No going back - 2. Solicitor's Surprise

Mhairi and I ended up having a second bottle of wine, and it was a very merry pair that finally left Leo's. Oh, don't get me wrong, my relationship with Mhairi would always be prickly, our shared history saw to that. But we could now say things to each other and talk things out. We'd never been in a position to do that before. As the evening had worn on, we had even managed to have some discussion about gay men, marriage and that, and things between us might be OK.

I wondered whether this was a complete mistake, returning home to live. But it felt right and well, fuck it, Mhairi and I could live in the same town and not come to blows, couldn’t we? Even if we weren't all that friendly. We had little in common, after all, and, well, I was damned if I was going to continue organising my life according to the mess Father left behind. Humph.

I was a bit more committed to staying than I'd let on to Mhairi. I'd had details of a rather nice house from the estate agent and had just exchanged contracts. It required doing up. A lot. It would be a nice project to keep me occupied and, shit, if I decided I didn't like the place then I'd sell the house and move on. Just get this stupid solicitor's meeting over. Why the hell I needed to be there, I didn't know. I'd swear there would be no mention of me in Father's will.

The solicitor's office was an anonymous modern building, furnished with modern copies of old furniture. All rather horrible really. The solicitor was an alarmingly young man and rather nervous. Surely, he'd done this before. There was him, me and Mhairi and that was it, no-one else.

He coughed, "We're here to wind up your Father's affairs. There is little to concern us in your Father's will. It will come as no surprise, Mr Hargreaves, that you are not mentioned. Apart from a substantial bequest to his Church, the Brethren of Jerusalem, you are the principal beneficiary, Mrs James. Your Father’s savings and investments go to the Church as do half the proceeds from the sale of the house, the remainder going to Mrs James.”

I looked over at Mhairi and she shrugged, not generous but she’d get more than we’d anticipated. But savings and investments? It sounded as if the old bugger was better off than we’d realised.

The sound of the solicitor’s voice brought me back to the present, “But it is your Grandfather's will that really concerns us here, as you are no doubt aware, your Father's death brings about the provisions of that will".

He stared at us expectantly, Mhairi answered first, "What provisions? What on earth has my Grandfather got to do with it?"

"You are not aware that the two of you are beneficiaries of your Grandfather’s will?"

"Our Father never mentioned Grandfather's will. As far as we were concerned, there was no money from Grandfather. That Grandfather’s businesses had all been sold in the 1950s and the money had all been spent."

"Quite the contrary, I am afraid. When your Grandfather died, I understand that he and his son were at odds. Mr Hargreaves' senior left the money in trust for you two, to get control of the trust when you both reached 21."

"Both. You mean Mhairi had to wait until I was 21?"

"That is correct."

"So, what happened?"

"Your Father successfully applied to have the Will's provisions delayed until his own death. I might add that technically, there are two trusts, one from your Grandfather and one from your Grandmother."

We stared each other, it was I who broke the silence, "The evil fucker."

Mhairi gave a tight smile, "I can't disagree with that one. What does it all actually mean?"

The solicitor sighed, "I must apologise, this must all seem extremely unprofessional. The solicitor who handled this is long departed, and he was with another firm whose business my firm took over. I understand that the gentleman in question was a friend of the late Mr Hargreaves."

Mhairi shook her head, "Oh, no doubt one of his cronies at Church."

The solicitor shrugged, "As I say, I can only apologise. Your Father was the client, and everything was done according to his wishes."

Mhairi and I looked at each other and sort of understood. Leave till later. "So, what are the provisions of Grandfather's will, and these two trusts?", Mhairi glared at the solicitor, who had the grace to look profoundly uncomfortable.

He blinked and nodded, “It might help if I gave you some background. Your Grandparents’ testamentary provision was complex”, and he tapped a rather thick manila folder on his desk. “Your Grandparents evidently decided to separate the business from your Grandmother’s personal inheritance. After you were born, Mrs James, she transferred money to trust which would mature when her grandchildren were all 21 years old.”

“Hang on, it was created before I was born.”

“That is correct, Mr Hargreaves. It was to be divided between all surviving grandchildren. Their original intention had been for the business to go to your Father.”

“Only, by the time Mhairi came along, there was no business.”

“And your Grandfather’s contradictory and constantly changing testamentary provisions rather suggest that indeed he and his son, your Father, were at odds. The ultimate result was that under the terms of his will, a second trust was created which ran in parallel with that created by his wife.”

“Which means.”

“The same trustees, the same conditions. The two would mature at the same time.”

“But…”

He cocked his head, “Two things happened. The first was serendipitous. After the sale of the companies, your Grandfather had been left with some tracts of land, former factories in areas where land was of little value. This was the value taken at probate, but after his death improvements in infrastructure in Manchester and urban renewal led to some of the land being valued highly and it was sold at considerable profit, thus benefiting your trust.”

“Hang on, this happened when?”

“Around 20 years ago.”

“And we didn’t know anything about it.”

“Thanks to the second event, the variation in the terms of the wills, you would not take possession of the trust until your Father’s death. The trustees acted independently. They did, however, do a fine job in concert with the financial advisors. Things have been admirably managed and, of course, your Grandmother’s money has lain untouched since the 1980s.”

“And accumulating.”

He nodded. “I understand she liquidated a number of assets including her jewellery for the funds. You will, of course, be able to do with it as you wish and we will put you in contact with the financial advisor, but at the moment the income from the fund would amount to between ten and twenty thousand pounds per annum."

"Each?"

"Each", he nodded, and Mhairi screamed. I understood, it wasn't with delight, it was with anger and frustration. How dare he!

"Do you reckon he was punishing us", I was puzzled about why he'd hidden it.

"Perhaps he felt that it was tarnished money, evil."

"I thought Grandfather owned a paper mill?"

"That's what was left, but there was other stuff. I think there might have been arms or something during the war?"

"Explains it. But still. I imagine you could have done with that money?"

She nodded, "There were times. When things were tight. We could have used it to help Joe do stuff at school. It gets pricey when they're that age, so many extras. Dad never said a word."

"To you."

"What do you mean?"

"That stuff you mentioned, about Nathan going on at you about inheritance."

Mhairi went a bit white, "Oh. Gawd. You don't think. He told Nathan. He bloody well told Nathan. All that wasn't about the money from Dad, it was about fucking 15 grand a year." I'd never heard her swear, but I understood. "I'm going to have to tell Joe, and he'll be annoyed."

"Why?"

"He's annoyed at me for splitting with his Dad. He's annoyed at his Dad for being so stupid; for having such poor taste, for cheating in the first place and for getting caught so embarrassingly.”

I snorted, “I can imagine, having your Dad found so publicly, and with a girl younger than you…”

Mhairi pulled a face, “And he’s annoyed with the world because he wanted things as they were. "

"Won't this be good news?"

"What, that his Grandad was pretending that there wasn't a bundle of money waiting for us and went out of his way to make sure we didn't get it. Hmm. I'm not sure I'm best pleased with Dad myself. If he wasn't dead…."

"You'd kill him", she laughed. Thankfully.

"Would you have a word with him? Perhaps meet him from school and take him for a drink, then come back to us."

I looked at her and pulled a face. It wouldn’t be my best introduction to my nephew, but I could sketch in the background as I saw it and at least he wasn’t’ pissed off with me. Yet. "OK"

"You could come back now, if you want to put your feet up. Recover from all this."

"Thanks, but I won't. I have some jobs to do. I need to go to the Parish Church and sort some things out. You are welcome to come along, and we could grab a bite to eat afterwards?"

Mhairi angled her head and gave me a funny look, "The Parish Church? Since when did you go to the Parish Church?"

I grinned, "It's a long story. I can start as we walk along if you want?"

We walked back to the Market Place and then along Church Walk. The church was just the same, perhaps a bit tidier. Despite creeping redevelopment, it still sat in its own green area, surrounded by some of the towns older buildings. The view along Church Walk remained one of Netherwich’s iconic images, with the pink sandstone of the church glowing in the sun. Now there was also proud notice about restoration thanks to a Heritage Lottery Grant.

"I told you about Lily and all that, and her leaving me the proceeds from the sale of her house. Well, not all of it, there were bequests to the Parish Church and that, but when I started doing well, I began to feel guilty. Stupid, I know, and I can just hear her being furious at me. So, rather than simply writing them a cheque, I waited and sent a big donation for that", I nodded at the notice about the restoration, "and they put me on the mailing list."

Mhairi pulled a face, "Chasing after more money?"

"Something like that. But they've currently got a project to re-landscape their Garden of Rest. You can donate and have your name on a stone. There are bigger things too, and I want to dedicate a seat to Lily."

"Sort of like those benches in the park?"

"Yes, but a bit more permanent and in the Garden of Rest. As a gesture, it's a bit on the romantic side, but part of me can hear Lily laughing at the idea of people sitting on her." Mhairi stared at me, puzzled, "Sorry, just my mad brain. Look, when I've sorted this out, do you want to come and see my house?"

"The one you're renting?"

"No, the one I'm buying."

"But I thought..."

I gave an awkward shrug, "I wasn't sure how we'd..."

"Whether we'd be at each other's throats or not?"

"That's about it."

She nodded, "I get that. And we're not. So I get to see this house", all said with something like a smile.

---

"Fancy."

It was an estate house, built in the 1990s, big garden, detached but not too big, in a small enclave within walking distance of the shops in Pocklington. So, not in the centre of town but close enough that you could just about walk if you fancied it.

Mhairi's comment had something of an edge to it. I tried not to get defensive. "Not quite as fancy as it looks. Just two bedrooms and box room, 20 years with one careful owner. So, a ton of work needing doing."

"Not moving in tomorrow, then!"

"Hardly. The previous owner expanded the kitchen with a sort of conservatory."

"Nice."

"Would be if the new bit wasn't parting company from the main house."

"Sounds expensive."

"Time consuming. A money pit."

"Or a project?"

"Precisely."

We stared at it for a bit. There was something else. Finally, Mhairi continued, "When you settle here, what are you going to do? I don't mean work wise, but the rest?"

"I don't know. Worried that I'll be haunting your gaff?"

"Hardly. But, from what you've said, your life was high-speed, with no time for hobbies and interests."

"I want to find out. Try to be a slower kind of guy. And Mhairi?"

"Yes?"

"Whilst I won't haunt your place, having it as an option when I go stir crazy, would be good."

She smiled, "I think we could manage that."

"And you will be relieved to know that I do have a list."

"Mmm?"

"Start going to church more often", her eyes widened, "Not that church. The Parish Church. I've been going to the odd Anglican service, and I've found that I like decent music and stuff. Thought I'd give it a go and see what I can salvage."

"You've not lost it then?"

"No, not lost, more mislaid. Faith is still there somewhere, just not sure where."

"Me too. I've still not quite worked things out."

"Perhaps you should come to the Parish Church with me", this got a look but also a nod. "And I thought I'd try and join a choir. I've done a bit of singing, but nothing regular; I wanted to try. And start walking; the doctors all say it's the best exercise. Oh and finish doing up the house, and the garden."

She smiled, "Is that it?"

"One thing more, perhaps more of a longer-term aim. Find a nice, dependable, loveable regular boyfriend."

"Tall order?"

"Don't make 'em on trees but", I shrugged, "I've never had a proper boyfriend before. No-one reliable and regular."

"Never any time?"

"Precisely".

Mhairi knew a nice cafe in the park that separated Pocklington from the town centre. As we walked there, neither of us could avoid returning to the burning issue of Father and the money.

“You reckon we could sue?”

“For delaying the will?”

“It’s got to be illegal, surely?”

“We’d need to find out what was done and whether it was legal. But who would we sue?”

“Hmm. That lot’d probably shift the blame. You heard the young solicitor, not us guv, not our fault.”

“It might be possible to go through the Law Society, but I bet we’d have to prove some sort of material damage.”

She stared at me, “You mean telling them about how short of money we were when Joe was young and how Nathan and I would have fights about it?”

“Something like that. Would you be up for that?” She pulled a face but didn’t say anything. “Besides, if we do that, we still have the old bugger looming over our lives.”

Mhairi nodded, “About time we laid him and his ghost to rest, eh? You may be right.”

We had coffee and a sandwich and reminisced about all the good bits.

---

I suppose Joe's school had existed in my day. The name rang a bell, but I didn't recognise it today, an anonymous structure that could have been built anytime in the last 20 years. Definitely a recent innovation was the alarming-looking fence, complete with security gates. The street was full of cars waiting for the precious loved ones, Mhairi and I lurked across the street. First, the hell-hordes of the more junior pupils, then the seniors, loping out trying to look cool.

Joe appeared with mates then looked up and started when he saw us. I gathered that Joe's Mum meeting him wasn't a regular occurrence and when she said that I had things to tell Joe, he went watchful and quiet. Great.

"We ought to go to a cafe. You choose - a Coke and a cake on me."

"I choose?" He was still suspicious.

"Well, as long as its nearby. I don't fancy a 40-minute trek."

His response was a grunt, "There's a nice place in the parade by St Thomas' Church. Don't let school kids in, but I reckon…"

"You should be OK with me?"

"Yeah?"

"OK. And I think I know where it is."

St Thomas' was a red-brick Victorian church, part of the town's 19th-century expansion as a result of industrialisation. Now used as some sort of community hub, there was, amazingly, still a functioning parade of shops. The cafe was rather fancy, and the cakes were impressive and reassuringly expensive. And you could even use their catering services.

"Your Mum wanted me to tell you about our news today."

"Grandad's will?"

"Yes, but I thought if might be useful if I filled you in on some background as well."

"About you?"

"And your Mum and your Dad. You'll have heard some of it already, but this is sort of my side to things."

"OK"

He didn't seem overjoyed, but I wanted to at least get him to think about everything that had been going on. I saw it as providing informed background, but perhaps I was really fuelled by my resentment at what Father had been doing and my growing suspicion of Nathan.

"I discovered I was gay when I was 15, though I decided to keep it to myself till I left for Uni."

"Because of Grandad?"

"Yes. But he found out."

"How?"

"I'm still not sure. But he and my Mother gave me an ultimatum. Repent and go to a Summer Camp or leave."

"Conversion Therapy. Isn't that illegal?"

"It might be now, but it certainly wasn't back then. I said no. So, I had to leave when my exams were over. Long story sort, I stayed with one friend and my boss at the supermarket helped me find a flat and a job in Manchester."

"Grandad and Grandma?"

"I let them know my address, and I kept doing that. But I never heard from them again, ever."

"You've not seen Grandad or Grandma since?"

"20 years ago. When I was 18. Mind, I didn't search them out, I never turned up on their doorstep."

"Because you weren't going to Repent?"

"Precisely. I hadn't changed my mind, and I'm damn sure he hadn't."

"Blimey. Mum said..."

"That I'd just up sticks and left. That's what my Father told her", I shrugged, "told everyone, I expect."

"What would you have done if you weren't gay?"

"Come back here after my degree? Like your Mum, got married, become disenchanted with the Church, got divorced?"

"Like my Mum."

"Yes, sorry."

We were quiet and Joe finished his cake.

"OK?"

He grinned, "Wicked. Can I ask a question?"

"Of course."

"Grandad wasn't a nice man?"

"He was inflexible. Everyone had to live by his rules, or rather his interpretation of God's rules. No disputes, no questions."

"My house, my rules."

"Yes. And they were tough rules. Father's God was a fierce, uncompromising one. But. There were good bits too. Believe it or not, I do have some happy memories of times spent away from the Church. Long walks, getting told how to spot a greater crested warbler or something."

Joe laughed, "That's not a real bird."

"Sorry, forgotten everything I ever learned about birds. But there were wonderful walks."

"Mum has a picture."

"Probably taken when we walked a bit of Offa's Dyke. A bloke took our picture, one of the rare really happy family photos. So no, he wasn't all bad."

"Just fierce."

"Uncompromising. There's a bit more that we learned today."

"About Grandad's Will?"

"Yes. But when I was 18, I simply disappeared and as far as I could see, Father never seemed bothered. Then your Mum got in contact though Facebook around 10 years ago."

"Facebook. Mum?"

"Believe it or not. We had a fairly careful correspondence until I realised that I could say the word gay, and she wouldn't turn purple and explode."

Joe laughed, "No, Mum's pretty cool, actually."

"Yeah. So I've found out. I was ill when your Grandma died, so couldn’t have come to the funeral, even if I wanted to.”

“Would you have? Come, that is, if you’d been well?”

“I’m not sure, it’s taken me a hell of a long time. Getting to the point where I could walk into the Church…”

He gave an embarrassed smile, “Without turning purple and exploding?”

“Something like that. Only, now I've got over the illness, I've been told to slow down. I came for your Grandad's funeral, but also because I'm moving here. I'm taking a new job with my firm, based here, working mainly at home and partly out of the new business park."

"Wow. So, you'll be around?"

"Yes. Not sure how, when or whatever. And you can't just stick families back together, but I want to try."

Joe's phone pinged, he checked the message and went a bit embarrassed. "It's from my ...., from Melanie. She's a friend. Is it OK if she comes over?"

"Sure, I'll get the stuff over with. Now we come to the more modern stuff. About your Mum and Dad."

"About Mum and Dad?"

"Yes. It's relevant, believe me."

"Do you know my Dad?"

"He was around when I was at Church. Older than me, and not yet going out with your Mum. But I hadn't seen him since then, until the funeral. Well, last year, he and the new Minister evidently started suggesting that your Mum's inheritance from her Father should go to your Dad, like a good Christian wife."

"Yeah, she got a bloke Lawrence recommended to sort things out."

"Yes. But turns out the inheritance is more than we realised."

"More. How much?"

"Five figure sum." His eyes widened, "Per year."

"That's… Hang on, I thought that Grandad had said the business folded, ages ago?"

"It did, in the 1960s. He was correct. But there was money left. Both my Grandfather and Grandmother left a substantial amount to Mhairi and me. Not to Dad."

He stared at me, beetle browed, "Why not?"

"We suspect, and it's only suspect, that my Dad didn't want anything to do with it."

"Because he didn’t want the money?"

I waggled my head, "No… During the war, some of my Grandparent's factories were converted to making stuff for the war effort."

"Guns and things?"

"Probably more like, and things, but loosely, making arms."

"And Grandad would not have approved. He were fiercely anti-war, I remember."

"Yes. He even got a crony to arrange to have the provisions of his Father's will delayed."

"Delayed? Can you do that?"

I shrugged again, "Seems so. But the firm that did it is long gone, as is the solicitor responsible and he was probably a Church buddy of Dad’s anyway. Your Mum's solicitors just picked up the paperwork, so to speak. They don’t know any of the background. So, here we are now. Our Dad has died, so your Mum and I get the money."

"Five figures. Each year."

"Each."

"Blimey. Mum must be…"

"Furious."

He blinked and then gave me a slow smile, and nodded, "Yeah, I can imagine. Grandad keeping her in the dark and money we could have used. Things have been tight, though they pretended not. Look, what's Dad got to do with this."

"Well, before things went pear shaped."

"You mean Dad getting caught with a teenage girl?"

"Yes. Before then, your Dad was on at your Mum about her inheritance from her Father and how like any good Christian wife, the money ought to come to him."

"Right…"

"We think that your Grandad had told him."

"What, Grandad had told Dad about the money, but not mentioned it to Mum?"

"It fits."

"Blimey, no wonder she's angry. But we're rich, right?"

"At some point."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the Will needs to go through Probate, people need to check it, sort out tax and that. It can take a long time. As in months or a year."

"And there'll be no money till then?"

"Nope."

"Bugger." And his face fell.

I wondered what he wanted the money for. I didn’t ask, I was sure that I’d find out at some point, and I wasn’t sure that I wanted to be too involved in Joe’s disputes with his parents. The advent of Melanie, his presumed girlfriend, put paid to our discussion. She was smart and polite, but I didn’t warm to her, and it was clear she wanted to be elsewhere, with Joe, presumably alone.