by Anna Jacobs
‘Mmm.’
‘It’s got to be mine. You’ve not been with anyone else for over a year.’
She turned her back on him, not knowing what to say.
‘Nikki, why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because it was me who was careless, not you, so why should you be lumbered with a child? And because I don’t know what I want to do. I need to work things out – only I can’t seem to think straight.’ She began to cry again and when he put his arm round her shoulders, she leaned against him with a tired sigh, not even aware they were moving across the room till he spoke.
‘Sit down, Nikki. Peppermint tea, you said?’
He made two cups and came to sit across the coffee table from her this time, not beside her like he usually did. ‘It doesn’t matter who was careless. If it’s my child, it’s my responsibility too. What does your mother think?’
‘She wants me to have an abortion as soon as she gets back from Australia. Grandfather’s just died and she’s gone to the funeral.’ She peeped at him over her cup and saw him go very still.
‘Do you want to do that, have an abortion, I mean?’
She took a sip, then another. When she looked up, he was still waiting. ‘I don’t think so.’
Then he was the one who cried, silent tears that he tried to wipe away.
‘I don’t want you to kill our child, Nikki. Promise me you won’t do that. Promise.’
‘If I have it, I won’t be able to go to university. If you and I raise it together, neither of us will be able to get a degree, or not for years and years. That seems stupid.’
He was silent for a minute or two, then gave her a wry smile. ‘I can’t imagine you with a baby.’
She couldn’t help smiling back. ‘Like, you’re an expert on them.’
‘I’ve never even held one.’
They looked at one another.
‘It’s scary.’ Her voice wobbled.
‘I know. But don’t do anything without me, Nikki love, especially not something so irrevocable.’
He moved across to sit beside her and she cuddled up to him with a sigh of relief.
His breath was warm on her cheek. ‘Are we back together?’
‘I suppose.’
‘Aren’t you sure?’
‘It’s Mum. You know what she’s like. She says she’s not having a baby here and I’ve got to have an abortion or get out. And . . . well, when she sets her mind to something, when she gets that look on her face, she’s like, Bulldozers R Us. I’ve never been able to stand up to her.’
‘You’ve never been responsible for a baby’s life before, either.’
She shivered.
‘Besides, you won’t be alone. I’ll be facing her with you.’
She didn’t say it, because she appreciated the offer, but as if that’d make a difference to her mother!
Two
The following morning Miranda felt at a loose end. Sebastian had instructed her to leave all the funeral arrangements to him and had already decreed whom they’d invite – just the family, a couple of long-term acquaintances and the lawyer, since all Father’s friends were long dead. They’d gather at Sebastian’s house for refreshments and the reading of the will afterwards.
There were one or two other people she’d have liked to invite, such as the community nurse who’d visited often and always cheered both her father and her up, but when she raised the idea tentatively, her brother was so sharply scornful she backed off. Again. She told herself she was saving her energy for a struggle that mattered, but knew she was being cowardly.
She was ashamed of how she still gave in to him and let him bully her, most ashamed of all that he still had the power to frighten her. ‘I’ll do what I want in my own home at least,’ she told the empty house and went to fetch some big rubbish bags. There were things she wanted to keep that were no business of the others, like photos of herself and her mother, so she’d make a start.
In the dining room she threw open the window to let in some of the fresh air her father had hated since he grew frail. When she took out the family photo albums, she couldn’t resist leafing through them. Photos of her mother, who looked so young because she’d never had the chance to grow old, photos of herself as a child. These could be of no possible value to the estate.
Sebastian would have to use legal jargon all the time, wouldn’t he?
There was a bundle of papers in the secret compartment at the back of the old, roll-top writing desk her father had often used, small as it was. She hesitated, wondering if she should leave these for Sebastian. Then rebellion surged up again and she began to read.
It was a copy of her father’s will, dated . . . a year ago. She frowned and checked the date again. She hadn’t known her father had made a new will. Why hadn’t he mentioned it? Then she checked again and realized she’d been away on her annual week’s holiday at the time, a week when her father, highly reluctantly, employed paid carers full-time, because he refused absolutely to go into respite care.
That date must have been chosen specially to keep the new will secret. Impossible not to read the papers after she realized that.
She went to sit at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, praying Sebastian wouldn’t arrive for a while. The tea grew cold and the paper began to tremble in her hand as the meaning of the words sank in, and when she’d finished reading it, she burst into tears.
Her father had cheated her, stolen all those years from her, promised so much and given so little.
He’d left fifty per cent of everything to Sebastian, the son and heir, with the rest divided equally between two daughters. Regina’s share was to go to her to use as she saw fit, but Miranda’s was to go into a trust fund administered by Sebastian. There was a clause in the will asking her brother to make sure she was properly looked after.
She didn’t want or need looking after. She wanted the freedom to look after herself – had more than earned it. She knew instinctively that Sebastian would try to keep control of her through the finances. He was the ultimate control freak.
What was she going to do now? She’d counted on that inheritance, had more than earned it. If she wanted any freedom she’d have to get a job. But she had no marketable skills, unless you counted looking after cantankerous old men – and she’d had more than enough of that, had only done it because after her breakdown she’d been fit for nothing else at first.
In times like these, well-qualified people were out of work. What chance would she have? None.
It took her a while to calm down, by which time she’d decided to say nothing till the real will was read. After all, this was only a draft. Surely her father hadn’t signed such a will? Surely even he couldn’t have been so cruel?
Regina arrived two days later. Dorothy met her at the airport and they popped in to say hello to Miranda, then went on to Sebastian’s house.
‘I’ll come and stay with you for a day or two,’ Regina whispered as they said goodbye.
The funeral took place the following day. Miranda put on black clothing, stared at herself in the mirror, then changed her mind and added a multicoloured scarf, a minute flag of defiance which brought a frown from her brother.
Afterwards, at Sebastian’s house, she accepted a glass of white wine, took a dutiful sip, then edged her way to a corner, from where she watched the others. Her sister hadn’t changed. Oozing self-confidence and ferociously smart, Regina was chatting animatedly with Jonathon Tressman, their lawyer, son of the man who’d been the family’s lawyer for decades. Miranda kept away from them. His father had been one of the people who’d ruined her life all those years ago and she wasn’t giving the son a chance to do more damage.
Sebastian was listening to his sister but keeping an eye on everyone in the room in that way he had. Occasionally he addressed a remark to his wife or to one of the other guests.
Dorothy was standing with that bland expression on her face that said nothing about what she was thinking. Miranda didn’t feel at all
close to her. Well, how could she feel close to someone who might report what she said to her brother?
Caterers served substantial but elegant titbits. The few other people present ate a little, drank a little and behaved in a restrained way, as if the family really was grieving.
Miranda could feel her determination to stand up for herself shrivelling by the minute as the others continued to chat easily, smiling at one another, ignoring her.
When everyone had left except for the family and the lawyer, Sebastian looked across the room at her. ‘Come and join us, Minnie. I don’t know why you always have to retreat to a corner. We need to explain Father’s will to you.’
This was the final straw. She got up and moved across, forgetting all the tactful phrases she’d planned, forgetting her usual fear of standing up to him. ‘I do speak English, you know, so I daresay I’ll understand the will. And anyway, I read the new will for myself. How did you persuade Father to treat me like that? I warn you, I shall contest the will. I want full control of my share like Regina has.’
He blinked in surprise at her blunt words, then she saw his face grow dark with anger, which he mastered with a visible effort after a quick sideways glance at the lawyer. ‘I don’t see how you can possibly have seen the will.’
‘Father had left a copy of the draft in a drawer. I was putting some things away and found it.’
‘I see. Well, it’s changed a little since then. Mr Tressman can explain the implications to you. You’ve been generously looked after, will never want for anything, so you’ll have no cause to complain or contest the will.’
She didn’t trust him. He had that smug, I-am-the-winner look on his face.
The lawyer stepped forward, his tone soothing. ‘Your father was worried about you, Miss Fox. He knew you . . . were sometimes in need of support—’
She broke in angrily. ‘I had a post-natal depression many years ago. I’ve not had any trouble since.’
His smile was fixed and glassy. ‘Of course, of course. But you aren’t used to handling money, so he’s left your share of his estate in a trust, which your brother and I will manage for you.’
‘What does that mean in practice?’
Sebastian’s voice was patronizing. ‘It means we’ll help you with the big stuff, like buying somewhere to live, and we’ll make sure your money is invested carefully, so that you have a steady income for the rest of your life. You’re too old to find a decent job, not to mention having no training, but Father did appreciate the way you’d looked after him, as did Regina and I.’
‘How much money did he leave me?’
They all looked at her disapprovingly.
‘How much?’ she insisted.
‘Twenty-five per cent. It’s in a trust. It’s not left to you. It’s left for you to use, then when you die, the money comes back to the next generation – my children and Regina’s. If you’d had a child, he or she would also be a legatee.’
‘I did have a child.’
‘Who was adopted at birth, so is not now a member of the family, may even be dead for all we know.’
‘Do you and Regina have a trust too?’
‘No. Father knew we were both used to handling money.’
He was smiling at her as if she should be pleased. Well, she wasn’t. She felt about an inch tall and sick with humiliation.
‘Sebastian, that’s a bit unfair,’ Regina said. ‘I’m sure Minnie can manage her money as well as the next person.’
‘And I’m sure she can’t. So was Father. Don’t interfere, Regina. It’s a done deal.’
Under his scowling gaze, Miranda felt like weeping and running out of the room. But that would only make him more certain that she wasn’t to be trusted. Would he never forget that one episode of depression? Pride alone kept her standing there, kept her eyes dry. Well, almost dry. At least she didn’t let the tears fall.
She couldn’t believe this. If Sebastian was involved and if this Mr Tressman was as clever as his father, she was sure the money would be tied up so tightly no one could break the trust. But perhaps she could still have the kind of life she longed for? The sort of home she craved. ‘Well, then, I want to buy a small colonial house with a garden, preferably in a country town.’
‘Ah.’ Sebastian and the lawyer exchanged glances.
‘Ah, what?’ She watched her brother take a deep breath.
‘Well, the thing is, Minnie, we’ve already bought you somewhere to live. We did this a few months ago, with Father’s approval. It’s a flat in a very upmarket block, built only three years ago, excellent location, bound to rise in value. And don’t worry, the block of flats has gardens and they’re really well maintained so you’ll look down on to flowers. We snapped it up at a bargain price when the housing market dropped. I gave the tenant notice as soon as Father died and you can move in next month.’
‘I don’t want to live in a flat. I hate flats.’
‘You won’t hate this one. It has city views and great potential, financially. Besides, the market’s still not buoyant. It’d be foolish to sell it now.’
‘I do not – want to live – in a flat!’
Regina came across and patted her arm. ‘Minnie, living in the country is just an impractical dream. You won’t want to be stuck there in the middle of winter, believe me, you’ll want to be near theatres and restaurants, places where you can meet people.’
‘How can you say that when you live in a small country town? You must enjoy it and I’m sure it’d suit me too.’
‘Well, it’s a bit late for that. Sebastian is very shrewd financially and you should take his advice. Maybe you can sell the flat when the market picks up.’
Miranda looked at Sebastian’s face and knew the answer to that. She got up and walked out, unable to take any more. Her dreams were ruined. Her life was never going to be her own.
She found she was still clutching her handbag as she strode down the street, though she didn’t remember picking it up. When a woman she passed stared at her, she realized tears were running down her cheeks, but she didn’t even try to brush them away, just walked on.
No one followed her. Well, they didn’t need to. They knew she had nowhere to go except the house where she’d been born and where she’d been virtually imprisoned for the past twenty-six years.
Sebastian would probably be amused by her outburst, would feel it justified the way the money had been left. Poor Minnie, so impractical. She’s never learned how to handle money. But we’ll look after her.
She could hear them saying it.
She couldn’t bear to go straight home, so made for her usual refuge.
Regina looked at Sebastian. ‘It’s not fair, you know. She should be treated the same as me.’
‘She’d do something foolish, fritter away the money.’
She didn’t try to argue with him, knowing he’d not change his mind. She preferred avoidance tactics to beating her head against a stone wall, which was why she’d moved to England. They couldn’t interfere in her life there.
She made a play of looking at her watch. ‘I’m going to phone Nikki. I should just catch her before she goes to school.’
‘Use our phone,’ Sebastian said, waving one hand, generous now he’d got his own way with poor Minnie.
‘Thanks, but I’ll ring from my bedroom. My mobile’s got international dialling.’
She waited impatiently for her daughter to pick the phone up. ‘Ah, there you are. How are you, Nikki?’
‘All right.’
‘Have you made an appointment with the doctor yet?’
‘No.’
‘I’m back next week. We’ll go and see him together.’
‘No. If I do it at all, I’ll do it on my own.’
‘You’ll do it, believe me. And I’m definitely going with you to make sure of that.’
The connection was closed abruptly. Regina sighed. She’d spoken too abruptly. She wasn’t a bully like her brother, after all. But she was really upset by her dau
ghter’s unwanted pregnancy.
She didn’t go back to join the others, couldn’t face them at the moment, kept seeing poor Minnie’s face. She wished she could do more to help her sister, but couldn’t think of anything.
It was a rotten thing to do to anyone.
Miranda kept walking through the heat of the afternoon. It was three miles from Sebastian’s house to hers and she hadn’t taken her car because of going to the funeral. He lived in a prestigious older suburb, one with most of its early colonial houses still standing in large gardens.
You rarely saw people on foot round here, except for an occasional jogger. A large car with tinted glass passed her, waited for one of those high metal gates to slide open for it and moved slowly inside. Who rode in cars like that? She didn’t know.
She wished she need never go back to her brother’s house again as long as she lived, wished she need never see him again. How could they have bought her a flat to live in without consulting her? Her money was tied up and she was being treated like a child – and a stupid one at that. It was too much.
As she got nearer home, the suburbs changed, with modest blocks of old-fashioned flats standing up like sore thumbs in between run-down older dwellings. The street she and her father had lived in was no longer such a desirable place to live and the house was fit for nothing but demolition, but the land would be valuable, because the house stood on a quarter-acre block and someone would build three or four dwellings on it and make a huge profit, no doubt.
She saw Sebastian’s car in her drive and realized he must have followed her, so turned sharp right, praying he hadn’t seen her. Hurrying along the next street, she took refuge in the park, sitting on her favourite bench. If she stayed here till dusk, surely he’d go home? She needed time before she faced them all again.
She’d been sitting there for ages when she heard the faint whine of an electric motor and looked up to see Lou stopping next to her.
‘Something’s very wrong,’ he said softly.
