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Authors: Marcia Willett

Summer on the River (6 page)

BOOK: Summer on the River
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‘Poor devil.'

Evie looks sad for a moment; then she shrugs. ‘TDF's only comfort was that if George had inherited there would probably be nothing left now. He was a wild young man, a gambler, and he went out to America to try his luck in the gold rush. He was killed in some kind of shoot-out, leaving his wife and children more or less destitute. His cousin – well, half-brother – Charles looked after them. Even so, TDF was gutted. He didn't know if he should try to put things right but he could think of no way of making restitution without telling Ben the truth and he feared that it might cause huge problems.'

‘But what could Ben do? It's hardly hard evidence, is it? A few flimsy letters? Nothing to back them up.'

‘TDF was afraid that Kirsty might think it was worth a legal try. They were very hard up at the time. But it wasn't just that. He thought that it would destroy the family. Ben and Charlie are very close and he was afraid that this news might cause a lot of misery. Let's face it, Ben would never be able to run the business. He has no head for figures and he wouldn't want to. TDF and Charlie worked very hard to keep it so successful, and TDF feared it might all be broken up. Yet he still wanted to make some kind of restitution.'

‘Hang on a minute,' says Claude. ‘Just to be clear. Ben's great-great-grandfather, David – who already has a son, George – has an affair with his sister-in-law, Charlie's great-great-grandmother, who becomes pregnant and bears David's child, and calls him Charles. So Ben and Charlie's great-grandfathers, George and Charles, were half-brothers not cousins. And, because the estate was entailed, George, being the elder and legitimate, should have inherited, which means that everything would have come down to Ben and not to Charlie.' He begins to smile. ‘Ah, I begin to see. So you think that's why TDF left the Merchant's House to you?'

She nods. ‘It was a huge shock but I've wondered if that might be the reason. He couldn't leave it to Ben without some kind of explanation but now that the laws of entail no longer apply he could leave it to me as his wife even though it might raise a few eyebrows.'

‘As it did. And you leave it to Ben?'

She is silent for a moment. ‘Possibly. Clearly TDF still couldn't decide how to make restitution or he'd have made it clear in his will. Maybe he thought I'd have a better idea.'

‘That's a bit tough on you, isn't it? I mean, how can you possibly know the future?'

‘Well, I still haven't come to a decision and I'd welcome any ideas. Meanwhile, Ange is furious that the house is mine. It all came off the boil when I let the house to those friends. Ange and Charlie didn't come down for a while so it went a bit quiet but I'm rather dreading regatta.'

‘And where are the letters?'

Evie sighs. ‘In a sealed envelope in my desk.'

‘And what will you do with them?'

She shrugs. ‘What would you do, chum?'

He thinks about it. ‘Have you made a will?'

‘Of course I have. The Merchant's House is left equally between Charlie and Ben at the moment, though neither of them knows that. It's not the right answer but what else could I do? I had no idea when I made the will that Ben would need somewhere to live and would move in, so I have to think again now. I certainly wouldn't want him chucked out if anything happened to me, and Ange wanted their share of the money.'

‘Would Charlie let her do that?'

‘How do I know? Left to himself Charlie would probably just let Ben carry on there but who can say what anyone inside a marriage might do? I suspect that Ange would make his life very difficult.'

‘So why are you telling me now?'

‘Since the house was let after TDF died I've hardly seen Ange. Charlie has been down and stayed here with me but we haven't talked about the Merchant's House. Now they'll both be down next weekend for regatta and I'm pretty certain that the subject will crop up. Ange is very unhappy about Ben being there. Perhaps she's afraid it might give him tenant's rights or something. It's a bit pathetic but I wanted someone whom I can trust and is on my side to know the truth. I'm sorry to involve you, Claude, but I need some moral support. I know TDF would agree with what I'm doing.'

Claude is still taking it in. ‘No wonder you've been a bit odd about it. I guessed that you were trying to decide how it should be left – and I was slightly surprised that TDF didn't leave it to Charlie – but I couldn't have dreamed of the other complications.'

‘There's a moral dilemma. If the truth had been known back in the eighteen seventies Charlie would have none of the things he has now. But, if we can believe the rumours from the past, nobody else would either because it would have all been gambled away. I suppose you could say that if Ben needs money, sells the Merchant's House, loses it all, then so what? It doesn't affect what Charlie still has. I hate the thought, though, of leaving it to Ben without Charlie knowing why. I love both those boys very much. I know I wouldn't be around to see Charlie being hurt but I still can't quite bring myself to take that decision. And I can't tell him why without causing even more problems. How would Ben take it knowing his great-grandfather had been done out of a huge inheritance from which Charlie is benefiting? Of course, there was much more to the estate back then.'

‘I take your point,' says Claude thoughtfully. ‘It would change the relationship between them completely.'

‘Of course it would. They're not brothers so there's none of that kind of sibling rivalry; they each respect what the other does without feeling the least bit envious. Charlie works very hard, has a lot of pressure and great rewards. Ben is very artistic, very laid-back and likes a quiet life. Charlie recognizes that Ben doesn't have a business head and doesn't panic when he comes unstuck. But he doesn't patronize him either. They tease each other and bicker but there's no ill will. I'd hate to spoil that.'

‘It would be very sad,' agrees Claude. ‘To be honest, I simply cannot see a really good solution.'

‘No,' says Evie sadly. ‘Neither can I. I love Ben being there. I can use the garden and the garage and it's fun having him around. I'm very happy for it to stay that way. And if it's left to them both and they sell up I suppose that's OK too. At least Ben would have enough money out of it to buy a small property and nobody would be any wiser.'

Claude holds up a cartoon. ‘Except that you know the truth and, as you said, there's a kind of moral dimension to it now.'

She nods. ‘And Ben utterly loves the Merchant's House. He is so happy there.'

‘And Charlie has a house.'

‘Yes, but it's the breaking with centuries of tradition. And Ben isn't even his brother. He's a fourth cousin. It's a big break. I know Charlie is puzzled and even rather hurt that TDF left the house to me. I think he thinks that it's a kind of protection for me and that it will be naturally left to him anyway, so it was just TDF making a generous gesture to me. Though normally it would have been put in trust for my use or something, wouldn't it? Anyway, it's a muddle. Luckily, Charlie and I have a very strong relationship and I have no intention of spoiling it.'

‘Quite,' says Claude. He thinks of the coming regatta; the arrival of Charlie and Angela. ‘You know, I think I might have that drink after all. Anything else you want to tell me? Any more shocks? Don't hold back.'

She stands up to fetch the wine and another glass. ‘Nothing I can think of. Oh, well, only a rather odd man watching me in the Castle last night.'

‘Watching?'

‘Sitting in a corner, just watching me.'

‘Well, you're used to that. Was it a fan?'

She shook her head. ‘He didn't speak. Just stared in a grim kind of way as if he didn't like me. It was a bit unnerving, actually.'

Claude grins. ‘Probably a failed novelist. So what happened?'

‘Nothing. He got up and left.'

‘What sort of age?'

Evie thinks about it. ‘Mid-forties.'

‘Not an old lover, then?'

‘Hardly,' she says – but suddenly some memory stirs; just a flicker then it's gone.

Claude sees the tremor cross her face but decides to leave the subject alone. There has been enough drama for one morning. He talks about Ben's work and whilst Evie prepares some lunch he moves out on to the balcony to watch the river-life; to think about all that has been said about the Merchant's House. About Evie's watcher he doesn't think at all.

The tiny flat is hidden away in one of the narrow alleys behind St Saviour's. He lets himself into the vestibule, which leads directly up the flight of stairs to the front door. The sitting-dining room looks across the alley at the house opposite but there's a glimpse of St Saviour's tower from the small kitchen. Upstairs, two bedrooms and a shower-room and loo.

‘It's a bolt hole, Jay,' his sister-in-law said. ‘Somewhere you go out from. It's not luxurious or anything, but it's big enough for you and Mikey. Go down for regatta week. It'll take your mind off things and give Mikey a break. It's not just you that's lost Helena. He's lost his mum.'

Jason drops his rucksack on the sitting-room floor. Mikey's still out in the town; he's loving it.

‘It's great here, Dad,' he said. ‘Really cool.' He stared round at the river, the boats and the preparation for regatta, and his eyes shone. He looked like any twelve-year-old on holiday; for that moment he'd forgotten his mother died six months ago.

Jason sits down on the neat little sofa and buries his head in his hands. He wants to howl like a dog; to scream and rage against the world, against life, against the unfairness of it all. Helena was his lodestar, his linchpin; she grounded him, kept him centred. How can he possibly manage without her?

‘Stay calm, Jay-bird,' she'd say. ‘You can do it. Breathe. Keep those demons at bay. No, you don't need a drink …'

He draws up his knees, wraps his arms about them, trying not to think about the bottle of water he keeps at hand now, ever since she died, with its shot of vodka; just a little shot, hardly anything, just enough to keep him balanced. At least it would be if he hadn't seen that bloody woman Evelyn Drake in the Royal Castle last evening. He shouldn't have been there really. He'd popped in for a quick glass of wine – no harm in one small glass – on his way to pick up fish and chips while Mikey was unpacking and there she was, the bitch. He recognized her from newspaper reviews, from television interviews; she was like a burr under the skin. How his mother hated Evelyn Drake. She and his father were colleagues: History was their subject: Cromwell his father's special interest. That's where it started: her affair with his father, his mother's distress, his own problems. Everything started back there when he was seven and Evelyn Drake came into their lives. And here she is in bloody Dartmouth just when he was hoping to have a break, a little holiday with Mikey. In a town this small, she'll be popping up everywhere. He'll be watching, waiting, continually reminded of the past, instead of feeling free and relaxed. It's the story of his life: always something to make him angry, depressed, unable to cope. Just lately it's become even more difficult to control unexpected bursts of violence: smashing a mug, punching a door. That's why he lost his job in the bookshop; small things get under his skin, and now there's no Helena to listen to him, to talk him down, to keep him balanced.

The door below opens and he hears Mikey's feet on the stairs. Time for a quick swig, just the one; a very quick one to help him. There, that's much better. He'll be fine now. He puts the bottle in the front pocket of the rucksack, stands up, and carries it into the kitchen.

‘Hi, Mikey,' he calls. ‘Great timing. Just unpacking the shopping. Cake for tea. So how was it?'

‘It's epic,' Mikey replies.

For the first time since Mum died Mikey feels peaceful. All the cruel knots that tangle like barbed wire so painfully around his heart, squeezing and dragging at his insides, are smoothing out just a bit. Not that he isn't still missing her, or doesn't feel he might suddenly burst into tears or anything, it's just that here in this place the pain has dulled a bit.

‘I wish we could live here,' he says.

Dad comes out of the kitchen, which is so small it's like a galley on a boat.

‘Wouldn't get all your stuff in here,' he says jokingly.

He puts two mugs of tea on the low table by the sofa. Mikey likes that Dad makes him tea. Though he doesn't much care for the taste of it, it makes him feel grown up. And now without Mum he has to feel grown up; he has to watch out for Dad's funny moods the way Mum used to. Sometimes Dad's hands shake and sometimes he has this really weird spaced-out look and when he goes off on one it can be really scary.

Not that he often loses it with me, Mikey reminds himself, taking a cake. Quite the contrary; most of the time he's very loving, lots of hugs and assurances that he'll make up for Mum not being there, that he'll find another job soon, that things will be great. He cries a lot, too, which makes it difficult for Mikey to hold back his own tears.

‘It's OK,' Dad says. ‘We can mourn together. It's good.'

Mikey doesn't argue but sometimes it doesn't feel right just to cry and cry, like they're egging each other on; he doesn't feel comfortable with it. But he doesn't like to make a fuss either.

‘Where would you keep your bike, for a start?' Dad's saying.

‘Down in the hall,' says Mikey. ‘There's just room.'

Dad smiles at him. ‘I'm sure your aunt Liz will let us use it quite often out of season.'

‘I'd be here all the time if it was mine,' says Mikey enviously.

‘They've bought it as an investment. To let it out and make some money from it. Lucky they haven't started yet or we wouldn't be here now. Liz says she'll reserve a few weeks for us out of season in future. We could come down for half term. Anyway, you're back to school straight after the regatta.'

BOOK: Summer on the River
9.71Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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