*****
Driving back to the office, Edward turns to his son. “So, what do you make of that Richie?”
“It all sounds good Dad, but what would happen if something went wrong? Suppose he couldn’t keep up the loan payments on that land, for example?”
“There are ways of protecting yourself against that sort of thing, son.”
*****
Michael
Charlotte is white and starting to tremble. Eyes streaming, shaking violently, she drops her face into her hands.
Christ….
…. She’s going to collapse….
James, his expression alarmed, is already rising, but I’m there before him, catching her before she falls.
Supporting her as I guide her back down, I pull her back to cradle her on my lap. She’s not usually a ‘sitting on the knee’ kind of girl, but by any measure, this is a special occasion.
“Shhh….” I kiss her hair, murmuring something to her. She’s sobbing and crying into my chest…. “It’s alright. It’s alright.”
Richard, his face stricken, stands. “Charlotte, I….”
“Just emotional,” I say. “Don’t worry. She’ll be fine in a minute.”
Richard nods, then walks to a cupboard, taking out a bottle of brandy. He splashes a measure into a glass passing it to me, then holds up the bottle, looking around the room.
“Good idea,” says James. “One of those all-round I think.”
“But, this can’t be right,” protests Beth. “Uncle Albert never had a daughter. He only had sons. I knew David and Stephen. There were others who’d grown up and left, but there was definitely no daughter. I would remember.”
“Not if the family disinherited her,” I point out. “Buried her memory.”
“Why would they do that?”
Richard flashes a glance at me and James.
Two women in the room….
…. both with tender nerves here….
“Elizabeth….” he says, his voice gentle, “…. We know that Charlotte's mother was a prostitute. And possibly she was an unmarried mother too. Would that be enough? You know your family better than I do. Would that be enough for them to disinherit the girl?”
Beth’s eyes are shiny. She speaks slowly. “Yes, it might, with Stephen certainly. And when Uncle Albert remarried…. Aunt Delia would never have let a ‘loose woman’ into the house.” She sits, shaking her head. “But…. Surely I should remember something?”
“My Love, you wouldn't have been born for years yet when this all started. And later, you would still have been very young.”
“How old was she?” asks James. “The girl you remember?”
Richard has that faraway look again. “Perhaps four or five….”
“So, she’d be in her mid-forties now?”
“Yes.”
“In other words, just about the right age to be Charlotte’s mother,” concludes James.
Charlotte moves in my embrace, still trembling but wiping her eyes, visibly trying to pull herself together. “Sorry about that.” She’s a bit teary, but the tension is easing from her. James' eyes crinkle, but he says nothing, simply watching her with that look of his that no-one else ever gets.
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