Sarah Painter - The Language Of Spells

Mr Laing looked back at her calmly. ‘I see.’

Gwen sank back.

‘If you will excuse me, I will get my grandson in here.’

‘Sorry?’ Gwen sat forward.

‘He prepared this file but…’ Laing paused ‘…became overscheduled and passed the baton to me, as it were.’

‘Okay. Fine.’ Gwen remained perched on the edge of the padded leather chair and waited. She thought of her beloved minivan. It was stuffed full of her possessions and business stock and she barely fitted amongst the boxes. She didn’t want to stay at End House, but she didn’t want to sleep in the van again. Then she processed the word ‘grandson’. It couldn’t be—

The door opened behind her and Gwen turned.

The man in the charcoal-grey suit was both older and taller than she remembered. His face was tense, though, and that sadly fitted her last memory of him to a tee. She gaped, then, realising that she probably looked like a village idiot, closed her mouth.

‘Hello, Gwen.’

‘Cam.’ The word felt odd in her mouth. Wrong.

‘Don’t get up.’

Gwen realised she was suspended, half out of the chair like she was poised to run a race.

‘Is there a problem?’ Cameron Laing had been twenty-three when she’d last seen him and thirteen years was a long time. Which would explain the blank and professional expression he was levelling in her direction.

‘You’re a lawyer,’ she said stupidly.

‘So it would appear,’ Cam said.

‘Ms Harper wishes to contest the Harper will,’ Mr Laing senior said.

‘No. I’m not saying that,’ Gwen said, suddenly desperate to appear reasonable. She had a good idea that ‘reasonable’ was probably not the first word that Cam would use to describe her. She wanted to show him she’d changed. Not that she needed to. There wasn’t going to be any antagonism after thirteen years. Probably no emotion at all. ‘I was just wondering if there was a way to convert the house into cash. Quickly.’

It hardly seemed possible, but Cam’s expression became more rigid. ‘Let me see.’ Cam ran over the same details, then plucked the paper from Laing’s desk and put it into Gwen’s hands. She took it to stop it sliding off her lap onto the floor and, despite her intentions, glanced down. Iris’s signature was there at the bottom of the sheet. The same looping writing that was on the note in the purse. There was no mistake: Iris wanted her to have the house. She really wanted her to stay in Pendleford and had even put an instruction not to sell into a legal document. A part of Gwen felt flattered. It was nice to be wanted, even if it was by a woman she’d been taught to avoid like the plague.

Cam was frowning as he flipped through the file. ‘Where are the title deeds? They should be here.’

Mr Laing senior shrugged.

‘Great. Iris must’ve left them at the house.’ He looked at Gwen. ‘You’ll need that when you come to sell. In May.’

Gwen looked into Cam’s brown eyes and felt something thud inside her chest. ‘Six months. Right.’

‘You’ll need to find it,’ he said. ‘It’s pretty important.’

‘Right. I’m just not sure if I can—’

‘What? You’re too busy?’ Cam shook his head as he handed her the file. ‘This isn’t the usual way people react when they find out someone has given them a house.’

‘Oh?’ Gwen couldn’t stop looking at Iris’s handwriting. She felt as if the walls had shrunk, and when she looked up at Cam, the room swooped to the left.

‘They usually say “hooray”.’

‘Cameron!’ Mr Laing was shocked. ‘Ms Harper has lost her aunt.’

‘It’s okay. I didn’t know her,’ Gwen said.

Just as Cam said, ‘It takes more than that to shake Gwen.’

‘Hey!’ Gwen said. So, a little hostility still .

‘Spare keys.’ Cam plucked a brown envelope from the desk and tipped it upside down.

‘Thank you.’

‘Well, if that concludes our business?’

Cam’s face was older, harder. Gwen didn’t think it was possible, but she actually found him even more attractive than the Cam of her memory. Which was inconvenient.

‘I don’t want to keep you,’ Gwen managed.

Cam bowed his head slightly and left the room.

‘Well…’ Laing senior looked baffled. ‘What was that about?’

Gwen shook her head. She felt sick. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that Cam’s grandfather didn’t know about them; not many people talked in-depth to their grandparents about their relationships but, still, it hurt.

She shook Mr Laing’s hand and thanked him for his time. It wasn’t his fault that she couldn’t convert the house into money and go rent a flat in Leeds or London or on Mars. Six months. How bad could it be?

Back at End House, Gwen closed the door, then leaned her head lightly against it. Perhaps the country air was getting to her, but it felt as if the house was breathing with her. She closed her eyes and saw Cam. Frowning at her.

She went to the kitchen and flicked through the file that Cam had given her. There was a white envelope with her name on it, written in Iris’s handwriting. Inside, there was a small key and a single folded sheet of paper:

My dearest Gwen. I’m sorry I never got to know you. I hope you are all that I believe you to be. With power comes responsibility. I want you to accept all that I bequeath you but, by doing so, you accept all that it brings. Yours in haste, Iris .

Nicely cryptic, Iris. Thanks for that .

The back door swung open. ‘Knock, knock.’ Lily appeared, her spike heels gouging chunks out of the worn lino. ‘Only me.’

‘What can I do for you?’ Gwen asked, pushing the letter back into the file and flipping over the brown cardboard cover.

‘It’s what I can do for you. I have such happy memories of helping your auntie, I’m willing to offer you a discount.’

‘Sorry?’

‘To help you out.’ Lily looked pointedly at the mess of papers, used coffee mugs and plates on the table. ‘Looks like you could do with a hand.’

Gwen felt pressure around her temples. ‘I don’t need any help, thank you.’ She stood up and tipped crumbs from the cake plates into the bin. ‘And I couldn’t afford it if I did.’

‘If I clean, it will free up your time for—’ Lily paused ‘…well, whatever it is you do.’

‘I’m fine, really.’ Lily didn’t appear to be listening and was unpacking her bag on the table. A flask appeared. And a brown paper bag that smelled of yeasty goodness.

‘I brought you some soup and bread.’

‘You don’t have to—’

‘Just while you settle in. Bless you, I’m sure you haven’t been shopping yet.’ She gave Gwen a disconcertingly direct look. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not staying. I’m not one of those nosy neighbours. Always popping in. Some people like to be social and some people don’t. We respect that round here.’

‘Right—’

Lily gave a little tinkling laugh that lifted the hairs on the back of Gwen’s neck. ‘Watch out for Janet, though. She runs the Honey Pot and is the town gossip.’

There was a pause as Gwen wondered how to get rid of Lily. ‘I was thinking about sorting through things today.’

‘Don’t forget to check the list.’

‘The list?’

‘The list of contents. Everything is in its place. I don’t want you thinking I have light fingers. You have to sign to say everything is as it should be.’

Understanding dawned and Gwen blushed. ‘I didn’t mean I was checking. I didn’t—’

‘That’s all right. You don’t know me, after all. You aren’t local. You don’t know what a good friend I’ve been.’

‘I’m sure you’ve been wonderful.’ Gwen wanted Lily to leave. She hadn’t sat down, which was a good sign, but good manners overtook her mouth. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ Idiot .