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‘No.’
Cam sat bolt upright.
‘Your mother.’
Lauren’s face hardened. ‘Over my dead body,’ she spat. ‘If that’s the case I’ll drive it to Timbuk-bloody-tu.’ Her eyes narrowed for a second.
‘You don’t need to go that far.’ Ron’s eyes twinkled as if pleased to see her sudden anger. ‘There’s a very clear route with places and people Miles wanted you to visit. He planned it all out, with accommodation along the way. As soon as you agree your departure date, I will make all the necessary arrangements.’
‘How will you know I’ve done what he wanted?’ Her chin had lifted in mutiny and Cam allowed himself a brief smile which was short lived. She had to succeed and complete the trip in order for him to buy the car from her. Bloody hell. Miles didn’t make it easy.
‘You have to send a postcard from each of the places specified.’ Ron pointed to a map of Europe behind him; a blue highlighter had been used to outline a route from Calais to Italy. ‘Fifteen in total. One from each town, which I’ve marked with a red drawing pin.’ He grinned happily like an overgrown house elf and Cam wanted to weep. House elves came in books you read to your shiny-eyed innocent nephews.
Furious, Cam gave a disparaging look towards the map and its meandering route through France and the mountains of Switzerland and Italy. ‘So what the hell am I here for?’
Ron grinned at him. ‘Miles felt Laurie might need a co-driver.’
Might need? Bloody hell! What was that supposed to mean? He was just supposed to accompany Miles’ niece out of the sheer goodness of his heart. In a car that Miles had damn well promised him. Except now he thought about it, what exactly had Miles promised? He recalled the exact words. A guaranteed price for the car once it went on sale. The wily bastard.
Ron pushed another one of the white envelopes towards him.
‘You’ll be recompensed, of course.’
‘I don’t want his money,’ growled Cam. Money was no bloody good. How was that going to help him? Fuck. He almost put his head in his hands. How could Miles do this to him? A leaden lump settled in his stomach at the thought of phoning Nick and the way the conversation would pan out.
‘Hi, Mate. You know that Ferrari I promised as the highlight of our classic car festival. Well I lied; it’s not mine after all. And all that sponsorship money we’ve secured to make the festival happen, is all going to vanish in smoke, leaving you with huge debts because you’ve underwritten everything against a loan on your home. Both of our reputations are going to be down the pan.’ Nick would go ape. Cam closed his eyes; his mother would kill him.
What was Miles thinking?
The white envelope mocked him. It felt like an insult. Miles knew damned well Cam would honour his promise to look after his niece, even if the conniving old coot had conned him somewhat by deliberately letting him think that Laurie was a small boy.
Truth was, he would have done just about anything for Miles. Despite the age difference, friendship had blossomed the day they met over the bonnet of a rather neat little Aston Martin. Cam had been the winner in that skirmish, outbidding Miles by several thousand to acquire the car for one of his clients. Miles had promptly taken the client and Cam out to lunch and done a deal to sell the client an E-type Jag for twice as much.
Ron’s eyes narrowed and for a moment Cam saw the steely determination that made the solicitor a worthy representative of Miles. He picked up the envelope and pocketed it with a glare at Ron. The solicitor simply smiled.
Chapter 4 (#u6e051303-e114-5427-9c09-6e53a87537cf)
Her hands shook so hard the key barely hit the lock. Tears filled her eyes … again. The brass letterbox had done it.
Over the years how many postcards often starting with the imperative, Niece, you must see this place, dropped through the door? Miles loved his postcards.
Although they wound her dad up, each one made her smile. Even in the last few years when Miles was supposedly slowing down, the postcards had never let up. Random in their frequency, there was never a place too small or insignificant for him to stop and pick one up. She’d had cards from the Empire State Building in New York, the Bellagio in Las Vegas, the Great Orme in Llandudno and Arthur’s Seat in Edinburgh. Today Miles’ familiar, impatient scrawl, addressing her in his usual bossy fashion, brought piercing regret. No more postcards. Ever.
No more anything. She wouldn’t even argue against the terms of the will. Miles knew her too well. Knew that she wouldn’t deny him his last wish. Frowning hard, she gritted her jaw. Duty. She’d always been good at that. She’d stuck by her dad’s side, despite Miles’ repeated invitations to visit. Dad liked to blame Miles for the break-up of his marriage, not wanting to admit that it was probably inevitable that Celeste would leave him. He never really got over it. For him it had been a grand passion, love at first sight. At least on his part. With ten years apart, he had tried to be the sensible one, holding her at arm’s length, which had made the spoiled, wilful eighteen year old Celeste all the more determined to marry him.
Damn. The note. She’d leave it in the plastic bag in the hall along with the envelope that Ron had handed over. It felt too raw to share with anyone. Anyone? She meant Robert. Who else was there? And what would he say?
His car was already in the drive. Squaring her shoulders, she went inside.
And there he was already, twitching with anticipation.
‘So? Did he leave you anything?’
She nodded. Well that was the truth. He had definitely left her something.
‘What?’
She bit her lip. ‘It’s complicated.’
Robert frowned, ‘How so?’
Shrugging out of her coat, she took her time hanging it up. ‘Let me get us a cup of tea.’
‘So you got nothing then?’ Robert sounded sulky.
She faced him. ‘Like I said, it’s complicated. Come in the kitchen, sit down and I’ll tell you.’
Holding the mug of steaming tea as if it were some kind of talisman, she decided it was best just to spit it out and see where the conversation went.
‘Uncle Miles has left me one of his cars.’
‘Oh,’ Robert looked crestfallen. ‘Is that all?’ Then he rounded on her, irritation lining his face. ‘But that’s ridiculous? You don’t drive.’
Her fingers strayed to her eyebrow, and she rubbed the bone there back and forth.
‘I know,’ she sighed thinking of the provisional driving licence still tucked in her drawer. Renewed faithfully for the last six years but yet to be upgraded. Booking a proper driving test was still … she couldn’t do it. She would get round to it … one day, when the memories of her dad’s first massive heart attack on the driveway of the test centre faded.
‘So why leave you a bloody car?’
For a moment she stared bemused at him, but then he hadn’t had much to do with Miles and had only been to the house on the day of the funeral.
She wanted to smile but worried Robert would take it the wrong way. The whole will was so typical of Miles and if she were totally honest, deep down inside, a tiny almost invisible speck of her was ever so slightly amused and intrigued by the idea of driving a high performance sports car as recognisable as a Ferrari across Europe. Something most people would never expect dull old Laurie Browne to do.
His shoulders sagged and his face twisted in disgust. ‘Bummer. Thought you might get something decent … with you being a blood relative …
‘So who gets the house?’ he demanded, a trace of belligerence tinging his voice. ‘That must be worth a fortune … at least 4 mill current market value. Especially with that amount of land.’
What amount of land? Laurie stared at him.
‘Forty acres! Can you imagine? You could flog half of it and still have loads. And it’s all prime development land.’ He laughed bitterly. ‘Don’t tell me, all the ex-wives cleaned him out. Bet he was in debt up to his eyeballs. All flash no cash. I suspected as much. I should have known it was too good to be true when you got the letter. Good job we aren’t planning a fancy wedding.’
Laurie gripped her tea mug wondering if it might shatter if she held it any harder. She felt as fragile as the china under her fingers. Grief warred with anger but all she could summon was utter weariness. No wonder he’d been so understanding when she’d finally explained she wanted more than a quickie ceremony at lunch time at the registry office.
‘Ron didn’t say anything about the house. I’ve no idea what’s happening to that. I don’t know what will happen to it. He just talked about my bequest.’
‘Bequest. Is that what they’re calling it now? Hardly a bequest, leaving you his old car. Sorry Laurie, love. You’ve been left with a right old lemon. Not even that generous is it; not like he’s using it now. Don’t suppose he left you the money to tax and insure it. So what kind of car? It’s not as if you even drive. I suppose we could flog it, get a bit of money for it.’
Laurie shook her head, a half-smile hovering on her lips at the thought of the ‘old car’. ‘Actually, it’s one of his classic cars.’ Miles had loved that car. ‘I helped him track it down.’ Despite being gadget mad, her uncle wasn’t actually very good at using them and she’d helped him research and find the Benelli family who’d been the last known owners of that particular model.
Robert looked even more disappointed. ‘You’re kidding. That’s a white elephant then. You won’t be able to keep it.’
Uncharacteristic temper flashed and Laurie bristled. ‘Why not?’
‘Don’t be daft. What for?’
He laid a hand over hers as if to soften the words but she found the gesture patronising and overbearing. ‘It’d be a complete money pit for one thing. Will cost a fortune to run. God only knows what it would cost to insure and can you imagine the repair bills? We couldn’t afford to run it. Besides it’s probably worth something, if we sell it.’
Funny how things went so quickly from you to we.
‘Thing is …’ she heard her voice, it sounded cool and brittle, ‘the condition of the will is that I’m not allowed to sell it—’
‘What?’ Robert slammed down his mug and tea splashed across the table. ‘I bloody hope he’s left you something for the upkeep then. That’s crap. What a bloody cheek.’ His voice tailed off as he stared angrily at her.
She returned his gaze, her chin lifting and her eyes narrowing. Controlled fury pounded, shocking her. Losing your temper was something other people did. Other people who let emotion rule without thinking of the consequences or taking responsibility for the fallout. Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself. ‘If you’d let me finish,’ she said slowly, feeling the control slipping back into place, ‘I can explain.’
Folding his arms, Robert leant back in his chair raising one eyebrow. She refused to be cowed by the deliberately patronising stance he’d adopted and waited a moment or two, holding his gaze until he dropped his arms.
‘Sorry,’ he said sulkily.
‘I can sell the car—’
‘I just thought you said you couldn’t.’
His face reminded her of an unhappy toddler complete with sulky lower lip.
‘Make up your mind.’
‘I can sell it …’she paused. In Ron’s office she’d wondered how he’d take it, now uncharacteristically she no longer cared, ‘once I’ve been to Italy in it first.’
‘What?’
‘Miles wanted the car to have one last outing back to its birthplace.’
‘So the old boy was bonkers then.’
‘No!’ She sighed. How did you explain Miles to someone like Robert who was as conventional as they came? Sitting in his winged leather chair offering her cigars and port, teaching her to taste wine, change spark plugs and polish chrome. ‘Just a bit sentimental about his cars … and this one was his favourite.’
Robert shook his head and leaned onto the table. ‘And how was he expecting that to happen? We’d have to take a couple of days off work. Use up our holiday allowance.’
Make a change from decorating then, she thought, tracing the track of the wood grain on the table in front of her.
‘You don’t expect me to drop everything to do that do you? You know what it’s like at work at the moment.’
‘No of course not,’ said Laurie, gnawing at her lip, she knew how difficult things were at the office at the moment. Poor Robert hated his boss, who’d pretty much slept her way to promotion, leap-frogging him, and now took all the credit for the work he did.
She leaned forward and touched his hand. She still had to tell him the worst bit.
Robert shook his head in disgust. ‘What was your uncle thinking? You can’t even drive to Dunstable let alone across Europe.’
Laurie felt the blush of temper staining her cheeks and fought again to tamp it back.
‘Whatever. It’s still a ridiculous idea. Those old cars drink petrol. It’ll cost an absolute fortune. Cost more in petrol than we’d get selling it. And think of the practicalities. We’d have to pay for hotels, food, the ferry crossing. What if it breaks down?’
Like she hadn’t been thinking that ever since Mr Leversedge had been through the exact conditions that went with her inheritance. It was scaring the crap out of her. The practicalities …
Robert shook his head. ‘No, it’s out of the question. It wouldn’t be worth it. I mean, at most, what’s this car going to be worth? A couple of grand.’
She shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea but that’s not the point.’
‘Well enlighten me, what is the point?’
She was sure he didn’t mean it to sound quite so disparaging when he adopted that low, superior tone.
‘Uncle Miles asked me to do it. He was good to me when I was younger.’
‘Good to you? That sounds dodgy.’
‘Robert!’ she said snatching her hand away. ‘Before my parents split up it was hell at home; it was a miracle we had a single plate left in the place. Going to Miles’ house got me away from all that during the school holidays.’
Robert shrugged. He thought her childhood odd but then he’d come from a respectable, normal family with parents who’d celebrated their silver wedding anniversary, two point two children, a dog and a cat. It sounded perfect. And anyone accusing Mr and Mrs Evans of occasionally seeming a little dull were just uncharitable. There was a lot to be said for creating a stable home life for your children.
‘He wants me to take his favourite car on one last journey across Europe to its original home in Italy. He said he didn’t trust anyone else to do it.’
‘He didn’t trust anyone else?’ Robert shouted with laughter. ‘That’s a joke. What a heap of sentimental crap.’
‘It’s not …’ Laurie began hotly.
‘Although a couple of thousand in the bank, now that would be nice … we’d have to do some sums,’ his eyes scrunched in thought, ‘but if we drove all day, stayed in cheap motels we could probably make a profit.’
There was that ‘we’ again.
‘There are conditions.’ She interrupted. ‘I don’t just have to … get the car to Italy …’ The wince on her face must have finally communicated to him that not everything was that straightforward.
‘You have to go somewhere else too?’ He’d sobered now. ‘Sounds like a con to me? I might have known it would be too good to be true.’
‘Nothing like that, it’s just that I have to … take a certain route and complete it within a—’
‘What do you mean a ‘certain’ route?’ Robert frowned.
‘I have to visit certain places on the way and …’ she had his attention now, she dropped her voice, ‘it’s got to be done within three weeks.’
‘But that’s impossible!’ He began to pace the tiny kitchen, three strides and then back again. ‘There’s no way I can get that additional time off work.’ He wheeled again, another three paces. ‘Even if I explained to Gavin …. And you said they were looking to make redundancies at the library. You can kiss your job goodbye if you decide to go gallivanting off across Europe.’
Like she hadn’t been thinking that ever since Ron had spelled out the full terms of the complex will.
Laurie worried for the lino as he span on his heel and paced the length of the room … and she still hadn’t explained about Cameron Matthews.
He wheeled to face her. ‘You’ll have to contest the will. That’s it. He was clearly barking. It’s totally unreasonable to expect us to drive a car across Europe. That’s ridiculous. And frankly quite weird. Controlling from the grave. I don’t like it all. I’m sure no one in their right mind is going to enforce it.’
