He scribbled it down on a pad, cast me another quick, admiring look, then went back to the screen. ‘Ah yes, it’s all becoming horribly clear. Mrs Hastings is coming in next Tuesday, whereas you’re coming in today. I’ve got the dates muddled up. Mrs Hastings probably wants to know if she can change the locks and sell his Jaguar SJS, whereas you’re here to talk about a will, which at this precise moment is at home on top of the linen basket in my bathroom.’
‘Your bathroom?’
‘I took the papers home to read last night. Left them upstairs.’
‘Oh. Right.’
‘Sorry, too much information, it’s just I often read papers in the bath. I find a rush of blood to the head helps the grey matter.’
‘Fair enough, I read novels in the bath.’
‘Although I seem to remember I didn’t quite get to the Shilling bundle, I only got as far as the dusky bag handler. I do apologize, Mrs Shilling, you’ve come on a wild goose chase. Not only hasn’t your solicitor read the papers, he’s left them at home.’ He turned from the screen and held out his wrists across the desk. ‘Cuff. Or slap.’ He put them down and looked grave. ‘Or even fire, possibly. I would.’
I smiled. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not fussed. I’m not sure I’m up to discussing wills yet, actually, but one of my friends insisted.’
‘Did she? Oh, well, unless you’re totally insolvent there’s no immediate hurry. Nothing that can’t wait. Come back when you’re ready, if you like.’
‘Really?’ I stood up gratefully. ‘Thanks. I might do that.’ I had no idea if I was solvent or not. Just put the bills in a drawer. ‘It may even be a few weeks yet.’
He too got to his feet. ‘Which gives me plenty of time to retrieve your precious bundle from my laundry basket and give it the attention it deserves – couldn’t be better.’
We both smiled, equally pleased, I suspect, with the outcome of the meeting: both feeling we’d got a result. He went quickly ahead of me to hold the door as I picked my way back across his floor – him apologizing for the mess and me assuring him it couldn’t matter less and that it was a bit like playing Twister with my children – and as I went through Janice’s room and towards the stairwell, I was aware of him watching me from his doorway.
Outside in the street, Jennie was hunched at the wheel looking stressed, her car on a double-yellow line.
‘Well?’ she demanded, as I popped Archie in his seat beside Clemmie, buckling him in. I got in the front.
‘Yes, it was fine.’
‘What d’you mean, it was fine? Oh, piss off!’ This, to a traffic warden who was attempting to take down her number plate. She lunged out into the traffic to thwart him amid a blare of horns.
‘I mean, it’s fine, it’s all in hand. But there are a few incidentals to be sorted out, so I’m going to pop back in a few weeks.’
‘A few weeks!’ She turned to look at me, horrified.
‘Days. I mean, days. But I’ll manage, Jennie, now I know where the office is. I’ll be fine on my own.’ I felt exhausted suddenly. Really lie-down-on-the-pavement exhausted.
‘Well, I’m surprised you have to go back at all, to be honest,’ she said hotly, raking a hand through her hair. ‘Wasn’t it all there at his fingertips? Didn’t he just read it out to you? The will? He’s not disorganized, is he?’ She shot me a quick look.
‘Not in the slightest.’
‘Only someone – I think Laura Davy – said he’s a bit chaotic. She went when they took her mother’s appendix out instead of her hernia and said he was all over the place. You do realize he’s not Phil’s solicitor, don’t you?’ she said sharply.
‘Er …’ So many questions.
‘No, he died. This is the nephew, who’s inherited the practice.’
‘Ah.’
‘I checked it all out when I made the appointment, because I didn’t think the name corresponded to the letterhead. The uncle was well known locally apparently, whereas this one is a bit of an unknown quantity. He was in a big City firm in London but his wife left him and he came out here for a quieter life, wanted a change of pace, which is all very well, but just because we’re parochial doesn’t mean we’re stupid, does it? And if he can’t get his head round a simple will …’ She set her mouth in a grim line and shook her head. ‘He’s got to shape up, I’m afraid, or he’s toast.’
