John shook his head impatiently. ‘I’m sure it’s fine. Just pour it.’
‘I would,’ said Mum. ‘Don’t want a duff one!’ She pushed her glass towards the waiter, who opened the bottle with ceremony, then poured a splash. Mum raised the glass and, looking at John and me over the brim, she swirled the ruby liquid around, then held it up to the light.
‘Good colour,’ she said. ‘What year did you say?’
‘2012.’
‘And that was a good year?’
The waiter nodded. John fiddled with his napkin.
Mum pushed her nose into the glass and inhaled deeply, closing her eyes and nodding as if to savour the bouquet of the wine. Finally, when I imagined John was literally about to swipe the glass out of Mum’s hand, she tipped it up and took the wine in her mouth, where she swilled it around while staring thoughtfully into the middle distance. At last she swallowed, brought her eyes back to the table and smiled at the waiter.
‘It’s fine,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’
The waiter moved around the table, pouring a glass for each of us with a flourish. Finally, he placed the bottle in a wine holder and retreated. John placed his arms on the table and leaned towards Mum.
‘So … what’s this all about?’
Mum put her hands on the table and studied them. Then she took a deep breath.
‘Well,’ she said. ‘As you know, when your father died, he didn’t leave you anything.’ Mum looked at us each in turn, forcing us to make eye contact with her. ‘I know it seemed cruel but he had his reasons, as you both know. He valued hard work.’ She looked down, struggling to find words. ‘Let me start again. Your father was a very wealthy man. Very wealthy. And he didn’t want to ruin your lives by handing you that wealth on a plate. He wanted you to work for your money – to find your niche in life and understand the value of money, rather than sit back on your laurels and fritter away the money he’d earned.’
As Mum spoke, I could hear Pa’s voice saying the words. Fritter. It was exactly what he would have said. John was rubbing his chin as he listened, his expression inscrutable. Did he still think Mum had lost her marbles, I wondered? She sounded quite lucid to me. But then Mum’s gaze drifted into the middle distance and it was almost as if she was no longer at the table with us.
‘Your father was a man who stood by his principles,’ she said softly. ‘Whether or not they were right, he stood by his principles. I admired that … I did … but he could be cruel.’ I had to strain to hear over the general noise of the restaurant. ‘It wasn’t necessary to be so cruel.’
‘It’s okay, Mum,’ I put my hand on hers. ‘What’s done’s done. We don’t have to go over this. We’re fine with it.’
Mum gave herself a little shake. ‘Well, there’s the thing. You don’t know the half of it. Your father put it in his last wishes that you weren’t to be told.’
‘Told what?’ said John, his tone rising in frustration as Mum stopped talking and stared again across the restaurant. If he could have reached inside her body and pulled the words out with his hands, I think he probably would have.
‘Well. I’ve thought long and hard about this. It’s not a decision I’ve taken lightly,’ Mum said, ‘but I’ve decided you need to know.’
‘Know what?’ John wasn’t even hiding his impatience now. ‘You’re talking in riddles!’
‘Let me finish!’ Mum snapped, then she took a breath and spoke slowly once more, as if this was something she’d said many times in her head, or even rehearsed out loud. ‘It’s all very well your father wanting you to be self-made but I know life’s not as easy these days. I know it isn’t. Property prices are, just, ugh. You’re both struggling.’ I opened my mouth to stop her but she raised a hand to silence me. ‘I’m not blind, Alexandra. I see that. I see you both making sacrifices, battling to make ends meet, and I sit there, eating caviar in my little house, and worrying about you two.’ She paused, took a sip of wine, then carried on. ‘So, even though your father didn’t want me to tell you this, I’m going to.’ She gripped the edge of the table with both hands and looked at John and then at me. ‘Apart from the Barnes house, he actually left you each half of his estate.’
‘What?’ John shoved his chair back, his mouth hanging open.
‘I thought he left it all to you?’ I stared at Mum, unable to understand what she was telling us.
Mum shook her head. ‘No. I got the house. The Barnes house and the furniture in it. It was worth an awful lot – as you know, well over a million. I didn’t need anything more. I have my own means.’ She shrugged.
‘The painting, you mean.’
‘Yes. The painting.’ Mum gave a little laugh. ‘The famous painting.’
I rubbed my forehead, still struggling to understand. ‘So … did you sell the Barnes house because you wanted to, or because you had to?’ I went back in my mind to the time after Pa’s death; tried to remember if Mum had given me any clue that he’d left her nothing besides the house. When we were told that he’d left John and me nothing, we’d just assumed that Mum had got it all.
‘I had to sell the house,’ Mum said. ‘Well, I suppose I probably could have stayed and made ends meet – or I could have sold the painting – but I’m quite fond of the painting, and I didn’t want to be struggling to rub two pennies together in my old age. The house was way too big for me on my own, so I sold it to release the capital.’
I felt the blood drain from my face. ‘And bought somewhere cheaper … I had no idea. You should have said.’
‘No, no. I wanted to move, too. I was ready to leave Barnes; that house. It was always your father’s house, not mine. And I wanted to be closer to the sea.’
All the while Mum and I were talking John was shaking his head. I could see a tic at the corner of his mouth and his lips were pressed together; he was struggling to stop a smile from creeping across his face.
‘So …’ he said slowly. ‘He left it all to us … when? How?’
‘Well, that’s the catch,’ said Mum. ‘The agreement he had the Trustees draw up is that you’ll get the money only when I die. Pa’s theory was that, by then, you’d have made your own money, become established in your careers and have got a good work ethic. He didn’t want you to know about it before I died because he thought you’d rest on your laurels. But I don’t see you doing that. I see two very hard-working adults who I think deserve to know that they’re one day due a significant windfall from their father. I wanted to give you that gift.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘I don’t like to disobey Ralph’s wishes, but it’s not like he can tell me off, is it? He’s hardly going to come back from the grave and strangle me.’ Mum’s eyes were bright and she held on to the stem of her wine glass. I thought of her watching Pa choke that man to death.
‘How much are we talking about?’ asked John.
‘A lot,’ said Mum.
‘Thank you,’ I said. I reached out and touched Mum’s hand. ‘It’s really nice to know that.’ Already my mind was racing forward. Mark and I could take a loan for IVF, knowing that one day we’d be able to pay it back. But one day, when? My thoughts stopped in their tracks when I realised we’d only get the money when Mum died. I didn’t want to wish her life away.
‘How much is a lot?’ asked John. ‘What are we talking about here? Enough to pay off the mortgage? Buy a bigger house? Are we talking tens of thousands? Hundreds of thousands?’ The timbre of his voice left space for ‘millions?’ I was torn; curious myself, but hating John for asking.
Mum gave John a look. ‘Your father had assets even I didn’t know about. He was very shrewd financially, a very good businessman. You won’t have any financial worries, let’s put it that way.’
‘Have you met my wife?’ John’s joke broke the mood and we all laughed.
‘Even so,’ said Mum. ‘Look. I’m not going to say how much it is. I don’t want you to start counting on it.’
‘Wow, Mum.’ I was shaking my head. I couldn’t wait to tell Mark. ‘Thank
you so much for telling us. It really eases things. I feel like you’ve opened a huge safety net under me. You know, we’ve had a tough year with Mark being out of work, and …’ I trailed off not wanting to bring up the baby thing.
Mum smiled. ‘You’re welcome, Alexandra. I thought it might help to know.’
I squeezed Mum’s hand, then picked up my glass. ‘To Mum!’
‘To Mum,’ echoed John, taking a sip. ‘For she’s a jolly good fellow!’ We all clinked glasses and sipped.
‘So what about Harbourside?’ John asked when we were all quiet again. ‘There’s probably even more reason to do it now – it’ll free up a little more of the cash you have in the house – and give you a far better quality of life.’
‘I said I’d consider it after the cruise,’ Mum said.
‘But that means you’ve decided to do it – right?’
I tried to kick John’s ankle under the table. Why did he always have to ruin things?
‘Well, let’s see,’ Mum said. ‘If I’m going to go doolally, as you two seem to think I will, there’ll come a point where I won’t know where I am and you can book me into any old hell-hole you like.’
‘True,’ said John. ‘I’d never thought of that.’ They laughed. Mum ruefully, John not so.
14 July 2013, 10.15 p.m.
After dinner, it was John who didn’t want to go to bed.
‘Come on, let’s go for a drink,’ he said as we stood outside Valentino’s, hmm-ing and ha-ing about whether to call it a night. ‘My treat.’
‘I couldn’t,’ said Mum. She patted her tummy. ‘I’ve done well and I know when to stop.’
‘And it’s a big day tomorrow,’ I said.
‘Mykonos,’ said Mum.
‘Your birthday!’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘You’ll come for a drink, won’t you Lex?’ asked John, bobbing his head up and down emphatically behind Mum. I’d not seen him drunk for years. If ever.
‘Sure.’ I turned to Mum. ‘Are you okay? Would you like me to walk you back to your cabin?’
‘No need for that, dear. I won’t get lost. Just point me in the right direction and I’ll walk till I reach my door. Another advantage of being at the front.’
‘If you’re sure.’
We said our goodnights and waited until Mum was in the lift with the button for the tenth floor pressed. ‘Turn right out of the lifts,’ I mouthed, pointing towards the front of the ship as the glass doors closed. Mum rolled her eyes and disappeared feet-first from view.
‘Right,’ said John, rubbing his hands together. ‘Didn’t want to say it in front of Mum, but I was thinking the Buzz Bar. Champagne? Whaddya reckon?’
‘Spending the money before you’ve got it? She may have years left. Two decades – and you don’t know how much it’ll be.’ Despite myself, I felt a thrill at the thought of the inheritance.
‘I just feel like champagne tonight,’ said John. ‘And don’t we have on-board credit anyway? I checked my bill. Each room came with a couple of hundred quid. We may as well spend it.’
I was grateful, as we stood on the threshold of the Buzz Bar, that John was dressed semi-formally and not wearing one of his cringe-worthy tourist outfits made from crease-resistant poly-cotton. The place was smart: all cream leather, low lights and discreet tables; the sound of expensive chat filled the air. It didn’t feel that busy yet every table and alcove except for a high table with two stools over by a small porthole was taken. We made our way over to it and John, magnanimous for once, fell into a conversation with the waitress about which champagne to order. Shielding my eyes from the light, I pressed my face against the porthole. We were near the front of the ship and I could see the white of the bow wave spreading out into the blackness of the ocean. I smiled down at the water, loving the romance of travelling through the night.
John’s voice pulled me back into the room.
‘Here you go, Lex. Cheers!’ he said, handing me a flute of champagne. ‘Don’t gulp it down. It’s a good one.’
‘I won’t,’ I said, the novelty of him actually paying for something not lost on me. ‘Cheers. To Mum.’
‘To Mum. Indeed!’
John put his glass down and leaned back on the bar stool, his hands clasped behind his head. He shook his head and chuckled to himself. ‘I can’t believe it. I can’t believe we’re going to be rich.’ He banged the table with a fist. ‘Unbelievable. Cheers!’ He grabbed his glass and took another swig.
‘Don’t get carried away,’ I said, but, despite myself, a little worm of excitement wriggled inside me. Even being modest, the kind of money we potentially stood to inherit was life-changing.
‘What are you thinking?’ John asked. ‘You’re smiling. You’re spending the money in your head. Am I right?’
I nodded, sheepish. The wine at dinner had loosened my inhibitions. ‘It would mean so much to us. We’ve been trying for a baby but nothing’s happening. We don’t qualify for IVF on the NHS and we were about to give up. This would mean we could to give it a go.’
‘Do you want my kids?’ He laughed. ‘They aren’t all they’re cracked up to be, you know!’
I shot him a look. ‘And, if it worked,’ I said. ‘Oh my God, if it worked, can you imagine? We’d have a baby! I could give up work. We could buy a house with a couple more bedrooms …’
‘I know.’ John’s eyes shone. ‘Tell me about it. We’re squashed into our house. The twins could have a bedroom each and we could have a spare room. You could come and stay.’
I snorted mid-sip pushing champagne bubbles up my nose. When Mum and I had still lived in London, not once had John ever asked either of us to stay with him. Even when Mum had been house-hunting in Cornwall, she’d stayed in a hotel.
‘Look at you,’ I teased. ‘Host with the most now you’ve got a few quid.’
John laughed. ‘Well, we don’t have it yet, of course. But the thought that it’s coming …’ He banged the table again. ‘God, I feel like a new person. It changes everything. Everything!’ He took the champagne bottle out of its silver ice bucket, turned it to look at the label appreciatively and topped up our glasses. ‘I could get used to this …’
‘You’re not so badly off, though, are you?’ I asked. ‘I mean, I know you have the twins … Anastasia … but business is going well, isn’t it?’
John shook his head and let a big sigh escape through his teeth. ‘Yeah. Business is going well. It was going very well. I made a fortune.’ He laughed bitterly.
‘What then? Anastasia’s spent it?’
John looked down at the table then he squeezed his hands together and looked up at me. ‘Oh God, Lexi. I don’t know where to start. I’ve not told anyone this, but …’
‘What?’
‘I lost it. Nearly half a million quid. Gone.’
‘How did you lose it? What do you mean?’
‘I got conned.’ Shifting his weight forward, he looked down at the table. When he spoke again, his voice was small. ‘I feel so stupid. I should have known.’
‘What happened?’ In my head a film played of John handing over wads of cash to a beggar in the High Street.
‘Share fraud. It all sounded legit.’
I shrugged. It was all gobbledegook to me.
‘Guy calls me,’ said John. ‘Offers me a great investment opportunity. I meet him. He has a brochure about the company. It’s the next big thing, everyone’s investing in it. I did a bit of due diligence – clearly not enough – anyway, it offered a great return and Anastasia had been on my back about private schooling for the twins, she wants a bigger house, blah blah, blah. I thought it would be a quick way to make a bit of extra cash, you know, without eating into the capital. The plan was I’d get the capital back within a year, plus profits.’
‘Oh, please tell me you didn’t do it?’
John shook his head. ‘The guy presented well. The story sounded legit. I thought I was going to get my capital back, Lex, with a bit – quite a bit – extra. Who
wouldn’t be tempted?’
‘Oh God. What happened?’
‘Shares were worthless. Worth less than the paper the certificate was printed on. I lost the lot.’ He bowed his head and, for a second, he looked like he was going to cry.
‘Oh, John. I had no idea. What did Anastasia say?’
‘She doesn’t know. But wait. It gets worse. I was embarrassed. As you can imagine. I didn’t know what to do. Then I get a call from another dealer. You’d think I’d have learned my lesson, right? Huh.’
I clapped my hand over my mouth, shaking my head slowly.
‘Exactly. But, Lex, I was in so deep. I’d lost so much I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t tell Anastasia. How could I tell Anastasia? Look at me. I’m not an idiot.’ He laughed ruefully. ‘I’m under no illusions as to why Anastasia’s with me and, trust me, it’s not for my looks.’
I opened my mouth to reply but John held up a hand. ‘I’m under no illusions, Lex. I love her but I don’t kid myself it works both ways. She wanted a British education for the twins. I got her, her kids, and her mother out of Estonia and I gave them a home, became a father to the kids. Gave Anastasia respectability. Status. She was a single mother on the breadline back home. She gives me what I need. I wish it were more romantic, but it’s not. For her, it’s business.’
‘But you had enough money? You were doing really well.’
‘I thought if I could stretch a bit further, give her the extras she wanted – the ponies, the private school, the bigger house – she’d be happier. I thought she’d respect me more. Start to love me. I don’t know …’
I pressed my lips together; a lump had formed in my throat. ‘I had no idea.’ There was a silence while John stared at his champagne glass, a mixture of emotions crossing his face. When he looked up, he’d composed himself again.
‘Anyway – where was I? The other dealer?’
‘Don’t tell me you fell for it again.’
John shook his head. ‘They must have been in it together. How could I have known? The second guy calls me up, asks if I’ve got shares in this particular company – the ones I’d just bought. He knew I had. Obviously. To me, it was like a call from heaven, the answer to my prayers. I didn’t question it. The second guy slags off the first guy and says he’s come across a few people who’ve been conned like that but he might just have something that’ll interest me. “I’ve got this client,” he says, “who needs to buy up all those shares for personal reasons … I’ve told him they’re worthless but he’s adamant and – well, I don’t suppose you’d be willing to sell?” and he names a price a little under what I’d paid in the first place. I didn’t even stop to consider who would really want these shares, what the personal reasons could be. I leapt at the chance. I was going to get almost all my money back.’
The Disappearance Page 17