Jules Wake - From Italy With Love

As she tapped the letter against her hand wondering what it might be, the kitchen spotlights sparkled in the stones on her new ring. And insight as sharp as the refraction of the light, struck home.

She looked down at the letter, the envelope and then back at the ring. And then frowned at herself for even thinking it.

She’d thought the solicitors would be more impressive than this. Leather chairs, old wooden desks and book shelves lined with tomes. Instead the desk was birch veneer, she suspected 2009 Ikea, as were the bucket chairs in front of the desk. The bookcase in the corner sagged under the weight of haphazard mottled-grey box files, papers bursting from them, looking like an untidy sentry in the corner.

An Olympic logo of coffee rings in varying shades of brown marked the top of the desk which was empty, apart from the phone and an outsize pad of paper.

Mr Leversedge blended in perfectly, a shambolic figure with hair standing in tufts and glasses perched on his nose that were slightly skewwhiff.

He smiled gently at Laurie inviting her to take a seat.

‘Thank you for coming all this way. Was your journey good?

‘Yes, fine. Easy really. Train to Euston, walk to Kings Cross and train to York.’

‘I’m glad and I appreciate you coming. I am sorry for your loss.’ For a moment he looked bleak. ‘I’ll miss your uncle, he was one of a kind.’

‘Did you know him well?’ asked Laurie, partly out of politeness but also slightly puzzled.

‘We both enjoyed a beer and a game of chequers at The Anchor once a month.’

Then it clicked. ‘Ron; you’re Ron.’

‘That’s right!’ He looked delighted.

‘I remember him slipping off on a Sunday evening saying he was off for a pint, always used to say he needed some “man-time” away from the ladies.’ She smiled at the memory. Much as Miles had loved women, he’d disappear every now and then with a slightly apologetic air, to do ‘man things’.

‘Lovely to meet you, Lauren. He talked about you a lot … especially in recent months.’

‘Really?’ her face crumpled. ‘I feel so bad that I didn’t see him.’ She swallowed hard and looked down at her lap. ‘I was … should … we’d sort of fallen out. And now it seems so stupid but …’

Ron leant forward and patted her hand. ‘Do you want to know something?’

She lifted her head, finding his understanding tone comforting and met the warm, steady gaze of his faded blue eyes. It was easy to imagine him and her uncle setting the world to rights. Ron had the same slight air of curiosity about the world, eyes alight and dancing. She wondered if they’d shared a tailor; Ron’s eccentric scruffiness bore a marked resemblance to Miles’ slapdash dress sense.

‘He was tickled by your stubbornness. Said it showed character.’

Laurie sighed. ‘Not really. I was refusing to go and see my mother. He wanted me to visit her.’

‘And he understood exactly why you didn’t want to. Miles was under no illusions about Celeste, your mother. Unfortunately he did feel very responsible.’

Laurie rolled her eyes. They’d had that argument several times over. ‘Well he wasn’t. I know Dad blamed him but I didn’t. My mother obviously had her reasons.’

Ron shook his head. ‘It was still a terrible thing to do. Sorry dear, that’s a view I shared with Miles, and he felt he put the idea into her head.’

Just thinking about the decision her mother had, even all these years on, made her want to double over with the punch of pain she associated with that rejection.

‘My mother came to that conclusion all by herself.’ Laurie hated the bitterness that crept into her voice. She was grown up now, it didn’t matter anymore.

Guilt twisted in her gut. Miles had kept his illness to himself and she’d had no idea how bad he was until he was admitted to the hospice. On her visit there, he’d barely been able to talk to her. Now it made sense; he didn’t want her to be totally alone, he wanted her to connect with her last remaining family − especially with Dad dying only two years ago.

She clamped her lips together but it was no use, the lump in her throat overwhelmed her and the tears pooled and slid down her face.

Ron pushed a box of tissues towards her. His still watchfulness, gentle smile and the lack of inane platitudes felt soothing. Blowing her nose she finally managed to quash her emotions. ‘Sorry, I … it was so unexpected. I had no idea he was so ill.’

‘That’s the way he wanted it, I’m afraid.’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘And you know Miles; nearly always got his own way.’

She nodded. Which was exactly why none of his marriages worked out. Despite his incredible generosity and garrulous personality, Miles had the attention span and self-awareness of a toddler. Some might say he was totally self-centred − but they would be mean and small-minded. He simply did what he wanted, when he wanted. Eventually the wives got fed up with him disappearing on a whim to track down a car he’d got a sniff of, the impromptu parties and the bringing home of waifs and strays from all over the world.

‘However it did allow him to put his affairs in order and I’m pleased to say that he was particularly keen to ensure you were left with something of true meaning. He thought about this very carefully.’ Ron’s eyes twinkled as he pulled out an A4 folder. ‘Very carefully.’ He looked at his watch. ‘We need to get through a fair amount before Mr Matthews arrives.’

‘Mr Matthews?’

Laurie sat up straighter, a prickling sensation easing down her spine.

If Miles wasn’t already dead, Cam would have been tempted to strangle the old bugger. He shook his head and carried on pacing outside the closed door. Something was up.

Being summoned was one thing, he expected that, the bankers’ draft was ready and waiting and maybe he’d been a bit premature about taking the keys already but the money was all there, his intentions were good. But being invited to meet Laurie … that was something else? Laurie, who just happened to be female. When Miles had asked him to look out for his sister’s child, Laurie, Cam had assumed it was a boy, not a young woman. Knowing the old man’s predilection for drama, Cam should have thought twice about making any promises. Miles was a bloody liability. And Ron was no better, playing along. He was supposed to be the responsible one. Cam pictured them devising their Machiavellian plans over their chequers games and despite his concern about what they might have cooked up between them, a rueful smile lit his mouth. He would have promised Miles anything.

‘Ah Cam, you’re here.’

Ron appeared from behind the door. ‘Come along in.’

The niece was already there. She looked paler than she had at the funeral, her face set in grim lines. She shot him an unfriendly look. It made him feel a lot better. He had no idea why he was here but he didn’t want to get involved. She clearly didn’t want him to be there either.

‘I’ve asked you both here to relay the terms of Miles’ will. Perhaps you’d both like to take a seat, as the terms are …’ he paused and his eyebrows quirked with suppressed glee, ‘somewhat unorthodox.

‘However, they are legal and Miles went to considerable lengths to ensure that all the terms are enforceable.’ He pulled out a file from his briefcase and slipped on a pair of bifocals.

It took a while for Ron to cut to the nitty-gritty and while he went through legalese, Cam spent the time studying Lauren.

Her light, brownish hair had been scraped back into a severe ponytail which wouldn’t have done anyone any favours but on her emphasised her pale narrow face and high cheekbones. She had good bone structure, he’d give her that, but she’d not bothered to do much with what she’d been given.