by A. B. King
“So, how exactly did he die?”
He thought for a moment that she wasn’t going to answer him. He could read the latent suspicion in her eyes and in her whole posture as she sat rigidly in the chair facing him
“I’d made his breakfast,” she said at last. “The doctor was always a most punctual man. I laid it all out for him as usual, yet he never appeared. This was totally out of character, and eventually I became concerned as time passed with no sight or sound from him. When I had waited for what I considered to be a reasonably period I went to his room. Getting no answer to repeated knocking on his door and calling his name, I entered the room where I found him dead in his bed. I called in Dr Rawlinson, and I understand that he later certified death by natural causes. If you want to know more about that, you will have to ask him.”
“As it happens, I shall be going down into the town later this morning; I may well do that.”
“Is there anything else?”
There was still not the slightest degree of empathy between them. She gave the impression that she was there and answering his questions because that was what was required of her. He found himself wondering if she ever unbent with anyone. Did she have a husband? Was she a widow? What exactly lay beyond that frigid exterior?
“Mrs Brent,” he said, watching her reaction as he spoke. “I hope I am wrong, but I get the impression that you strongly resent my presence here. I certainly didn’t ask my uncle to die, much less to saddle me with the responsibility for his property, yet as he has, and I am, I have to make the best of it. I am appreciative of the assistance you have provided since I have been here, and I am of course aware that you regard the flat above the garage as being your home. With that in mind I assure you that I wish to make matters with regard to the winding up of the estate as acceptable to you as possible. As yet I have made no plans for the future of Springwater House, but you need have no fear that any pressure will be brought to bear upon you to vacate your home.”
She made no response, but just sat there looking at him with cold eyes.
“I have seen for myself how spotless the house is,” he continued, “and I have already noted how you have kindly prepared accommodation for me at short notice, and also provided for my meals. Such attention to detail and such forethought is rare in this modern day and age, particularly as I know that such service is not part of your remit as caretaker. I would like you to know that I appreciate what you have done. So, having fulfilled the function of housekeeper to my late uncle, I can think of no one better I would like to continue in this capacity for the duration of my visit. Naturally, I would like to put this on a professional basis. If you agree, I would like you to continue until further notice as housekeeper. I will also admit I am hoping that you will be able to assist me in achieving a better understanding of my late uncle.”
“Why?” she asked as he finished speaking, her voice remaining cold and unfriendly with his acknowledgement of gratitude and offer of employment as housekeeper seemingly ignored.
“Why what?”
“Why do you wish to know him better; as far as I am aware you certainly never bothered to show any interest in him while he was alive.”
He looked at her for a moment, still trying to decide if she was being deliberately offensive, or whether it was just her acerbic nature. He had hoped that the offer of reinstatement would have sparked at least some sort of reciprocal response, yet for all the good it had done it might just as well have remained unsaid.
“Dr Marston was my late mother’s only brother,” he said quietly at last. “For reasons I am unaware of, the brother and sister were not close. It is possible that they may have corresponded at lengthy intervals, if so, my mother never mentioned the fact to me, and I have never seen any such correspondence amongst her effects. Following her death, some years ago there has been no contact. He did not attend my mother’s funeral, and I confess that I have never given him much thought until I was recently informed, for reasons I can only guess at, that he had made me his heir. I am sure that if you were in my position you would also be naturally curious as to why he did this.”
“What do you intend to do with the house?” she asked abruptly, ignoring his implied question as if she had never heard it.
“As I have said, I haven’t decided as yet. I already have a large house that is more than adequate for my needs. I am here to weigh matters up, and to make a decision. I may retain it and lease it out, I may sell it as a going concern, or I may sell to a developer. I will of course consult with you no matter what my decision may be, because it indirectly affects you and the leasehold of the flat. In the meantime, I need to know if you are prepared to work for me under the same terms and conditions as agreed with my late uncle?”
Even as he repeated the offer, he wondered why he was bothering. Whilst it was amply evident that she was a meticulous housekeeper, it was equally obvious that she completely resented his presence. Maybe it was that very hostility that intrigued him. She was about as comfortable a person to be with as an angry porcupine! If ever he had seen a person with a real chip on their shoulder, Mrs Brent was the one.
“Very well,” she said in a tone that was more condescending that grateful. “I will continue to cook and keep house as I did for Dr Marston. I will fit in my duties around my existing part-time work, and I will not be doing any extra hours. If you wish to entertain you must hire staff or caterers to do it for you. For your information, the doctor’s solicitors always paid my wages directly into my bank account; you can sort the matter of wages out with them if you are going there. Now, if there is nothing else you wish to discuss, I need to get ready for work.”
There was not the slightest hint of a thaw in her voice or attitude, and he suddenly wondered if his late uncle had made some sort of promise to leave her the whole of his property if he died, and that that was what was lying at the bottom of everything? He dismissed the idea almost as soon as it appeared; he was just dreaming up unlikely scenarios. He felt sure that the truth, if and when it finally emerged, would be something far more prosaic.
“Thank you for your time,” he said, acknowledging that their brief discussion was over. “I won’t delay you any further. I shall not be in lunch time, but I would like to have a meal at about eight this evening if that will be convenient?”
“Do you wish to dine on anything in particular?”
“No, I have few fads and fancies; I will leave it to your discretion.”
“Very well,” she said, rising from the table, and without a further word she left.
He finished his breakfast, glancing at the newspapers she had brought in with it, yet his mind remained on the intriguing matter of his housekeeper. Anyone less like his own redoubtable Mrs Croft he couldn’t imagine. Surely his late uncle could have found a more congenial person to assist him in running such a big house? Obviously he had been well satisfied with her services, unless he had been so scared of her he had been frightened to dismiss her? From what he had already seen she was certainly efficient, and he believed that she was telling the strict truth when she said that she was devoted to her late employer. Devoted or not, the idea of any sort of affair between them now seemed even more ludicrous than he had first supposed. Unless he was very much mistaken, anyone making an overtly personal move towards Mrs Brent with that sort of scenario in mind wouldn’t get past first base! Was she as off-hand with everyone, he wondered, or was it all reserved for him?
During the early part of the morning he made a few telephone calls, and at about ten o’clock he got in his car and returned to Wellworthy town centre. It was, he thought, a bit grandiose calling it a town, for really it was little more than an overgrown village. For one thing, as he quickly discovered to his satisfaction, there was no problem parking in the high street, and every city and town he had been to in recent years had a parking problem of varying degrees of severity. Here there was ample space and nothing like the density of traffic he was accustomed to. Having parked, he stepped out of
his car and noted that there was neither a parking meter nor an irritating yellow line to be seen anywhere. Having already obtained the name and address of his late uncle’s solicitors, it was to here that he directed his steps to make his first call.
Jensen Smith and Carter, Family Solicitors said the well-polished brass plaque outside the rather small plain door of the high street offices of this long established rural practice. He entered, and made himself known to the rather mousy looking young woman sitting behind a small desk in the reception area. He asked to see Mr Dobson, the senior partner whom he knew had handled his uncle’s estate. Within a few moments Mr Dobson appeared through a door on the far side of the reception and invited him into his office after first requesting ‘Miss Grayson,’ which was evidently the mousy receptionist’s name, to muster up tea.
The office was small and crowded out with furniture that looked as if it had been installed when the firm had first opened for business somewhere back in the nineteenth century. There were files and papers heaped about in a seemingly haphazard manner all round the room, which smelled rather dusty and airless. Mr Dobson was a man of indeterminate age, possibly somewhere on the wrong side of seventy. He peered at Martin over the top of a pair of glasses that looked about as old as he was.
“I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr Isherwood,” said Mr Dobson. “I trust everything is in order at Springwater House? I telephoned Mrs Brent as soon as I was informed that you were coming, and I know she is a very efficient person.”
“She is certainly that,” Martin agreed, taking the proffered seat and declining a cigarette that Mr Dobson offered to him from a box on his desk. A man of the law or not, he clearly had little regard for the latest health and safety regulations with regard to smoking in the workplace.
“As I am sure you are aware, your own solicitor is already in receipt of a copy of your late uncle’s will,” Mr Dobson continued, “however, anything I can do to help, please do ask.”
“Did you know my uncle well?” Martin enquired, easing himself back in the chair.
“Oh yes, I had that pleasure for many years,” the solicitor answered, nodding his head as if to confirm his own words. “I knew him and his late wife almost from the day he came to Wellworthy. Dr Marston was a popular, well-respected man in these parts, and his death is a sad loss both to myself and to the community as a whole. Yes indeed, a very sad loss.”
“I have to confess that I didn’t know him at all,” Martin admitted, “and the fact that he left me the bulk of his estate came as a bit of a bolt out of the blue, I’m afraid.”
“I have no doubt of that; he was particularly keen to ensure that nobody knew of his intentions until after his demise. He told me that you knew nothing of what was in his mind, and he didn’t want any inkling of his wishes to reach you until after his death. I considered his attitude in this respect to be somewhat unusual, although I had no choice other than to follow my client’s instructions as I’m sure you will appreciate?”
“Yes, I fully understand that, only it leaves me in the somewhat embarrassing situation where I have no idea why he made me the main beneficiary.”
“He was, I believe, your late mother’s brother?”
“That is correct, and as far as I know, they were not particularly close. I only recall seeing him once, and that was when I was a child so my memory of him as a person is vague in the extreme.”
“Yes, I can see that it must be a bit puzzling,” the solicitor admitted. “I only wish I could enlighten you as to what was in his mind.”
“Perhaps I am being unusual in endeavouring to understand why he did it,” Martin mused. “After all, I imagine that most people receiving an unexpected legacy are just happy that they have received it, and never bother as to why. I’m afraid I have that sort of mind that always likes to find reasons for things.”
“Then I am genuinely sorry that I am not in a position to resolve the matter for you.”
“Well, it isn’t that important; maybe I will meet some of his friends and acquaintances whilst I’m here, and they may be able to tell me something that will answer the question for me?”
“Yes, I suppose that is possible,” Mr Dobson agreed, but his tone implied that he thought it rather unlikely. “I understand that you are in business?”
“Yes; engineering as it happens.”
“I see; so I may assume you will not be taking up permanent residence in these parts?”
“At the moment I have no plans to move house, if that is what you are asking?”
“You must forgive my natural curiosity; almost every person who knew the late Dr Marston is concerned about what will happen to his home now that he has departed this earth. I imagine it is too early to ask if you have made any plans for Springwater House?”
“That is why I am here in Wellworthy; I thought I would spend a few days getting the feel of the place before I make any firm decision with regard to its future.”
“A wise move, if I may be permitted to say.”
At that point Miss Grayson tapped on the door and brought in a tray spread with cups and saucers, a small teapot under a hand knitted cosy, along with milk and sugar, and a small plate of biscuits. She poured out two cups of tea after first enquiring if Martin took sugar and milk. When her task was completed she quietly exited the office, closing the door behind her.
“This question as to why my uncle wished me to inherit his estate has been on my mind since I first learned of his death,” Martin said as the door closed behind the receptionist. “As I have mentioned, there has been no correspondence between him and my late mother that I am aware of, and certainly not with me subsequent to her death. The truth of the matter is that until I was advised of the will I had forgotten his very existence. I hope you will agree this makes the bequest somewhat extraordinary. If you have known him for so many years, even without having definite information, I wondered if you had any suspicions of anything, well, unusual that may assist towards helping me to understand the reason for his action?”
Mr Dobson shrugged eloquently. “As I said; he never gave me any reason,” he repeated. “Nor do I entertain any ‘suspicions’ pertaining to the matter. The will, which superseded one made some twenty five-odd years ago, was made shortly after the death of your aunt, replacing the earlier one in which you were not mentioned. I’m afraid that following the death of his wife he became rather withdrawn, and when he decided to completely redraft his will, he made no reference as to why he made the decision.”
“Hm, presumably the original one left everything to his wife, and she will have made out a reciprocal one I've no doubt?”
Mr Dobson looked uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, that is a matter I am unable to comment on.”
Martin was mildly surprised at his stuffy attitude but allowed it to pass without comment.
“He must have been pretty lonely,” he remarked, changing the subject slightly, “living in that great mausoleum of house on his own?”
“If he was, he never admitted to the fact,” Dobson responded, his expression appearing to indicate that he felt on safer ground now. “I did suggest to him on one occasion that living in such a big place all alone was perhaps not the best thing for him in his declining years, and that he should consider moving to a smaller one. He refused to consider the matter, telling me that it was his intention to die in the house where he had lived for most of his professional life.”
“I suppose it was only natural that he felt rather attached to it. After all, it was where he must have spent all of his married life.”
“Possibly; although as far as I am aware no one ever heard of him speaking of the place in glowing terms, certainly not in the latter years. On the other hand, it has to be admitted that he never left it for any length of time. He never went away on business, never even went away for a holiday. I sometimes felt that he regarded the house as more of a prison than a home.”
“How extraordinary,” Martin commented, then added; “Do you think
that the loss of his wife is what caused him to alter his will?”
“I would think there is possibly some connection; the new will was drafted only the matter of a few weeks after her funeral,” he admitted. “Whether this was just a passing whim, or if the matter had been on his mind for some time I couldn’t say.”
“And there is nothing at all you can think of that would enable me to resolve this interesting conundrum?” he pressed.
Mr Dobson looked at him, and Martin formed the opinion that the solicitor did know something, yet for whatever reason was not prepared to divulge it.
“If it is of any assistance,” he said, “and speaking quite unofficially and in confidence you understand, I can tell you in respect of your earlier question that your late aunt’s will left everything to her husband. I am under an injunction not to discuss your late uncle’s earlier will.”
“I see, well I thank you for taking me that far into your confidence,” Martin responded quietly, covertly watching the solicitor as he spoke. “Naturally I would not seek to pressure you into breaking professional confidences, although you must admit that the situation is unusual. Not that I have anything like your experience of such matters, yet I do not recall ever hearing of anyone being unable to discuss a revoked will. I find that most curious, yes, most curious. Indeed, I suspect that there is something about this whole business that is not quite as it seems. No doubt I shall find out what it is in time, and it will turn out to be something terribly mundane and not worth the effort.”
“You may be right,” Mr Dobson agreed politely, but again his expression seemed to indicate that he felt Martin was probing into something he really didn’t want to talk about, “on the other hand, as far as I know, you are the only surviving member of the family on either side. Personally, I would assume that he made a straight choice between family and perhaps a charity.”