Things We Never Say (34 page)

The sudden shrill of the doorbell startled her so much that she dropped the snuff box on to the granite hearth. The lid immediately detached from the base and the glass container cracked.

‘
Merde
,’ she muttered as she picked it up and put it on the mantelpiece, before walking into the hall and pressing the intercom button.

‘Hello?’ she said.

‘It’s me,’ said Zoey. ‘Let me in.’

The idea to drive by her late father-in-law’s house had come to Zoey after having lunch with a friend in Howth village. Friend wasn’t the right word for it, she thought; Esther Canaletti was more of an acquaintance, someone who wanted her to become involved in a protest march about traffic-calming measures on their housing estate. Zoey had no intention of becoming involved, but she’d been bored and thought lunch was a good idea. It occurred to her, as she said goodbye to Esther, that it would do no harm to drive past Fred’s house while she was in the area, even though, unlike Lisette, she didn’t have keys and so couldn’t go inside. When she saw her sister-in-law’s car parked outside, however, she pulled to a halt immediately.

‘Cleaning?’ she asked when Lisette opened the door.

‘I said I’d keep an eye on the place.’ Lisette pushed her hair behind her ears. ‘You know that.’

Zoey walked into the hallway. Lisette followed her.

‘So what have you been doing?’ Zoey ran a finger along the console table and looked at the streak that it had left in the dust. She raised an eyebrow at Lisette.

‘Tidying up,’ said Lisette defensively. ‘Fred had loads of junk in the house.’

‘What have you done with it?’

‘Put it in the garage mostly. D’you want to see?’

Zoey recognised a challenge in Lisette’s voice. ‘Sure,’ she said.

The two of them went to the garage, where Lisette pointed out the multiple boxes of papers, gadgets and alarms that she’d taken from the living areas and stored away.

‘Honestly,’ said Zoey as she gazed at them. ‘What are men like?’

‘I’m sure Donald doesn’t hoard junk like this,’ said Lisette.

‘Are you having a laugh?’ Zoey led the way out of the garage and back into the house. ‘Not stuff like Fred’s, of course. But technological bits and pieces. CCTV cameras. Alarms. And all sorts of computer-related gizmos. I’ve no idea what most of them are and couldn’t care less. But I’m always having to move them out of my living room and outside into his den.’

‘I didn’t know Don had an outside den.’

‘Damn right he does,’ said Zoey. ‘It’s one of those wooden rooms like sheds that you can set up at the end of the garden. Men need somewhere they can sit in private and think manly thoughts.’

‘Manly thoughts?’ asked Lisette as they entered the kitchen.

‘Not porno thoughts, if that’s what you mean,’ said Zoey. ‘Though I suppose he has them too, even when he’s not with me. But you know what guys are like. They don’t talk to each other about things; they mull life’s injustices over in their heads instead.’

‘Is Donald doing much mulling lately?’ asked Lisette.

‘What d’you think?’ Zoey’s tone was dark. ‘Since we didn’t find another will, he’s done nothing but. Here, put the kettle on. Let’s have a cup of coffee. No chance that Fred has a proper coffee machine, I suppose?’

‘Are you joking?’

‘Green tea? Camomile?’

‘Lyons Green Label tea. And Nescafé.’

‘I’ll have the coffee.’ Zoey perched on a high stool beside the old-fashioned breakfast bar. ‘So how’s Gareth holding up?’

Lisette put the two cups sharply on the counter. ‘Stressed,’ she said shortly, her back to Zoey.

‘They’re both stressed. And we are too. Aren’t we?’

‘I’m tired of being stressed,’ said Lisette.

‘Me too,’ said Zoey. ‘It’s not the payday I was looking for.’

‘None of us was expecting this,’ agreed Lisette.

‘Was there an inventory done of the silver?’ asked Zoey suddenly. ‘Or of anything else in the house for that matter?’

Lisette turned to look at her. ‘What are you implying?’

‘Nothing,’ said Zoey. Her eyes were wide and innocent. ‘I was wondering, that’s all.’

‘Well I’m not sure I like the tone you’re wondering in,’ said Lisette.

‘All I’m saying is that it would be easy for the person who’s looking after things to … to accidentally take something home, that’s all.’

Lisette thought of the damaged snuff box and swallowed hard.

‘I ’aven’t taken anything from this ’ouse,’ she said, her accent deteriorating under pressure. ‘I wouldn’t.’

‘I would.’ Zoey was unfazed.

‘Well I didn’t.’

‘More fool you then,’ said Zoey. ‘If you ask me, we should try and secure as much as we can in case it all goes horribly wrong and that oh-so-innocent American and her barmy mother get their hands on everything.’

‘You mean take things? We can’t do that.’ Lisette’s voice was a mixture of horror and wistfulness.

‘Who’s to know?’ asked Zoey. ‘You’ve already gone through a heap of junk that nobody had a clue about. What else is here that we’ve never seen before?’

‘Nothing valuable,’ said Lisette.

‘You’ve looked?’

‘I’ve done a lot of clearing up,’ she replied. ‘I would have noticed.’

‘Pity,’ said Zoey.

‘If it comes to it, do you think we’ll win in court?’ asked Lisette.

‘Do you?’

‘If Alex says that Fred ignored the advice he gave him, I can’t see how we can prove otherwise,’ said Lisette. ‘I’ve said this to Gareth but he insists they can show that Fred was off his rocker. Only thing is, I don’t think he was. He might have been a bit doddery, but he knew exactly what he was doing.’

Zoey tapped her finger against the side of the breakfast bar. ‘Did you know that if this ends up in the High Court, the fees alone could cost fifty grand a day.’

‘What!’ Lisette was horrified.

‘For each side,’ Zoey added. ‘If we challenge and lose, we might have to pay their costs too.’

‘That can’t be right,’ said Lisette. ‘We don’t have that sort of money.’

‘Neither do we,’ said Zoey.

‘But … but … I’ll have to talk to Gareth,’ said Lisette. ‘He hasn’t said anything to me about this.’

‘Donald hasn’t opened his mouth either. He’s probably afraid to.’

‘How do you know, in that case?’ asked Lisette.

‘I thought somebody needed to take an analytical look at it,’ Zoey told her. ‘I did a bit of checking.’

Lisette looked surprised. She’d never thought of her glamorous sister-in-law as being the analytical type before.

‘We can’t let them do this,’ she said. ‘They could ruin us.’

‘Only if they have to take it to court,’ said Zoey. ‘Only if Abbey Andersen and her mother keep what they’ve been left and we fight it.’

‘But they will do that!’ cried Lisette. ‘You saw her. She pretended not to care, but she’s not a rich person and she wants the money. Who wouldn’t?’

‘Of course,’ agreed Zoey. ‘So you and I have to come up with a plan, don’t we?’

‘What sort of plan?’

‘We have to make it attractive for her to settle with us. And not with threats and bluster like the boys. By making her an offer she can’t refuse.’

‘But we have no leverage over her. She can refuse anything.’

Zoey made a face. ‘Our leverage is the fact that her mother is a nun. I know that we talked about the convent wanting the money, but the truth is that nuns are supposed to be charitable. And I got the impression that Abbey was … well, disposed towards being charitable too.’

‘I need more than her charity!’ cried Lisette. ‘I need … I need …’ She started to cry, and Zoey put her arm around her shoulders.

‘Hey, don’t get upset,’ she said.

‘It’s hard not to.’ Lisette sniffed. ‘I thought when Fred died it was the answer to all our prayers. But it’s been nothing but a nightmare ever since.’

‘Are you really up shit creek on those properties?’ asked Zoey.

‘We’re so far up it they don’t make paddles big enough for us,’ replied Lisette. ‘The only property we’d possibly break even on if we sold it is Papillon, which means Gareth is eyeing it up as a lifeline. But I love Papillon. It would break my heart to lose it.’

‘I didn’t realise things were that bad,’ said Zoey. ‘I thought it might be a bit rocky for you but that you were riding it out.’

‘I wish.’ Lisette sniffed again. ‘We’ve made a complete mess of everything.’

‘We could do with the money too,’ said Zoey. ‘Don keeps giving cash to Disgruntled Deirdre because he’s afraid she’ll turn the girls against him, even though she’s a lying, scheming bitch who cheated on him.’

‘I liked Deirdre,’ admitted Lisette. ‘We got on well.’

‘Yeah, well.’ Zoey made a face. ‘She can be charming when she wants to be. Apparently. I wouldn’t know, of course, she’s never been charming to me. Anyhow, Don was a bit too generous when they divorced. He wanted to appear magnanimous even though the whole thing was her fault.’

‘Is it true she had an affair?’ asked Lisette. ‘She never told me she was unhappy.’

‘A fling with her gym instructor,’ Zoey replied. ‘She claimed that they never slept with each other, but come on, nobody would believe that.’

‘She always seemed devoted to Donald and the girls,’ said Lisette.

‘That woman is devoted to herself,’ Zoey said scornfully. ‘Anyhow, given that Alex was his solicitor then too, he’s not exactly Donald’s favourite person. Plus we’re in negative equity on our own home. I thought if we got Furze Hill, we could sell it and be set up for life.’

‘But why should you get Furze Hill and not us?’ demanded Lisette.

‘I didn’t say we would. Only that I hoped we would. That your dad would treat the elder son with more respect.’

‘He hasn’t exactly treated any of us with respect,’ said Lisette. ‘What about you and me? We did a lot for him and ended up with a measly five grand each and some silverware and jewellery that we can’t even take.’

‘The idea of owning a dead woman’s jewellery creeps me out,’ said Zoey. ‘Unless it belonged to Liz Taylor I’m not interested.’

Lisette gave her a watery smile.

‘Anyway,’ said Zoey. ‘Bottom line is that our father-in-law was incredibly daft and we need to do all we can to fix the mess he’s left us in. I still think we should make some kind of offer to Abbey Andersen and sort of throw ourselves on her mercy. But maybe there’s a temporary solution to our problems.’ She looked pensively at Lisette. ‘Are you absolutely sure there aren’t any heirlooms in the attic?’

‘There isn’t an attic,’ replied Lisette. ‘Everything was in the spare bedrooms.’

‘Did he have a safe? When we were looking for the will, Don said he hadn’t, but perhaps Fred kept it secret.’

Lisette looked at her doubtfully. ‘I didn’t think so either.’

‘Why don’t we look?’ Zoey finished her coffee and slid off the chair. ‘Old man like him, maybe he kept other bits and pieces hidden away. Or money. Or shares to a diamond mine or something.’

‘You’re getting carried away,’ Lisette told her.

‘I can dream.’

‘The best place to look is the study,’ said Lisette.

‘I helped Don look for the will in the study,’ said Zoey. ‘That creeped me out too, to be honest. After all, he actually died there!’ She shuddered.

‘Best place,’ repeated Lisette as they left the kitchen. She had to admit that she also felt slightly uneasy in the room where the old man had died. It was as though he were still here, watching them. Zoey, though, had apparently got over her squeamishness very quickly. She surveyed the room and then lifted the seascape painting that Abbey had admired off the wall.

‘Damn,’ she said. ‘In spy movies the safe is always behind a painting.’ She worked her way through the dozen or so other paintings in Fred’s office, without any luck. ‘Maybe it’s under the floorboards,’ she said.

‘A bit difficult to access beneath a fitted carpet,’ Lisette pointed out. She opened the doors of a cupboard in an alcove. A blue file, filled with cuttings, fell out.

‘
Zut!
’

She picked it up. The cuttings were about the Magdalene laundries and the fight that the survivors were having to get justice and compensation. She held it out to Zoey.

‘This is what it’s all about,’ she said angrily. ‘His damn obsession!’

‘I saw those cuttings when I was here with Don.’ Zoey said. ‘I can’t imagine what it was like for those girls. But Fred was stupid to get so fixated on it.’

‘How will they prove this obsession in court if it comes to it?’ Lisette asked.

‘We don’t want it to get that far, which is why you and I are going to think of a way to sort things out by taking action ourselves, instead of putting our faith in our emotional and probably equally irrational husbands. But in the meantime …’ Zoey’s eyes narrowed and she stalked across the room to another cupboard. ‘I don’t remember looking in here.’ She yanked the door open and a mountain of books, videos and DVDs toppled out. ‘Oh for God’s sake!’ she cried as she dodged them. She looked down at the pile on the floor. ‘John Wayne, Clint Eastwood, Tommy Lee Jones. He was into the whole macho man thing in a big way, wasn’t he?’

‘He liked to think of himself as a tough man,’ agreed Lisette.

‘Where else could he have hidden stuff?’ asked Zoey.

‘Perhaps upstairs,’ suggested Lisette. ‘Perhaps in his room.’

She’d only been in Fred’s bedroom a couple of times before, both times when he’d had bad chest infections and wasn’t able to get up. The decor hadn’t changed since Ros had been alive – the room was still floral and pink, colours that were at odds with Fred’s personality. The dressing table was reproduction Louis XV and the framed print over the bed showed a French pastoral scene from the same era.

‘Bloody hell,’ said Zoey as she stepped inside.

‘Don’t you like it?’ Lisette looked at her with a sudden hint of mischief in her eyes.

‘I like pink,’ said Zoey defensively. ‘But this is something even my granny would’ve rejected as being over the top.’

‘It’s pretty awful, isn’t it?’ Lisette agreed. ‘I suppose it reminded Fred of his wife.’

‘A woman with no taste whatsoever,’ said Zoey.

‘Perhaps it was tasteful when they did it.’

‘I doubt that. Right. A safe.’

Zoey opened the first of the fitted wardrobe’s three doors. Seven shirts were neatly hung on the rail, along with seven pairs of trousers. Seven pairs of shoes were arranged on a rack on the floor.