by Jo O'Neil
Chapter Seven
The Amulet
I couldn’t believe it! Mr. Harper, my boss was Hope Harper’s father!!! I know the surname should have been a clue, coupled with the fact Hope also worked at Collins, Harper, and Jones Solicitors. But really, I didn’t have any inkling. Harper was a fairly common name, and there had never been any suggestion the two were related; no office gossip, not even from Molly who earned her nickname ‘Mischief’ from, among other things, being the queen of gossip which usually resulted in much mischief-making.
As I watched my petite arch-enemy offer my parents her condolences, a cocktail of emotion cursed my whole being making me wish I really was dead and not witnessing this scene (flight); to wondering how I could kill Hope and drag her back to heaven with me (fight) (or even better, I could drop her off in hell; although I supposed if I murdered Hope I would be heading to hell also); to finally feeling so drained, I had no energy left to think let alone care. That was until I saw him; my-soon-to-propose-to-me Rupert.
He walked up to my parents, embraced them, and then stepping back he tenderly brushed Hope’s blonde long hair, the perfect colour match to his own, out of the way so he could kiss her forehead, before he pulled her close to him. As I witnessed Rupert’s expression of love towards Hope, I truly felt as if I had found hell.
‘Serena, did you know when snow graces the ground at a funeral it indicates the departed soul has found everlasting peace. You forgave Hope remember?’
In my desolate state I had forgotten A.M. was with me.
Summoning the energy to respond I said, ‘I’ve changed my mind. I hate her, A.M.’
‘My dearest Serena, you do not hate Hope.’
‘Yes I do. I HATE HER. . . I HATE her. . . I hate her.’ My shouting became less intense as my sobs cascaded through. Regaining my composure I continued, ‘She’s ruined my life. If it wasn’t for Hope Harper I would never have even contemplated a breast reduction, and I wouldn’t be in this state of technically not dead, nor am I alive either.
‘If I was still flesh and blood I wouldn’t be here witnessing my own funeral. I wouldn’t have had my heart in my mouth during the entire time my father was reading my eulogy as I wondered if he knows why I was on the operating table; and if he has been made privy to this knowledge, whether he was going to announce it to all the people at my funeral.
‘And then there’s this charity. Is the whole world going to be told the sorrowful tale of “the thirty-year-old Serena, who had her heart crushed when her soul mate was lured away from her by that . . .”’ I hissed in Hopes direction as I seethed over the fact she was still holding the attention of my parents, my boss, and my ex-lover. My rage was so intense that I struggled to finish my sentence. When I did, my ferocity carried over into my words, ‘“by that husband-to-be-stealer. Desolate after being so painfully rejected, Serena thought she wasn’t pretty enough or sexy, so she turned to plastic surgery for help. Tragically, that was to be her biggest mistake, as due to an undetected heart condition Serena lost her life on the operating table.”
‘Is this the story my parents will spin to gain support for their charity, which they’re no doubt hoping will help them make sense of my death. But no one has considered the obvious; my heart was defective because it was broken by Hope Harper when she stole Rupert away from me, so in fact she is a murderess,’ I cried. ‘And another thing. . .’
A.M. allowed me to rant, making no attempt to interrupt me, and no facial expression of any kind to either agree or condemn my words.
‘Why doesn’t God just let all the relevant parties into the deal? Why is it such a secret? I’m sure my bosses would have agreed to my secondment to God’s team. I know a secondment is usually within the same organization. However, if God makes a request, I can’t see anyone, except maybe Lucifer, turning Him down.’
I took a huge gulp of air. The rejuvenating oxygen helped to restore my body to near normality after my tirade. I was starting to feel confident all the toxicity I had built up over Hope had been released when I saw it; on Hope’s left hand gleamed an engagement ring.
It sparkled in the sunlight with glee after its captivity in Hope’s shiny, black leather glove. As the diamonds flashed menacingly at me, my knees buckled underneath my celestial body. But far from ending up as a heap on the floor, A.M. expanded his huge wings and lovingly encased me in them. Not unlike A.M.’s character, his wings were soft and yet very strong. They supported my weight bringing me reassuring familiarity of my old childhood comfort blanket.
‘I feel so broken, A.M.’
‘Serena, ask God to help you.’
‘God is the last person I want help from. Archangel Raziel said God’s will is for Hope Harper and my Rupert to be together. Well they are very much together, and she has the ring that was meant for me leaving me truly out in the cold and dark.’
I pulled away from A.M. as every time I spoke I took in a mouthful of feathers, and instead I stood defiantly, willing myself not to cry as I pulled my cloak protectively tight to me.
A.M. folded his large, powerful wings behind his back as he addressed my comment.
‘God will never leave you out in the cold, or in the dark, Serena. When all else fails you, God will not. Come, there is no more for you to see here.’
‘I need to have a word with Molly before we go. I must find out how much she has told my parents and whether Rupert knows about my surgery.’
‘Molly will not be able to hear you, Serena. Besides, I already know what she did and did not say to your parents, and how much Rupert knows.’
‘Tell me,’ I demanded as I looked expectantly at A.M.
‘Molly told your parents what she needed to. No more or no less was said.’
‘A.M! That’s too cryptic. And what about Rupert - how much does he know?’ I desperately shouted.
‘Come, we must go. There is your will reading to attend, and then we must finalise your assignment details,’ A.M. commanded as he practically dragged me away kicking and screaming; although it wasn’t until I had calmed down that he was able to orb us to my parents’ large detached Edwardian house where my wake was being held.
The neat lawns were unrecognisable under the heavy blanket of snow, which also weighed down the many bushes that bordered my parents’ home, and added insulation to the roof tiles that hadn’t endured as many winters as the one hundred and four year old house. As A.M. and I stepped inside the mosaic tiled hallway, we stood among a sea of people wearing black, a harsh contrast to my angelic white. I surveyed the familiar reception rooms as we made our way to the principle living quarters where I noted Harry Goodwin, my appointed solicitor from Collins, Harper, and Jones, was present.
Harry was a little man in his thirties, with thick, black, tidy hair, and vivid blue eyes that were framed by chunky, black spectacles. Sitting next to him on the white leather sofa I had spent many a happy hour relaxed on was Hope Harper, and next to Hope, with his knee pressed against the strumpet, was Rupert. Lightening Hope’s black attire was a striking, blue, woolen scarf which set her baby blue eyes and ash blonde hair.
‘What’s she doing at my wake?’ My darkening mood demanded an answer of A.M. ‘It’s bad enough she came to my funeral. Who invited her back to my parents’ house so she can flash her ring and gloat?’ I exploded.
A.M. chose not to answer my eruption. Instead, he watched Harry rise from the low seat he’d been perched on, readjust his expensive suit which was practically part of Collins, Harper, and Jones Solicitors brand, and then bending down to pick up his black, Italian leather briefcase in one hand, and the tea cup he’d been supping from in the other, he sauntered off in the direction of my father’s study.
‘Come on, Serena, this way,’ A.M. ordered as he led me by the hand in Harry’s footsteps.
Once in the room my father regularly sought sanctuary from the world, I watched Harry extract my will from his briefcase as I mentally listed the conditions I would
add:
1)A coffin of my choice.
(Out of habit I reached for my tablet to search the web for options before remembering it was currently obsolete.)
2)NO photographs would be displayed unless I had personally selected them.
And the most important clause of all:
3)I would draw up a guest list. On second thoughts, perhaps it would be wiser to make an exclusions list so I didn’t alienate future contacts. Not that I would be too concerned if I did estrange people as I would be dead. Hope Harper would be top of my unpermitted list.
I was alphabetically cataloging my guest list when my parents, my aunt, and Molly filed into the generously sized, heavily wooded paneled room, and sat in the Cavendish, flat winged chairs opposite Harry who was behind my father’s large oak desk.
Harry cleared his throat, took another sip of his tea to lubricate his vocal cords, and began my will reading.
‘May I first offer my condolences to you, Mr. and Mrs. Lewis. Serena will be sadly missed at Collins, Harper, and Jones Solicitors. Although I personally prepared her will, I thought I would be a long time retired, or even dead and buried myself before this document was read.’
My mother pushed back her flame red hair as she raised a hand full of tissues to wipe the tears which were trickling down her cheeks. My father bit into his lip.
‘Serena was a very wealthy, young lady,’ Harry stated as he examined the list of assets on the document before him. ‘There’s Serena’s Mayfair apartment; her condo in New York; the contents of both residence minus the legacies I will detail in due course; various stocks and shares; a rather fine art collection; and even though I understand Serena was a novice wine connoisseur, she collected some fine and valuable vintages. There is also a life insurance policy which will comfortably leave a quarter of a million pounds after mortgage costs and death duties, plus a company policy that pays out a lump sum of half a million pounds on death. Serena leaves all of this to you, Mr. and Mrs. Lewis.’
Harry coughed before continuing, ‘To Amelia Morgan, beloved aunt, Serena leaves her book collection which includes several first editions, and entire wardrobe plus jewellery, save one piece that is bequeathed to another.’
My aunt’s physique, so similar to my mother’s and mine, crumpled in silent sobs until she was barely visible in the large leather chair. The rest of the room shuffled uneasily, desperately willing their own composure to remain firm as Harry pressed on.
‘To Molly Myers, Serena leaves her current vehicle which I believe is a fine sports car.’
Harry leant forward and presented my car keys to a weeping Molly who’d returned them after my demise.
‘It’s funny Serena leaving her beloved car to personal transport phobic me. I confess, I do love Serena’s Merc, but not half as much as I love . . . loved,’ Molly corrected herself, ‘Serena,’ she wailed as she bowed her head, allowing her raven coloured, long hair to fall like curtains over her make-up smeared face.
My aunt who was seated next to Molly, and who had only just composed herself from her own loss of control, shifted awkwardly in her chair to position herself away from my bawling, dear friend. My mother physically struggled not to wither. My father continued to bite his lip as he fought to remain strong.
Still protected by the clemency of my prayer, I was unaffected by the obvious pain of those I loved. In fact, I wasn’t paying too much attention to their sorrow as I was preoccupied by Harry’s words, or to be precise the lack of them.
‘Harry hasn’t mentioned the amulet I’m also leaving to Molly. I wore it briefly in heaven when God permitted me to wear my preferred attire during my first interview with Him. I acquired it when I was in the Himalayas. It first caught my attention because it’s the perfect match to my sapphire graduation ring. But more than that, it’s terribly old and is reported to ward off evil spirits, including the Devil,’ I informed A.M.
‘Lastly, Serena entrusts her cornflower blue sapphire amulet . . .’ Harry announced as if prompted by me.
‘That’s the piece I was talking about,’ I said as I nudged A.M.
Unaware I was speaking, Harry continued, ‘to . . . Oh, she’s not here.’
‘What! What does he mean, “She’s not here?” He’s just given her my car keys!’ I said a little maddened with uncertainty. ‘Molly has always admired it, and I promised I would bequeath it to her.’
Harry shook his head as he declared, ‘Really, I don’t remember this, aside from the fact it quite clearly states . . . I won’t be a moment,’ he said as he rose from my father’s large Directors chair and hurried out of the door.
I looked at Molly’s baffled, pale face, which had abruptly stopped howling with the realisation the sapphire was going to someone else.
‘What’s going on, A.M.? . . . I left my amulet to Molly . . . Look at her . . . She looks betrayed . . . What must she think of me? . . . Let me see my will.’
I frenziedly skated to what was normally my father’s side of the desk. Drawing my finger down my bequests, I stopped at the last entry concerning the sapphire. Just as I was getting to the bestowed name, Harry re-entered with Hope Harper.
‘I didn’t leave anything to Hope Harper, let alone my valuable sapphire amulet,’ I fervidly proclaimed. ‘A.M., please do something? You know I didn’t leave my beautiful sapphire to Hope Harper.’
I was nearly in tears now. Still A.M. ignored me, not for the first time I noted, and let the scene before us unravel.
Hope looked very uncomfortable as she sank into one of the empty, soft leather armchairs. Not daring to risk eye contact with anyone in the room, she forced her stare out of the window behind Harry.
‘Thank you for your patience,’ Harry continued. ‘As I was saying, Serena leaves her cornflower blue sapphire amulet to Hope Harper.’
Molly looked like she’d sucked a very large lemon without tequila as she interjected, ‘This can’t be. Serena promised the amulet to me.’ Her voice trailed off as she finished her sentence, as if she suddenly became aware how her superficial her statement sounded.
Silence tore at the air until Harry took a deep breath and agreed with Molly’s statement.
‘I too recall Serena leaving the gem to you, Molly. But how can that be? It clearly states here in Serena’s last will and testament, Hope is the beneficiary,’ Harry declared more than a little mystified.
‘It must be a mistake,’ Molly reacted shrilly. ‘Everyone knows Serena didn’t like Hope. Sorry, Hope. No offence meant, but it’s true,’ she said in a much softer tone as her ever so slightly flushed cheeks highlighted her discomfort.
Hope bowed her head as she awkwardly tried to hide her own blushed cheeks with a handkerchief.
‘How can it be a mistake?’ my father interposed. ‘This document,’ my father gestured towards the papers at Harry’s fingertips, ‘is a record of my daughter’s last wishes.’
‘Yes, Sir,’ Harry offered. ‘To be diligent, I will check and double check its content with the notes I made of Serena’s meeting with me.’
‘Why? Serena signed her will, didn’t she?’ my father inquired.
Harry checked my will for my signature as I looked irritably over his shoulder, before he assured my father of the documents authenticity.
‘As a precautionary measure, I would prefer to check the facts. You understand, I’m sure, Hope? The firm wouldn’t welcome a law suit if a valuable piece of jewellery was given to the wrong recipient.’
‘Naturally, Harry,’ Hope answered in her soft, sickly voice, as she kept her head bowed down low.
I was furious at the admin mix-up and added to my mental list of amendments:
1)Draw up a new will with a reliable solicitor.
2)Consider a change of employer to a more steadfast firm.
‘It’s settled then. I will check our records and report back,’ Harry confirmed as he shuffled his papers before placing them back inside his briefcase. As he rose from the desk
he awkwardly said, ‘On behalf of Collins, Harper, and Jones Solicitors, can I express my apologies for this incident.’
Then he left leaving my beneficiaries to silently ponder what they had, or in Molly’s case hadn’t, acquired.
With my rage clearly perceptible, I commanded, ‘A.M., I demand to know, WHAT IS GOING ON? And do not tell me “All will be revealed at the right time.”’ I added, ‘please,’ as an after-thought.
‘Come, Serena, we must get back to heaven. God has summoned you.’
