by Anna Jacobs
He and Nonie Jayne were here to decide the fairest way to settle matters financially so that they could finalise their divorce. Arbitration was the only thing they’d agreed about so far, because neither of them wanted to spend a fortune on lawyers and court cases.
He’d refused to give her what she wanted because she’d been ridiculously greedy in her demands. He couldn’t afford to pay that much and keep the home that had been in his family for nearly two hundred years, could he?
And why should he anyway? They’d only been married a short time and she wasn’t dependent on him for living expenses.
Talk about a mismatch. She was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, but once they’d married and started living together full-time, he’d found out that they had nothing whatsoever in common except for physical attraction.
There was a tap on the door and a young man peered in. ‘Sorry to disturb you, Mr Smyth, but there’s an urgent message for Mr Welby and the caller said it was some last-minute information relevant to this meeting.’
Smyth waved one hand in a gesture of permission to pass on the message.
Nonie Jayne folded her arms and let out a huff of annoyance.
‘Mrs Morgan says please could you phone her ASAP, Mr Welby.’
Ross looked sideways at Smyth. ‘She’s my cousin and she’s keeping an eye on my house. I could phone her from the corridor outside, if that’s all right with you? I’ll be quick, I promise.’
Smyth looked at his watch. ‘Why don’t you take it in here, then I can decide immediately whether it’s relevant to our meeting or not? We do need to get on with this.’
So Ross took out his phone and switched it back on. Fiona wouldn’t be phoning him for no reason.
She answered immediately. ‘Ah, Ross. Thank goodness I caught you. There’s been another incident here today, as you suspected there might be, but we repelled the would-be invaders.’
‘Thanks, Fiona. I owe you for that.’
‘There’s more. The private investigator phoned. He said your ex was definitely behind the other attempt to get into your house and he found out something else. I’ve sent you an email with a summary and an attachment containing the details.’
‘Good.’
‘How’s it going?’
‘Slowly.’
He ended the call and switched over to his emails, reading the summary and attachment. Surely this would make a difference to the final payment? He didn’t want to lose his long-time family home. He turned to the arbitrator. ‘This is definitely relevant to our conversation today, Mr Smyth. See for yourself.’
Nonie Jayne cast a suspicious glance across the table and said in a sharp voice, which was in great contrast to her usual soft tone, ‘Surely what we’re doing is more important than him picking up his emails!’
Ross ignored her and held out the phone to the arbitrator. ‘Here.’
Smyth glanced quickly at the summary, then looked at Ross. ‘May I see the attachment as well?’
‘Yes, of course.’
A couple of minutes later, Smyth asked, ‘Why is your cousin involved?’
‘I asked her to look after my house while I was at this hearing because there has already been an attempt to enter it unlawfully. I also hired a security guard to stay with her, not only for her protection but as an independent witness.’
Nonie Jayne pushed her chair back and stood up, her American accent stronger than usual. ‘This is not why we’re here today. I won’t stay to—’
The arbitrator looked at her. ‘I think you’d better stay, Ms Larson. Unless you’re not interested in having any input into my final decision.’
All hung in the balance for a moment, then she sat down, scowling at them. ‘I should have been allowed my own attorney today.’
She’d said that several times and Smyth ignored her remark. ‘This appears to be proof that you’ve been married four times, not two.’
‘That isn’t a crime!’
‘But you stated in your deposition that Ross was your second husband.’
She shrugged.
‘And you apparently received large settlements when your former marriages broke up, so you’re not as short of money as you claimed.’
Another shrug and a scowl in Ross’s direction.
He was still trying to get his head round the idea that he’d been her fourth husband.
‘Finally, you seem to have hired people to remove certain objects from Mr Welby’s house. You gave them front door keys, so they must have assumed that you had right of entry.’
Nonie Jayne’s face twisted with anger and the glance she threw at Ross would have curdled milk. ‘Well, it’s my house too and I had possessions to retrieve. He wouldn’t let me in.’
‘What possessions?’
‘Some ornaments that I’m particularly fond of.’
Ross leant forward. ‘Every single item of yours has been returned to you, Nonie Jayne, as you well know. You not only signed a statement to that effect but gave me back the house keys. Which means you must have kept a set.’
She smirked at him briefly, then turned back to the arbitrator and put on her big-eyed, mournful face. ‘I hadn’t remembered everything when I made the first list, Mr Smyth, I was so upset about him throwing me out. These sentimental items are still missing and he won’t let me in to find them.’
Smyth spoke again and this time his voice sounded much more forceful. ‘Let me remind you once again that it isn’t your house any longer, Ms Larson. We established that at the beginning of today’s session and you should take it on board. Mr Welby has offered you a sum of money in full quittance of any further financial obligations, to help you reorganise your life. Since The Gatehouse has been his family’s home for over two hundred years, it’s perfectly reasonable for him to keep it and for you to move on.’
She blinked her eyes and a couple of tears rolled down her cheeks. Ross knew she could do that at the drop of a hat.
‘That’s sooo unfair! I loved living there and it quickly became my home as well! We don’t have such beautiful old places in the States.’
Ross snorted in disgust. ‘If you loved it so much, why were you looking into selling it just before we split up?’
‘I didn’t!’
He pulled some papers out of his document case. ‘I have statements here from two estate agents about being invited to look round and value the house. I was away on business on the dates they gave me, Mr Smyth. Luckily for me, one of the agents was a friend’s son, who asked me why I was selling, or I might not have known about that.’
‘I only wanted to know how much it was worth.’
There was a pregnant silence, then she began to sob, doing it as prettily as she did everything when she was on display. She looked very different when indulging in a private quarrel, not nearly as pretty then.
Ross leant forward, raising his voice. ‘And the people you sent to the house to retrieve things were trying to take away my most valuable silver, Nonie Jayne. Family treasures.’
‘You gave them to me after we got married.’
‘I’d never do that. They’re family heirlooms to be passed on to the next generation.’ Ross turned to Smyth. ‘The items she’s talking about are described and listed in the prenuptial agreement.’ He pulled out his copy of it from his folder and showed them, highlighted in bright yellow, offering it to the arbitrator.
‘I have a copy, Mr Welby, thank you.’ Smyth turned back to Nonie Jayne. ‘Ms Larson, you both signed this to say that in case of a break-up you’d each keep what you brought to the marriage.’
The sobs stopped abruptly. ‘A prenup isn’t legally binding in the UK. Everyone knows that.’
Smyth leant forward, speaking slowly and clearly. ‘As I said earlier, it may not be legally binding, but most people consider it morally binding these days. You should view the one you signed in that way, especially given the brevity of your marriage, Ms Larson. And actually, the British courts have been increasingly taking note o
f prenups during the past few years, as long as they’ve been drawn up and signed in a proper legal fashion. Which yours was. The contents of The Gatehouse were checked and the valuable items photographed by an independent valuer as part of that process.’
Ross didn’t say anything. His cousin Fiona was the one who’d nudged him to make a prenuptial agreement and he was extremely grateful to her for that.
When Nonie Jayne moved out, after only a few months of marriage, she’d taken a valuable figurine and several pieces of family silver with her. The latter had been traced by the police to London and CCTV had shown the seller to be his ex. He’d threatened to accuse her of theft if she didn’t return the rest of the things she’d taken and he’d found them one day on his doorstep. He hadn’t had her charged because he’d got the items back.
All he wanted now was to get his divorce finalised and never speak to her again.
Unfortunately, around the time they broke up, his health had begun to deteriorate and then his great aunt Iris had fallen ill. He’d had to supervise the old lady being moved into a hospice until she’d died, which had distracted him more than a little.
After one very stiff visit, Nonie Jayne hadn’t gone near his aunt – he could see now that she’d been making sure Iris wasn’t wealthy and had lost interest at the mere sight of the small house. He doubted she’d even remember now where his aunt had lived.
He missed Iris greatly and was finding it hard to get down to clearing her house. He would inherit everything from her once they got probate, and it might be mercenary, but thank goodness Iris had died after he and Nonie Jayne had separated, so that his ex had no claim to a share of the inheritance.
His aunt hadn’t been rich but she’d left him a small house, which would bring in enough to more than make up for this expensive mess.
The arbitrator looked at Ross. ‘All right if I download this document from your private investigator? It’ll be relevant to keep a copy of it in our records.’
‘Yes, of course. I’ll send it to you as an email attachment, shall I? No, how about you do that yourself? Then you’ll be certain that what you get won’t have been tampered with.’
‘Thank you. I will, if you don’t mind. But please watch me do it. I don’t want to make a mistake or for there to be any doubt in your mind – or Ms Larson’s – about exactly what I’ve done.’
Ross leant closer, nodding as the correct file was forwarded.
Nonie Jayne didn’t attempt to check, just drummed her fingers on the tabletop and muttered something to herself.
When he’d finished forwarding the files, Smyth stood up. ‘Excuse me for a moment.’
After he’d left the room, Nonie Jayne said in a low voice, ‘You’ll regret cheating me like this, Ross Welby.’
‘No, I won’t, because I’m not cheating you. You should let your attempt to get more money out of me drop right now. You’re leaving our farce of a marriage with a good profit, far more than you could have earned in a year working as a model. Be content with that.’
‘You could’ve afforded to be a lot more generous, you cheapskate. My other husbands were.’
‘You must have way overestimated my wealth or I doubt you’d have married me in the first place. I think you were also dazzled by the idea of living in a historical house, however small. I’ve had to make serious economies to buy you off and you’re not getting another penny beyond that if I can help it.’
‘Just watch me!’
He’d never seen her so angry or heard her talk so wildly.
‘Excuse me.’ Smyth had returned and was standing in the doorway listening unashamedly. ‘I wonder if you could confirm that you have a copy of the settlement suggested by Mr Welby, Ms Larson?’
‘Of course I do.’ She tapped the papers in front of her. ‘It’s pitiful. How can he cry poverty with all those valuable items in the house?’
He came in and closed the door, sitting down before he continued. ‘Please listen carefully: my finding, in view of what has happened today at The Gatehouse and your previous marital situation, and also in view of the very specific prenuptial agreement, is that this list be applied to your situation.’
Nonie Jayne looked older and not nearly as pretty when she gave in to her temper, Ross thought as she stood up and thumped the table.
‘He’s cheating me!’
‘No, he isn’t.’
‘I shall definitely appeal!’ She grabbed her papers and stamped out of the room like a child throwing a tantrum.
Smyth switched off the recording device and looked at Ross. ‘You expected something like this to happen today, didn’t you?’
‘Yes. As far as I can work out, she’s been using her beauty to make serial marriages and build herself a fortune and she’s furious that I’m not as rich as she thought.’
‘Worried about her making an appeal?’
‘Yes.’
‘Off the record, I doubt she’ll succeed, though of course I can’t guarantee anything. But this is England and she seems to be judging everything by American precedents. I think you’ve been very reasonable, given the circumstances.’ He paused and frowned. ‘Have you any idea of what she is worth financially?’
‘I know what she says she’s worth.’
He grinned. ‘Maybe if your PI can find that out, you could ask her for financial support.’
Ross rolled his eyes. He didn’t want anything from her.
Picking up his document case, he stuffed the papers back into it. This mess was his own fault. If he hadn’t stupidly rushed into marriage, it would never have got to this stage. Only, his first marriage had been so happy he’d somehow expected a second one to be the same. He rubbed his forehead, which had started to ache again.
‘Are you all right, Mr Welby? You’ve gone rather pale.’
‘I think I’m coming down with the flu.’ He didn’t tell people he had been diagnosed with chronic fatigue syndrome. Some folk still thought it was an imaginary illness. He wished! Perhaps he should take a holiday or something.
And leave his house unoccupied? No way! He wouldn’t feel safe until Nonie Jayne found another fool to marry, hopefully one who lived in Timbuktu!
Chapter Three
Lara slowed down as she left the motorway and drove through the village of Marlbury, which was the closest place to her destination. It was as picturesque as its online photos. She’d take the time to explore it one day.
With the satnav guiding her, she easily found Penny Lake, just to the south. Pushing her tiredness aside, she parked and went into the hotel before she did anything else, smiling at the woman in reception. ‘I’d like a room for a night or two, please.’
‘I’m so sorry but we’re fully booked tonight. We have a big wedding on, you see. They’ve taken every single room and even so, some of their guests have had to stay elsewhere.’
‘Oh dear.’
‘We’ve rooms free from tomorrow onwards, if that’s any use, and I can direct you to somewhere nearby for tonight.’
‘Thank you. That’d be helpful. I’d better book a room for tomorrow while I can.’
She took the business card of a B&B and walked out to her car, feeling leaden with fatigue and disappointment. As she glanced to her right she could see the village, looking just like its most recent online photos. She drove the couple of hundred yards to the sales office, which was still open, thank goodness.
A woman of about her own age looked up from the desk.
‘I’m Lara Perryman. I’m supposed to be taking possession of my house today.’
‘Ah, yes! Welcome back to England! I’m Molly Santiago. We’ve been emailing each other for months, so I feel I know you. It’s great to meet in person.’
They shook hands.
‘Want to look round your house?’
‘I’d love to. I can’t do an inspection or anything today, though. I’ve just got back from Australia and I haven’t slept for about thirty hours.’
‘You must be exhausted!’
/> ‘Way beyond that but I’d still like a quick peek at the house.’
Molly pulled out a sign that indicated she’d be back soon, took some keys out of a drawer and stood up. ‘Let’s go.’
They walked down a gentle slope and past a few neat houses at various stages of being built. There was a large, completed house beyond the short terrace of houses, with a car in the parking bay. One of the ‘detached residences’, as the brochure had called them, but it was the small terrace of six houses that Molly headed for.
She flourished one hand at the left-hand house. ‘This one is yours.’
As if Lara hadn’t devoured the online photos till she knew every pixel by heart!
Unlocking the door, Molly gestured to Lara to go inside first. ‘I’ll have to come round with you until we officially hand it over and sign the forms. Sorry to intrude on this special moment but we have to be so careful with insurance requirements.’
Lara had been walking round the house mentally for months and as she did it for real, she was thrilled to find it had turned out just as she’d hoped: clean, bright spaces and polished wooden floors. Not a big house, but with decent-sized rooms – there was only her to live in it, after all. A quick look round thrilled her. Her daughter was right. It had been beautifully finished.
She was so looking forward to moving in and furnishing it to her exact taste after the years of rented, characterless ‘executive accommodation’, mostly in serviced apartments.
She went outside onto the back patio, from which she could see part of the lake itself to the right. It was only about three hundred yards away and she could see herself strolling round it regularly.
Then a huge yawn caught her unawares. ‘Sorry. I’d better go and find somewhere to stay. I gather there are a couple of bed and breakfasts nearby.’
‘Aren’t you staying at the hotel?’
‘Unfortunately they’ve no vacancies.’
‘Oh yes, it’s the Callander wedding tonight. Big affair.’ Molly stopped walking to frown, then said, ‘You look exhausted.’
‘Tell me about it.’ Another yawn fought its way out.
‘Um, should you be driving?’
