Gemma went over andgave her mother a perfunctory kiss on the cheek.
‘I’ll makesome sandwiches and tea for lunch – ham and mustard, if that’s okay– then we’ll have a go at sorting through a few of Dad’s things.You stay there, Mother.’
Anne seemed happyenough to let her daughter take charge.
‘That’s niceof you, Gemma. Elaine was here to do some cleaning this morning butshe never stays longer than a couple of hours on Saturdays andspends most of that time making herself coffee. I sometimes wonderwhat I’m paying her for.’
Mark trailed afterGemma into the kitchen and put the kettle on.
‘Who the hell’sElaine?’
‘She’smother’s sort of servant really – does a little cleaning andcooking; and washing, ironing and the rest, come to think of it.She was even around when I was a child. It’s strange, you know, butthinking about it my mother didn’t really seem to do very much atall. As well as that there’s even another woman, Alma, who seems toclean once or twice a week as well. Heaven knows what the divisionof labour is, though.’
Mark thought he’d havea closer look around the house while Gemma was getting lunchorganised. He had noticed a few interesting bits and pieces on hisonly previous visit but hadn’t had time or a particular reason toexamine them closely. With what Gemma had told him earlier itseemed sensible to check things out properly.
Althoughthere was no discernible pattern or coherence to the furnishingsand décor of the inside, it was obvious that there were some prettypricey items there. The large, open-plan hall had a couple ofmatching Victorian spoon back chairs, one gentleman’s and onelady’s, which Mark reckoned must be worth a good £500 each. Theystill had their original castors as well. He’d have to getthe Miller’s Guidesout and check them later. In one of the fourrooms off the hall there was what he reckoned to be a mahoganydining table along with six matching carved chairs that wereequally impressive and presumably valuable. The study, whichclearly hadn’t been touched since Jeffrey died a few years back,contained an elegant leather-topped desk and a separate Davenport,as well as a couple of what looked like original Victorianwatercolours. In contrast, the chairs and sofas in the sitting roomand morning room had presumably been top of the range in the late1950s but looked out of place and out of time too; and probably oflittle real value. The 1960s style sideboard and record player wereeven more incongruous next to a stylish, glass-fronted, and what hereckoned must be late nineteenth-century, walnutbookcase.
As well as theParrish paintings on the upstairs landing, which he double-checkedand resolved to get valued as soon as he could, there was anenormous unattributed landscape done in heavy, dark oils, and anornate gilt framed mirror. He had no idea about the various chinavases and jugs scattered somewhat randomly around the four bedroomson the first floor – but they’d be worth checking outlater.
By the time Gemmacalled out that lunch was ready, he was well aware that there hadbeen and still was serious money in her family. She caught him atthe bottom of the stairs as she was taking a tray of sandwichesthrough.
‘Look Mark, you’regood with older women, remember you told me all about you and Jeanand how you had her eating out of your hand. Why don’t you try yourcharm on Anne, she’d love a bit of attention and sweet-talking andit might be useful, who knows?’
It crossed Mark’s mindthat maybe he and Gemma were coming to the same conclusion, or atleast thinking along the same lines. He was fed up with notbringing any money in and she had made it clear that being aprobation officer was not the be all and end all for her. Obviouslyhe’d have to be the one to take the lead but maybe she wouldn’tneed much persuading if it came to it. It was all very wellthinking he had moved on but things hadn’t really happened for himsince his release and if he was honest he was getting bored withthe lack of direction in his life.
Gemma knewMark well enough to be pretty sure he’d been weighing up the valueof the family’s bits and pieces. Once he’d got the idea in his headthat it should all come to her, she could just sit back and let himtake the lead, with a nudge here and there maybe. The next stepwould be to let him know she would be pretty jarred off if any ofher legacy went elsewhere and to convince him she wouldn’t actuallygive a damn if anything happened to Anne. She perhaps hadn’t lether real feelings about her mother come through fully yet. Fairenough, she had laid the groundwork but hadn’t really let rip. Itwouldn’t be difficult to do that: even though her father had diedfour years ago, the memories of that Easter and early summer of1977 were as vivid as ever.
She had beennineteen and at the end of a year off after completing her A-levelsat Farnham Girls Grammar School; and until then she wasn’t sure ifshe would bother with university. After all, she wouldn’t need acareer or even a job particularly. That all changed after her dadhad gone. She knew that was the end of her family life and anotherthree years as a student would be the obvious and easiest routeaway.
It had been ashort illness and swift decline. He had been diagnosed with lungcarcinoma in the March and had died within two months, from whathis death certificate termed a pulmonary embolism. It wasn’t theunfairness of it that got to Gemma, but the way her mother dealtwith it, basically implying that he had been a constant burden anddisappointment to her. Gemma had sat with him every day, firstly atFrimley Park hospital and then at home when they’d been told it wastoo late to do anything other than wait. Meanwhile
