As expected, we stroll past a few nearby eateries, where empty tables are non-existent, as shoppers and tourists enjoy an al fresco lunch in the unexpected sunshine. Instead, we grab drinks and sandwiches and manage to find an empty bench near the Albert Dock overlooking the water.
‘I can’t wait for next week, this holiday can’t come quick enough,’ says Suzi, before diving into her sandwich of Brie, toasted peppers, and salami on sourdough. Mine is chargrilled Cajun chicken. Sandwiches are so much more interesting than they used to be, and I wonder what became of the humble egg and cress sandwich.
‘I hope you have a great time. I could do with another holiday.’ I sigh, my mind roaming back to Corfu and those long, lazy days basking in the sunshine.
‘You’ve only just come back,’ she replies with a laugh.
‘That was two whole weeks ago,’ I remind her, and she rolls her eyes. ‘Seriously though, Jack’s passing has made me realise we should grab life with both hands. Tomorrow is promised to no one, and I know Jack would approve of my travels.’
I think back once more, with affection, of sitting in his house and leafing through an atlas, Jack telling me that if I worked hard in life, the world could be my oyster.
I do feel a little guilty about jetting off so often though, knowing some people can’t afford to take a single holiday. Iknow I am fortunate enough to be able to make several trips to Greece a year, but the apartment I rent out there is such a bargain. It’s simple, but clean with that all-important balcony. I prefer the authenticity of Greek apartments to the larger hotels and their modern interior that makes you feel you could be anywhere in the world. Thinking about it, I could probably cut back even further by spending less money at the bakery, which is a little too handy. I close my eyes and feel the warmth of the sun on my face as I look up and imagine for a split second that I am back in Greece, listening to the sound of the sea in the background.
We enjoy our lunchtime outdoors, and just under an hour later, we take the short walk back to the office, feeling refreshed. I nip to the loo and scrape my long chestnut-coloured hair into a ponytail and squirt on some more body spray. Glancing in the mirror, I can see that my holiday tan is fading a little, and I might need a couple of infills on my lashes that frame my quite large green eyes. Maybe I will work outside on the balcony of my apartment tomorrow if this weather keeps up and top up the tan a little. And count down the days until I can return to my favourite place!
THREE
It seems Uncle Jack had far more money than anyone could ever have imagined. Turns out, he and Auntie Kathleen had been big savers, as well as investing in stocks and shares, seemingly with great success. The house they bought in the late nineties has almost tripled in price too.
All his assets are to be divided equally between myself, my brother Josh, and my parents, including the contents of the house. This includes Kathleen’s impressive gold jewellery collection that she had built up through her life. Jack was a lover of art too, and had purchased several valuable pieces over the years. All I can think of though is that I will become the owner of the silver owl after all. I am unable to process the amount of money I’m about to inherit.
‘I knew the house was worth a bit, and about the jewellery. Kathleen mentioned that before she died,’ says Mum as we sip drinks in a café not far from the solicitor’s office. ‘But all those stocks and shares? I had no idea Jack was into all that.’
Mum can hardly take it in. Kathleen was an only child, whose parents had long departed, and she insisted Jack’s family inherit everything. She had one cousin who she couldn’t bear to leave a single thing to apparently.
‘He always was a private man,’ says Dad, eyeing up some tasty-looking cakes in domes behind the counter. He orders a slice of coffee and walnut cake from a passing waitress, Mum and I declining having not long eaten breakfast.
‘We were never really savers,’ Mum laments as she sips her tea.
‘Not everyone is. At least you enjoy what money you do have, and long may that continue,’ I remind her.
With my windfall, I am determined to pay my parents back a little for their generosity towards me. They probably won’t take it, but at least I can offer. If not, I will make sure I spoil them.
‘Well, that’s true. We have enjoyed our life,’ says Mum.
‘Stillenjoying it and hopefully for many more years to come.’ I smile. ‘And so you should, you have both worked hard all your life.’
My parents are forever updating their house, which is the smartest house on the street, and they are partial to a good cruise. They were also very generous when I got my first apartment, stumping up the deposit so that I could buy in a nice area. I tried to protest, being the fiercely independent soul that I am and determined to save the deposit myself, but Dad wouldn’t hear of it. He told me they would have paid to put me through university, but as I never went paying a deposit on a home was the least they could do for me. I know he didn’t mean it, but his comments unintentionally made me feel like a bit of a failure, even though I have a really good job in the Civil Service.
I drop my parents off, before returning to work at home, where seated at my desk in my second bedroom that doubles as an office, the walls covered in a beach scene, I gather my thoughts.
What am I going to do with all that money? Maybe I could decorate the walls with a new mural, perhaps a forest scene next time, and buy that ridiculously expensive, huge new sofa fromthat Italian interior place on the retail park. It occurs to me then that I could buy a new house. A whole freaking house! And no matter how much I try, I can’t get the thought of the little white house that I came across in Corfu with thePros polisisign outside off my mind.
I must stop this daydreaming, as my thoughts drift off to the possibility of owning a place in Greeceanda slightly bigger one here. I could sell this place and add it to the small fortune that will soon be landing in my bank account. I could buy a new car, and not have to say a silent prayer that my eight-year-old Golf will get me to my destination without conking out. It cost me three hundred quid to fix after it failed the last MOT. I could buy a brand new one if I wanted to.
‘Oh, Jack, who knew you had all those investments,’ I say quietly. ‘Maybe you could have cashed some in, and we could have gone travelling together.’ I find myself looking upwards as my eyes fill with tears. ‘I’ll let you know what I’ve been up to, when we meet again,’ I tell him.
Whatever happens in the future, one thing is certain: I will be eternally grateful to my dear uncle Jack.
FOUR
In the office the next day, my mind keeps flitting back to the house on the street not far from the beach in Greece. Down a backstreet just outside Roda on the island of Corfu, it is only a few minutes’ walk from the sea and a long sandy beach. A dozen houses stand in a row, the one for sale slightly grubby on its exterior with a wild garden full of thistles, and a broken gate hanging forlornly at the entrance. It stands in stark contrast to the white painted houses either side of it, that are well looked after with flowers in pots outside their colourful front doors painted in red, blue and green.
The inside is probably a bit of a project too, but then it is being auctioned at a low starting price so there would be more than enough money left over for renovating if I got it at a good price. On my last visit, before Evie arrived, I walked past the villa several times en route to the beach and would stand just staring at it. The lady next door appeared one day as I was lost in a daydream.
‘You buy the house?’ she asked, looking suspiciously at me with her dark-brown eyes.
‘I’d love to,’ I told her. ‘I could come here whenever I liked.’ I sighed longingly, imagining what I could do with the place.I’d have the exterior rendered in a smooth white, maybe some flowers climbing the walls or trailing around a wooden arch beyond the gate. I can still barely grasp the fact that I am in a position to actually buy it.
