Swansea Summer (26 page)

‘They are in need of some repairs.’

‘And the rents are fixed at a level that makes those repairs uneconomic,’ John diagnosed.

‘Depends on what you mean by uneconomic. The way property prices have been rising the last few years, they should make a sound investment for Helen.’

‘Which I cannot sign over to her.’

‘I am not conversant with your daughter’s finances, John, but I wouldn’t advise making them over to her as they are, unless she intends to liquidise Julie Harris’s estate and realise her stocks and shares, or has considerable savings to invest on a long-term proposition.’

John sat back and studied the magnificent view. ‘I knew the old lady disliked me. I had no idea how much.’

‘You do her an injustice, John. She has left her entire estate to your son.’

‘My
son, Richard?’

The inflection wasn’t lost on Richard. Momentarily disconcerted, he opened his briefcase and removed several files, piling them on the table beside his chair. ‘Given the circumstances, I feel I must warn you, should you refuse this bequest, you will leave yourself open to litigation.’

‘You’d sue me?’ John asked in surprise.

‘Not me, Helen.’

‘My own daughter? Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Any competent solicitor would advise her to do just that, should you refuse to accept the bequest.’

‘Helen would have more sense than to follow that kind of advice.’ Anxious to put an end to the interview, John asked, ‘How many houses are there?’

‘Fourteen.’

‘Am I right in thinking that you have already had an estimate for the necessary repairs?’

‘Mrs Harris did commission one.’

‘How much?’

‘The actual figure escapes me.’

‘A rough estimate will do.’

‘I really can’t remember.’

‘You have the details of the properties.’

Richard made a great show of thumbing through the files on the table. ‘Regrettably, I don’t seem to have brought that particular file with me. You can pick it up from the office.’

‘Send it on.’

‘There’s the matter of Helen’s bequest. I’ll need to see her.’

‘She’s in hospital.’

‘Esme did tell me. I sent her a letter yesterday terminating her employment with us.’

Given Richard’s ruthless nature, John had been expecting the news, but not while Helen was still in hospital. ‘Because she’s sick?’

‘Unfortunately we needed to fill her post.’

‘You could have hired a temp.’

‘Wouldn’t do to have just any girl come in off the street and handle confidential client files. We pride ourselves on our discretion and service. I did, however, enclose a cheque to cover severance pay which, given the short tenure of Helen’s employment with us, I hope she’ll find generous. Is she well enough to receive visitors?’

‘I’d rather you left it until she’s completely recovered,’ John rejoined tersely.

‘You have no objection to my forwarding her an inventory of her inheritance so she can study it? I’ll need a signed acceptance as soon as possible.’

‘None.’

‘That is one file I do have.’ Richard handed him a large envelope sealed with wax. ‘You will deliver it, seal unbroken?’

‘I will. I’ll send Joe in.’

Richard peered over his spectacles as he opened a file and flicked through the papers. ‘There’s no need for you to wait to drive him back to town. I’ll give him a lift when we’ve completed the necessary paperwork.’

‘Joseph, you don’t mind waiting a moment longer, do you.’ Before Joe had time to answer his mother, Esme brushed past him and John, entered the morning room and closed the door behind her.

‘Are you driving back through Sketty, John?’ Dot asked.

‘Yes. Would you like a lift?’

‘Please, if it’s not too much trouble.’

‘My pleasure.’

‘John.’ Dot lowered her voice as she drew him towards the window. ‘Have you given a thought as to what’s going to happen to Esme?’

‘In what way?’ he asked warily.

‘She is living here at the moment. I have no idea what Joe intends to do with the house …’

‘I see what you mean.’ He recalled Esme’s threat to move back into Carlton Terrace and felt more strongly than ever that he could never live with her again – on any terms.

‘I just wanted to say that given the situation between the two of you, if it will help in any way she is welcome to stay with me.’

‘That is very kind and generous of you, Dot.’ John meant it. Dot’s cramped flat above her hat shop was barely big enough for one and Dot knew as well as he did that Esme wasn’t easy to live with.

‘You’ll remember my offer?’

‘I will.’ John looked around. ‘Where is Jack?’ he asked Joe.

‘Taking a walk in the garden.’

‘You have a lot to go through with Mr Thomas. He said he’d give you a lift back to town but if you’d rather I waited, I will.’

‘There’s no need. You take Aunt Dot and Jack back.’

‘I’ll wait with Jack in the garden. I’ve always loved the view of the beach from there.’ Dot tactfully withdrew, leaving John and Joe alone.

Joe crossed his arms, stood back on his heels and looked around the room. His grandfather had died two years before he’d been born, but given the state of his library a stranger might be forgiven for assuming he’d just popped out for a stroll. A fire burned in the grate, just as it had done every day from the first of October to the last day of June since his death. His pipes, tobacco pouch and pipe lighter were set out neatly on a rack on the mantelpiece. An array of pens, pencils, sharpeners and ink bottles were arranged on his desk tray, even his heavy tweed winter coat hung on a hook on the back of the door. ‘I crept in here once when I was about five years old. Grandmother caught me looking at the books. For a few minutes I really thought she was about to beat me to death.’

‘What kind of books were you looking at?’

‘I was too small to lift down the ones on the high shelves.’ Joe caught John’s eye and they both smiled. ‘You knew he had a penchant for the risqué.’

‘He died before I met your mother but I recognised some of the titles on my first visit.’

‘Grandmother actually allowed you in here?’

‘She gave me the grand tour so I could see for myself that culturally and socially your mother’s family was infinitely above mine.’

‘I wondered why you never joined us on visits.’

‘Your grandmother didn’t want me here and I didn’t want to come.’

‘I used to hate visiting here. The house seemed so still, so silent, it reminded me of a museum. Every time I moved as much as a finger, I was ordered not to fidget or touch anything. When Helen and I were older it wasn’t so bad because we could escape to the beach. Grandmother insisted we visit at least twice a month but she was only happy when she knew for certain that we were out of the house and garden, and couldn’t disturb her, the arrangement of her treasured possessions or, horror of horrors, break them. Even now, after a day of funeral services, I find it hard to believe she’s not going to walk in and reprimand me for daring to enter this hallowed sanctum.’

‘It’s yours now, Joe. You can do what you like with it.’

Joe surveyed the room. ‘I’d like to get rid of all this dark furniture and brown carpet, and put some colour in, but most of all I’d like to make it a happy family home.’

John knew he was thinking of Lily and their broken engagement. ‘It will be too far for you to travel from here to Cardiff if you take that job at the BBC.’

‘I know, but now that the place is mine I’m loath to give it up.’ He walked to the window. ‘Just look at the garden, the view, the beach, all that space. Can you imagine growing up here?’

John smiled at his enthusiasm. ‘Yes. I can see that it could be a children’s paradise.’

‘Half of this should be Helen’s.’

‘Your grandmother made provision for her.’

‘I didn’t think Aunt Julie left much.’

‘There’s the house in Limeslade for a start and before you go worrying about Helen talk to Richard Thomas and see exactly how much you are inheriting.’

Joe looked at him in surprise. ‘You think there could be debts?’

‘Like the houses your grandmother left me, the residue of her estate might prove a mixed blessing.’ He glanced out of the window and saw Jack and Dot standing at the bottom of the garden talking. ‘I’ll see you back at the house.’

Joe hesitated, then blurted, ‘Thanks, Dad.’

‘What for.’

‘Bringing me up the way you did. It couldn’t have been easy for you. Knowing I was another man’s son.’

‘You’re my son, Joe, and you always will be.’ Hearing Esme shouting at Richard in the morning room, he was glad to open the French door and step out into the cool, clear air.

‘She can’t leave me destitute …’

‘If you don’t want your husband, son, cousin and half of Langland to hear you, Esme, I’d advise you to lower your voice,’ Richard interposed. ‘Your mother did not leave you destitute. She knew the terms of your divorce settlement.’

‘That’s John’s money, not hers. She had no right to cut me out of her will. She left more to her housekeeper and niece than me,’ she railed bitterly. ‘This is my home …’

‘And it is now your son’s,’ he interrupted coolly.

‘I’m instructing you to challenge the will.’

‘On what grounds?’

‘Health. She was a sick, confused old lady who didn’t know what she was doing.’

‘Even if I could, I wouldn’t.’

‘You’re refusing?’ Esme glared at him.

‘I drew up the will, Esme, and it was patently obvious to everyone who knew her that your mother knew exactly what she was doing.’

‘You’re not the only solicitor in Swansea.’

Pulling a file from his briefcase, he said, ‘You’re welcome to take your business elsewhere.’

‘And tell my new legal adviser that you suggested this will in favour of Joseph to my mother because he is your son?’

‘You’d have to prove it in public court.’

‘There are blood tests.’

‘Which can only prove a child is not related to a putative father. That might benefit John Griffiths and possibly strengthen his case for divorce proceedings but it would prove nothing against me. You’d only succeed in creating a scandal that would implicate your son, as well as yourself.’

‘You’re forgetting you. What would your clients say if they knew you had seduced the eighteen-year-old virginal schoolgirl daughter of your best friend, your own goddaughter, when you were forty-five years old?’

‘They’d say the one-time virginal schoolgirl daughter’s divorce deranged her mind twenty-one years later. Everyone knows how cruel the female menopause can be.’

‘You bastard!’ she hissed vindictively.

‘Try fighting this, Esme, and you’ll find out just how much of a bastard I can be,’ he threatened.

‘You influenced my mother …’

‘Into leaving you her fur coats, jewellery and your father’s painting. If it hadn’t been for me, you wouldn’t have inherited that much.’

‘Even I know a small bequest leaves a beneficiary in a worse position to challenge a will because it means they weren’t inadvertently overlooked. And you also know she only left me her costume jewellery. I doubt it’s worth tuppence halfpenny.’

‘There is such a thing as sentimental value,’ he said heavily.

Incensed by his composure in the face of her loss of self-control, she flounced out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

‘I’m sorry to have inflicted a family funeral on you so soon after your wedding,’ John apologised to Jack as he drove towards the Uplands, after dropping off Dot outside her shop in Eversley Road.

‘It was boring, not upsetting. It might have been different if I’d met the old lady.’

‘You think you might have liked her?’

‘Not from what Helen has said.’

‘She could be a tartar,’ John conceded. ‘Aren’t you curious about Helen’s inheritance?’

‘It’s hers, not mine.’

‘You are married.’

‘I didn’t marry her for any inheritance …’

‘I know that, Jack, and so does Helen.’ John made a mental note to tread more carefully when it came to Jack’s pride in future. Hopefully Ernie Clay’s violence had been buried with him but he thought he recognised traces of his temper in Jack’s outburst. ‘All the same, it will be nice for the two of you to have the house. It overlooks Limeslade beach. I’ve only been there once. But the one thing I do remember is the garden. It wasn’t that big but it was beautiful.’

‘There’s a house?’

‘Four-bedroomed, if my memory serves me correctly. Helen’s Aunt Julie died four years ago. I had no idea she left her house to Helen’s grandmother but if it’s been empty all that time it may need some work doing to it.’

‘If it’s only decorating I could do it,’ Jack began enthusiastically. ‘I didn’t make too bad a job of the flat.’

‘You made a very good one.’

‘And Limeslade’s only a couple of miles from the centre of town and the warehouse. I have my bike …’ Jack faltered as he realised he had only a few more days of work before he had to report for National Service.

‘Two years will go quickly,’ John sympathised, reading his train of thought. ‘And in the meantime Helen can organise any changes she wants to make.’

‘When she’s well enough.’

‘It may give her something to get well for, especially when she finds out you have to leave.’ John changed gear as the stream of traffic slowed. He glanced at Jack, sitting hunched in the passenger seat, and wished he could take some of the burden from him. But like everyone else, Jack and Helen had to find their own way in life; he only hoped that despite the two-year separation they would be able to find it together.

Joe stared in disbelief at the figures on the sheet of paper. ‘These are right?’

‘Correct as of yesterday. Your grandmother inherited considerable property. The only criticism that could have been levelled at her is that she was a little too cautious in her investments. However, time has proved that her circumspection was well-founded. If you’ll sign here and here, this paper is for the house, this for the stocks, the bonds, the shares …’

Joe took the sheets Richard handed him and read them through quickly before signing his name at the bottom of each page. ‘I can’t understand why she left everything to me. There’s Helen and my mother …’