A Midwinter Promise

by Lulu Taylor

  ‘Sally says he’s been called back to town. Great. Just when he could actually be useful.’ Alex sipped her tea. ‘I’ve offered to stay with her until he gets back tomorrow.’

  ‘That’s very good of you.’ Johnnie gave her an admiring look. ‘She doesn’t deserve this, you know.’

  ‘She’s a woman on the brink of getting old who’s lost her husband, and she’s grieving.’

  Johnnie leaned towards her intently. ‘Yeah, but she wasn’t always like this. When she had the power, she didn’t offer you kindness, did she? And you’re grieving too – for the father she kept you from. Don’t forget that, Al. It’s great to be all forgiving, but don’t push yourself back on this, I think you’ll regret it.’

  ‘I hear you. But Pa would have wanted us to be kind to Sally. And it’s not for long. Once the funeral is over, I doubt she’ll want to hear from us again.’

  The lead-up to Christmas was awful. Alex found all the carol services and school events with the girls unbearably moving, and each one inspired deep grief and regret. She was devastated that Pa wouldn’t see the girls grow up and that he’d miss all these stages of their lives. As a result, she became so upset during Jasmine’s nativity play, another mother had to help her out into the playground and then hug her until she stopped weeping great choking sobs of loss. Saying goodbye to them on Christmas Eve had left her in one of the blackest places she’d ever known.

  Johnnie was grieving too, but his way was less visible. He clammed up, retreated inwards and focused on the practical aspects of the whole thing.

  ‘You’re coming to us for Christmas, Alex,’ he’d declared, in a tone that brooked no dissent. ‘You can’t be on your own in the barn without the girls, that’s no good at all.’

  Then Sally had said, in her new, quavering voice, that she wanted Alex to come to her on Christmas Day. ‘I need to get to church,’ she’d said. ‘And the company will be nice.’

  ‘Won’t Mundo be here?’

  ‘Oh no, he’s in London with Isabella. He has commitments there.’

  Yeah, I can guess what kind of commitments those are. Smart parties, work dos, shopping on Bond Street for something nice for his girlfriend. She felt sorry for Sally again. All these years, her world had revolved around Mundo. She’d done everything she could to guarantee him a successful life, and now she needed him, he’d vanished without a trace. ‘Okay. I’ll come in the morning and take you to church. Then we’ll go to Johnnie for the rest of the day. How does that sound?’

  Sally had looked so pathetically grateful, Alex felt sorry for her all over again.

  Johnnie was not so pleased when she told him, but although he grumbled, he accepted it. As long as Mundo was not part of the package, he could just about cope.

  ‘Where is he, though?’ Johnnie wondered.

  ‘God, don’t ask. You’ll summon him up like some kind of evil spirit. Let’s hope he stays away.’

  Christmas Day itself wasn’t as awful as she’d feared. Alex missed the girls like crazy and found the online chat with them during the day was almost worse than nothing at all because the connection was so bad, and they were so giddy with excitement anyway that it was hard to follow their thought processes. At least, as far as she could make out, they liked the presents she’d entrusted to Tim.

  ‘I’ll see you very soon,’ she said. ‘Happy Christmas, lovelies.’

  It was good to be with her nephews, though, and their joy helped to make up for what she was missing. Netta and Johnnie produced an excellent Christmas lunch, and they watched television over a big box of chocolates for the rest of the day. Sally sat quietly through most of it, and only occasionally was seen crying silently into a white cotton handkerchief.

  As they did the washing-up, Netta said to Alex, ‘All the fight’s gone out of her.’

  ‘I know,’ Alex said, drying up a plate. ‘All this time, she’s been a monster and now . . . she’s so broken. I never would have predicted it. Honestly, I’ve never seen her so diminished. She’s literally got smaller. And she’s so helpless too.’ She shook her head. ‘It feels weird that she’s calling me up, relying on me, deferring to me. Anything I say goes. She’s pathetically grateful for anything.’

  ‘You’re good to her,’ Netta said solemnly. ‘Better than I would be.’

  Alex shrugged. ‘How are you and Johnnie getting on?’

  Netta looked thoughtfully into the soapy bubbles in the sink. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘I thought it was a terrible idea, but this escape from the rat race has helped. Bertie usually has bad eczema, and it’s cleared right up. Maybe the air is cleaner or something. And it makes a difference having Johnnie here, I won’t deny it. He’s been able to spend so much more time with the boys and they’ve loved it.’

  ‘That’s all good, isn’t it?’ Alex ventured, picking up a glass to polish with the tea cloth.

  Netta nodded. ‘Yes. But it’s not the here and now I’m worried about. It’s the future. It’s what we’re going to go back to. It’s how we’re going to cope.’ She looked at Alex solemnly. ‘I don’t think Johnnie and I agree on what we want our future to be. And that’s a really, really big problem.’

  ‘Right,’ Alex said, uncertain how much Netta wanted her to ask about it. Then, more brightly, ‘You could just stay here!’

  ‘That only shifts the problem here. It won’t go away.’

  ‘But there might be other solutions here. Or things might just change . . .’

  Netta smiled one of her reserved, closed-mouth smiles, as though she nursed secrets none must know of. ‘I don’t have any faith that anything will change.’

  ‘Don’t you?’ Alex asked, concerned. ‘That sounds really serious, Netta. I know Johnnie can be thoughtless and a bit self-absorbed. He got used to looking after himself when he was a boy. Sally could be so cold to him at times, when he really needed a mother figure to make it right for him. So he shut off a bit. Maybe he still has that habit.’

  ‘I’m sorry about that, but I can’t be a mother to him, Alex,’ Netta said coolly. ‘That’s not my idea of a healthy marriage, even if I wanted to take on that role.’

  ‘I know,’ Alex said hastily, ‘I’m just saying. I know that Johnnie wants to work on that aspect – on taking more responsibility and not just thinking of himself. He wants to make it work so badly.’

  ‘If only that was all it takes. Our future is about more than just us. I don’t think Johnnie understands that. In fact, I know he doesn’t.’

  ‘Can’t you talk to him about it?’

  ‘Now is not the time. Johnnie’s grieving and needs me to support him. We have to get through the funeral and out the other side.’ Netta plunged her hands into the sink and pulled out another soapy plate to put in the rack. ‘That’s the priority at the moment.’

  When Alex arrived at the solicitor’s, Johnnie was already in the waiting room, more informal in jeans and a jacket. He looked nervous.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she whispered as they sat together in the quiet reception room.

  ‘Yes. Just wondering what we’re going to find out today, that’s all.’

  A moment later, a plump, elderly man with a round face and steely grey hair came into reception, dressed in David’s style: a navy blazer, shirt and tie and well-pressed trousers. He nodded an awkward hello, before giving his name to the receptionist and settling down to wait. Another man of the same vintage and in almost the same outfit came in a few minutes later, and the two clearly knew one another. They talked in a half-whisper until the door opened and a middle-aged man in a grey suit stood there.

  ‘The Pengelly family, please?’

  Alex and Johnnie stood up, and so did the other two men.

  The man in the grey suit frowned. ‘Aren’t we expecting more than this?’

  Johnnie spoke up. ‘My stepmother hasn’t arrived yet.’

  ‘Ah, yes, well, let’s go through, get some cups of coffee and so on, and no doubt she’ll be here soon. I’m Simon Warburton, by the way.’
>
  They followed him into a conference room, which was dominated by a large table with bookshelves holding legal tomes. Along one wall, a small sideboard was laid out with tea and coffee.

  The elderly gentlemen collected cups of coffee and came over to Alex and Johnnie.

  ‘How do you do,’ said one politely. ‘My name is Williams, Eric Williams.’

  ‘I’m Philip Hansel,’ said the other.

  ‘Okay,’ Johnnie said, a little terse. ‘How do you know our father?’

  ‘We’re executors,’ Eric Williams said. ‘Of the will.’

  ‘But we know him from the golf club. Excellent player. Sadly missed. Our commiserations. We’d like to look into some kind of memorial bench, if you’re of a mind with us—’

  Johnnie was staring at them with a look of disbelief on his face, when the door opened, and Mundo strode in, almost dragging Sally, who was hanging off his arm, looking small inside her fur coat.

  ‘I hope nothing has been said!’ Mundo boomed. ‘I assume you’ve waited for Mrs Pengelly!’

  Simon Warburton stepped forward. ‘Hello, Mrs Pengelly, so glad you’re here. Of course we were waiting. If you’d like to get some coffee, we’ll get started.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Sally said in a high, tense voice, and her gaze flicked anxiously to Alex and Johnnie, but she said nothing beyond a murmured hello. They all sat down.

  It’s not like the films, Alex thought, as proceedings got underway. She’d imagined a formal reading of the will like something in a murder mystery but this was quite ordinary and rather boring. A gathering around the table and discussions of probate, codicils, beneficiaries, taxes, costs and HMRC.

  ‘So what are the actual terms of the will?’ Johnnie asked, a little impatiently, after quarter of an hour of administrative discussion. ‘I realise there’s lots of red tape to deal with, but I want to know about my father’s assets and how they’ll be divided up.’

  ‘Of course, of course, that’s quite normal.’ Warburton turned a few pages on the stapled wedge of paper he was holding. ‘Yes, let me see. As there is a death certificate provided, we can move to the next stage of agreeing the terms.’

  He began to read out the relevant paragraphs. Alex listened, trying to concentrate. Johnnie was scribbling hard on a notepad just beside her and he seemed to be following it all perfectly well, but she found the words slipping and sliding about, turning into a stream of legal terms that meant nothing. Then she heard, ‘To my natural children, Jonathan and Alexandra, according to the terms of their mother’s wishes set out in her will of . . .’ and she became alert, listening hard. ‘The ongoing trust of the Tawray estate entrusted to my care on my wife’s death until such time as I would deem them capable, or they reach the age of forty, whichever is sooner, is to be passed to them along with all outstanding assets including properties, after due taxes and fees have been paid.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ Alex whispered to Johnnie.

  Johnnie blinked, obviously stunned. ‘Wait!’ He held up a hand. ‘The house was sold earlier this year.’

  Warburton scanned the document in front of him. He flicked over a couple of pages. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a full report pending from the estate administrators, but as far as I can see, it all remains intact. It looks as though the house is let on a long lease. But not sold.’

  Sally gasped and Mundo frowned. Alex turned to Johnnie, her heart racing. ‘Did you hear that?’

  ‘Yes.’ Johnnie looked at her, his face screwed up with surprise and disbelief. ‘But . . . why did Pa let us believe it was sold?’ He looked over at Sally. ‘Did you think it was sold, Sally?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said faintly. ‘I did.’

  Simon Warburton was watching them. ‘I’ll proceed if that’s all right?’ They didn’t demur, still lost in their surprise. ‘Right then.’ He read out again from the will. ‘To my wife, Sally, I leave the sum of fifty thousand pounds after taxes and fees, and an annual income derived from my naval pension and private investments to maintain her in comfort. And to my stepson, Edmund, in recognition of his many benefits and successes, the sum of ten thousand pounds after taxes and fees.’

  He looked back at the family. ‘Those are the main bequests, though there are several other smaller ones, including to the golf club and the children of Alexandra and Jonathan. And there is a great deal of information about the Tawray trust, which will take some time to pass through probate, not least because of the complex inheritance tax issues. But . . .’ The lawyer smiled over at Alex and Johnnie. ‘The control of the trust is a major bequest. You will have quite a responsibility, with all the associated properties and business.’

  Alex glanced at Johnnie, who looked jubilant, and then at Mundo, whose expression was thunderous, his face the dark red of old brick. Sally looked lost and confused and she clutched at her son’s hand.

  We’ve got Tawray, she thought wonderingly. So after all this, all the losses and sadness and disappointment, Tawray is coming back to us.

  Not long after, Mundo got up and took Sally away, his face still set in an expression of dark fury. Sally went with him, obedient, and paying no attention to her stepchildren. Alex and Johnnie stayed to discuss issues of the trust’s possessions and how it would be administered, and then they excused themselves, leaving the executors to continue their meeting.

  ‘I’m afraid probate can take many months,’ Simon Warburton said apologetically as he showed them out. ‘There’s no saying when legal transfer will be completed.’

  ‘We understand,’ Johnnie said. His eyes were shining with a light that Alex hadn’t seen before. ‘But can I get something straight? All my father’s property belongs to the Tawray trust?’

  The lawyer nodded. ‘I believe so. All purchases were made with money from the trust. All assets belong to it. Well, goodbye. Please do be in touch if you have any questions.’

  Outside, in the dank January air, Johnnie put his hands in his pockets and whooped, doing a little dance on the pavement.

  ‘It’s exciting, isn’t it?’ Alex said, half laughing at the silliness of it. ‘We’ve still got Tawray!’

  ‘You betcha!’ Johnnie laughed.

  ‘Come on, what’s making you so jolly? I know it’s wonderful, but I see a lot of paperwork and admin in my immediate future.’

  ‘Yes, yes. But . . . don’t you get it?’

  ‘I suppose we’re going to be quite well off,’ she said slowly. ‘Not with money but with the house and so on.’

  ‘Oh, there’ll be some money too. You’ll be okay – you’ll have the barn and the business, and some money from the trust. That’s not what I mean, though.’ His eyes glinted at her. ‘Don’t you see? He didn’t leave anything to Sally.’

  ‘He left her fifty grand!’

  ‘Yes, but that’s not enough for a house, not of Sally’s standard. The house she’s in belongs to us now.’

  ‘Oh.’ Alex began to see his point. ‘And Mundo got almost nothing.’

  ‘Did you see his face?’ Johnnie whooped again and laughed. ‘He must have thought Sally would get at least half of everything, and that would eventually come to him. And instead he’s got ten grand and a “thanks very much”. Ha! That’s made my day.’ Then he grabbed Alex’s hand and stared at her, excited. ‘But can’t you see the real deliciousness of it all?’

  Alex shook her head.

  ‘We can chuck Sally out. Don’t you see? After all this, we can finally give her a taste of her own medicine.’

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The rectory was in a state of flux as Netta gathered together the things she wanted to take back to their old house. It was time to return, with the new term approaching. Johnnie was staying for now and Netta would come back for the funeral.

  ‘I wish you would stay here,’ Johnnie said, leaning against the hall table as she came in with a bag full of the boys’ toys.

  ‘You know that’s not possible,’ Netta replied, dumping it by the door. ‘The boys hav
e to get back to school.’

  ‘They could go to school here.’ He went over and took her hands. ‘Look at how much happier we’ve all been since we got here. Obviously I don’t mean with Pa, but as a family. The kids love this house, the garden. Bertie loves it too. He seems calmer somehow, and his allergies have definitely improved. Why don’t we just escape and come down here?’

  Netta flushed and pulled her hands away. ‘You know why. I’ve got a job, the children are settled. Bertie’s in his school and you know how hard it was to get that place and how we had to fight the council. I can’t just give it all up and come down here!’

  ‘But, Netta.’ Johnnie spread out his hands as if in supplication. ‘It’s all different now!’

  ‘How is it different?’

  ‘I’m going to be responsible for Tawray, the estate, all the business Pa built up on the quiet when it looked like he was playing golf and drinking port. It’s a new opportunity. We can use this, Netta. It’s our chance to change our lives.’

  ‘I see,’ she said tartly. She scooped up her notepad and pen from the hall table and scored some deep lines on the paper. ‘And we should dance to your tune, should we?’

  ‘But you hate your job, you could easily find something else down here. There’s bound to be a school for Bertie if we start looking. I know we’ll find something.’

  Netta’s face seemed to set hard, and her eyes flashed with anger. ‘I found the last school, I did the application, I got Bertie in. I fought the council, and I got the twins into their school, and sorted them out too: uniforms, sports kit, stationery, school bags, shoes – all of it! But because you want to move, I should give up my job and do all that work all over again.’

  ‘No!’ Johnnie wanted to bite his stupid tongue. ‘No, I don’t mean that. We’ll do it together this time. I just think we could be happier here. And I thought you might feel the same way.’

  ‘The thing is, Johnnie, I have the burden of looking after Bertie and running the massive admin of our family life. I always have, and I always will.’ Her face went redder. ‘And I know very well that one day you are going to make me choose between you and him. Between staying married to you and looking after Bertie. And I can tell you this: he will always come first. Always. You might want to get rid of him, but he’s my son and I intend to look after him until I die, or he does. That’s my intention. I can’t do anything else.’ She stopped, clearly fighting for control, her breathing coming rapidly.