by Susan Lewis
As you know the business and the farmhouse already belong to you, but in the name of Lucy Winters. Just in case this causes a problem, we have sent a letter to Michael that we hope will make our wishes perfectly legal and clear. Should you decide to sell everything in order to draw a line under Lucy Fisher and start again as Alexandra Mckenzie, then you will be free to do so. There are no strings attached to your inheritance, everything we have is now yours and is given with love.
We are deeply sorry, my dear, to be putting you to the trouble of dealing with the police and funeral arrangements, but we have given Michael the details of where we would like our ashes to be scattered so hopefully that will be of some help. In order not to cause any further inconvenience we have chosen the moor near our home. I hope you will not think us selfish or inconsiderate for leaving your life this way; we believe it’s for the best all round as we wouldn’t want you to feel bound to us in any way after the truth is out, and we are, I’m afraid, not courageous enough to bear being parted from each other by justice and prison.
God bless you, dearest, dearest daughter of our hearts. Be happy in your new life, surrounded by those who love you.
With our love and eternal devotion
Daphne and Brian
It was a very long time before Lucy could see through her tears and raise her head. Their kindness and humility was almost as hard to bear as their delusion and loss. She kept picturing them at the end, her mother driving to the postbox to send the letters; her father waiting patiently at home. She wondered what their last words had been to one another, and if they really were together now. She had to believe they were, or there would be no point to anything. Yes, what they’d done was wrong, in many ways indefensible, and there would be those who’d scorn and revile them for trying to hide behind God. But who were they to say that God, destiny, karma hadn’t played a deliberate hand in the way it had woven the fates of her two families together? It was perhaps the only way they would ever make any sense of it all and be able to go forward without bitterness and recriminations.
Though her eyes were swollen and sore, she unfolded the letter to Michael and started to read.
Dear Michael,
First and foremost we wish to thank you for your friendship and advice over the time we have known you, but most of all for how supportive you have been to Lucy since she took over at Cromstone Auctions. We had hoped that Maureen and Godfrey would remain with the company, and had increased their salaries as an incentive, but it would appear that things have not worked out. We are confident that you will help Lucy to resolve this problem, and have enclosed a cheque made out to the Crumptons which we hope will demonstrate our gratitude for their assistance during our time with the company. (We have only recently become aware, through Lucy, of a certain malpractice on the part of the Crumptons, but we feel this matter is best kept out of the courts, so please do your best to persuade the Crumptons to accept our cheque with goodwill.)
Lucy turned the letter over and searched the large envelope, but it seemed Michael had already removed the cheque, so she had no idea yet how much the Crumptons were being paid to go away. Whatever it was, in her opinion it would be too much. Going back to the letter, she read,
Because we have no wish to be deterred from taking the course we have chosen, we have decided it would be unwise to go to a lawyer at this time. So we are hopeful that this letter and its contents, addressed to you, will serve as a final codicil to our joint will.
We, Daphne May Fisher and Brian Edmond Fisher, do hereby bequeath all our worldly goods, as indicated in our last will and testament, to include all properties, businesses and bank accounts, to Lucy Winters, née Alexandra Mckenzie.
Lucy’s heart skipped a beat as she read her name. This was the whole point of the letter, she realised, to make sure that no one could contest their wishes or take away what they wanted to be hers.
Beneath this small paragraph they had both signed and printed their names, together with the date and an imprint of their thumbs that came close to breaking her heart. The second page of the letter said,
I am sure, dear Michael, that you will find a way to make this legal and binding. Please know that we wish to impose no restrictions on whatever Lucy (Alexandra) might choose to do with her inheritance, and we have no final demands of her. However, we do have two small favours to ask of you: should Lucy not wish to scatter our ashes on Exmoor herself, we would be most grateful if you would do this for us (please find enclosed a cheque for one thousand pounds which we hope will be adequate compensation for your time, together with a token of our appreciation). And secondly, we have enclosed a small map that shows a playground near Hastings. For this we enclose a cheque for twenty thousand pounds which we would like to donate to the local council with the proviso that they keep the playground safe and clean and a happy place for the local children to be.
May God bless you, dear Michael, for your kindness and generous indulgence of our wishes. It has been a great pleasure working with you and it affords us enormous comfort to know that you are there to help Lucy through this difficult time.
Until we meet again we remain,
Yours most sincerely
Brian and Daphne Fisher
Chapter Twenty-Four
SNOW WAS FALLING in big fat flakes, turning Cromstone into a Christmas card and the duck pond into a skating rink. All the shopfronts were lit by colourful lights, and the sound of seasonal music spilled into the freezing afternoon as doors were opened and quickly closed again. A comical assortment of snowmen had taken up residence on the green, along with a gaily decorated Christmas tree, while several glittering reindeer appeared to be grazing the rooftops of the valley below.
Outside the farmhouse, where abundant holly wreaths were hanging from the door and gate, Sarah and Hanna were easing a bulky parcel from the back seat of Sarah’s new Clio. ‘You go on ahead and see if she’s there,’ Sarah whispered as they carried it towards the arch. ‘If she is tell her to keep her eyes closed and no peeping.’
Thrilled by the subterfuge, Hanna kicked her snowy boots off in the porch and skipped into the kitchen to find her mother attaching a huge silver bow to a very smartly wrapped Christmas present. ‘Wow, is that for me?’ she demanded, her eyes turning bright with hope.
‘No,’ Lucy replied airily.
Hanna came closer. ‘What is it?’
‘A bird-feeder for Pippa.’
Though not what she’d expected, Hanna looked impressed. ‘Cool,’ she declared approvingly. ‘She’ll like that.’
‘I certainly hope so.’
‘OK,’ Hanna said, moving on, ‘we’ve got to bring something in now and you’re not allowed to look, so can you please go and shut yourself in the pantry?’
‘Oh yes, I’m sure I’m going to do that,’ Lucy replied smoothly. ‘I’ll keep my back turned and promise not to look.’
‘If you do, you’ll ruin everything, and then Santa will pass straight over us tonight.’
Smiling at the echo of her own words, Lucy went to the sink and put her hands over her eyes.
‘OK, you can come in now,’ Hanna shouted to Sarah.
‘Make sure she doesn’t cheat,’ Sarah instructed, as she bundled the parcel in through the door, ‘or she’ll guess from the bag what’s inside.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Hanna replied, holding up a towel like a curtain, ‘I’ve got her covered.’
Laughing as Sarah edged her way round the table and into the hall, all the time cautioning Hanna to hold her position, while Hanna told her to take care in case something broke, Lucy waited until the towel had dropped and Hanna was following Sarah upstairs to her bedroom before turning around again. There were so many surprises in the works this Christmas that they’d had to draw up a schedule determining when and where each one was to be delivered.
Picking up the gaily wrapped bird-feeder, Lucy was about to carry it through to the sitting room when she became aware of a wave of sadness trying to steal her smile. Though i
t made her heart ache with grief and guilt to think of Daphne and Brian and how desperately she still wished she’d gone to them sooner, not to think of them at all would have been wrong and disloyal. So she almost never pushed them from her mind.
In many ways it was hard to believe that nearly four months had passed since they’d taken their own way out, yet in other ways it felt like a lifetime. Much of what had happened over that time was lost in a haze of self-recrimination and longing now, but there were certain things she remembered, such as how kind the police had been when Michael had taken her to identify them, and how peaceful they’d looked. She often read the last letter they’d written, and was able to find some comfort in how unafraid her mother had seemed of going to join the God she so fervently believed in. In a way she’d almost sounded relieved, and though it racked Lucy with sadness to think of it she could imagine that perhaps Daphne was relieved, after so many years of wondering when God’s blessing, as she saw it, might be revoked. And if the truth were told, Lucy felt relieved too that they were not having to endure the unimaginable loneliness of separation, each in a prison cell knowing that they might never see one another in this world again.
The cremation had been the small, unfussy affair they’d requested, with just her, Michael and Hanna in attendance – and Ben, who’d interrupted his gap year in order to come and say his goodbyes. How deeply it would have pleased them to know that he’d made such a long journey just for them – it would probably have worried them too, given how bad they always felt about putting people out of their way. John had paid for Ben’s flight, which Lucy had only found out about later when Ben himself had told her. He’d stayed for ten days, which seemed like ten minutes now, but having him there had meant the world to her. Though Joe had wanted to come too his shooting schedule had prevented it, and given how emotionally fragile she’d been at the time Lucy had felt secretly relieved.
So it was John and Michael who’d driven her and the children down to Exmoor in order to scatter the ashes, waiting in the car while they walked to a hilltop to carry out her parents’ final wishes. It had been the saddest, and for Lucy, the hardest part of the process, watching the soft clouds of ash mingling together like ghosts as they blew out gently over the moor. She’d wanted desperately to make it stop, to somehow make them come back, but the wind had carried them away, while Hanna and Ben had taken her hands, holding her still until the panic subsided and she was finally able to let go.
The following day Ben had returned to his travels and Hanna to school, while Lucy had sat down with Michael, Rose and John to decide how best to proceed from there. Knowing there was likely to be a media circus once the truth was made public, they’d all agreed that they’d prefer to keep it to a minimum if they could, so Michael had set up an exclusive interview with one newspaper and one TV programme. When the time came only John and Lucy were interviewed, since Rose didn’t feel able to cope with all the questions, and in spite of how discreetly and sensitively their chosen reporters handled the exclusive, the story was inevitably taken up by the world’s press and making every headline and bulletin by the end of the same day. Matters weren’t helped by Joe’s decision to sell his version of events to a tabloid, but rather than take him to task about it Lucy had decided instead to inform him that this time he’d gone too far, and there would be no going back.
Though their story remained in the news for weeks after it had broken, being constantly analysed, criticised, sensationalised and occasionally even doubted, fortunately it was mostly hailed for giving hope to families whose loved ones had disappeared without trace. Since then Rose and John had become actively involved in an organisation that helped those people, while Lucy, Sarah, Pippa and Hanna were doing their best to reply to the thousands of letters and emails that came flooding in from around the world. Though Simon and Giselle helped with that too, Becky had declined to become involved on the grounds that she was already helping people as a life coach and was too busy to take on any more.
It was soon after the interview that Michael had delivered a fifteen-thousand-pound cheque to the Crumptons, only handing it over on the signed proviso that they would not seek any further compensation from Cromstone Auctions, nor attend any future sales. Since the Peter Kinley painting had been authenticated, this would mean that the Crumptons – presuming they were aware the piece was an original – were going to miss out on as much as twenty, even thirty thousand pounds when it went under the hammer in the spring. A small triumph in itself, as far as Lucy was concerned, and she could hardly wait to start publicising the sale. As for the solicitors’ letters requesting explanations or investigations on behalf of the clients who’d very probably been cheated by the Ring, since Michael had directed them to the company’s terms and conditions, there had been no further communications.
Then came some news that Lucy hadn’t been expecting at all: with most of his immediate duties on behalf of the estate and company discharged, Michael was leaving for Italy in order to try and repair his marriage. He was worried about his children, he’d explained. Their mother wasn’t providing the kind of stability they needed so it was his duty, as their father, to try to work things out.
‘I know this is terrible timing for you,’ he’d continued apologetically, ‘with everything still in the process of being changed into your legal name … Incidentally, I take it you’re sticking with your decision to be known as Lucy, even though officially you’re now Alexandra?’
‘Yes,’ she’d replied, still reeling from the shock of his news. ‘It would be too confusing to ask everyone to change.’
Nodding his agreement, he made an attempt at irony as he said, ‘How are you feeling now about being closer to forty than you thought?’
She hardly knew how to answer that, when it felt as unreal as the fact that her birthday was in July, not January.
Going on awkwardly, he said, ‘You can decide on which surname to use once we’ve received a decision on the validity of your marriage, but in the meantime I think, for the sake of ease, it’s best to continue with Winters.’
She nodded agreement.
‘You already know my partner, Teresa. She’ll be taking care of everything while I’m away, but if there’s anything you’re unsure about, or feel you need to discuss with me, I’ll be at the end of a phone.’
His departure had been a horrible blow for Lucy, not only because of how much she’d come to rely on him as her lawyer, but because her feelings for him had gone way beyond mere friendship. She’d even dared to hope he might share them, in fact she’d felt sure he did. Once he’d told her about his plans for his marriage, however, she could only thank God that she’d never embarrassed them both by admitting to her hopes for their relationship.
The struggle to get over him had seemed to become harder as each day passed. Its one benefit had been that she and Sarah were now even closer. Her half-sister had been so supportive and understanding, not to mention discreet, in never telling anyone about her mental state that Lucy still wondered how she’d have got through that time without her.
A decision was expected any day now on the validity of her marriage, but whatever the outcome she’d made it quite clear to Joe that as far as she was concerned it was over. Though she hadn’t expected him to take it well, the violence of his reaction had actually scared her. Had Sarah and Hanna not come running when they’d heard him raging about like a bull, smashing things up and threatening to ‘take her down’, she felt sure he’d have ended up hitting her. Luckily, their timely rescue had sent him storming out of the house, all the way back to London, but he’d rung later that night with a warning that he was going to sue her for every last penny she had.
‘I don’t think you get what kind of damage you’ve done to my career,’ he’d yelled. ‘You made me a fucking laughing stock when you told that reporter I had no idea what was happening in your life. I looked like some snivelling little nobody shut out of the party, so you’re going to pay for that, Lucy, and you’re going to pay b
ig.’
‘Your career hasn’t suffered one bit,’ she shot back. ‘In fact you’re doing better now that you have in years. But do you know what? I’m not having this conversation. It’s over between us, Joe, so for once in your life try to be dignified and live with it.’
When a letter turned up from his solicitor the following week, informing her that he considered himself entitled to fifty per cent of the business, farmhouse, cottage and any capital she’d inherited, she flew into a rage of her own.
Tempers had cooled a little by now, but Joe’s bitterness remained ugly and abusive, and there were still no guarantees that Ben and Hanna, who’d taken it upon themselves to try to make him see reason, were going to have any success in persuading him to accept the cottage on Exmoor and fifty thousand pounds in settlement. If he didn’t there was a very good chance they’d end up in court, which would create another media circus that made Lucy cower inside even to think of it. The fact that John had already informed her that under no circumstances would he allow that to happen was certainly a comfort, but she’d told him quite firmly that she’d only accept his help as a loan. Just thank goodness Joe didn’t know anything about that, because being as angry as he was, he might just try to take John’s money and still not let go.
Lately, however, Joe’s character in EastEnders had, as promised, started to make more regular appearances, and given how much being on the screen meant to him, Lucy was daring to hope that the long-awaited breakthrough in his career would help to boost his self-esteem. If that were to happen there was a chance they might go forward in a slightly more amicable fashion, which mattered most to the children, but also to her too, since the last thing she wanted was Ben and Hanna feeling torn between them.
‘Oh, is that right?’ Joe had retorted sarcastically when she’d told him that only last week. ‘So you’re having Christmas down there with your new family, and to hell with mine who Hanna’s known all her life, and who happen to want to see her.’