The Corrigan legacy

by Anna Jacobs

  'You seemed very upset,' she said softly. 'You muttered something about your daughter, that they'd taken her away from you.'

  He hadn't realized he'd said anything so specific. 'I thought I was well out of it last night.'

  'I stirred you into moving and helped you into the house. That's when you said it.'

  'What exactly did I say?' Oh, hell, he hadn't wept all over her, had he? Guys weren't supposed to weep, especially guys about to turn forty.

  'You didn't say much, just something about it not being fair to take her away from you. I - um - had a fellow feeling because circumstances have just separated me from my son.'

  He could see a sadness in her face that mirrored his own feelings. 'Divorce?'

  'Yes. And Mitch's educational needs mean he must stay in London, near his father, while I only have this place to live in so I had to come north. But I'm going to miss him like hell.'

  Cal nodded, but didn't volunteer any more of his story and to his relief she didn't press the point or share any more of hers. It was established that they had something in common. That was enough to form a tentative bond.

  'Bacon and eggs? Toast? Marmalade?'

  'You're a very generous hostess. Could I get my bike first, then take you up on your offer of food? It's a Hog - Harley-Davidson - and I don't like to leave it lying around for someone to pinch.'

  'Sure. Your things are still in the shed.'

  He drained his cup and went to get his helmet and ignition key. She watched him, deciding his walk had a lazy grace that was attractive. Des either stumped along as if he were off to do battle or strutted as if he'd just won a battle.

  Quarter of an hour later Cal returned. 'It's working now. Go figure.'

  She started cooking. 'You were a friend of my aunt, you say?'

  He smiled, I like to think so. She was a feisty old lady.'

  'Did you grow up round here? I was born in Rochdale, just down the road, but my parents and Aunt May didn't get on, though she was my father's sister, so I didn't see much of her till I grew up. My mother died in a car accident when I was thirty. My father was lost without her and moved about a bit. He died a couple of years ago.

  'I met May again at the funeral and we kept in touch. I lived in London, but she came down sometimes to shop and I came up here to see her once or twice. I never thought she'd leave the house to me, but I'm grateful now that she did.'

  He smiled reminiscently, leaning against the wall in a position from which he could look out of the window at the moors. 'I grew up in the village and I think it'll always be home to me. Your aunt caught me scrumping her apples once when I was a lad. She read me a lecture then turned and twisted her foot in the grass, so I helped her back to the house. Somehow I kept coming back. She treated me like an adult, let me read her books, talked to me. My mother was widowed, worked all hours to support the two of us, so I was lonely, I guess. She lives in Norwich now with her second husband.' He stopped talking, amazed at how easy he found it to confide in Judith. The silence continued until she broke it.

  'Breakfast is served.'

  He went to join her at the table. 'Sorry to be such poor company. I keep - losing track of what I'm doing.'

  'I'm a bit that way myself lately,' she said softly. 'Disoriented.'

  They ate mostly in silence, but it was a comfortable silence. To his surprise he found he was ravenous.

  Just as they were finishing, the doorbell rang and Judith went to answer it. As she opened the door, she wrinkled her nose at the pungent smell of dung that wafted in and looked in puzzlement at the man standing there.

  'Can someone move that ruddy great motorbike from round the side, missus? I can't get the trailer round to leave this where they said.'

  She stared beyond him to a van with a trailer which appeared to be laden with manure. 'I haven't ordered anything.'

  'Name of Horrocks?'

  'Yes.'

  'Well, someone's ordered some garden manure.'

  'It isn't me, so please take it away again.'

  'But it's been paid for!'

  And then she guessed - Des again. How utterly puerile of him! A flash of light from across the road made her look up to see a man standing beside a car, grinning at her, a camera in his hand.

  Cal came out to join her. 'Problem?'

  The camera flashed again.

  'Another of my ex's nasty little tricks, I should think.' She gestured towards the trailer then at the man standing on the road outside her gates. 'A gift from him. And a photographer to show Des how I react.'

  Cal let out a scornful puff of laughter. 'He must be a prat. Hasn't he anything better to do with his time and money?'

  'He's a shrewd businessman but he has a very juvenile sense of humour. He had all the locks changed here so that I couldn't get in when I arrived yesterday. Knowing him, I should think there'll be more nasty tricks coming.'

  Her companion's smile faded. 'One or two nasties is par for the course in an acrimonious split, they tell me. I hope you're wrong about others following. If not, you should let the police know he's harassing you.'

  'I doubt I'm wrong, but I don't want to bring the police in. It's bad enough for my son, us splitting up. I don't want him to see us brawling publicly.'

  'You may have to do something if it goes on.'

  'Yes, I suppose so. But I'll wait and see first.'

  Cal looked at the manure and then back at the man who'd brought it. 'What sort is it?'

  'Horse manure, sir. Best thing there is for vegetables. It doesn't come cheap.'

  'Des never does things by halves,' Judith commented sarcastically.

  Cal turned to her. 'Are you intending to reinvent the garden at some point?'

  She looked round. 'I suppose so. One day. But I'll not be digging in manure myself for a while. I'm still recovering from an accident to my knee, have to take things a bit carefully.' She suddenly remembered her financial state. 'Though it might come to my doing it myself. Des is rich, but he's delaying giving me an allowance because I emptied our joint account. I have to be a bit careful with money until he's played out all the stalling tactics his lawyers can devise.'

  'Why don't you accept his gift, then? If you have the manure dumped as far towards the rear of the garden as you can, I'll come back in a few days and spread it out for you wherever you want to grow things.'

  His wry smile made her heart suddenly thump in her chest. 'I couldn't ask you to do that.'

  'You didn't. But I owe you big time for last night.'

  'Oh. Well. All right, then. And I do have a spare bed, so you can sleep in more comfort this time.'

  'Actually, I wonder if we could come to some arrangement about the shed instead, to give me a bolt hole?'

  The man with the manure, who'd been watching them with increasing impatience, intervened. 'Sorry to interrupt you two but I have a business to run, so if you've decided what you want to do, can you tell me whether to take the stuff away or not? If you want me to leave it, you'll need to jnove that motorbike. My instructions were to dump the manure on the back patio. All right?'

  Judith looked at Cal. 'You're on.'

  He nodded and turned to the man. 'I'll move the bike, but we want the manure dumping right down at the back of the garden, as far away from the house as you can get.' He pushed his Harley off its stand and wheeled it to one side, then came across to Judith. 'Do you want to give your husband something to think about?'

  'Yes. But what?'

  'This.' He pulled her into his arms, smiling warmly at her, and began to kiss her. After an initial jerk of surprise she let him, would have smiled if her mouth hadn't been otherwise engaged. But after a moment or two she forgot about Des and lost herself in the kiss.

  When he pulled away, they both stared at one another in shock.

  'Where did that come from?' he asked.

  She couldn't frame a single word, so shook her head and went back inside to clear up the breakfast things. Cal Richmond was a very attractive man. Richmond. S
he stopped with the kettle in her hands to wonder where she'd heard that name before, but couldn't bring it to mind. It'd come to her later, no doubt, once she'd stopped thinking about it.

  In the meantime she should forget the kiss, which had just been a spur of the moment thing to torment Des with.

  Only - Cal had been as affected by the kiss as she had. And as surprised.

  She smiled again at the thought of Des seeing a photo of a man he didn't know kissing her. Let him work that one out if he could!

  When Cal came in again, she was still smiling.

  'Something nice happen?'

  'What? Oh. No, not really. I was just wondering what Des would make of that kiss and you.'

  'Who cares? I doubt I'll ever meet him. Now, about that shed of yours . . . could I rent it for a holiday home?'

  She goggled at him. 'You can't mean that?'

  'I do. I used to stay there every now and then, and paid your aunt for it by doing little jobs around the place, because I'm not a rich man like your husband—'

  'Ex-husband.'

  'Sorry - ex-husband. But I gather you're short of money so I could pay you a small retainer, say ten pounds a week and something towards the electricity.'

  'But the place is a hovel.' She saw his eyes stray towards the window and the moors.

  'It keeps the rain off and there's an old toilet out there as well, which is still in working order, so you don't need to worry that I'll intrude on you. It's just ... I love to get out of London and up on the tops. I get my best ideas up there. When your leg's stronger, I'll show you some great walks if you like and—' He broke off and smiled wryly. 'Sorry. I'm rushing things, aren't I? But you feel it too, didn't you, the attraction between us?'

  She nodded.

  'I'd like to see you again. You seem like an old friend already. Your aunt was the same, a very warm person, easy to talk to.'

  Judith was won over by his simple honesty. You couldn't doubt that he meant what he said with an open face like that. She held out one hand. 'It's a deal. But I couldn't accept money.'

  'Then I'll do jobs for you, if you like. I'm fairly handy.'

  'Will you have time? Don't you have your living to earn?'

  'I work for myself. I'm a web developer. So I come and go as I please.' He sighed. I was going to bring Lily up here to walk the tops now she's big enough - only I'm not even sure now that I'll be able to have her at weekends any longer.'

  Judith watched his smile vanish and the strain come back into his face, and spoke without thinking. 'If you bring her up here, you can both sleep in the house. There are several spare bedrooms.'

  'Thanks. I might take you up on that if they let me. You'll like her. She's a great kid.'

  Nine

  In New South Wales, the long dry summer has burned the grass to a crisp beige and even autumn has brought no relief. Gardens are patchily green, favourite plants gifted with buckets of water, others left to struggle alone.

  The day started badly, with yet another phone call from Joe, which Kate refused to take. Things got worse when her father brought the mail home from town at lunch time and slammed two envelopes down on the kitchen table in front of her. He stabbed a finger at the top one. 'What's she doing writing to you?'

  She stared at him in shock then picked up the envelope. Its expensive linen weave paper was crumpled as if it'd been screwed up and then straightened out again. She turned it over and saw the sender's name and address, sucking in her breath in shock.

  Maeve Corrigan

  Saltern House

  Witherford

  Cheshire

  England

  'I don't know.'

  Her father leaned his hands on the table, towering over her threateningly. 'You'd better open it. I want to know what she's up to.'

  'Leo!' her mother chided. 'Kate isn't a child and her letters are her own business.'

  'She's living under my roof and I want to know how long she's been corresponding with my - damned - sister.'

  Kate fingered the letter. 'Why do you hate her so? You've never told us why, just expect us to hate her because you say so. You didn't even tell us we had an aunt till I found those letters in the attic'

  'I hate her because of what she did, sent me away from Saltern House and because - ' his voice broke and he had to fight for control - 'there hasn't been a day since I left that I haven't wished myself back there.'

  Jean gasped. 'You never said, Leo. All these years and you never once told me you felt like that about your old home.'

  He turned to her, his face softening a little. 'What was the point in worrying you, Jean? Would it have taken me back again?'

  'We could have started up a business in England, as we did here. You'd maybe have been happier if we'd stayed. It was you who insisted on coming to Australia.'

  'The only place in England that could be home to me is Saltern House itself. It didn't matter to Des where he lived, but it did to me. I was the eldest - I should have had the house, at least - but she wouldn't even allow me that! And she was right about one thing: I didn't have the money to look after it, but I still loved it.' His words choked in his throat and he turned to Kate. 'If you care about me, you'll throw that letter away unopened and forget about Maeve.' He shoved his chair back so hard it fell over. As he strode out into the garden, he averted his head from them, but not before they had both seen the tears glistening on his cheeks.

  Jean stared at Kate pleadingly.

  All she could say was, 'I have to see what she says, Mum, and it's not fair to ask me to do otherwise.'

  'Then you'll break your father's heart.' Jean followed him outside without a word.

  Kate turned the envelope over, then over again, smoothing out the creases as if they mattered. She was annoyed at her father's assumption that he had control over her correspondence and guessed he'd screwed this up to throw it away, then thought better of it.

  She could hear them talking as she walked along the corridor, her father's voice still sharp and angry, her mother's soothing. What was her aunt writing to her about? She'd never met the woman, for heaven's sake. And yet her father was right about one thing: Maeve had already stirred up dissension in the family.

  Finding her paper knife, Kate slit the envelope neatly, pulling out a single sheet of paper.

  Dear Kate,

  I know that your father and I haven't spoken for years, but I hope you'll give me a chance and hear me out.

  I'm having a little trouble with my health and I'm thinking of making my will. As I have no children of my own, I'm interested in meeting my nieces and nephews, with a view to one or more of them benefiting. I can't come to see you, so perhaps you could come to see me in England?

  All your expenses will be paid for the trip and visit. And while you're here, we'll see if there's a specialist who can do something about your chronic fatigue syndrome, only we call it ME in England.

  Since you're not well, I've asked a colleague of mine, who's been doing a job in Sydney, to escort you. His name is Mark Felton and he'll phone you in a week's time, so that you can think about my offer and deal with your father's reactions.

  Sincerely yours Maeve

  Kate gaped at it, re-read it, then shook her head. This sort of thing happened in novels, not in real life.

  Go to England! All expenses paid!

  She'd always wanted to go there, but had been too busy building a career for herself. Only how would she cope with the trip in her present condition?

  And how much money was Maeve talking about? Was she really dying? Or did she want her nieces and nephews to dance to her bidding in the hope of inheriting?

  Remembering the other letter, Kate picked it up. Her heart sank when she saw it was from the Social Security office in nearby Berrabin. She opened it reluctantly, because letters from them never contained good news. She was right. Her case was up for a three-monthly review and an appointment had been made for her for the following week. No question of whether the date was convenient for her.
It was an order to attend, however politely phrased.

  Tears slipped down her cheeks at the mere thought of it. When she'd applied for sickness benefit, they'd treated her like a malingerer, reducing her to tears because she cried easily these days. She'd been dreading the review. Angry at herself for this weakness she snatched a tissue, wiped her eyes and blew her nose hard, then went back to the letter from her aunt, studying it again.

  When she was more in control of herself she took it back into the kitchen where her parents were eating their lunch in a heavy silence. She'd made her point about her correspondence being her own business, now she wanted to see what they thought of this offer, because she was tempted, very tempted . . .

  She held the letter out to her father. 'Read it and tell me what you think.'

  He held it as if it was contaminated, scanning it quickly. 'What the hell does she think she's doing? You don't need her money. We can look after you.'

  Her mother took it from him, read it then looked at Leo.

  Tears were thickening Kate's throat and she swallowed hard. She wasn't going to let her father bully her about this. 'You can look after me, yes, and I'm deeply grateful for all you've done. Deeply. But I'm still lacking two important things, neither of which you can give me - and perhaps my aunt Maeve can.'

  'Oh?'

  'My health and with it my independence.'

  He breathed in slowly, then let the air out again accompanied by a growling sound in his throat. 'You won't be independent if you're dancing to her tune. There'll be some trickery involved. Nothing is ever simple with Maeve. And how did she know where you were, or that you'd been ill? Tell me that, eh? She must have had us investigated.'

  'I wonder if Jason has had a letter too.' Her mother looked from one to the other. 'I'll phone him tonight and ask him.'

  'I'll ask him when I get back to the shop,' Leo said. He pushed his plate away. 'I'm not hungry. I might as well go back to work.'

  When he'd driven off, Jean looked at her daughter. 'Surely you'll not go to England, love?'