A Liverpool Legacy

by Anne Baker

  ‘Dad’s left me three thousand pounds?’ Sylvie was pleased and didn’t seem to take in the downside.

  Millie rang Valerie and talked it through with her. ‘That’s just like Dad,’ she said. ‘He was always over-generous to everybody. I’ll be very glad of the money.’

  That made Millie worry all over again about her income and it drove her back to the accountant, Andrew Worthington. She went along to his office the next morning and poured out her financial troubles to him, showing him the figures Mr Douglas had given her.

  ‘What is the best thing for me to do?’ she asked. ‘I don’t want to raise money on the house and then find I have to pay interest on it every month. What would you advise?’

  ‘Better if it’s not my thoughts straight off the cuff,’ he said. ‘I’ll need a while to think about that.’

  ‘Can we talk about it at lunchtime? Will that give you long enough?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll try.’

  ‘One o’clock then? What do you do for lunch?’

  ‘I bring a sandwich.’

  ‘Good, I’ve done the same today.’ In the interests of economy she had to stop taking Sylvie out to lunch every day, even if it was only to Parker’s Refreshment Rooms. Pete had taken them both there on a more or less regular basis. ‘I’ll come here, shall I? You’ve more space than I have.’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Maynard,’ he said. ‘Please come here.’

  ‘Look, this office is overfull of Maynards and we’re talking personal issues now. Call me Millie.’

  ‘Right, in that case I’m Andrew.’

  She managed a wavering smile. ‘I know,’ she said and fled back to the lab.

  Chapter Ten

  When Millie took her sandwich to the accountant’s office at lunchtime, he was working on his calculating machine again.

  ‘Come and sit down.’ He pushed the comptometer and the business files to the end of his desk and took the documents she’d left with him from his desk drawer. ‘I’ve looked at your figures,’ he said, ‘but there’s not much I can suggest. You’ll have to raise the money from somewhere.’

  ‘I got that far by myself,’ Millie said, her unexpected problem making her short, ‘and I know I need to do it quickly, because everything stands still until it’s done.’

  ‘I’m afraid that’s it exactly.’

  She sighed. ‘I’ve no money of my own so it will have to come from the residue of Pete’s estate. What in your opinion would be the best way for me to raise it?’

  She thought Andrew Worthington looked switched off. ‘I’m afraid that’s for you to decide. It’s a matter of personal choice, isn’t it?’

  Millie felt hurt. It seemed he didn’t want to help her. His dark green eyes appeared to look through her. Suddenly he shook his head. ‘If you want to go on working here, I’d advise that you keep the half share of this business. To sell that to his relatives would weaken your position and strengthen theirs.’

  ‘I have to go on working here.’ Her voice grated harshly though she didn’t mean it to. ‘It’s my only income.’

  ‘Well, that’s not entirely true.’ His eyes came to rest more squarely on her face. ‘Your half share of the company entitles you to half the profits and it could be a growing income. My advice would be to hang on to that at any price.’

  She took her sandwich from a creased paper bag and took a savage bite. ‘Yes, I do realise that, but I need to raise seven thousand three hundred pounds.’

  ‘You say you want to keep the house but it would be sensible to sell it and buy a smaller place to live in.’

  ‘That would take ages,’ she said impatiently. ‘I want to get all this settled.’ She had half a dozen other reasons why she didn’t want to do that. She loved the house and, anyway, it would be unsettling for them all when they needed peace. ‘There’ll be the boys’ school fees and a hundred other things I’ll have to pay.’

  ‘You don’t have to spend money on school fees. You could give up the idea of sending them on to public school.’

  Millie felt her back go up at that. ‘It was Pete’s choice,’ she said. ‘He wanted them to have the same advantages he’s had.’

  ‘The world is changing. Who is to say it will be an advantage to them? The grammar schools are free now.’

  ‘For some.’ Millie paused for a moment. ‘Did you go to a grammar school?’

  ‘Yes, to the Institute. Your boys would get a good education there.’

  Millie didn’t answer. For herself she’d have seen a grammar school the chance of a lifetime, but she couldn’t think of it for Pete’s sons because he’d wanted them to go to his old school, the school where all the Maynard boys had been educated.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he sounded off-hand, ‘there really isn’t much else I can suggest.’

  ‘No, I was clutching at straws.’ She must think seriously about selling the house.

  Andrew Worthington took his lunch from a drawer and unwrapped the table napkin to reveal cheese sandwiches.

  ‘That’s a good idea,’ she said. ‘I should have thought of table napkins myself.’

  ‘There’s no greaseproof paper to be had anywhere.’

  ‘I know. This paper bag held half a pound of Marie biscuits originally. It was all I could find.’

  That relaxed the tension somewhat. He smiled. ‘Sorry, but the only way to raise any money is from what you’ve been left. Did your husband have anything of value that you won’t need? A watch, for instance?’

  Millie was wearing Pete’s watch on her wrist. She found it a comfort to have his belongings near her. His fountain pen was in her handbag too, but selling both wouldn’t help to raise the sum she needed.

  Ten minutes later, she went back to her desk and sank slowly into her chair. Had she been a fool to see Andrew Worthington as an ally? He hadn’t been very friendly today. In fact, he’d seemed cold and standoffish. They’d not been on the same wavelength.

  When the door closed behind Millie, Andrew Worthington sat back to think. The figures she’d shown him were easy enough but it had been an effort to get his head round what she wanted from him. She was an attractive woman and newly widowed, and one glance at these documents showed that really she was in a comfortable financial position. She had a fairly high-powered job here too and was a member of the owning family.

  He was used to handling professional difficulties but it was a long time since he’d tried to see personal problems other than his own and he didn’t think Millie Maynard had too much to be worried about.

  Andrew had been very sorry to hear of Pete’s death, he’d liked him and he was a good manager, whatever the rest of the family told Millie. He knew James had recently started coming to the office more regularly, which he’d expected because Pete’s death would have left a vacuum at the top.

  He’d thought James was coming in to run the company until he heard his colleagues discussing him. They said James didn’t know what was going on, that he’d been left high and dry decades ago, and he wasn’t actually doing anything. He was leaving them to get on with things as they always had.

  One possible explanation he could think of was that James was fighting for his own side of the family and could it really be that they wanted Millie out of the business? They seemed to resent her inheriting such a large share of it and possibly were also afraid she would take a greater share in the running of it. She had long experience of its perfume needs and perhaps Pete had talked through its management problems with her over the years. Andrew had heard Albert Lancaster say she was better equipped to run it than Marcus. He was beginning to get a better grasp of the situation.

  And he was beginning to feel sorry for Millie, she was trying to come to terms with her loss and do the best for her children. She had a good brain and talked sense and was popular with the staff. All the other managers wou
ld be glad to help her. Perhaps it would be better if he let them get on with it.

  That evening, Millie went home to make a scratch dinner of bubble and squeak with a fried egg on top for herself and Sylvie. They were washing up together afterwards when they heard the front-door bell ring. Millie went to see who it was, still clutching the tea towel.

  Helen was on the step with the late evening sun glinting on her dark auburn curls. She was lifting her baby out of the pram. ‘Can I come in for a few minutes? How are you, Millie?’

  ‘All right, I suppose.’ She opened the door wider. ‘Yes, come on in, we could do with cheering up. How’s Jenny?’

  ‘She’s fine.’ Helen followed her to the sitting room. ‘Have you finished eating?’

  ‘Yes. Hi, Helen.’ Sylvie came to take the tea towel from her mother’s hand. ‘I’ve got the kettle on for tea, do you want a cup?’

  ‘Yes please.’ Helen sank down on the sofa with the babe in her arms. ‘I was afraid you’d be worried. Valerie told me that Dad has left each of us offspring a legacy, with no thought as to where the money is to come from.’

  Millie leapt to his defence. ‘He was only sixty-four and in good health. He didn’t know he was likely to—’

  ‘No, of course not,’ Helen said hurriedly.

  ‘Besides, it was the war that drove the business down and made him spend his capital.’

  Helen’s face was concerned. ‘Millie, I’ve come round to tell you that you don’t have to raise money to pay me. Eric agrees. We aren’t short, we don’t need it and I’m afraid you might. Eric is doing very well.’

  Millie caught her breath. ‘I know that, but . . . Your father wanted you to have it.’

  ‘I don’t need it, Millie.’

  ‘Are you sure? It’s very generous of you.’

  ‘Of course I’m sure.’ She was smiling tremulously.

  ‘Still, to give up what’s legally yours . . . Thank you, I’m . . . I’m touched.’

  ‘Will it solve the problem?’

  Millie was biting her lip. ‘It will help of course. Ease things. I’ll only have to find four thousand three hundred pounds instead of seven thousand three hundred pounds but I don’t know how to do that.’

  ‘Have you had a proper look round this house? There’s a lot of stuff here that used to belong to Grandpa. It’s all old. Some of it could be worth something.’

  ‘Antiques, you mean? I don’t know much about that sort of thing.’

  ‘Neither do I but Eric does, that’s his job. He’s out tonight, but why don’t I bring him round here tomorrow night to see if there’s anything of value?’ Her eyes were full of compassion.

  ‘Yes please, Helen, I’d be glad if you would. I wouldn’t mind selling off some of the old-fashioned stuff.’

  Sylvie came in with the tea, but they didn’t stay to drink it, Millie was keen to have a preliminary look to see if she could identify any treasures. They all trooped upstairs.

  Most of the hard furniture Pete’s grandfather had chosen for the house was still in use. Over the years they’d bought new sofas and armchairs because modern ones were thought to be more comfortable.

  ‘What about the attics?’ Helen said. ‘We used to play up there when we were kids. There’s lots of old furniture and household stuff up there.’

  Millie was amazed at the vast number of Maynard belongings that had been dumped in their attic and forgotten. When she’d first moved here the big house had excited her, and she’d made several exploratory trips through the rooms, but the contents hadn’t seemed important at the time and she remembered little of what she’d seen. Here were Victorian sofas and easy chairs stuffed with horsehair and embellished with carved mahogany, and there were other household odds and ends of every sort.

  ‘What is this?’ Sylvie held up a strange sort of cup and giggled.

  Helen giggled too. ‘That extra ridge of china is supposed to keep a gentleman’s moustache dry. It’s a moustache cup.’

  Millie laughed. ‘There’s loads of things here and I have no idea what most of them are for.’

  When Helen was leaving half an hour later, Millie put her arms round her and gave her a big hug. ‘Thank you for giving up your legacy and for coming to help me.’

  ‘It’s what Dad would want,’ she said simply. ‘He didn’t mean to drop you in it.’

  That night Millie slept better, at last she could see an acceptable way out of her financial difficulties. What a fool she’d been not to take a good look round the house before she worried herself sick like that. The following day she was better able to cope at work and that evening Eric came round as arranged. The baby was asleep in her pram when Helen ran it into the vestibule.

  ‘I’ll take Eric upstairs,’ she said, ‘so he can get started.’

  Valerie had come with them. ‘I’m not staying,’ she said. ‘I’ve just come to tell you that I’m going to give up my legacy too.’

  ‘Val – you don’t have to,’ Millie protested. ‘I don’t expect—’

  ‘I do have to,’ she said. ‘Helen wanted to do it. That made me see it would be greedy and selfish of me to accept when you’re struggling to bring up Father’s second family.’

  ‘You are truly Pete’s daughters,’ Millie choked. She felt swamped with love and gratitude; she was aware, too, of Sylvie’s heightened interest. ‘But I’m hoping Eric will be able to find enough of value amongst the goods and chattels to raise what I need. I know you aren’t as well placed as Helen, and you have the twins to bring up.’

  Valerie had her father’s sea-blue eyes; like his, they were full of compassion. ‘Roger and I will manage.’ Roger was a schoolteacher.

  ‘Yes, but if Eric finds another way, you may not have to.’

  ‘I’d feel guilty if I took money from you.’

  ‘Mum.’ Sylvie was tugging at her arm, her face scarlet. ‘I’m going to give up my legacy too. I feel guilty now. If I took the money, I’d feel terrible. I’d have twice the guilt.’

  ‘No,’ Millie said firmly. ‘Darling, you can’t.’

  ‘I want to. I know I’ll feel better if I do.’

  ‘I’m afraid what you feel and what you want doesn’t enter into it.’

  ‘It does,’ Sylvie screamed at the top of her voice, suddenly in a state of near hysteria. ‘It does.’ Millie tried to put her arms round her but Sylvie elbowed her out of the way, all self-control gone. ‘I don’t want Dad’s money.’

  Valerie caught her in her arms. ‘Stop screaming, be quiet, and listen to me,’ she said firmly. ‘Millie is right.’ Sylvie was struggling and she had to give her a little shake. ‘It’s a question of satisfying legal requirements. Val and I have to ask Mr Douglas, Dad’s solicitor, to draw up a deed of variation that we then have to sign before the will can be changed. But you are under age and you can’t. Your legacy and those for Simon and Kenny will have to go into trust funds until you’ve turned twenty-one, and there’s nothing you or your mum or Mr Douglas can do about it.’

  Sylvie was silent, the colour in her face had drained, leaving it paper-white. Valerie led her to the sofa and pulled her down to sit beside her. ‘You don’t need to worry,’ she went on more gently. ‘Eric may well find enough of value to sell amongst the junk upstairs so none of us need go short.’

  Millie sank down on Sylvie’s other side and took her hand between her own. She was worried about her daughter. Pete’s death had left her more traumatised than she’d realised.

  ‘I’ve got to go.’ Valerie looked at her over Sylvie’s head. ‘I’ve left Roger putting the twins to bed and he’s usually exhausted by this time of day.’ She got up, ‘Bye, Sylvie.’ She patted her shoulder.

  Millie got up to see her to the door. ‘Poor Sylvie,’ Valerie whispered. ‘She’s really upset.’

  ‘She thinks it’s her fault
Pete died,’ Millie said. ‘It’s playing on her mind.’

  Millie returned to her daughter and pulled at her hand. ‘Come upstairs and see if Helen and Eric have found anything saleable,’ she said.

  ‘I don’t want to. I’ll stay here and keep an eye on Jenny.’

  ‘She’s fast asleep in her pram. Come on,’ Millie insisted, ‘you used to love playing up there.’

  Reluctantly she came but dragged her feet more as they passed the bathroom on the first floor. ‘Go on then,’ Millie said, ‘give your face a quick rinse. It’ll make you feel better. I’m dying to see if Eric has found anything of interest.’

  Eric had made quite a collection of broken furniture and chairs with worn upholstery on the landing. ‘I’m afraid there’s nothing here that’s worth a lot,’ he said. ‘It was not top of the range when it was new. Your grandparents, Helen love, went for machine-made furniture. But so much was lost in the air raids and so very little furniture has been made since that there’s a shortage of everything. Almost any furniture sells like hot cakes and for good prices. I’ll get a carpenter to mend these things and I’ll have the old armchairs re-upholstered. Some of them are quite elegant and well worth the trouble.’

  ‘Won’t that cost a lot?’ Millie asked anxiously.

  ‘There will be a cost, yes, but when they’re sold you’ll recoup all that. We find it pays better than selling them worn and broken.’ Eric was an auctioneer and owned a share of a company that held sales all over the north of England. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll do it through the firm.’

  ‘Will it take long?’ Millie wanted everything settled as soon as possible.

  ‘It won’t be quick,’ he admitted.

  ‘Then I’ll have to be patient.’

  ‘Dad and Grandpa thought this was just rubbish,’ Helen said. ‘It’s doing no good up here, just taking up space. You might as well get what money you can from it.’

  When they started looking through the bedrooms that were no longer used, Millie was surprised and delighted to find they were unearthing articles of real value. Helen had opened the drawers of what had once been her grandmother’s dressing table.