That mistrust extended to his family, thought Julia. She knew all too well how immovable her father could be, keeping his affairs as close to his chest as a poker player, the smallest slight harboured for years, and ever suspicious of the motives of others, even those of his own family. Cold was a word that came to mind; unapproachable, he had made few friends. Why her mother had married him was beyond her, but Mummy had little spirit of her own and had probably needed the security and guidance of a husband.
‘It is to be understood’, Grantham continued, ‘Mr Longfield once had to dismiss his accountant for dishonesty and from then on he did his own bookkeeping, despite my advice to engage another, more reliable, honest person.’
‘He never said a word of it to us,’ Julia burst out but was ignored as he continued to address her mother.
‘I have to say he would have been better served taking my advice. He was no bookkeeper. A good accountant would have cautioned him against gambling on the stock market. A weakness, I am sad to relate, that finally led him into disastrous debt.’
‘What do you mean by disastrous debt?’ Julia demanded and he seemed about to ignore her yet again, she raised her voice. ‘Mr Grantham, I need to ask, what disastrous debt?’
The man looked at her, holding her gaze. ‘I regret to have to tell you your father was declared bankrupt the day before his death.’
He switched his gaze to the widow as she gasped like one stabbed. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Longfield, your husband borrowed extensively from his bank to cover his losses on the stock market. He allowed himself to be ill advised in his dealings and was exceedingly unlucky or foolhardy. Finally the banks refused to advance any more credit. He then went to others for money.’
Grantham paused then went on. ‘I am sorry if this sounds brutal but it has to be said. The business, all his assets, even this house will be going to pay his creditors. Forgive me but it may be that the worry may even have contributed to his fatal heart attack.’
There followed a hovering silence, even Julia stunned. While he’d been talking, her mother’s body had slowly wilted so that she had to put her arms about her to support her, with Stephanie on her other side doing the same.
‘Please,’ Julia entreated, ‘I think my mother has heard enough.’
‘I am sorry, my dear.’ There was just a hint of apology in his tone. ‘In any other circumstances I would enquire if you’d prefer me to return at some later date, but your late father’s creditors are already clamouring for their money. This business has to be settled so that we may salvage something from this regrettable mess. Mrs Longfield, do you have money of your own?’
‘I don’t know.’ Her voice emerged, weak and shaky. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘Your husband gave you an allowance, I take it, my dear. You must have savings of some sort.’
‘I…’ the voice faltered then strengthened just a little. ‘It was only a very small one. I left it to him to manage everything.’
‘How did you pay the household bills, staff wages, that sort of thing?’
‘I left it to my husband. He knows – knew – more about money than I.’
‘And clothing?’ The man sounded incredulous.
‘I have a clothing allowance – for myself and my two younger daughters. Julia is twenty-one, she has her own allowance. All else he would…’ Her words began to fail her in a welter of uncertainty. Julia held on to her.
‘My mother is distraught, Mr Grantham. My father always saw to it that she had ample money for her needs.’ She found herself defending her father as well as her mother. ‘He never stinted us, Mr Grantham. My mother was content with the arrangement. She trusted him and he saw to it that we were kept in more than sufficient comfort.’
As she spoke, Julia felt her hackles rise that while her allowance had been more than adequate, her mother had always been content to rely on her husband for her family’s needs, maybe by mutual agreement made years ago.
‘So as far as you know there is very little to fall back on but your allowance?’ the solicitor queried.
Julia pulled her thoughts together. ‘It seems so,’ she said sharply, suddenly visualizing what the future held for them if there wasn’t enough to live on.
‘What about your family?’ Grantham turned to her mother. ‘Could they not help?’
Victoria lifted her head to regard him with a hopeless look. ‘My family?’ she repeated in a faint tone before lapsing into silence. ‘I have no family.’
Her family had been far less wealthy than Charles’s. Her father had managed a small hardware store. There had been two younger brothers who had carried it on after the death of their father in 1909. Both had been killed in the Great War. The shop, by then somewhat run down, was sold and her mother had managed on the proceeds with a little help from Victoria until she died. There were no close relatives, Victoria’s two sisters-in-law having drifted away after being widowed, one to remarry, the other to return to Yorkshire.
‘I’ve no surviving family to speak of,’ she repeated.
‘Then your husband’s family?’ reminded Grantham. ‘Could you not appeal to them for help?’
Victoria shook her head. ‘I don’t think they…’ She broke off. This persistent questioning, almost interrogation, was beginning to cause her more distress than she felt already.
Charles’s father had died many years ago leaving the import business to him and his brother but the two had fallen out over their legacy and
