended to have an adventure: we were going to fly to Sicily, then spend three weeks making our way by ferry and train up the west coast of Italy and into France, staying in hostels and cheap B&Bs. We had our inheritance from Dad, but we wouldn’t need much cash. And after everything we had been through, we felt we deserved a summer of fun.
But then Amy had met Mike, and her enthusiasm for the trip dampened. She decided she wanted to spend the summer in Edinburgh, enjoying more time with him and their friends after graduation, before everyone left to become proper grown-ups. The Italy trip wasn’t cancelled, merely postponed – we figured we had many summers ahead of us to do it.
In the beginning, I hadn’t thought Amy and Mike would last. He was uncultured, a bit loud, and I felt she could do better. He had studied something pointless and vague with ‘administration’ in his degree title, whereas Amy was on track to be a high-flyer in nursing.
Then she took him to Seahouses for the weekend and he loved the place. Before I knew it, they were talking about buying a house in the village to renovate. I ended up moving to London on my own. Mike became the centre of Amy’s universe, and I shifted into her orbit.
We spoke almost every day at first, sometimes for hours, both of us taking special deals on our landline because mobile calls were too expensive back then. But gradually, our calls trickled out to twice a week, then even less frequently. Our lives had been completely intertwined for so long, but the rope eventually started to pull apart.
Mike set up his own business, a consultancy or something, and it seemed to do well, so maybe that degree wasn’t a complete waste of time. Before I knew it, Amy was settling back in Seahouses for good, and I was off on my own adventure. It turned out we were two different people after all.
So why did she want to pull me back now?
Adam and I headed back to the car, him with a bag of books that would definitely not fit in his suitcase.
‘Did that help to clear things up?’
I sighed.
‘I think I have more questions now than when we started.’
Chapter Four
My laptop purred to life and I stretched my neck. This was good – work was something I could control. A few blissful hours of distraction. But my assistant, Bethany, had already set up an out of office reply on my behalf, and my inbox was not as full as I had hoped. There was a message from my boss, Toby, the Vice President of my department, expressing sympathy and telling me to take it easy, and another from HR reminding me that the bereavement policy allowed two weeks off following the death of a sibling. As if I could afford to take it.
Annabelle Taylor – that bitch – had sent an email saying I should take as long as I needed, offering to handle my clients while I was away. I clenched my jaw. The vultures were already circling, ready to take advantage.
I hadn’t had a holiday yet this year, and I hadn’t used my full allowance last year either – I’d only agreed to take a few days off when Toby had threatened to fire me if I didn’t. I’d checked in to a women-only wellness retreat in Bali and tried to focus on the yoga and massages and not my accounts, but my mind had kept flitting back to my portfolios.
I called Bethany and told her not to let Annabelle anywhere near my clients. She was to tell everyone that I was dealing with a family issue and working remotely for one week only. Possibly two. Bethany reluctantly agreed.
Rachel had already taken care of breakfast by the time I got to Amy’s house. She was brushing Betsy’s hair while Hannah scrolled her phone absent-mindedly. Mike had gone out, so I couldn’t ask him about his visit yesterday to Moore, Moore & Ridley and his plan to contest the will. The funeral director was coming later to run through the plans, but there was nothing for me to do in the meantime.
My mobile phone rang and I stepped outside to answer it, expecting it to be from work. Instead, I got a stammered greeting from Jake Ridley.
‘Yes, hello, Mrs Morton – um, Miss Morton, er…’
‘Please, just call me Isabelle. Er, I mean
Izzy.’
He was making me flustered.
‘I just wondered how you were holding up. After the coroner’s update.’
I hesitated for a beat, frowning. ‘We haven’t had an update.’
There was a pause on the line before Jake spoke again. ‘Er… actually… That’s a good point. It’s Mr Sanders that they would have contacted. He’s Amy’s next of kin. Forgive me, I assumed he had already updated the family.’
My jaw tightened. ‘It must have slipped Mike’s mind. What did they tell him?’
‘The good news is that the body has been released. The funeral can go ahead.’
Great. I could be on a plane home by next weekend. If I wanted to.
‘There are… er, one or two issues that are unresolved. Some questions outstanding, that the police will now look in to.’
I froze to the spot, eyes wide.
Jake stuttered. ‘I’m sorry, I thought you knew this from your brother-in-law… That’s why I was calling, really, to see how you were.’
‘What questions?’ I leaned against the wall to steady myself.
He paused and took a deep breath. ‘Mrs Sanders – er, your sister – had unidentified substances in her blood. They’re running some further tests on the samples. But more significantly, there seems to have been a problem with the car - some damage to the front wheel. The police believe that possibly caused the crash.’
Was I hearing this right? My pulse pounded in my ears.
‘What kind of damage to the wheel? What does that even mean?’
‘Those are questions for the police to answer. They’ll pass any evidence back to the coroner, who will decide if an inquest is needed.’
‘I don’t understand - they think it might not have been an accident?’
And what did that mean? I shuddered.
‘Please don’t jump to any conclusions. It just means that there are some questions to be answered. They’re ruling out all possibilities.’
Salt Sisters Page 3