The Corrigan legacy

by Anna Jacobs

  'I need to see you, to talk to you.'

  'Well, I don't need to see you. No doubt you're planning some other nasty trick. When are you going to grow up?'

  There was silence at the other end of the line, then he surprised her. 'Maybe I have done.' He let out a mirthless bark of laughter as he added, 'Or maybe I'm just growing old. Look, I'm sorry about the tricks I played on you.'

  'Oh?'

  'Really I am. I was annoyed at the way we parted. But it was a waste of time, really. I should have just got on with my life.'

  'I can't believe I'm hearing this from you.'

  'Well, there you are. Look, things are a bit full-on for me at the moment - I've got a few business problems. Could you come down to London, do you think? We can meet for lunch. I'll send a car up to fetch you.'

  She didn't know what to say. Was this another trick? Or was he starting to act reasonably about their divorce?

  'Please, Jude.'

  'I shan't come back to live with you.'

  'I wasn't going to ask you to.'

  She made a quick change of plans. 'Well, I was thinking of going down to see Mum and Mitch, so I can come this weekend and see you on the Friday. But I'll drive myself, so don't send a car. Where do you want to meet?'

  He named his favourite restaurant and put down the phone.

  She was baffled. He was usually full of himself and his doings, but this time he'd sounded serious, sincere even.

  And quiet. Des Corrigan, quiet? Something must have gone wrong.

  Unless this was another trick . . . Only how could it be? She'd be driving herself, only meeting Des in public.

  She wondered whether to contact Cal, perhaps even go and stay with him on the Thursday night, but he'd only sent her a couple of short emails in the past three days, so she decided not to. If he didn't want to see her, she wasn't going to cling to him or pester him. Pity, though. She really liked him, had thought they might even have a future together. Silly of her, really. People were into casual sex these days, not marriage. She was old-fashioned, wanting it to be more. Only ... he was a lovely man.

  She went back to her painting, trying to capture the dull undertones you got when it was going to rain, but she couldn't settle.

  It wasn't until she went to prepare lunch that she realized how little she had in the fridge. She needed to do some serious shopping unless Mitch had changed. He always ate like a horse - two horses.

  Wandering round the shops and market in Rochdale was as good a distraction as any, but she kept wondering what Des needed to see her about and then wondering why Cal had stopped emailing her.

  Kate lay awake for over an hour in the middle of the night as her body tried to persuade her that it was time to wake up, but eventually she got back to sleep again. When she woke to daylight, she looked at her watch and gasped. Ten o'clock already! She was wasting her life sleeping!

  She peeped into the sitting room and saw Mark working on his computer. He looked up and smiled. He had a serenity about him, though that wasn't usually how you described a man his age. But nothing ever seemed to upset him. He was so easy to be with.

  He lifted his fingers off the keyboard. 'How are you this morning?'

  'One of my better days, I think.'

  'You've no medical appointments today, so we can either go up to see Maeve and stay there for the weekend or we can stay in London till your test results come through. Whichever you prefer.'

  She looked out of the window at the sunshine. 'I've never been to London, though I'm sure I won't have the energy to do much sightseeing. Could we go and see a few things today, do you think, then go to Maeve's tomorrow?'

  'Sure. We can get a car and drive round, which shouldn't tire you too much. Then we'll go up to Cheshire tomorrow.'

  'Would my aunt mind us doing that? She's been so generous. I don't want her to think I'm taking advantage of that.'

  'Maeve says to do whatever will make you happiest. But you do need to eat breakfast before we set off.' He gestured to a package on the table next to him. 'I've been out and bought some rice bread and a couple of other things for you.'

  She went across to examine the special bread, pulling a face at its dryness. 'Not like the real thing, is it?'

  'No. They told me at the health store that it's best toasted. Now, go and get yourself ready. I'll order breakfast and let them toast a couple of slices of this stuff for you.'

  She couldn't resist teasing him. 'Right, Mumsie dear.'

  But she had an appetite this morning and didn't have to be persuaded to eat.

  When they went out, a large comfortable car, complete with chauffeur, was waiting for them. And she managed to see some of the sights she'd dreamed about for years: Buckingham Palace, the Thames, the Tower of London. She knew they were trite old tourist places, but still, she wanted to go there and see them for herself. She looked wistfully at the beautiful shops they drove past but knew she'd never stand up to a tour of them even if she'd had some money to spare, which she didn't.

  Mark brought her back to the hotel at one o'clock for a snack and a rest, then took her out again, ending the evening with an early dinner at a restaurant which had no prices on the menu. She didn't dare ask how much it had cost.

  The next morning she woke up to find that some of the fog had lifted from her brain. 'Can it really be that easy?' she asked Mark over breakfast.

  'I doubt it will be the final answer to your problems, but each step along the way ought to see an improvement from what Dr Upson told us.'

  'I can't remember clearly what she said. That's why I wanted you with me. Thank you, Mark. You've been like a fairy godmother to me.'

  He gave her a long, slow smile. 'Actually, I don't feel at all godmotherly where you're concerned.'

  His steady look promised ... something. Or was she fooling herself? She hoped not.

  'But for the moment, it's my job to look after you, help you get better and take you to Maeve.'

  'I'm looking forward to meeting my aunt.'

  'I'd better warn you that she's being treated for cancer, has lost her hair and is looking very frail. Don't show your surprise. She hates it'

  'It seems terrible to discover an aunt, then lose her.'

  'She's not dead yet. She'll have a few surprises for everyone yet, if I know Maeve.'

  'Do you know her well?'

  'I ought to. She helped plan and fund my business when I started it up.'

  'That was kind of her.'

  He laughed. 'Kind? No way. She didn't do it out of kindness. It was a shrewd investment and has paid her well. I'm good at what I do.'

  'Private investigations?'

  'Done with tact and delicacy, along with anything else that's needed.'

  'Like looking after me.'

  'That's a pleasure as well as a job.'

  'Oh.' She felt herself go a bit pink and bustled off to pack. Only when she was closing her suitcase did she realize that she'd done it all herself this time. She was tired now but not exhausted beyond reason. In fact, she really did feel better. Could going without wheat be helping her foggy brain?

  Please, let it last! She didn't think she'd ever prayed more fervently for anything in her whole life.

  Hilary heard Mitch put the phone down. He'd just asked his mother not to tell Des he was going up to visit her, and that upset Hilary. She didn't like to see a son treading so carefully round his father.

  He came into the sitting room and flopped down on the couch beside her.

  'Why do you suppose Dad wants a face to face meeting with Mum?'

  'I'm hoping he's going to ask her for a divorce.'

  'She's already told him she wants a divorce, so it can't be that.'

  'Well, you'll find out tomorrow, won't you?'

  He shrugged, stretching his legs out, sitting in a position that would have given her backache. Oh, for a supple young body again! she thought. 'We'll have to pack your things tomorrow, then your mother can take them with her on Friday and pick you up from sc
hool after her lunch meeting. Could you go up and check there's nothing needing washing?'

  'Sure.'

  'I'll not be back till about eight o'clock on Sunday evening.'

  He turned to grin at her from the doorway. 'I think I'm old enough to look after myself now, Gran.'

  'Of course you are. I just didn't want you worrying about me.'

  She sat staring at the TV, seeing nothing but a blur of colours and movement. Mitch was such a good lad, too good she sometimes thought, as if he did nothing without working out in advance the best way to tackle it. He had a few friends, but didn't usually bring them back here. It was as if he kept his life in several separate compartments, like his relationships with his half-sisters. Judith had been wrong not to encourage that. In Hilary's opinion, the lad was hungry for relatives. A pity her side had so few.

  But when she thought of the things some lads his age got into, drugs and stuff, she could only be grateful that Mitch hadn't gone down that path. She'd miss him when he went to university. She didn't really like living alone.

  Maybe she wouldn't have to. She hadn't told anyone, but the friend she was going to visit this weekend was a man. Glen had been married to an old school friend of hers who'd died last year, and they'd met at a dinner party a few months later. Since then she'd been seeing him fairly regularly, though that had eased off a bit when Mitch came to live with her because she didn't want her family to know. She enjoyed Glen's company and he'd suggested they marry, but she wasn't sure, felt a fool at her age to be even considering it.

  She wondered if Judith would remarry, hoped she would and to someone more suitable this time, someone kind, with a loving nature.

  Judith packed carefully, wanting to appear her best for her lunch date with Des. Twice she went and picked up the phone to ring Cal, and twice she put it down with the number only half dialled. He hadn't emailed last night, either, not even a quick reply to her last post.

  When she got down to London, she gave in to temptation and drove past her old home because it was almost on the way to her mother's. Goodness, the place looked huge! It was exactly like a child's pile of boxes. She'd never liked that sort of architecture. Des was welcome to keep it.

  Her mother came out to greet her, looking at her face searchingly. 'Are you all right, darling?'

  'Never better, Mum. But I'm dying for a cup of tea.'

  'Just nip up to the tiny bedroom with your case while I put the kettle on.'

  As they sat and chatted, she told her mother about Maeve and how she was taking Mitch to see his aunt.

  'Good idea.'

  'How is Des? Really.'

  'He never changes.'

  'What about this woman of his?'

  'To my surprise, I liked her.'

  'You didn't!'

  Hilary nodded. 'Yes I did. She behaved impeccably in a difficult situation and although she's very beautiful, it's not that. She's got a kind expression in her eyes, as if she really likes people. She used to be a model, apparently, very successful too, Des says. At the wedding some great-aunt of Lacey's was rude to her and Tiffany put the old hag in her place very cleverly. Did you know she was a writer?'

  'I've never discussed her with Des, beyond finding out her name.'

  'Well, she's just had her first novel accepted for publication. A romance. She hadn't told him and he looked as surprised as anyone when she announced it to prove to the old aunt that she wasn't just a pretty face.' Hilary smiled reminiscently.

  Bitterness welled up in Judith. Des hadn't stopped Tiffany from fulfilling herself, just his wife. She looked at the clock and changed the subject firmly. 'I'm looking forward to seeing Mitch.'

  Half an hour later he was there and Judith surprised herself as well as the others by bursting into tears as she gave him a big hug. 'I'd forgotten how tall you'd grown. I've missed you dreadfully.'

  He gave her another hug, then swung her off her feet. 'I missed you, too. I think of you every time I look at your painting. I'm glad I've got it.'

  She bit back an angry denunciation of Des and how he had cheated her about her artistic potential. She didn't want to put barriers between Mitch and his father. 'So, what are we going to do tonight to celebrate?'

  'Go out for a curry?' he asked. 'I'm pining for one.'

  'Gran doesn't like them,' Judith pointed out.

  'I don't mind mild ones,' Hilary said. 'A friend is training me and I've found there are some milder dishes which I quite like.'

  Mitch let out a yell of triumph and waved his fist. 'Yessss! Shall I ring and book a table?'

  The following morning was a mad scramble to get Mitch off to school in time and make sure he'd packed all he needed for the weekend. Then Judith sat and chatted to her mother, keeping an eye on the clock.

  'You're on edge,' Hilary said. 'Surely you're not afraid of Des?'

  'No. I just keep wondering why he wants to see me, and feeling it'll be bad news.' She didn't tell her mother about Cal. Well, he might be history now. She was stupid to keep thinking about him.

  As she parked outside the restaurant, making sure she was a full five minutes late, she admitted to herself that she did feel nervous. She'd been married to Des for twenty years, for heaven's sake. He'd not have grown horns and a tail in the months since they'd split up!

  He was sitting in a corner, swirling red wine round and round in a glass, frowning at it. When he saw her approaching, he stood up and she was sure that was an expression of relief on his face. He looked as if he'd put on a bit of weight and his colour was too high, but otherwise he was much the same.

  She allowed the waiter to seat her and hand her a menu.

  'You're looking good, Jude.'

  'I'm feeling good, thank you.'

  'The north must suit you.' He looked down at the table for a minute, fiddling with the edge of his napkin, then said gruffly, 'Sorry about the dirty tricks. I was angry at you.'

  'I'm angry at you for a lot of things, but I've not acted so - so childishly.'

  He shrugged it off in his usual manner and drained his glass, reaching out for the bottle, a movement forestalled by the attentive waiter. 'Do you want something to drink, Jude?'

  'Just a fizzy mineral water with a twist of lime.'

  'Given up the booze?'

  'I'm driving back to Blackfold this afternoon and I don't want to be done for drink driving, do I?' She waited and when he didn't say anything, prompted, 'Well? What was so important that you had to see me face to face?'

  'Let's order the meal first.'

  When the waiter had gone, he said abruptly, 'I want a divorce and I need it quickly, if you don't mind. So today I want us to agree on division of goods, custody of Mitch, all that sort of thing.'

  'We should have met at my lawyer's, then. I'm not agreeing to anything without his approval.'

  'I appreciate that, but we can agree on broad principles today, can't we? The lawyers will only charge us an arm and a leg to do that.'

  'We can try. Depends what you want.' She frowned at him. 'Why the sudden hurry?'

  He moved uneasily in his seat. 'You're not going to like it.'

  She waited.

  'Tiff's pregnant. I want to marry her.'

  As the waiter brought the food, Judith sat back, shocked by this, then suddenly the humour of it struck her. How many times had he said he didn't want any more children, thank you very much, and three were enough for anyone? 'I bet you didn't get her pregnant on purpose.'

  'No. But she wants to keep it. She's getting on, thirty-eight, says it may be her only chance to have a child.'

  'And you agreed?'

  He shrugged. 'I didn't have much choice. She'll keep the baby whatever I say or do and I—' He hesitated, then finished in a rush, '—want to keep Tiff.'

  'You love her?'

  'Mmm.'

  They spent most of the meal discussing the division of their possessions, then when they'd finished, he said, 'You could have taken me for more than that if you'd been greedy, Jude, except I don'
t have more as it turns out. I've had a few business upsets lately, thanks to my bloody sister.'

  'I don't need more than I've asked for from you. And what's Maeve done to you now?'

  'Tricked me. The family business was failing, but she made me pay through the nose for it, knew what I was doing all along. Ironic that that was the final straw between you and me, isn't it?' After another mouthful of wine, he added, 'She always was a manipulative bitch.'

  'You don't usually drink so much at lunchtime.' '

  'Well, today I feel like it and what do you care now, anyway?' He emptied the rest of the bottle into his glass. 'Maeve's ill, though. I think it's cancer, though I can't find out any details. Her staff are damned close-mouthed.'

  'Serves you right for trying to trick her.'

  His scowl reappeared. 'Might have known you'd be on her side.'

  'I'm not on anyone's side, but I always thought you were being stupid about that family business.' She watched him roll his eyes, looking just like Mitch for a moment, and that took the edge off her anger. 'I don't want to get into a quarrel. Let me jot down what we've agreed and you can check it.' She took out her notebook and scribbled down the details, showed the list to him then looked at the clock. 'I need to get going. Thanks for the lunch.' She picked up her handbag.

  'Good luck with the new fellow.'

  She turned to stare at him, surprising a smug smile on his face. 'He's not a permanent fixture.'

  'Well, good luck with your painting or whatever you're doing with yourself.'

  At the mention of painting the anger returned. She leaned over him and said in a low, tight voice, 'I nearly didn't come today when I learned that you'd tricked me about how good an artist I was, especially when I found you'd let this Tiffany person do her writing until she was good enough to be published. Why did you stop me, Des, and not her? You knew how much it meant to me.'

  He wriggled uncomfortably. 'I needed your help with entertaining business colleagues, you know I did. And anyway, it would have been embarrassing to have you hawking your paintings round town, as if I couldn't afford to keep you in style.'

  'And you won't need her help with your colleagues?' Judith tried to control her anger, but couldn't help adding, 'That, Des Corrigan, was the meanest thing of all, and it will always rankle with me. I'm being civilized about our split because of Mitch and because I'm not greedy. You don't deserve my forbearance, though, so here's something to remember our last meal together by.'