Things We Never Say (29 page)

‘Ah, the heiress,’ said Suzanne finally. ‘Where are you off to?’

‘A walk,’ replied Abbey. ‘I need to clear my head.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ said Suzanne. ‘I’m sure you have a lot of things to think about. All the same – would you like to join me for coffee in the village?’

Abbey wasn’t sure if she could deal with being told again that she didn’t deserve what Fred had left her. But Suzanne didn’t seem aggressive, and there was a hint of sympathy in her eyes. So she said that she’d be delighted to have coffee with her.

The two of them walked towards the harbour and Suzanne stopped outside a small café with pavement tables.

‘Here?’ she asked.

‘Suits me,’ replied Abbey.

‘I’m sure you’re exhausted after the day you’ve had,’ Suzanne remarked after the flat whites they’d ordered arrived.

‘No more than you,’ said Abbey.

‘It was hard for you.’

‘Funerals are hard at the best of times.’

‘I don’t think there is a best of times for a funeral,’ said Suzanne.

‘No, you’re right. I’m sorry. You must be devastated at your loss.’

‘I wouldn’t exactly go that far,’ said Suzanne. ‘But there is a part of you that thinks your parents will last for ever. My dad was stubborn. I thought he’d hang on till he was a hundred.’

‘Didn’t you get on with him?’

‘Not especially,’ said Suzanne. ‘Not that it matters now anyway.’

Abbey sipped her coffee and said nothing.

‘Anyway, he’s really stirred things up,’ Suzanne said. ‘He was always good at that, but this has outdone anything that went before.’

‘I can imagine.’

‘My brothers are not impressed.’

‘I wouldn’t expect them to be.’

‘Their wives are even less impressed.’

‘And you?’ asked Abbey.

‘I don’t know what to think,’ said Suzanne. ‘Obviously I was delighted when he left me money. I need it. But it was hard to hear that he’d given something to the boys before. Not that I should’ve been surprised.’

Abbey wondered if she was going to be approached by each individual member of the family, each with their own version of what should happen with Fred’s will.

‘And what he did for you …’ Suzanne stirred her coffee idly, ‘well, it leaves me wondering about the justice of it all, from everyone’s perspective.’

‘Me too,’ admitted Abbey.

‘We didn’t know anything about his relationship with the woman before my mother,’ Suzanne said. ‘Getting her pregnant obviously made it significant, but the truth is that Dad had plenty of other relationships afterwards that could have been significant too.’

Abbey’s eyes widened. ‘Afterwards? After he got married, you mean?’

‘He was an unfaithful sod,’ said Suzanne. ‘God knows how many other half-siblings we might have.’

‘You can’t be serious.’

‘
You
exist,’ Suzanne pointed out.

‘I’m not actually your half-sibling,’ Abbey reminded her. ‘My mom is. So if there are others, they’re probably a lot older than me. At least …’ She wondered for how long Fred had carried on his extramarital affairs. If he was the sort of old stud that Suzanne seemed to think, he could have been having relationships after his wife had died, right up to his own death. Which left all sorts of possibilities open. ‘Regardless,’ she added, ‘he didn’t mention them in his will. I don’t think they can come chasing you for more of a cut, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

Suzanne was startled by the sudden waspish note in Abbey’s voice as she finished the sentence.

‘I wasn’t thinking that,’ she said. ‘I was wondering if … if there could be more Fitzpatricks out there, that’s all.’ She could see that Abbey wasn’t convinced. ‘You believe that all I care about is what my father left and who might claim it. That’s not true.’

‘Seems to me it’s what all of you believe,’ said Abbey. ‘At least as far as me and my mom are concerned.’

‘Is she really a nun?’ There was an edge of scepticism in Suzanne’s voice. ‘That’s so bizarre.’

‘Sure is.’

‘D’you know, if you’d said she’d become a Buddhist monk or something I’d have believed it quicker,’ Suzanne said. ‘The whole Catholic thing seems so out of date.’

Abbey couldn’t help smiling. ‘I once said that to her too. She was always a bit hippy-freaky. And a bit of a rebel. So I find it hard to believe that she’s contentedly living by the rulebook in the monastery. Which, as I said already, is a Christian community, not specifically Catholic, not that it makes much difference, I guess.’

‘So have you been in touch with her?’

‘No. I’ve sent a request to the prioress to meet her. But to be perfectly honest, I haven’t a clue what I’m going to say. Or what she’ll say either.’

‘Maybe she’ll take a very Christian view and say that no matter what happens, she’ll gift it back to the family.’

‘That’s what all of you want, isn’t it?’

Suzanne hesitated. ‘Part of me thinks that’s what’s fair,’ she said eventually. ‘But then I think of your mom being handed over to strangers and hauled off to America and airbrushed out of my dad’s past, and I can’t help feeling that she’s entitled to something.’

‘But not that I am,’ observed Abbey.

‘It’s a lot,’ said Suzanne.

‘I know.’

The two of them sat silently for a while, then Suzanne spoke again. ‘I’m using my share of the money for a hotel,’ she said.

Abbey looked at her curiously and Suzanne explained about the Mirador.

‘That’s very entrepreneurial of you,’ said Abbey.

‘I like to do my own thing,’ Suzanne said. ‘I love managing the El Boganto, but this would be a step up.’

‘It sounds lovely.’

‘Why don’t you come?’ Suzanne made the suggestion without giving it much thought. ‘Stay with me for a few days.’

‘So that I can see that you need more of your father’s money?’ asked Abbey.

‘I wasn’t thinking like that,’ said Suzanne. ‘But I guess you have a point.’

Abbey stayed silent.

‘You’re not as sweet and helpless as you seem, are you?’ Suzanne’s tone was thoughtful.

‘Do I seem sweet and helpless to you?’

‘A little,’ said Suzanne. ‘But you’ve clearly got some Fitzpatrick blood in you somewhere. You’ve got some inner toughness too.’

Abbey was taken aback. Nobody had ever called her tough before.

‘Do you want to visit?’ asked Suzanne. ‘No strings, Abbey, I promise. I’d like … well, y’see, I was the only girl. It’s interesting to have another female Fitzpatrick around. It would be nice to get to know you a bit better.’

‘I’m not a Fitzpatrick, I’m an Andersen,’ said Abbey. ‘Besides, I have to get back to the States.’

‘Why?’

‘I have a job.’

‘Doing nails.’

‘And what’s wrong with that?’ Abbey hated sounding defensive.

‘Nothing at all. But you can surely take some time out from it without the world crashing down around your ears?’

‘I’m not sure most of my clients would agree,’ Abbey told her. ‘If the world was crashing down around their ears, they’d want to be sure that at least their nails looked good while it was happening.’

Suzanne laughed. ‘Fair enough. But I’d like you to come. I’d like to get to know you better.’

So that you can ask me to hand over more money to you? wondered Abbey. So that you can buy your hotel?

‘I’ll think about it,’ she said.

‘OK, I’ll admit it.’ Suzanne looked sheepish. ‘I want to freak the boys out.’

‘Why?’

‘One of us getting friendly with the heiress,’ she said. ‘They wouldn’t take that at all well.’

‘Divide and conquer?’

‘Something like that.’

Abbey finished her coffee. ‘I don’t know what my plans are yet, but I’ll tell you when I do.’

‘Sure.’ Suzanne drained her cup too and then stood up. ‘No matter what we think, and no matter what I might say to you, you’re entitled to whatever Dad gave you. Don’t feel bad about it.’

‘If your brothers get their way, I won’t be seeing any of it,’ said Abbey. ‘So don’t you feel bad about that either.’

‘You’re definitely tougher than you look,’ murmured Suzanne.

‘Perhaps everybody is,’ said Abbey.

‘Coming back?’ Suzanne slung her bag over her shoulder.

‘I think I’ll stay here a bit longer,’ Abbey told her. ‘My head still hurts.’

She finally rang Pete and told him everything. He gave a long, low whistle before saying that it was a good thing she’d gone to Ireland because otherwise the old man wouldn’t have given her anything. Obviously Fred had drawn up the will in anticipation of meeting her, and if he hadn’t liked her, he would’ve torn it up. If she’d refused to meet him, he wouldn’t have left her anything at all. It was possible, remarked Pete, that the grinding sound she’d heard had been him shredding the previous will. Abbey said that it would’ve been far more sensible for him to have drawn up the will that favoured her and her mother but not to have signed it until after they’d met. Pete said that older people did strange things sometimes but it was as well he hadn’t waited to sign it, because otherwise he would’ve popped his clogs without leaving her anything. He also said that he was certain the courts would find in her and Ellen’s favour. After all, Fred had brought the will to his solicitor to be witnessed, the solicitor himself was the executor, and there was no obligation on the old man to leave anything to his children. Families often wanted to contest wills because they didn’t like what was in them, but the courts weren’t concerned with what they liked or didn’t like. The courts only wanted to ensure that the dead man’s last wishes were carried out. Given that Fred had no dependent children it was entirely up to him what he did with it.

‘So I doubt they’ll succeed in changing it,’ he finished. ‘If it was my case, I’d be very confident fighting against them.’

Abbey explained about Fred’s dislike of nuns and the Fitzpatricks’ belief that they could use that as a basis to challenge the will if necessary.

‘Not relevant,’ said Pete. ‘You’ve hit the jackpot, honey.’

‘That seems to be the general view, but I didn’t come here to hit the jackpot.’

‘All the same, you have. And I’d take up the sister on her offer to visit her in Spain, too. Find out what makes her tick. Of course she has her own selfish reasons for asking you. Do likewise. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’

‘She’s not an enemy.’

‘Don’t be so naive,’ said Pete.

‘Hmm. Well, right now I’m not sure about staying with her. I only have a few hundred left in my checking account and I don’t want to load up my credit card …’

‘Abbey Andersen! Didn’t you just say you’ve been left a house worth a couple of million?’

‘Me and Mom.’

‘And five thousand in cash?’

She’d completely forgotten about that. The drama about the house had pushed it out of her mind.

‘So you can afford to spend some of it.’

‘I’m sure I won’t see that for ages yet. Besides, I don’t feel it’s mine to spend.’

‘Yes it is,’ said Pete. ‘You’re a good person, Abbey. Your mom is a good person. Why shouldn’t you both be rewarded?’

‘What sort of karma is it to take what we’re given when the rest of them will hate us for ever?’

‘Your mom doesn’t believe in karma,’ Pete reminded her. ‘She’s a reward and punishment person. And it’s time for you to collect your reward.’

‘It sounds almost reasonable the way you say it.’

‘Because it is,’ said Pete. ‘You’re entitled to that money and you’re taking it for yourselves and for that girl, Dilly, too. Don’t forget her. She’s why he wanted you to have it.’

‘I can’t forget her,’ confessed Abbey. ‘I keep thinking about her and how terrible things were for her.’

‘She was your grandmother, Abbey. She was connected to you. That’s why Mr Fitzpatrick is leaving you and your mom the house,’ said Pete. ‘So suck it up, honey. Take what you’ve been given and move on.’

‘It all seems so black and white when I’m talking to you,’ she said.

‘Good. That’s how you’ve got to see it. In the meantime, though, don’t let any of them pressurise you. Go to Spain, get to know this Suzanne woman. Think of this as a business opportunity.’

Abbey could understand why Pete might have that view. He was a lawyer, after all; they saw opportunity all the time. But she didn’t have that perspective and she couldn’t help thinking that perhaps this apparent inheritance was nothing more than a millstone around her neck, making people hate her and her mom. She’d never felt hated before. But then she’d never been rich before either.

She was at breakfast the following morning when Donald and Gareth Fitzpatrick strode into the hotel and sat down at the table opposite her. She felt at a total disadvantage because when they arrived she was tucking into what was known as a full Irish, with bacon, sausage, tomato, egg and mushrooms, along with granary toast and home-made marmalade. It felt to Abbey as though she were feasting on their father’s account as she wiped away the crumbs from her mouth and offered them coffee.

Even though Donald said that they hadn’t come for coffee and pleasantries, neither he nor his brother objected when the waitress placed two cups in front of them and brought another cafetière, along with more toast, to the table.

‘My father is paying for it,’ said Donald as he filled his cup. ‘So I suppose we might as well have something.’

Abbey didn’t know what to say to the two men. She wondered if Suzanne (who she never saw at breakfast) knew that they were here.

‘OK,’ said Donald after he’d added milk and sugar to his coffee and buttered himself a slice of toast. ‘We’re here to tell you that you’d better do the right thing and give up any thoughts of getting your hands on our house.’

‘You’re not entitled to anything from my father,’ Gareth told her. ‘And for you to think otherwise is nonsense.’

‘We want to do this as cheaply and as easily as possible,’ Donald continued. ‘We’ll offer you and your mother twenty-five grand each to forget this ever happened.’

‘Quite frankly, we think that’s more than enough to assuage our father’s misplaced sense of guilt,’ said Gareth. ‘It’s the same sum as he left us and his grandchildren, so it seems perfectly fair to us.’

‘We assume you’ll do the right thing,’ said Donald.