by Anna Jacobs
To her horror, cameras flashed and journalists kept pace with the women at the head of the line of mourners.
‘Ignore them,’ Sally said.
‘Why are the media here? And why on earth do they want to photograph me?’
‘Lou was a very rich man and you were his last known companion.’
Miranda looked at her in horror. Hilary thought she was a gold-digger and now everyone else would.
‘They’re not important,’ Sally repeated firmly.
The service was brief and consisted of a short piece written by Lou and read by Sally. He thanked everyone for attending, but especially thanked Miranda, who had brightened his last days, and his niece, who had looked after him when he was incapacitated.
Sally looked out at the mourners, not trying to hide her tears. ‘I shall miss him very much.’
Hilary stood up and Miranda braced herself for some pointed remarks, but his niece said very little, only regretting that she’d lost her uncle. She called down the Lord’s blessing on his soul, the only mention of religion in the whole service.
Finally the coffin slid out of sight.
Hilary led the way into the reception area and Miranda tried to find a corner out of the way, as she usually did at social events. But Sally stayed by her side and people came up to speak to them, so this time she wasn’t left to watch the others. She was grateful for their kind words and treasured the remarks they made about Lou.
Other people gave her curious glances but saved their condolences for his niece.
‘There’s a proper reception in town afterwards,’ Sally said. ‘You should attend.’
‘I know. Jack told me, but I really don’t think—’
‘It’s Lou’s farewell. He wanted them to have a party, eat well, drink well, reminisce about him. You can’t let him down.’
With a sigh Miranda got back into the limousine and endured another hour or two of chatting to strangers in a luxury suite in a hotel.
‘I’d better go and deal with the will now,’ Sally said. ‘I’ve seen Hilary and she’s ready.’
‘I’ll take a taxi home, then, and leave you to it.’
‘You’re needed. He’s left you something.’
Miranda looked at her in dismay. ‘His niece will say I only stayed with him for the money, and I didn’t.’
‘As long as you know the truth, what does her opinion matter?’
‘It’ll matter if she says it publicly.’
‘That won’t matter once you’re in England, and it’ll only be a two-day wonder, anyway.’
She said it confidently, as if going to England was a fait accompli.
Another sweeping change coming into her life, Miranda thought. And such a big one. She just wanted to stay in that lovely house for a while and . . . and what? She didn’t know, and felt herself to be drifting without Lou’s support and encouragement.
Sally settled Hilary and Miranda in her office.
‘I’ve asked my legal representative to join us,’ Hilary announced. She looked at her watch. ‘He won’t be long.’
Another lawyer was shown in five minutes later. Sally nodded a greeting, introduced him to Miranda and indicated a chair which he brought across next to Hilary’s.
Sitting down behind the desk, Sally picked up some papers. ‘These give details of the other bequests in the will, and I have copies for you. What is more pertinent today, I feel, is how the will affects the two beneficiaries here, Lou’s niece and his partner. The major beneficiary is his niece, Hilary, to whom he’s left approximately ten million dollars in today’s terms. It would have been more but for the recent crash in the share market. However, if you hold on to the shares, as he advises in a note he wrote to you only last week, their value should rise again.’
Hilary nodded.
‘He also left you the contents of his house, except for those items specified in the bequest to his partner, which I shall detail later. My client left separate bequests to five charities which he had supported with regular donations for many years. These amount to approximately two-thirds of what you’ve received.’
Hilary nodded again, though there was a sour expression on her face. Could she not be satisfied? Miranda wondered. She was rich now. Imagine having all that money! How free you would feel!
‘And finally, to his partner Miranda Fox, he left the contents of his home office, including his computer, and everything in the big sitting room in the house they were sharing. In addition there are a few more pieces of art, which are still in storage, and his car.’
‘I want to know what they’re all worth!’ Hilary said at once.
Sally stared at her, not hiding her disgust. ‘Why?’
‘Because if they’re valuable I’m going to contest the will. She wormed her way into his life very recently and she doesn’t deserve any bequest at all.’
The lawyer put his hand on his client’s arm in a calming gesture and she subsided with an angry twitch of her shoulders. ‘If I may suggest it,’ he said quietly, ‘I could arrange to have the bequests to Ms Fox valued.’
Miranda surprised herself. ‘Certainly not! It’s none of your business.’
Sally smiled at her but quickly schooled her expression into calm neutrality. ‘I can see no need for that.’
‘What if the pieces of art are extremely valuable?’ Hilary persisted.
‘That’s irrelevant. You’ve been left a generous legacy and I doubt any court would consider that you’d been slighted by your uncle, who has left a statement with me that though you helped him after his heart attack, you’ve never been close and are not dependent on him in any way.’
Hilary ignored her lawyer’s attempts to silence her. ‘We’ll see about that. I’m not taking your word for anything. That woman –’ she jerked a head angrily in Miranda’s direction – ‘is mentally unstable. I have that on her own brother’s authority. She only stayed with my uncle for the money and because she doesn’t know how to fend for herself. It’s downright immoral for her to receive so much.’
‘Ms Rayne, please!’ He tugged at her arm.
‘No! I’ll have my say. I could have accepted those things going to charity, but not to her.’
Sally sighed. ‘I’ll overlook your harsh words today, Ms Rayne, because you’re clearly upset about your uncle’s death. But please be careful how you speak about my client in future.’
The other lawyer said in a colourless voice, ‘Perhaps you might have the pieces valued, then, Ms Patel, and let us know the amount?’
‘Why should we?’ She saw Hilary open her mouth and added, ‘If your client makes any more threats or insinuations, it’ll be we who are considering litigation.’
He inclined his head.
Hilary bounced to her feet. ‘In that case, I insist someone goes back to that house now and itemizes the things in the rooms that she has been left. I don’t trust her, not one inch.’
Miranda had had enough. She looked at the clock. ‘You can send someone today or not at all.’
‘I’d prefer to come myself.’
‘I’ll not have you in the house unless someone else is there too.’
There was dead silence, then Hilary’s lawyer said, ‘I could send my clerk to accompany Ms Rayne – if that’s acceptable to you, Ms Fox?’
She looked at Sally, who nodded.
Miranda sighed. ‘Very well. But the two of them are to stay together at all times.’
‘What do you think I’m going to do, steal your possessions?’ Hilary yelled.
Miranda glared at her. ‘No, you’ll harangue me. And I won’t have it in my own home. If you start shouting, I’ll ask you to leave at once.’
When the other two had left, after arranging to meet Miranda at the house, Sally said, ‘I’m sorry about this. Wills often bring out the worst in people. Who’d have thought a niece of Lou’s would be so suspicious? What are you looking so surprised for?’
Miranda smiled. ‘That’s the first time since I was twenty-one that I’
ve stood up for myself in an argument and yelled back. I enjoyed it.’
Sally grinned. ‘Good. Keep practising. You must do it again if anyone threatens you. Lou would approve. Now, to change the subject, you are going to move to England, aren’t you?’
‘I think so. If I can scrape enough money together.’
‘Oh, I think you’ll find the stuff Lou left will give you a decent nest egg. Sell it and take off on your adventure. Do you have friends there?’
‘My sister and niece. Regina and I have never been really close but my niece is pregnant and I think I may be able to help her, so I’m going to live somewhere near them, not too close, though.’
‘Good.’ Sally glanced at the clock. ‘I have another appointment now, I’m afraid. Will you be all right, Miranda?’
‘Yes. And thank you for your help.’
‘Don’t let her upset you.’
Easier said than done, Miranda thought. And actually, she too felt she didn’t really deserve a big bequest. But on the other hand, it was Lou’s final wish that she have these things, so she wasn’t going to give in to Hilary’s bullying.
And it had been quite exhilarating to yell back. She smiled at the memory.
The clerk and Hilary didn’t leave until ten o’clock that night. Lou’s niece had checked every item that might have a value, questioned whether Miranda’s own antiques really did belong to her, because Lou had forgotten to mention them in the will, and insisted on the clerk making a complete list of them, just in case.
Miranda wished they hadn’t brought the antiques over from the flat, but they’d looked so silly there and she’d wanted to have them nearby.
She closed the front door behind her unwelcome visitors and leaned her back against it for a moment, rubbing her aching forehead.
Jack’s voice made her jump. ‘Tania left you something to eat and said I had to make sure you had a proper supper.’
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘When did you last eat?’
She tried to work it out. ‘A few bits and pieces at the funeral feast.’
‘Then have something light, just to get Tania off my back.’
She looked at him ruefully. ‘Taking care of me, now, Jack?’
He smiled. ‘I like taking care of people.’
She went with him to the kitchen, ready to force down some food to appease him, but found herself suddenly ravenous and consumed the whole plateful of meat and salad, then downed the glass of white wine Jack had poured for her.
When she woke in the morning, Miranda didn’t even remember getting into bed. She looked at her bedside clock and gasped because it was after nine. She’d slept in again.
It was as she was clearing up her clothes, which she’d dropped everywhere the previous night, that she found the crumpled piece of paper Lou had been holding when he died. She smoothed it out and this time read it carefully. It contained information about a picturesque cottage in the country, in a village a few miles away from where Regina lived.
She looked at the price and almost screwed up the paper. She couldn’t afford that unless the trust allowed her to sell the flat, and she was sure they wouldn’t do that. But she didn’t throw it away, because the cottage was very pretty. And anyway, she could ask the trust to sell, couldn’t she?
After a breakfast substantial enough to gratify Tania and Jack, whom she found sharing a tea break in the kitchen, she wondered what to do, then decided to go and check Lou’s computer. As far as she could tell, she’d be the one who had to clear up his emails and anything pending. That must be why he’d left her the contents of his office. He’d given her his password a while ago as part of his ‘preparations for departure’, assuring her that there was nothing on the computer that she couldn’t see. But she still felt as if she was prying when she switched it on and clicked on the email program. His laptop was a much faster and more modern machine than her elderly one, slimmer and sleeker too.
She checked his emails, sending replies to several people to tell them he’d died, cancelling an order for some books that just needed a final confirmation and also stopping his subscriptions to several email newsletters.
Then she went on to check his recent documents. To her surprise there was a draft will there, with different clauses from the one that Sally had read. This looked like a new one that he’d been intending to sign. It left her money as well as the furniture and works of art. Well, too late now. And she didn’t mind, really, because she wasn’t a greedy person, whatever Hilary said, and he’d been more than generous with her.
She went to her bedroom, where her own computer was set up and used that to write a letter to Sebastian and Mr Tressman about the trust, asking if she could sell the flat and buy a house in England instead. She’d grown quite keen on the idea of moving to England. After all, her sister and niece lived there, and she’d got on better with Regina this time than ever before. And it was as far away from Sebastian as she could get. The idea of that was very appealing.
She didn’t expect the trustees to agree, but was going through the motions in order to leave a paper trail of what she wanted, in case she ever decided to challenge the trust. Not that she thought she would. How was she to win against an experienced lawyer like her brother, for goodness’ sake?
Given the current situation, she’d probably have to rent somewhere in England. She couldn’t sell any of the things Lou had left her yet, but she was going to sell her antiques and use what she got for them as living money until she found a job, any sort of job.
On consideration, she sent the letter to Sebastian by courier, to be sure it’d get there quickly, and sent a copy to Sally Patel as well.
She was pleased that Lou’s laptop belonged to her now. She could take it to England with her. Hers was four years old and was developing a few eccentricities that hinted it was coming to the end of its useful life.
When she felt like a break, she couldn’t resist going back on line for another look at the cottage Lou had found for her. He was right. It looked lovely, exactly the sort of place she’d dreamed about buying in her years of looking after her father. She’d done too much dreaming and not enough standing up for herself. That would change now.
While Miranda was reorganizing Lou’s email system to suit her own needs, another message arrived. She opened it to find it was from the detective he’d hired to trace her daughter. Her heart started to thud as she read the message, then read it again to make sure she hadn’t misunderstood what he was saying.
He’d found her daughter in England!
She printed the message out, holding back the tears, because she’d done enough weeping. This seemed like another sign that she was doing the right thing in going to England.
She wasn’t going to tell anyone else in the family about finding her daughter, though, not even Regina. She didn’t want anyone interfering.
Regina came home from work to a quiet, tidy flat. She’d been longing for her own space for years, looking forward to the day Nikki left home, and now that she’d got it, she knew she’d been fooling herself. She could have gone out tonight with people from work, but hadn’t felt in the mood for socializing. She’d just ditched one guy and wasn’t up to hunting for another yet. In fact, she was growing tired of the dating game.
She must be getting old!
She switched on the TV, checked the newspaper programme listings and found nothing worth watching.
Giving in to an impulse, she rang her daughter’s mobile. ‘Hello? Nikki, it’s me.’
‘Can I ring you back, Mum? We’re just in the middle of something.’
‘Yes, of course. I’ll be in all evening.’
She waited for the call but it never came, which left her worrying about Nikki, who hadn’t sounded her usual chirpy self all week. Or was she fooling herself about that as well?
She went to fiddle with emails, then rebelling against the idea of growing too old to date, she trawled the Internet for a dating site she’d seen advertised on the telev
ision. But when she got there, the men all looked so young, with that silly haircut that stood on end like the cartoon character Tintin, or those unshaven cheeks which scratched horribly when they kissed you.
They said forty was the new thirty, but she felt nearer fifty tonight. She should take up knitting or do charity work. If she caught herself saying, ‘Things were better when I was young . . .’ she’d throw herself off the nearest cliff.
Would Nikki even miss her if she did?
Did she deserve to be missed?
Eleven
Katie Parrish looked at the letter, wondering who was writing to her from Australia. She gave in to curiosity and, keeping one eye on the clock, tore it open and skimmed through it. The words seemed to waver in front of her and she had to force herself to breath deeply a few times before she could calm down enough to re-read the letter.
Dear Ms Parrish
I believe you were searching for your birth parents last year.
I have information about your birth mother, who is looking for you. If you’re still interested in pursuing this matter, please let me know, and I’ll get her to contact you.
J. Halliday
She froze for a moment, unable to believe this was happening. She’d given up hope, then first her birth father and now perhaps her mother had turned up. She wasn’t prepared for another encounter, not yet.
Impossible to reply to the letter that night, she just couldn’t. Instead, after she’d put Ned to bed, she wrote a long, loving email to Darren, attaching a photo she’d taken of their son kicking a football around.
But she kept stopping to wonder what she was going to do. She was still tiptoeing on ice with her birth father, whom she’d met twice. He didn’t push for anything more than she was willing to offer. She wished he would. She couldn’t tell how he was feeling, not really, because he was always calm and pleasant, keeping his feelings under control. He was sharing facts about himself, at least.
He worked as an IT consultant offering software solutions for company systems, was divorced with one child, a son of twelve – which meant she had a brother, well, half-brother, but still – a brother! His clothes were always casual, usually jeans and tops that had seen better days, but his leather jacket was so beautiful it must have been expensive and his car was a late model. She didn’t know what to think about him, how to understand what he really wanted from her.