“Six-thirty sounds perfect. We might be in our work clothes, though.”
“Oh, I’m sure Megan won’t mind. She probably considers you locals by now.”
“Great. And while you’re on, Pippa… My friend, Adrian, is going to be staying on for the week, continuing the internal renovations while I check in with my business back in London. Just in case you were thinking of getting started on the gardens this week. Didn’t want to worry you if you saw someone beavering away inside. And I’m sure he’d be happy to give your guys access to a kettle, in case they need a brew.”
Just then, he noticed another incoming call—Mr Dawson, his father’s solicitor.
“That’s brilliant. I’m hoping we can start work next week. So thanks for the heads-up.”
“Let’s catch up tonight at six-thirty. Got to run. I’ve got another call coming through.”
Pippa signed off and Leonard took the next call. Dawson did not seem his usual calm self, his voice more than a little rattled.
“I am terribly sorry for calling you at the weekend, Leonard. But we have just had formal notification from a solicitor in Bristol that your aunt and cousin are planning on challenging your father’s will.”
“I see.”
Leonard stared out of the window to where Adrian had his phone clamped to his ear. At that moment their eyes met, and both smiled. Leonard savoured the warm feeling the simple contact gave him before dragging his gaze away and bringing his attention back to the call. What was it about the property that had ruffled his aunt’s and cousin’s feathers so badly? Did they really need the house so desperately? Or had his mother said something tactless to them over the phone? He wouldn’t put it past her.
“Honestly, Leonard. I thought I had made it perfectly clear what a bad decision that would be. Both parties will simply end up accruing hefty solicitors’ fees and, unless there are extenuating circumstances in their favour of which we are currently unaware—which I doubt because why would they not have presented them already—they will have no hope of winning. I’m calling to check whether you want me to represent you. But I have to forewarn you. Disputes are not really my area of expertise—”
“No need, Mr Dawson. I appreciate you letting me know, but I’ve dealt with business and property disputes throughout my career. And I have a tried and trusted legal contact who, I’m sure, will be more than happy to take this on. Don you mind if I get them to contact you directly, so you can brief them and pass over any file notes? I’ll provide written authorisation.”
“More than happy.”
Dawson’s call would mean Leonard getting in touch with Helen Wallis, someone he had used for business disputes and for one particular personal case. A hardened lawyer, someone he trusted implicitly, she had been briefed on Kris’ situation following his death as a precaution, in case the Goswami family came after Leonard’s house. She had been brilliant, armed to the teeth legally speaking, and had admitted to being a little disappointed when nothing transpired. Using Helen would mean Leonard driving back early on Sunday morning, and seeing her later that afternoon. Semi-retired, she only maintained a couple of clients and spent most of her time tending the abundant garden of her Richmond house. Helen had her quirks. She didn’t take business calls over the weekend, but he knew her well enough to know she would be too intrigued not to pick up a text message about his dilemma. And for all her insistence on people respecting her self-imposed seclusion, he knew she would welcome hearing about the challenge over a pot of Assam tea and a plate of scones.
“Thank you again, Mr Dawson,” said Leonard, as Adrian came back into the room and winked at him. Leonard pointed to his phone and carried on talking.
“Her name’s Helen Wallis. She works part-time on Mondays and Thursdays, I think. I’ll need to check whether she’s available, but she usually moves any other work she has around for me, if I need urgent help. If everything’s good, I’ll give you a call from her office first thing Monday. And a quick question. We’ve already started renovating the property. In your opinion—and I’m not looking for legal advice here, just an opinion—do you think I should stop work completely until this complication has been resolved?”
“With the way things stand right now, Bryn Bach is legally yours, to do with whatever you wish. But once you receive any formal notification, that situation might change. When that happens, the solicitor acting on your behalf will be able to advise you better than I.”
“Thank you. That’s all I needed to know. I appreciate the call, Mr Dawson. Have a nice weekend.”
“You too, Leonard.”
Adrian stood before Leonard, intrigued, his hands on his hips. Leonard smiled at him before quickly finding Helen’s contact details and composing a brief message.
“What the hell was all that about?” asked Adrian.
Leonard hit the send button and looked back up.
“What do you want first? The good news or the bad?”
“Bad. Always bad. Rip off the plaster.”
Leonard explained the calls he had taken, explaining the aunt and cousin’s legal action before telling him about meeting Pippa and Freya for drinks later.
“I only step out for ten minutes and look what happens. What’s going on with your aunt, Lenny?”
“Heaven only knows. But one thing’s for sure. I’m not about to give this place up without a fight.”
“A battle cry.” Adrian slapped his gloved hands together before placing each of them on Leonard’s shoulder. “That’s what I like to hear. In which case, you can take it for granted that you’ve got me in your corner.”
“Good to know. But I would never take you for granted, Ade.”
Adrian held Leonard’s eye contact, something else going on behind his eyes. For a moment Leonard thought he might say something more, but the moment passed, and he brought his hands away from Leonard’s shoulders.
