Kit’s heart and brain were going a mile a minute, and both were cursing her. She usually came up with better excuses than that. Considering their builds, there was no way even Maximillian would buy that she had the same bra size as Laura. Not to mention that he must have heard how weird they sounded. Kit was fully aware that her voice was at the junction of freaking out and dying of embarrassment. Any second now she’d hear his steps up the stairs. Should they hide? Rush to get dressed? Emigrate?
“Really? Well, jam accidents can be disastrous. Come down when you’re ready,” he called back.
“I’ll be there soon,” Laura squeaked.
She grabbed Kit and mouthed “thank you” before leaping into the bathroom. Kit stood in the doorway, watching her with affection that pushed most of the embarrassment aside.
In substantial panic, Laura cleaned off her most indecent parts and shouted, “Almost done,” at least twice during the procedure.
“Calm down. You seem suspicious,” Kit whispered.
“No rush,” Maximillian bellowed. Then there was the unmistakable sound of creaking wood as he stepped closer to the stairs. “You know, the cook was nowhere to be found. I searched everywhere! Finally, I left a note in the kitchen saying no more parsnips and carrots due to their bad effect on ears.”
Kit wrapped herself in the duvet and checked on Laura, who was now washing her mouth and so unable to reply. There was another groan from the old floorboards.
Please don’t come up. She’s so close to being done!
“Good solution! Laura will be down in a moment. Have a seat,” Kit called down. She was relieved to hear his steps creak away from the steps again. She gathered Laura’s clothes and put them on the bed.
A second later, Laura ran out and got dressed at a speed which must have been some sort of record. She kissed Kit goodbye with a promise to call later and then flew downstairs to collect her uncle.
When the door had shut behind them, Kit had a quick shower, even though it begrudged her to wash Laura’s scent off her skin. Then she dressed and sat down in the kitchen. With Laura gone, she needed something else to do with her evening off. She considered her abandoned book or going for a run. Or a walk, considering her wobbly post-coital legs.
Still, it felt as if there was something else she should be doing. A restlessness niggled at her and told her she’d forgotten something important. Then the thought doused her like a bucket of ice water—I should be asking Alice about her will!
Yes, that must be it! Kit shoved her Converse on her feet with a half-arsed tying of the laces. She rushed out, down the hill and towards Nettle Road without even missing her leather jacket.
Chapter Thirteen
Snail Murderers and Spilling Tea
Kit should’ve tied her laces better. She had tripped twice and become the unwilling murderer of one snail and one kid’s chalk drawing since the start of Nettle Road. She felt guilty but had little time to dwell on that. The Caine brothers, with their lily-white hands and arrogant manners, weren’t going to keep her from getting to the bottom of this hidden will business anymore.
Finally, she arrived and was rapping her knuckles against the quaint, old door. That was when her brain caught up, reminding her of her abandoned jacket as well as what forgotten thing had actually been niggling her: talking to Shannon on Rachel’s behalf. She slammed her fist into her thigh. What kind of a friend was she? Well, it was too late to change course now; she’d already knocked.
Alice creaked the door open, and when she saw who it was, her face lit up. “Good evening, Kit! Fancy seeing you. I was worried that the boys had scared you off for good.”
“Oh, I’ve had big-city, homophobic bullies after me in my day. I don’t scare that easily anymore.”
Alice’s eyes went wide. “I’m horrified to hear that but glad you don’t find my boys too intimidating. Come on in, dear.”
“Thanks, I hope it’s not too late for a visit?”
“Oh, no, not at all. Still, I’ll get some refreshments to keep us alert.”
When they were both seated on the plush sofa with cups of tea and a plate of Garibaldis between them,1 they picked up the conversation where they had been interrupted last night.
“We were talking about what had been hidden in Journey to the Centre of the Earth,” Kit said, putting her cup back on its saucer.
“Of course. Yes, I remember. That was when Phillip was so awfully rude and downright unpleasant. I do apologise for him and promise that he’s all bark and no bite.”
“He’s a grown man, he should apologise for his own bad behaviour.”
“I know, but still…” She ran her hand over her white curls. “My late husband and I raised him better than that. Although sometimes I worry we might have spoiled the boys. Why else would they have turned from such sweet children to the sort of men I might suspect of meddling with my belongings? How can they be so horrid to someone like you, who only wants to help?”
Kit wasn’t sure what answer would give this woman comfort. In the end she had to settle for, “Who can say? Great parents sometimes have… less great kids. Anyway, no need for an apology. Let’s just get to the bottom of all of this. Do you feel up to talking about what was hidden in the book?”
Alice put her cup and saucer on the table, smoothed down her skirt, and matter-of-factly said, “my will.”
“Right, that’s what Ethel told me. I only wanted to prompt you to make sure that she was remembering correctly.”
Alice Caine gave her a knowing smirk. “And that I was remembering correctly?”
Kit squirmed. “Well, yes, that, too. I don’t want to be ageist, but we all forget things. Especially things that happened a year ago and probably didn’t seem all that important at the time.”
“My will has always been important to me. The only reason I forgot it was in the book was that it was only there for a day or so.”
“Ah, and then it went missing?”
Alice started. “No, dear! Then it was placed in the bank with my jewellery and other things I keep in a safety deposit box there.”
Kit’s heart sank. “Really? That wasn’t why the book was stolen, then.”
Alice turned her face to the window, suddenly pensive. “The boys took the will to the bank for me. Phillip said that it wasn’t safe to keep it in the house. For the life of me, I can’t remember where they got the will from, though.”
“Wait… So, they could have stolen the book, found the will, and then maybe changed it and dropped it off the bank?”
“No. The will is exactly as it should be. I checked it about a month ago to make sure I had included my quite new collection of porcelain elephants.”
Kit sat forward, knocking the table so that tea spilled into her saucer. “Okay, but you don’t know where Phillip and Anthony found the will?”
Alice was still looking out the window, as if searching for the answer outside. “Hm. No, I can’t remember. Oh, isn’t that silly? I was just trying to prove to you that being older doesn’t mean I’m forgetful, and now I, well, I can’t remember.”
She seemed so disappointed and angry at herself that it stung Kit’s heart. “As I said, it was a year ago, and clearly wasn’t remarkable at the time. I bet I’d have forgotten as well. Don’t worry about it.”
“So silly of me.” Alice shook her head, then her gaze returned to Kit. “Anyway, neither of my boys should have a problem with the will.”
“No? Why not?” Kit asked before finishing what tea hadn’t spilled out of her cup earlier.
Alice picked her cup up as well. “Because I’ve given them both everything they wanted. Through the years, they have both expressed the wish that eighty percent of my money should go to Phillip and his family, while the remaining twenty percent and this cottage would go to Anthony.”
“And that’s what your will says?”
“Yes. It does include one more thing: a triple-strand freshwater pearl necklace I got as a wedding gift. Phillip and Anthony agreed it
should be sold and the money split evenly between the two of them. No quarrels or uncertainties there either.”
“Huh,” Kit said, putting her cup down with a feeling of dejection. “You’re sure they’re happy about all of this? And aware of every detail?”
“Yes, that I am certain of. Both the boys and Jackie were there when the will was written up and signed by me and my solicitor. Even Caitlin was there, as I recall, since she had just been picked up from school.”
Kit ran a hand through her hair. “Okay, so there would be no reason for any of them to steal the will? Or be curious about what was in it?”
“None that I can think of, dear.”
Kit’s mind was racing. Could this be the work of Liam Soames after all? Maybe he had hoped that the past years of helping Alice would lead to him being named in the will? Maybe he had stolen it to check? But if that were true, why hadn’t he acted out when he learned he wasn’t in the will? Perhaps he had in some way? After all, Kit knew little to nothing about him or his behaviour. Also, were those flowers on the light fixture up there? Who would want decorated light fixtures? 2
Low blood sugar is making you go off topic. Take a biscuit and then get back to Liam!
Picking up a Garibaldi, Kit asked, “Would you say that Liam has been more friendly lately? Perhaps, I don’t know, sucking up?”
With a shrewd look, Alice replied, “So you think it was Liam who borrowed the will and, when he found out he wasn’t in it, attempted to charm his way into it?”
Kit swallowed a mouthful of biscuit and tried for a disarming smile. “Perhaps?”
“I haven’t noticed any difference in his behaviour. What’s more, despite my sons seeing him as some mastermind criminal, Liam is a straightforward boy. You can read him like a book, pardon the pun. I think I would know if he was plotting to get into my will by either charm or deceit.”
“Okay.” Kit pushed her glasses up her nose. “What about Rachel?”
“What about dear Rachel?”
“I hear she helped assemble and fill these bookshelves. Is there any way she could’ve borrowed the book?”
Alice shook her head with vigour. “If she had, she would have told us when you started looking into this. She’s the most honest person I know. Furthermore, she has no reason to take the book with or without a will in it.”
“Even though she’s remotely related to you and might expect to be left something?”
“Rachel is not in the will. She knows that and wouldn’t expect anything else. Should I refill your cup?”
“Oh, no, thanks. Why wouldn’t Rach expect to be in the will?”
Alice put the teapot down. “We both know that Rachel isn’t greedy or fussed about material things. She wants nothing from anyone except a chat and a laugh.”
Kit had to admit that there was point to that. Rachel would gladly starve as long as everyone around her was happy and provided for.
“Moreover, Rachel has plenty of other relatives she might inherit from one day,” Alice elaborated. “Not to mention that I helped pay her rent when she was temporarily out of work as a young woman. No, she wouldn’t want to be in my will.”
“You’re right,” Kit admitted. “I suppose that only leaves Liam for me to talk to about the will.”
“I suppose so.” Alice paused. “You know, I’m not so naïve that I don’t know that Liam has done things he shouldn’t have.”
Kit only nodded as she now had a mouthful of biscuit. She hadn’t realised how hungry that quality time with Laura had made her.
“With all this in mind, Kit, I feel it’s important that I tell you how kind Liam is to me and how many times I have had to comfort him when he’s been dealt a bad blow or someone has shown prejudice against him. He has struggled and made mistakes. Nonetheless, he’s a good boy and should be given a chance.”
“Sure. I see what you’re saying, and I promise that I always try to not be prejudiced against people.” Alice didn’t look convinced, so Kit expanded, “I know, easier said than done. But being gay means that I know how it feels when people have preconceived notions about you, so I try to avoid having them myself. I’ll treat Liam exactly like I did your sons the first time I met them.”
Here’s hoping Liam won’t turn out to be condescending, rude, or threatening like them, she added in her mind.
Alice sat back with an air of contentment. “Good. You can speak to Liam while I have another jab at trying to remember anything else about the will or the book. Now, finish your Garibaldi.”
Kit all too happily obeyed.
As she was walking home from Nettle Road, Kit got a text from Aimee that sucked her into a lengthy chat about the bookshelf mystery and Aimee’s work life. They were six texts into the conversation before the topic turned to Kit missing Laura.
Kit was stepping around a cat washing itself in the middle of a pavement when Aimee wrote:
I don’t get why you’re not at Howard Hall every night. Sure, old Maxi-boy being there means that you can’t put the moves on Laura, but at least you can spend time together. Chat or watch telly or something?
Kit’s shoulders drooped while she texted back:
Maximillian doesn’t like the TV being on, it hurts his eyes. Meanwhile, chatting with him around hurts my brain. I sometimes go over there and we all sit on our phone or read books. Once we played cards. I don’t like being there too often because I worry I’ll accidentally kiss Laura. Or kill her uncle.
She walked on while waiting for Aimee’s reply. Her common sense berated her for whingeing about something this silly when there were plenty of couples out there who didn’t see each other for weeks or even months.
With a start she realised that perhaps this was the sort of relationship Jackie and Phillip had before he had to take early retirement. Was it grating on their relationship that they were now spending so much more time together? If so, was it grating enough for Jackie to start thinking about what would happen when he passed away and how much of Alice’s money she’d get?
Kit brushed away the melodramatic notion and focused on the text that now came in from Aimee, changing the topic from Kit’s love life to the more immediate issue of little George having just dropped Aimee’s toothbrush into the toilet. He was blaming it all on the stuffed fox that Kit had sent them, which was now named Flop.
Kit hit the button to call Aimee. She needed a blow-by-blow description of this.
Chapter Fourteen
Who Killed the Glorious Badger?
It was a Sunday. This meant the library was closed, Laura wasn’t in the office for once,1 and Josh could leave the pub since they had the weekend staff in. In short, today was a good day for Kit to get her socialising done. After a long lie-in followed by a big breakfast with an equally big book for company, of course. One must follow the rules of Sundays and be lazy.
When the clock struck eleven-thirty she fished out a pair of shorts and her thinnest tank top and got ready for what the radio was calling the hottest day of the year.
Soon she was on her way up to Howard Hall for lunch. Despite the short walk from her old workman’s cottage up to its mother building, the heat exhausted her. She even stopped to fan her tank top over her sweaty chest and damp bra. She thought back to the day she’d run all the way up to Howard Hall in the rain because she had found out that Laura—the amazing woman she’d been having a one-sided crush on—was in fact crushing back and ready to talk about it. That day she’d arrived in a complete mess at that big, imposing door and been met by Tom who had griped to Laura that Kit could be attractive if she didn’t have glasses and wasn’t such a wet mess. She smiled as she realised that she would be arriving as a hot mess now, and that Laura would find her as perfect as she always did. How did she get this lucky?
She let herself in through Howard Hall’s huge door, grimacing at the heat lodged in its wood. This weather was downright un-British.
Inside she could hear Maximillian screeching something about parsnips. Kit loved this house, b
ut why was there so often someone in it to annoy her? If it wasn’t Laura’s overcritical Aunt Sybil, or the sleazy Tom, it was this mad-as-a-hatter uncle. Kit had to admit that, out of the three of them, Maximillian was actually the best. At least he had good intentions.
A female voice hushed Maximillian. Kit couldn’t make out the words, but she recognised that warm voice which a year later left Kit as breathless as it had the first time she heard it. She picked up her pace towards the sound and had to stop herself from calling out “baby” or “honey” or something else sappy and loving. Instead she called Laura’s name and was answered by, “We’re in here, Kit.”
She followed the words to the minute library. Maximillian was holding up a badminton racket and saying, “Lunch can wait. First tell me why this was in the games room?”
“Because that’s where we keep rackets, mallets, balls, and things related to sports and games,” Laura said with a patient smile. “Where do you think the rackets should live? Not in here, I hope? I don’t think the books would like it.”
Kit coughed for attention. When she spotted her, Laura held out her arms and Kit rushed straight into them. She worried about if the hug was platonic enough but saw that Maximillian was busy inspecting the racket in his hand, so she pulled Laura close and breathed in the floral scent of her perfume.
“I missed you,” Laura whispered in her ear.
“Same,” Kit said as she pulled away.
Maximillian held the racket high in greeting. “Susan!”
“Kit,” Laura and Kit corrected at the same time.
His eyebrows shot up. “What? Yes, certainly. Back to the matter at hand.”
Kit and Laura eyed him expectantly, but he didn’t carry on. Instead he leaned on his racket, puffed out a breath which made his cottony comb-over move, and looked as if he were waiting for them to speak.
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