Mike laughed – a sad chuckle. ‘We can challenge it, you know. At least find out what our options are.’
‘I was thinking the same. Let’s speak to Charles, see what he suggests.’
Back at The Ship, I took a scotch up to my room and steeled myself to read Amy’s letter. I used my nail scissors to carefully slice the envelope open.
Dear Iz,
I’m writing this in the hope that you will never have to read it – so if you are, I am truly sorry for what you’re going through.
Although I hope it never comes to this, I want to be prepared. It seems extreme, but we never know what curveballs life has in store for us. We learned that the hard way, you and I. Just in case anything ever happens to me, I’m making sure there’s a plan.
By now you will know that my lasting wish is for you to come home and raise my children. I hope you didn’t swear in front of them. I warned Big Charlie that you might have to be revived with smelling salts.
I wanted to discuss this with you, but I am running out of time. There never seems to be the right moment, or the right mood, and it is important that I get this sorted.
It matters to me, Iz, and I hope you understand that. But I cannot force you to do anything you don’t want to do. I’m writing this letter to explain my reasons, in the hope that you will understand and agree.
When Dad died, our world imploded. Everything went to pieces. Remember how we started sleeping in the same room? We never wanted to be apart. You were the only person who understood what I was feeling, and you fixed me. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have got through it.
I have never known pain like it. And the pain never disappeared – not even after all these years. It just got easier to deal with.
I can’t bear the thought of my kids having to be without me. Knowing the same loss that we did. So, here’s the thing: if I’m not here, I want them to have the closest thing to me – and that’s you.
Mike does his best and he’s a great dad. But the children need more than he can give them.
Me and you, we’re cut from the same cloth. We chose different paths and our lives are worlds apart, but you know me inside out: you know me better than anyone. You know best what I would want for the children.
You will have loads of help – Auntie Sue will be there for you, too.
Mum is what she is. Please give her a chance, Izzy. We all make mistakes, and nobody is perfect. None of us can say for sure how we would react in her situation. She’ll be a big help, just let her do things her way.
I don’t have answers for the big questions. I can’t tell you where to live or what to do about work. All I know is that if I’m not there, I want you to raise my children, the way I would.
Please Izzy, I hope you understand and you find some way to grant me this wish.
I love you forever, no matter what.
Your sister,
Amy
The next morning, I asked Adam to drive me up to Alnwick. I still felt too shaken to get behind the wheel. Amy’s request was weighing on my mind and I’d lain awake for most of the night, tossing the idea around. There was no way it could work. Hopefully Charles Moore Jr. could explain my options.
Moore, Moore & Ridley Solicitors was in an old building opposite the market square. I was greeted by a lone secretary sitting at a huge desk inlaid with worn green leather.
‘I’m sorry, but Mr Moore is in court this morning.’
Damn it, I thought, realising I should have made an appointment.
‘Is there anyone else I could talk to?’
With a kind smile, the secretary led me into one of the offices and told me that another partner would be along soon.
The room was like travelling back in time – everything was brass and varnished wood and smelt of old books, with large windows overlooking the riverside. I was admiring the view when the door creaked open behind me.
A tall, dark-haired man walked in and promptly tripped over, falling to his knees and scattering his papers everywhere. I resisted a giggle as he scooped them back up, muttering to himself. He was about my age and had that whole Hugh Grant bumbling-hottie vibe nailed, complete with floppy hair streaked with grey. Out of habit, I checked for a wedding ring. His hand was bare.
‘Sorry about that.’ He pushed his glasses back up his nose. ‘Jake Ridley.’
Jake offered a handshake.
Always look someone in the eye when you shake their hand, Dad used to say – you’ll know right away what kind of person they are. Jake had brown eyes framed by thick dark eyelashes, and I caught myself looking into them a little too long.
He explained he was the newest partner in the firm, but assured me that he was aware of the particulars of my sister’s case, and offered to give me the same advice he and Charles had given Mr Sanders about the process of contesting Amy’s will.
‘What do you mean, the advice you’ve given Mike? When?’
‘Mr Sanders came by earlier this morning. He indicated that the family intends to challenge the will, and we explained that there are very poor grounds for doing so. Contesting a will is a serious business and shouldn’t be undertaken lightly. Your sister was in a sound state of mind and knew what she was doing.’
Blimey, Mike was keen. He really wanted to make sure I wouldn’t be sticking around.
‘Well… actually… we haven’t decided for certain that we’ll contest it. I just want to understand what my options are on the legal guardianship
