Jules Wake - From Italy With Love

No more anything. She wouldn’t even argue against the terms of the will. Miles knew her too well. Knew that she wouldn’t deny him his last wish. Frowning hard, she gritted her jaw. Duty. She’d always been good at that. She’d stuck by her dad’s side, despite Miles’ repeated invitations to visit. Dad liked to blame Miles for the break-up of his marriage, not wanting to admit that it was probably inevitable that Celeste would leave him. He never really got over it. For him it had been a grand passion, love at first sight. At least on his part. With ten years apart, he had tried to be the sensible one, holding her at arm’s length, which had made the spoiled, wilful eighteen year old Celeste all the more determined to marry him.

Damn. The note. She’d leave it in the plastic bag in the hall along with the envelope that Ron had handed over. It felt too raw to share with anyone. Anyone? She meant Robert. Who else was there? And what would he say?

His car was already in the drive. Squaring her shoulders, she went inside.

And there he was already, twitching with anticipation.

‘So? Did he leave you anything?’

She nodded. Well that was the truth. He had definitely left her something.

‘What?’

She bit her lip. ‘It’s complicated.’

Robert frowned, ‘How so?’

Shrugging out of her coat, she took her time hanging it up. ‘Let me get us a cup of tea.’

‘So you got nothing then?’ Robert sounded sulky.

She faced him. ‘Like I said, it’s complicated. Come in the kitchen, sit down and I’ll tell you.’

Holding the mug of steaming tea as if it were some kind of talisman, she decided it was best just to spit it out and see where the conversation went.

‘Uncle Miles has left me one of his cars.’

‘Oh,’ Robert looked crestfallen. ‘Is that all?’ Then he rounded on her, irritation lining his face. ‘But that’s ridiculous? You don’t drive.’

Her fingers strayed to her eyebrow, and she rubbed the bone there back and forth.

‘I know,’ she sighed thinking of the provisional driving licence still tucked in her drawer. Renewed faithfully for the last six years but yet to be upgraded. Booking a proper driving test was still … she couldn’t do it. She would get round to it … one day, when the memories of her dad’s first massive heart attack on the driveway of the test centre faded.

‘So why leave you a bloody car?’

For a moment she stared bemused at him, but then he hadn’t had much to do with Miles and had only been to the house on the day of the funeral.

She wanted to smile but worried Robert would take it the wrong way. The whole will was so typical of Miles and if she were totally honest, deep down inside, a tiny almost invisible speck of her was ever so slightly amused and intrigued by the idea of driving a high performance sports car as recognisable as a Ferrari across Europe. Something most people would never expect dull old Laurie Browne to do.

His shoulders sagged and his face twisted in disgust. ‘Bummer. Thought you might get something decent … with you being a blood relative …

‘So who gets the house?’ he demanded, a trace of belligerence tinging his voice. ‘That must be worth a fortune … at least 4 mill current market value. Especially with that amount of land.’

What amount of land? Laurie stared at him.

‘Forty acres! Can you imagine? You could flog half of it and still have loads. And it’s all prime development land.’ He laughed bitterly. ‘Don’t tell me, all the ex-wives cleaned him out. Bet he was in debt up to his eyeballs. All flash no cash. I suspected as much. I should have known it was too good to be true when you got the letter. Good job we aren’t planning a fancy wedding.’

Laurie gripped her tea mug wondering if it might shatter if she held it any harder. She felt as fragile as the china under her fingers. Grief warred with anger but all she could summon was utter weariness. No wonder he’d been so understanding when she’d finally explained she wanted more than a quickie ceremony at lunch time at the registry office.

‘Ron didn’t say anything about the house. I’ve no idea what’s happening to that. I don’t know what will happen to it. He just talked about my bequest.’

‘Bequest. Is that what they’re calling it now? Hardly a bequest, leaving you his old car. Sorry Laurie, love. You’ve been left with a right old lemon. Not even that generous is it; not like he’s using it now. Don’t suppose he left you the money to tax and insure it. So what kind of car? It’s not as if you even drive. I suppose we could flog it, get a bit of money for it.’

Laurie shook her head, a half-smile hovering on her lips at the thought of the ‘old car’. ‘Actually, it’s one of his classic cars.’ Miles had loved that car. ‘I helped him track it down.’ Despite being gadget mad, her uncle wasn’t actually very good at using them and she’d helped him research and find the Benelli family who’d been the last known owners of that particular model.

Robert looked even more disappointed. ‘You’re kidding. That’s a white elephant then. You won’t be able to keep it.’

Uncharacteristic temper flashed and Laurie bristled. ‘Why not?’

‘Don’t be daft. What for?’

He laid a hand over hers as if to soften the words but she found the gesture patronising and overbearing. ‘It’d be a complete money pit for one thing. Will cost a fortune to run. God only knows what it would cost to insure and can you imagine the repair bills? We couldn’t afford to run it. Besides it’s probably worth something, if we sell it.’

Funny how things went so quickly from you to we.

‘Thing is …’ she heard her voice, it sounded cool and brittle, ‘the condition of the will is that I’m not allowed to sell it—’

‘What?’ Robert slammed down his mug and tea splashed across the table. ‘I bloody hope he’s left you something for the upkeep then. That’s crap. What a bloody cheek.’ His voice tailed off as he stared angrily at her.

She returned his gaze, her chin lifting and her eyes narrowing. Controlled fury pounded, shocking her. Losing your temper was something other people did. Other people who let emotion rule without thinking of the consequences or taking responsibility for the fallout. Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself. ‘If you’d let me finish,’ she said slowly, feeling the control slipping back into place, ‘I can explain.’

Folding his arms, Robert leant back in his chair raising one eyebrow. She refused to be cowed by the deliberately patronising stance he’d adopted and waited a moment or two, holding his gaze until he dropped his arms.

‘Sorry,’ he said sulkily.

‘I can sell the car—’

‘I just thought you said you couldn’t.’

His face reminded her of an unhappy toddler complete with sulky lower lip.

‘Make up your mind.’

‘I can sell it …’she paused. In Ron’s office she’d wondered how he’d take it, now uncharacte‌ristically she no longer cared, ‘once I’ve been to Italy in it first.’

‘What?’

‘Miles wanted the car to have one last outing back to its birthplace.’

‘So the old boy was bonkers then.’

‘No!’ She sighed. How did you explain Miles to someone like Robert who was as conventional as they came? Sitting in his winged leather chair offering her cigars and port, teaching her to taste wine, change spark plugs and polish chrome. ‘Just a bit sentimental about his cars … and this one was his favourite.’

Robert shook his head and leaned onto the table. ‘And how was he expecting that to happen? We’d have to take a couple of days off work. Use up our holiday allowance.’

Make a change from decorating then, she thought, tracing the track of the wood grain on the table in front of her.