‘Thank you.’ Cheska got up, then walked sadly through the hall towards the back of the house.
Flummoxed by her mother’s strange behaviour, Ava bounded up the stairs and went to sit by LJ, who, although pale, seemed to be a little brighter.
‘How are you?’ she asked gently.
‘Better, I think. Is your mother downstairs?’
‘Yes.’
‘Ava, I . . .’
‘What is it?’
‘Well, I know it’s horrid to discuss it, but I really feel we must.’
‘Discuss what?’
‘What happens to you if I die.’
Tears sprang into Ava’s eyes. ‘Oh, please, LJ. Not now.’
‘Listen to me.’ LJ gripped her hand tightly. ‘If it happens, Marchmont goes to your Uncle David, but the will also says you can continue to live here. David has told me definitively that he doesn’t want to. And when David dies, we’ve both agreed that Marchmont will go to you. It’s in his will too. There’s also some money, as you know, bequeathed from your grandfather. It’s yours, Ava, and . . . and no one else’s.’
‘But what about my mother? Shouldn’t Marchmont and the money go to her if Uncle David dies?’
LJ sighed heavily. ‘Ava, there are so many things you don’t know about your past and about your mother.’
‘Then tell me,’ she urged. ‘I mean, I don’t even know who my father is.’
‘One day, maybe. But the most important thing of all is . . . please be wary of Cheska.’
‘Why?’
LJ released Ava’s hand suddenly and fell back onto her pillows, exhausted.
‘Ask your uncle, he’ll explain.’
‘But, LJ, I . . .’
‘Sorry, Ava, I’m being overdramatic. Ignore me. I’ve had a shock, that’s all.’
‘Well, I’m not leaving until you’re better. Really, I’m sure the veterinary college will understand if I have to delay going for a few days.’
‘I will get better,’ LJ replied firmly. ‘And over my dead body will I allow you to ruin your future. There’s a few days left before you leave.’
‘Yes, and we’ll see how you are then,’ Ava countered, equally firmly.
‘Here we go. A nice hot cup of tea.’ Cheska came into the room with a tray. ‘Well, this is a new role for me, playing nursemaid,’ she said, handing the cup to LJ.
That night Ava tossed and turned, remembering what LJ had said. And only wished Uncle David were here to explain what she had meant.
LJ made very good progress over the next few days. Her blood pressure came down, and the doctor – who had been extremely attentive, visiting LJ every day and staying on to have a cup of coffee with Cheska to reassure her afterwards – told Ava he was happy with her recovery to date.
‘I think you can go to London tomorrow with a clear conscience. And your mother really is taking excellent care of her – with Mary’s help, of course.’
Ava closed her suitcase that night with a heavy heart.
She’d be leaving early tomorrow morning and, as well as feeling nervous about her new life and how she would cope living in a city and away from everything she knew, she felt deeply uneasy about LJ.
She took up her great-aunt’s nightly cocoa, knocking on the bedroom door before she went in.
‘Hello, darling girl. All packed and ready to go?’ LJ smiled at her.
‘Yes.’ Ava put the cocoa down on the nightstand and sat on the bed, surveying her great-aunt, and noting with relief that the grey tinge had left her skin and her eyes were bright. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to stay? It’s only Freshers’ Week, no lectures or anything. I—’
‘Ava, how many times do you want me to tell you that I am absolutely fine and completely on the mend? Besides, university life isn’t just about lectures – Freshers’ Week is all about making new friends and having fun. I want you to enjoy yourself too.’
‘I will, I’m sure, but . . .’ Ava swallowed hard as tears came to her eyes. ‘I’ll miss you terribly.’
‘And I you, my darling, but I hope you’ll find the odd five minutes to write me a letter telling me what you’re up to.’
‘Of course I will. And here.’ Ava dug into her jeans pocket and drew out a piece of paper. ‘This is the telephone number of the hall of residence I’m in. If there’s any problem, please call and they’ll get a message to me. I’ve given it to Mary, too. I’ll put it in your bedside drawer. And I’ll telephone every Sunday at about six o’clock.’
‘Well, don’t worry if you can’t. Darling Ava’ – LJ lifted a hand to her great-niece’s cheek and stroked it gently – ‘you have been an absolute joy to me, from the first minute I saw you. I’m so very proud of you.’
They hugged then, for a long time, neither of them wishing the other to see their tears.
‘Now, you have a very early start, so off to bed with you. Take care, darling girl,’ she added, as Ava stood up and kissed her goodnight.
‘I will. And you. I love you.’
Even Cheska roused herself at eight o’clock the following morning to say goodbye to Ava.
‘Now, you’re not to worry about a thing. I promise I’ll take the best care of LJ. Dr Stone says I was born to be a nurse.’ She giggled girlishly. ‘So, off you go and have a wonderful time at college. I’m so sad I never got the chance to go myself.’ Cheska threw her arms around Ava’s shoulders. ‘I love you, honey. Don’t forget that, will you?’
‘I won’t,’ said Ava as she climbed into the taxi. ‘Let me know how LJ is, won’t you? I’ll call tonight. Bye!’
The taxi sped down the drive and away from Marchmont.
46
Ava was glad to be swept up in the whirlwind of newness – good and bad – that first week away from LJ and Marchmont. There was so much to learn, like how the underground and London buses worked, and the way her peer group seemed to think it was huge fun to have drinking competitions, even to the point of passing out. And, above all, getting used to the incessant hum of traffic outside her airless shoebox of a room. On the plus side, everyone on her course that she’d met so far seemed nice, and already a camaraderie had built up between them. Unused to crowds, or being with other people all the time, Ava was still shy about joining in. But the merry-go-round of events organised for the new intake left her feeling far more relaxed by the end of the week.
And the best news was that a letter from Simon had been waiting for her when she’d arrived. He told her that he was keeping true to his promise in the summer and would love to meet up with her and show her around London.
At moments during the first few long, airless nights, when every atom of her being longed to be back in the fresh, open space of Marchmont, Ava thought of him. She’d written back to him after he’d left the note with Uncle David, giving him her new London address, but had tried since to push down any ideas that he might actually have liked her. The fact he’d written to her again sent a tingle of pleasure up her spine.
It had taken her until Thursday to pluck up the courage to use the student payphone at the end of her corridor and call him to set up a meeting. And this Sunday he was coming to take her out, as he put it, to show her the sights.
On Sunday morning, having got to bed at gone three after the Freshers’ Ball, she staggered out of bed.
‘I really must learn not to drink whatever’s put in front of me,’ she told herself, her head pounding. She swallowed two paracetamol and stared at the contents of her wardrobe. For the first time in her life, Ava thought carefully about what she might wear. She chose a pair of bright-pink trousers and an expensive cashmere jumper that Cheska had bought for her, put them on, then decided she looked far too like her mother, so discarded them in favour of a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Her eyes were far too sore for contact lenses this morning – they would just turn red and water if she put them in – so she put on her glasses.
At eleven o’clock she arrived uncertainly in the entrance hall of her building, which, for a change
, was deserted. Everyone else must be sleeping off their hangovers from the night before. Simon was already waiting outside; she could see him through the glass doors. Her heart beating hard, and telling herself firmly that he had only got in touch because of the connection between their families, she pulled open the front door and went to greet him.
‘Hi, Ava. Goodness you look different!’ said Simon, kissing her on both cheeks.
‘Do I?’
‘Better different, like you’re the real you. And I love you in your glasses,’ he added. ‘You look rather like a very pretty young teacher I had when I was seven. I had a huge crush on her for years, and I’ve had a thing about glasses ever since!’
‘Thank you – I think.’ Ava smiled shyly, taking in his similar attire of jeans and a sweatshirt.
‘Now, I thought on the way here that there was no point taking you to the usual tourist attractions – you can easily go yourself – so I’m going to show you the London that I love. Okay?’
‘Great.’
He offered her an elbow, which she took, and the two of them walked off together along the sleepy Sunday-morning street.
When she arrived home at seven o’clock that evening Ava felt completely exhausted. Simon might be a city boy but, ironically, everything they’d done had involved a great deal of walking. They had strolled through Hyde Park and paused at Speakers’ Corner to listen to the would-be orators extolling their radical political views; some of which were so bizarre that the two of them had to leave as hysteria got the better of them. Then they’d walked along the Thames on the towpath from Westminster to Hammersmith, where they’d stopped at a riverside pub for lunch.
Ava had loved every second of it, because they hadn’t been studying ancient monuments or jostling with tourists to get the better view of a painting in a gallery, they had just talked about anything and everything. And, in the wide-open spaces Simon had chosen as the backdrop to their day, Ava had stopped feeling claustrophobic – both physically and mentally – and relaxed.
The day had been warm enough for them to sit outside the pub and, while they ate, Simon told her more about the job he’d just landed in a musical in the West End.
‘It’s not really my chosen career path, as you know, I want to be a songwriter,’ he’d admitted, seeming embarrassed by the whole thing. ‘But they needed real musicians who could sing and play a couple of instruments, and someone I know suggested I audition. I went along and got the job. No one was more surprised than me, I can tell you, but on the other hand, it pays the bills. And once the show’s up and running, it leaves me all day to concentrate on writing my own stuff. I even have a theatrical agent now, too.’ He’d rolled his eyes at this.
‘What’s the musical about?’
‘Oh, four very famous singers from the fifties and sixties. It’s full of their hits, so it’s a sure-fire crowd-pleaser for thirty and forty-somethings.’
‘When does it open?’
‘In three weeks or so. You can come to the opening night if you like.’
‘I’d love to.’
‘Mind you, I don’t think I’m much of an actor to be honest.’
‘But it might make you famous, Simon.’
‘Famous is the last thing I want to be, I promise you. I’m aiming to open my own recording studio one day, where I’ll write and produce songs for other people. I’d prefer to remain firmly in the background.’
‘Me too,’ Ava had agreed fervently.
At the end of their day, Simon had escorted her back to her hall in Camden and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Good luck this week, Ava. Try not to fall asleep in too many lectures,’ he’d added with a grin.
‘I won’t. And thank you so much for today. I really enjoyed it.’ She’d turned to walk inside, but he’d caught her arm and pulled her back to him.
‘Look, I know what the first few weeks can be like but, if you could spare the time, I’d love to see you again.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes! Why do you look so surprised?’
‘Because I thought you were probably doing this as a favour to your grandfather, that he ordered you to take me out because he’s friends with my great-aunt.’
‘Then you’re assuming I’m a much less selfish person than I really am. Seriously, I’ve really enjoyed today. So how about this Friday evening? Pick you up at seven?’
‘If you’re sure?’
‘Ava, I’m perfectly sure.’
Ava lay on her bed and daydreamed about Simon. She must have dozed off, because when she woke up it was already dark. She turned over and checked the clock by her bed. It was past ten o’clock.
‘Damn!’ she swore to herself. It was far too late to call Marchmont, as she’d promised LJ she would.
She went to make herself a cup of tea in the communal kitchen along the corridor, then took it back to her room and sipped it while she prepared what she needed for her first lecture in the morning. Then she sank back into bed, making a mental note to call LJ tomorrow.
After she had taken LJ’s cocoa up to her, Cheska went back downstairs into the library. After days of searching, she had finally found the key to the desk drawer that afternoon, secreted under a plant pot. The fact that it had been hidden confirmed her suspicions that it was in this drawer that LJ kept her private documents.
She sat down at the desk, put the key in the lock and turned it. She slid the drawer open and pulled out a bulging green folder. There were numerous documents inside. Cheska leafed through them until she found what she was looking for. Putting the folder aside to look through later, she opened the thick vellum envelope and unfolded the piece of paper within. On it was written: ‘The Last Will and Testament of Laura-Jane Edith Marchmont’.
Cheska began to read.
The Marchmont estate is being left to my son, David Robin Marchmont. And on his death my wish is that the estate in its entirety passes to my great-niece, Ava Marchmont, in tandem with my son’s current will.
Cheska could feel the rage bubbling up inside her, but she did her best to control it and read on. It was only in a codicil that she finally found her own name.
A few minutes later, she was incandescent with fury. Slamming her fist down on the desk, she read the codicil again, just to make sure.
As executor for the trust of Cheska Marchmont (known as Hammond), left to her by her father, Owen Jonathan Marchmont, it is my duty to revoke this trust. It is stated in Owen Marchmont’s will (attached) that ‘the sum bequeathed in trust to Cheska Marchmont be given only on the condition that she visits Marchmont at least once a year until she is twenty-one years of age’. I confirm that Cheska has not been to Marchmont once since she was sixteen therefore this condition has not been fulfilled. Not only that, but she has left her daughter in my care and not seen fit to contact either of us for a number of years. Therefore, I feel I have no alternative but to follow Owen Marchmont’s stipulation and pass the proceeds of the trust to Cheska Marchmont’s daughter, Ava, who has lived at Marchmont all her life. This money, I believe, is rightfully hers.
It was signed by LJ and witnessed.
‘Bitch!’ Cheska screamed, then rifled maniacally through the folder until she found what she wanted. It was an interim statement from a firm of stockbrokers, revealing the amount accrued in what should be her trust: it was over one hundred thousand pounds.
She looked at a number of other bank statements. The most recent showed that there was over two hundred thousand pounds in the Marchmont estate account.
Cheska broke down completely. ‘I’m his daughter!’ she sobbed. ‘It should all be mine. Why didn’t he love me . . . ? Why? Why?’
Remember, Cheska, remember . . . said the voices.
‘No!’ She put her hands over her ears, refusing to listen to them.
On a damp October morning, a few days after Ava had left, LJ woke to see Cheska sitting in the chair by the window.
‘God, I feel groggy. What time is it?’ she asked.
‘Past eleven.’
‘Eleven o’clock in the morning? Good grief! I’ve never slept that long in my life.’
‘It’ll do you good. How are you feeling?’
‘Dreadful today, actually. Ancient and sick. Don’t get old, Cheska. It’s not a pleasant experience.’
Cheska stood up, crossed the room and sat beside her on the bed. ‘I hope you don’t mind me asking you, but I feel I have to. What’s happened to the money my father left in trust for me?’
‘Well, I—’ LJ winced as a sharp pain darted up her left arm.
‘I mean, it is still there, isn’t it? The thing is, I need it rather urgently.’
LJ could hardly believe that Cheska was asking her about this now, standing over her like some beautiful avenging angel, as she lay weak, sick and defenceless. The pain intensified, and she experienced a strange tingling sensation on the left side of her head. She felt breathless and struggled to reply to Cheska’s question.
‘There was a clause in your father’s will. It said that you had to come back and visit Marchmont at least once a year. You haven’t done that, have you?’
Cheska’s face hardened. ‘No, but you wouldn’t stop me having my rightful inheritance because of some goddamn silly clause, would you?’
‘I . . . Cheska, can we discuss this another time? I really don’t feel too well.’
‘No!’ Cheska’s eyes glittered with anger. ‘That money’s mine!’
‘I’m giving it to Ava. Don’t you think she deserves it? After all, I thought you had lots of money. I—’ LJ caught her breath as the pain ripped up her neck and into her head.
Cheska seemed oblivious to LJ’s agonised expression. ‘And what about Marchmont? I’m the direct heir, being my father’s daughter. Surely it must come to me? Not Uncle David?’
‘Cheska, I am the legal owner of Marchmont and I can leave it to whomever I wish. And, of course, the rightful heir, the true blood relative of your father, is David, my son—’
‘No! I’m Owen’s daughter! I even have a birth certificate to prove it. Not only have you given the money in my trust fund to my daughter, but my home to my uncle. What about me?! When will anyone ever care about me?!’ she shouted.
The Angel Tree Page 39