Leonard peered sideways at his mother, noticed the disapproving assessment at her sister-in-law’s outburst. She glared at her as she would a recalcitrant student. Poor Mr Dawson lifted his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. If he was going to be completely honest, Leonard didn’t care about a holiday home in Wales. He had enough old properties around the country on his books without adding one more to the portfolio. But his father had specifically left the place to him. Surely that meant something?
“What if we challenge the will?”
This time, Matthew spoke. Leonard felt a flash of anger ignite in him at the thought of a family member challenging his father’s wishes. On his part, Mr Dawson appeared to agree because he sat up straight in his chair, his lips pinched together. With both hands pressed together beneath his chin as though in prayer, he leant forward, elbows on the table, and peered over the top of his glasses.
“I am not your solicitor, Mr Darlington, but had I been, I would have strongly advised you against doing so. Not only would you end up spending an unsightly amount of money in legal fees, but in my long experience, challenges of this nature are rarely successful. Possession truly is nine-tenths of the law in this country. Look, rather than go that route, why don’t you begin by asking Mr Day junior if he would be prepared to sell you the property? Or come to some kind of arrangement with him?”
Aunt Millicent’s eyes darted to Leonard, a glimmer of hope in them and a pinched smile replacing the previous unpleasant grimace.
“Would you, Leonard? Would you consider selling our lovely holiday home back to us? It holds such dear memories for me and my family.”
“It’s as good as derelict anyway,” added Matthew, still unsmiling, but something lighting in his eyes. “We’d be doing you a favour taking the pile of worthless rubble off your hands.”
Up until the frankly aggressive challenge from his relatives, Leonard had been even-tempered and might have considered coming to some arrangement, as Mr Dawson had put it. But now? He took a deep breath before replying.
“When I walked in here today, my only concern was to make sure my mother was taken care of financially, and it appears my father has done that. Until five minutes ago I had no idea he owned a farmhouse in Wales. But he clearly wanted me to have the place. So I’m not going to hurried into making a decision right away. Before anything I’d like to drive down there and give the place a quick once-over. After that I’ll make up my mind. But rest assured, Aunt Millicent, if I do decide to sell the property, I promise you will get first option to buy. My mother has your contact details. And Mr Dawson and my mother are witnesses to my promise.”
“Excellent.” Mr Dawson clearly wanted to move the matter along. No doubt, like Leonard, he hadn’t anticipated anyone to challenge the will. “In which case—”
But Leonard’s aunt hadn’t finished.
“You’re just like him, aren’t you? Just like your father?”
Her caustic tone and scowl left nobody in any doubt about her true feelings, except this time Leonard had no hesitation in glaring back across the table.
“I hope so. And if that’s what you see in me, then I am honoured.” Leonard turned his attention back to the solicitor. “Sorry, Mr Dawson. You were saying?”
“Um, yes, so in order to finish matters off, I’ll need you and your mother to sign the necessary paperwork, and then get copies made for our records. Shouldn’t take more than another fifteen to twenty minutes. In the meantime, Mrs Darlington, if you and your son wish to leave, I can get someone—”
“Don’t bother. We can find our own way out.”
Without another word, they rose from their seats and left without bidding farewell.
After the door shut behind them, Mr Dawson waited a few moments before looking apologetically at Leonard and his mother, gently shaking his head but saying nothing.
“Did you know about this family house, Mum?”
“I didn’t. Your father mentioned nothing to me. But you know him, he did nothing without thinking things through meticulously. In spite of what your aunt insists, if he wanted you to have the farmhouse rather than her, and made a point of specifying the fact in his will, then there is no mistake and you should trust his good judgement.”
Before they left, Mr Dawson furnished Leonard and his mother with their copies of all the signed paperwork. Leonard thought they had finished, and began to rise until Mr Dawson handed him a bulky envelope.
“The deeds to the property will continue to be kept here, Mr Day, in our safekeeping, unless you wish them to be held elsewhere. But they will be transferred into your name. These are the keys to Bryn Bach. Somewhere on file we have a photograph of the place. I’ll get my assistant to email a copy to you. And off the record, I agree with your mother. Your father clearly wanted you to have the place, and as such, he did so for a reason.”
All well and good, thought Leonard as he and his mother strolled unspeaking down the plush corridor, but if that was the case, his father had taken the reason to the grave with him.
Chapter Six
Request
Adrian lay back into the corner of his sofa, bare feet up on the coffee table, drumming the fingers of one hand on the armrest, the remote in his other hand, flicking mindlessly from one television channel to the next. Nothing caught his imagination. Repeats of old shows aired on the major networks and sports he didn’t really follow ran on the cable channels.
With no work on the horizon, and all the grocery shopping he needed already done, he had stayed indoors all day, trying to find things to keep him busy. After a morning run followed by an hour’s workout with the multi-functional weight machine in his spare bedroom, he tackled his domestic chores. Right now, the apartment shone spotless, each room scrubbed clean, bedding changed, washing and ironing done, the open kitchen sparkling once again after a frozen microwave dinner of spaghetti carbonara and grilled garlic bread.
Being alone with his own thoughts made him cagey, threatened to unsettle and unnerve him, like an itch he couldn’t quite pinpoint and scratch. He needed distractions. Exactly this kind of sullen mood had first led him to Chappies in town and to his chance meeting with Nick. And that would never happen again. Had it been any other day than Wednesday, he might have considered going to see his mother—however painful on the ear that might be. But on Wednesdays she had her church group meeting, which normally entailed a day trip out somewhere in their minibus. Honestly, his mother had a better social life than he had ever enjoyed.
During the good times, punishing manual work provided the perfect antidote. Arriving on-site early, working hard all day in the open air, pushing himself to get things finished even if that meant working late, then returning home exhausted when all he craved was fast food, a hot shower and sleep.
Most of his work on-site meant grafting alone. During tea breaks or after they had all clocked off for the day, he would often end up somewhere with their group of workers, most of them familiar, in a pub or café, grumbling about this or that, making one inappropriate joke after another about race, religion, gender, sex or sexuality. Nothing became taboo in this still largely male-dominated environment, where political correctness became cannon fodder for their funnies. Some knew about Adrian’s sexuality. Nobody cared, treating him as they did everyone else. As communities went, he found the camaraderie comforting and supportive—and strangely liberating.
