The City Affair

by Helen Crossfield

  Tish grabbed for a tissue, stuffing it into her mouth to suppress an animal like wail. Deep down she’d known already that this would be the outcome, but had clung on in the hope that she’d got it wrong.

  “I know that this is hugely shocking as everything has happened so suddenly,” the consultant continued, now looking directly at Tish in the same calm voice. “But your father will not have suffered too much pain. Death will have been almost immediate. That is something you must really hang onto.”

  Tish did not really find that piece of news particularly helpful. Instead she felt a huge surge of panic and a hole the size of a crater open up in the pit of her stomach.

  She desperately wanted her old life back, the one where her father was alive and enjoying Christmas just like they’d always done until this year, when something had definitely been different.

  Why hadn’t she called an ambulance when she’d seen her father slumped on the sofa? She’d known he’d looked grey and ill on Christmas Eve? How could the news that Cameron McKenna had joined the film as her on-screen husband at the last minute not have cheered him up? Indeed, it seemed to have quite the opposite effect. Feeling responsible for not having acted sooner Tish started to sob loudly.

  “Stay in here for as long as you need to,” the consultant continued, sensing they needed time and solitude. “I’ll get you some tea and biscuits. You need to keep hydrated, and if you can, you should also try and eat a bit of food. Just let us know if you need anything else or if we can do anything. All you need to do is come outside to the desk and ask.”

  Chapter 5 - Bernard Marshall

  “I just keep expecting Dad to walk into the kitchen,” Tish said to her mother almost as soon as they’d got back home from the hospital.

  Pamela looked over at Tish, her face white from grief and exhaustion and her body somehow shrunk by what had happened. She seemed unable to find the words to respond to her daughter.

  Richard Thorpe was gone; he was not coming back; the house felt too big and empty without him. There were no words or answers in the English dictionary that could make the situation different from what it was.

  Tish watched the large hand of the kitchen clock move into Boxing Day. Time did not stop, not for anyone, not for anything and certainly not for death. It simply marched on.

  In silence, Tish stared at the black hands willing the clock to go backwards. If only she could turn back time to yesterday morning, when they’d all been sat at the kitchen table eating scrambled eggs and smoked salmon, ready to celebrate Christmas.

  If only they could live that part of the day all over again, maybe she could have changed the outcome of what followed.

  Tish walked over to the radio in a daze and switched it on. As she turned round, she caught sight of the large Christmas tree which now looked so sad and out of place despite the bright baubles and lights that continued to sparkle with festive joy.

  “Everywhere is going to remind us of Dad,” Tish said in a defeated kind of way. “If only I’d called a doctor.”

  “Please don’t start blaming yourself again for what happened,” Pamela pleaded as she started to fill small brown rolls with home-made cranberry sauce and slices of turkey. “It’s just going to take what little strength you have left.”

  “I know,” Tish replied, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. “It’s just that Dad was knocking back scotch in a way that I’d never seen before. He was always so in control when it came to alcohol.”

  “He was just drinking to try and relax and forget about work,” Pamela said, desperately trying to switch subject. “Did you manage to get hold of Simon?”

  “Yep, I got hold of him straight away” Tish said tearfully. “I texted him at the hospital about Dad and he rang me back immediately and sounded totally shocked and asked if he could come and stay for a bit.”

  “Of course he can,” Pamela responded, without a moment’s hesitation. “Simon is welcome here any time. But only if it doesn’t disrupt his own plans over Christmas.”

  “No, he absolutely wants to,” Tish said firmly. “But he just didn’t want to get in the way.”

  “Of course he won’t. It would be lovely to have him here” Pamela replied, jumping slightly as the phone rang and looking at her watch as she picked up the receiver.

  “Hello,” she said slowly, her voice sounding broken and so much smaller than normal. “Pamela speaking. “Ah, yes hello Bernard,” she continued on hearing the caller’s voice. “No don’t worry, and yes your intuition is correct. We’ve had a terrible shock. I’m afraid Richard died suddenly of a heart attack. Yes, yes… I know it is unbelievable Bernard but it’s true.”

  As Bernard continued speaking, Pamela nodded her head slowly. “Well if you’re absolutely sure that you wouldn’t mind, it might help us very much. We’ll see you soon.”

  As Pamela clicked the receiver down, she looked over at Tish. “Bernard said he’d seen the ambulance, and thought it must have been serious with the siren and all the lights going on and off, and he’s adamant that he wants to come over now to see if we are ok.”

  “Thank God for the village,” Tish sighed quietly. “He must have been curtain twitching for hours, waiting for us to return.”

  “Bernard is like that Tish,” Pamela said protectively. “Some people think he interferes but he means well. If there is one person who should be in the loop, it’s Bernard. He’s been a good friend to us over the years.”

  “All I would warn you is that, now he knows what’s happened, the phone will never stop ringing. We’ll be inundated with kind offers of help and emotional support we don’t need or want,” Tish said glumly. “Only Bernard Marshall could have noticed anything happening in the village on the evening of Christmas Day. He takes Neighbourhood Watch to the extreme.”

  “Bernard has a good heart, Tish. Don’t be too harsh on him,” Pamela scolded gently, as the doorbell chimed loudly. “Gosh, and it’s taken him no time at all to get here. He must have run over.”

  Tish remained in the sitting room as Pamela went to the back door to let Bernard in and it only took seconds for his thunderous voice to echo all over the house. It was the only voice Tish had heard that could match her father’s in terms of sheer reach and size.

  “I’m so terribly sorry to hear your news,” Bernard boomed as he entered the kitchen in a smart tweed jacket and big thick socks and walked over to Tish to give her a peck on the cheek before easing himself down on the sofa next to her. “How absolutely dreadful! I want to offer whatever support I can, even at this ungodly hour.”

  Gratefully receiving a cup of tea from Pamela, Bernard recalled how he’d bumped into Richard on Christmas Eve morning in the village shop and that he’d seemed perfectly fine – just the normal protestations about the pressures of work.

  “I know, it doesn’t feel very real at all,” Pamela agreed quietly, as she offered him one of her mini mince pies. “Everything seems utterly raw and too recent for it all to have sunk in at the moment.”

  “And it will feel like that for a while,” Bernard sympathised, lowering his voice only slightly as he concentrated on the mince pies. “I think the first few days will be a bit hazy. It was the same for me when Carrie died.”

  “The hazy bit is certainly true,” Pamela shuddered. “The last few hours have all been surreal. Although just thinking about all the practical things I need to do brings home the reality of it all.”

  “Yes, well maybe I can help you with some of those things now,” Bernard suggested, taking a paper and small pad out of his top pocket with a precision inherited from his army days.

  “The most immediate priority is to cancel the party on the 27th,” replied Pamela, smiling at his efficiency. “If we don’t we’ll have about thirty people turning up in fancy dress.”

  “Consider it done. All you need to do is give me the invite list” Bernard sniffed at the smallness of the task. “I’ll pop round again tomorrow to collect it and you can also give me a list of anything
else that needs doing.”

  Chapter 6 - Boxing Day

  Tish ran to the door as soon as she saw Simon pull into the drive. He’d started to make plans to leave his family Christmas in Winchester as soon as she’d sent him the text from the intensive care unit telling him that her father had died.

  “Thanks so much for dropping everything, you really are a rock,” Tish whispered, as he scooped her up into his arms and held her tightly. “It’s so comforting to have you here. The house feels so empty and sad at the moment but Mum seems to be holding up ok. She’s just upstairs getting showered.”

  Within minutes of sitting down to a spot of breakfast, Simon caught hold of Tish’s hands gently as she placed his plate in front of him. “I could stay here for as long as you want me to” he said. “I have to go back to work early next week but I can easily commute up to town every day.”

  “That’s very thoughtful,” Tish replied, pulling her hands away. “But let’s just take it one day at a time. You’d have to get up at some unearthly hour just to reach your office on time. Dad commuted when he could, but quite often just stayed up in town during the week. All you fund manager types start work when most normal people are still in bed.”

  “Well, that’s when the markets open,” Simon smiled. “And, if you are an equities junkie like me, it feeds the addiction. But I’ve got a team now and they can deal with most stuff. What really matters is that I get to investment strategy meetings, and they never take place before 10 am. So I’ll get away with a few latish starts for a while.”

  “That’s kind Simon. But we don’t have to decide now, let’s just see how things go.” Tish responded, slightly irked by his insistence.

  She didn’t want to use bereavement as a reason to lead him on. The chance meeting on the Eurostar had only happened in January and firm commitment on her part to their relationship was out of the question for now.

  “At least Mum and I have each other, so it’s not like we’re totally alone,” Tish continued, trying to make the rejection sound less harsh. “And, whilst I moan about nosy neighbours, at times like this it means there is a ready-made army of helpers in the village all totally committed to doing their bit at any time of day or night.”

  “It’s up to you,” Simon said, sounding disappointed, as he tucked into a piece of crispy bacon. “All you have to do is ask me if you need me to be here though, I hope you know that.”

  “Ok. That’s a deal. I’ll definitely let you know if we can’t cope,” Tish promised, sitting down next to him at the kitchen table. “I may be needed up in town to do some more filming. Although, having said that, I got to say so little in the end I hardly think I’m going to be required for any edits. What’s really upsetting is that Dad won‘t even get to see the film, I just can’t believe it.”

  “That’s really tragic,” Simon interjected sympathetically. “I mean he’d been so proud of you getting the part. I’d only met him a matter of minutes on the train, and it was the only thing he wanted to talk about.”

  “Um,” replied Tish. “And that shows how ill he must have been over Christmas. I thought he’d be thrilled when I broke the news about Cameron McKenna being my on-screen husband but he never even uttered so much as a word about the film after that. I’d kept it a secret on purpose, and then nothing.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up about it as there’s nothing you could have done to save your dad, and it’s going to take time to get over something as monumental as this,” Simon said lovingly, as he stroked her hands. “Had he had heart problems before?”

  “No,” Tish said. “One thing that was definitely strange was the fact he was drinking whisky like he needed it just before he died.”

  “God, I’m with you on that one, that is quite strange,” Simon said pushing the tomatoes to the side of his plate. “He was legendary in the industry for his sobriety but I guess he was starting to get a lot of flak for not hunting with the pack. The massive market correction he was forecasting never happened.”

  How strange, Tish thought as she watched Simon speak. He was almost identical to her father in terms of the intuition and excitement with which he spoke about the markets.

  “I’m an actress,” Tish said looking at Simon with wide expectant eyes. “It’s all largely Double Dutch to me, so what’s the punch line?”

  “Some pretty influential people in the industry had started to doubt him, including many in the financial press” explained Simon. “So he’s got to have been under a huge amount of pressure for that reason alone.”

  “But he’d managed to ride those sorts of periods before,” Tish said, still not understanding fully what Simon was trying to say.

  “I know,” Simon said. “But he hated to be wrong and people have been continuing to make money in a market he claimed had run out of time.”

  “But would that really cause a heart attack?” Tish asked haughtily. “I remember everyone questioning him when he was adamant the dot.com bubble was all going to end in tears, and he was one of the few people to call it right then.”

  “Yes, but this one is different,” Simon said quietly. “No-one can quite believe the world is on the brink of something approaching financial Armageddon. Your dad had even been saying that the banks are totally exposed and that they had basically put the whole system at risk.”

  The sound of Pamela’s footsteps coming down the stairs and her entrance into the kitchen interrupted their financial discussion.

  “Hello Simon,” Pamela said as she walked over to the table, looking genuinely pleased to see him despite the traumatic circumstances. “We’re so grateful you made such an effort. I hope the journey wasn’t too horrendous? Are the roads still icy?”

  “Hello Pamela,” Simon said sympathetically, standing up to kiss her fondly on both cheeks. “I’m so sorry about Richard. I don’t really know what to say that will make any of this easier, but I wanted to offer you both any support I could.”

  “You don’t need to say anything as being here is a great support in itself,” Pamela said smiling up at him.

  “I couldn’t believe it when Tish texted me. I thought I had mis-read the message at first,” Simon continued, looking down at the table as his emotions suddenly got the better of him.

  Conversation remained somewhat muted right up until the usual Thorpe Boxing Day lunch of duck and vegetables, when the addition of elderly next door neighbour Frances proved a soothing influence, thanks primarily to the presence of her dog Bertie.

  A faithful old yellow Labrador, he sat sandwiched between Frances, Simon and Tish, having decided that they both needed special care and attention and was happy to oblige.

  “It was a fantastic meal Pamela,” Frances said as she held up her toes in the direction of the wood-burner. “I feel very spoilt. I usually just have cold turkey on Boxing Day with some left-over vegetables and one of those small trifles from Marks & Spencer. If you live on your own, it is the routine and the small things that keep you sane.”

  “Well, I’m so glad you could come over Frances,” Pamela replied. “I just felt we had to go on as normally as we possibly could, and sharing today with you and Simon has made things much more bearable.”

  “After George passed away,” Frances continued, picking up on her previous thread of conversation, “it took me quite a while to find a way to survive and get used to doing things on my own. But I did eventually, although there is no doubt that Christmas is difficult.”

  “Yes,” Pamela said wistfully. “It’s ironic that it was Richard’s favourite day of the year, especially after Tish came along.”

  Simon edged his hand across the sofa and caressed Tish’s leg as Bertie simultaneously stirred and pressed his nose into her thigh before breathing a big doggy sigh.

  “You’ve certainly made a new friend,” Frances laughed as she looked lovingly at Bertie, who had stretched himself out over the expanse of the sofa. “I haven’t seen him that affectionate with anyone since George died, it is quite extraordinary.” />
  “Do you think it’s a sign and that he knows something is wrong and that I’m feeling sad?” Tish asked, stroking Bertie’s warm furry head as he nuzzled ever more closely. “That’s how it feels. I think he knows.”

  “Yes, absolutely,” Frances smiled. “Never underestimate the intuitive powers of a dog. They give you unconditional love and absolute loyalty and adoration.”

  “I guess I just didn’t realise just how great Dad was until it was too late” Tish sniffed. “He was pretty amazing at everything he turned his hand to, and he always got things right. He will be proved correct about the market. I know he will.”

  Chapter 7 - The Truth

  “I’m sorry this has come as such a shock to you Mrs Thorpe,” Peter Heyworth, the family’s long-standing and trusted solicitor said, as he skilfully removed his glasses and looked at them in a way that serious legal people always seem to. “But as the joint executor of the will you were always going to be the first to know exactly what Richard had instructed with regard to matters of his estate.”

  Tish looked at her mother, drawn and grey from the events of the last two weeks and now distraught at the news that the man she’d married thirty five years ago had secretly had another child as well as a long-term lover. She’d only contacted the solicitor to check the will didn’t contain any specific requests regarding funeral arrangements but had been summoned to a next-day meeting.

  “This has come as more than a shock,” Pamela said, trying to remain dignified in the face of a devastating betrayal from beyond the grave. “I just cannot quite believe what you have just told us. Are you absolutely sure there has been no misunderstanding of some kind or a mistake in the will. It seems incredible that I had no idea or inkling of any of this before today.”

  Peter Heyworth shook his head gravely as he played with the pile of white papers on his desk. “I’m afraid not. Richard came to see me after the child had been born. He had a very clear sense of what had to be done and it is all laid out in this document. He set up a sizeable trust fund for him which the child will get when he is eighteen and a decent amount for the child’s mother, as I just explained.”