say what we mean all the time? Always?’
‘Because polite society dictates that we don’t, that’s why,’ she said heatedly. ‘Just because you’re a widow, doesn’t mean the bridle can come off, you know. Doesn’t give you carte blanche to say whatever comes into your head. You still have to exercise restraint; can’t just trample on people’s feelings!’
I blinked, suitably rebuked. ‘No, I suppose not,’ I conceded. ‘Except … everyone tramples on mine?’
‘Phil trampled on yours,’ she reminded me. ‘Not everyone.’
‘Why are we going in here?’ I ducked as we made a sharp right turn and went into the pub under a low beam.
‘Because if you haven’t had a drink,’ she told me as she steered me into the snug of the Rose and Crown bar, ‘then perhaps you should. Two large gin and tonics, please, Hugo.’ This, to the barman, a local teenager in his gap year, as she parked me firmly on a bar stool. Still looking distinctly harassed she flourished a tenner at him. ‘And even if you don’t need one,’ she told me, collapsing in a heap on a stool beside me, ‘after that, I jolly well do.’
9
A few days later I received a surprisingly efficient missive from my solicitor in the form of an email, apologizing for our disorganized inaugural meeting and wondering if I had time to ‘pop in for a second attempt’. I did, as it happened, the following afternoon, and since he too was free, a meeting was arranged. As I sat in his supremely tidy waiting room, watched over by a pleasantly plump blonde matron with pussycat-bow chiffon blouse, navy skirt and red nails, I realized something of a sea change had occurred here since my last visit. When I was shown into his office it became all the more seismic as Sam Hetherington stood up to greet me, spotty tie firmly in place, suit jacket on, papers and files previously littering the floor now neatly aligned on shelves behind him, no half-empty mugs of tea, and no sign of the very dead spider plant wilting on his windowsill.
‘You’ve scrubbed up,’ I said in surprise as we shook hands across his desk.
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Funny. I was thinking the same about you. Didn’t know one was allowed to voice it.’
I laughed. ‘I meant your room, actually.’
He looked taken aback. ‘Oh. Right. Sorry, it’s just Janice insists I wear a tie so I assumed you meant … However, you do look better,’ he concluded awkwardly as we both sat down.
I smiled. ‘Thanks. I’m feeling much better.’
I realized the last time I’d been in here I’d been sporting clothes that had seen better days and hair that hadn’t seen a brush for a while. It also occurred to me that his own dark wavy hair together with eyes the colour of good Madeira was my most favourite combination.
‘Janice makes you wear a tie?’ I said as I settled back into my seat.
He sighed. ‘Janice rules my life in very many ways. And thank the Lord she does. She has an uncanny insight into the mind of the prospective client and their sartorial expectations. Apparently shirt sleeves and an open collar simply will not do, suggestive as they are of a chaotic mind and careless approach to business and not a tireless toiling over the brief. So yes, she makes me wear a tie.’ He smiled. ‘Now. What can I do for you?’
‘You asked me to come in.’
His dark eyes widened in surprise. ‘So I did. So I did.’ He hastened to collect himself and shuffled some papers around. ‘It’s all coming back to me. Of course. There’s a will.’
‘And where there’s a will, there’s a relative,’ I quipped.
He frowned. ‘Sorry?’
‘Oh, er, bad-taste joke,’ I said hastily, remembering Jennie’s terse reprimand to behave. I sat up straight. ‘You’re right, I’m here about my husband’s will.’
‘Which I’ve got right here.’
He picked up a wad of papers from his desk and flourished it triumphantly, almost as if that in itself was something of an achievement. Then he put it down and gazed reflectively. Glanced up and met my eye.
‘You’re a wealthy woman, Mrs Shilling.’
I blanched. ‘Am I?’
‘Well, compared to me you are. Compared to most people. Your husband ran a flourishing private-equity firm and made a lot of money which you’re now entitled to. Added to which he also took out an insurance policy in 2002 which has quadrupled in value in the last eight years.’ He passed a piece of paper to me across the desk, swivelling it simultaneously. A sea of
