After the huge argument between Chloe and Noah, Liv had refused to have everything more to do with the execution of the will or the sale of the house. Chloe had initially assumed that her sister was acting out of anger and fatigue, and that – after she’d calmed down – Liv would take up the reins once again, driving the whole thing through with her usual ruthless efficiency. But Liv had been as good as her shouted words and refused to get involved, at all, with the thousands of decisions and actions required to dissolve and distribute their father’s estate. At first Chloe had been confused, then the panic had set in. Because – surprise, surprise – Noah had proved to be of very little practical use.
It had all fallen to Chloe.
The revelation was that it had all been doable – with a lot of help from the ever-patient Ms Hewson. The mounds of paperwork, getting her head around the money-laundering rules and regulations, the complexities of structural surveys, the chasing of estate agents, the liaising with the banks. They had found a buyer for The View very quickly, which had delighted Noah, but only served to ramp up the pressure.
But Chloe had managed it all. And without Liv breathing down her neck, it had been surprisingly okay. Scary, but okay. And with each email and call that Chloe had made, she’d grown in confidence, to the point where she was no longer pretending to be competent – she was competent.
The queue of two people, who had been watching her preparations, shuffled impatiently. Let them wait – all of one minute. When she was good and ready, she smiled and started bipping and scanning, on polite autopilot.
The discovery of the house purchase in Darlington had been a shock, of course. But even that, Chloe believed she’d handled well. Or at least with a maturity that would have been beyond her only a few months earlier.
She’d slept on it for a couple of nights and only then called Liv. It had been an awkward and surprisingly short conversation. Liv had confirmed that she already knew about the property, and that she personally believed Megan was morally and legally entitled to the house. Liv then lobbed her bomb, telling Chloe she was happy to leave the decision on whether to tell their brother about it up to her. At the time it had felt like a cop-out, but in hindsight, Chloe recognised their conversation as the pivotal moment when her relationship with both her siblings changed.
She had solved the problem of Megan’s secret legacy by sharing it with Liv and keeping it from Noah.
Chloe’s reasons for keeping quiet about the house were many.
Top of the list was a desire to respect her father’s wishes. He had bought the property for Megan, therefore it was only right she should have it. Chloe’s decision also held within it her ill ease about how been cruel they had been to Megan, not only in the wake of her father’s death, but for years. She agreed with Liv: the house in Darlington went some way to rebalancing the scales. And, she reasoned, Noah knowing about it would only cause more upset and aggro, and they had had enough of that. But above all, it was the romance of the gesture that Chloe responded to. The thought of her father going to such lengths to buy back the home Megan had given up, in order to be with him, reflected the type of world Chloe wanted to inhabit. It spoke of love, and she still wanted to believe in love.
As the months passed and the pain of her father’s death softened and became more malleable, Chloe was surprised at how frequently she thought of Megan. She often wondered how she was getting on. Chloe had no idea. Once Megan had moved out of The View, they had had very little contact; and what contact they did have had been through Greenwood’s. Megan had literally vanished out of their lives – just as they had always thought they wanted her to. Chloe had texted her a couple of times asking how things were going, but she’d had no response. She didn’t blame her; indeed, on some level Chloe admired Megan. She had stayed while Jonathan needed her. Left when he was gone. Megan proved it was possible: leaving somewhere you loved, even with grief weighing you down.
There was another lull in customers. Chloe let her mind roam.
As always, she found herself back in the rat-run of dilemmas about her own future. The key difference was that now she had money – a considerable amount of money – plenty to change her life beyond all recognition, and some hard-earnt but very valuable self-belief.
She could give notice on her rented flat – though she liked the view across the bay and the high ceilings, they reminded her of home. She still missed living in The View. She often strolled past the top of the drive, just to check on the comings and goings. There was always at least one workman’s van outside: different trades, different days. The sound of drilling and hammering could be clearly heard from the road. The new family wasn’t moving in until the house had been renovated. Chloe didn’t like to imagine walls coming down and windows being taken out, but that was their prerogative as the new owners. Breathing life into an old house. It was what people did.
She could be gone in a month. She could move to whatever city she chose. Rent or buy somewhere nice. Put down roots. Or travel, anywhere in the world. Or bite the bullet and retrain for a new career. Alternatively she could do something worthwhile – volunteer for something she cared
