by Shari Low
Leaning down, she flicked through the hanging files in the drawer again. There was only one other one that could possibly give her answers. She pulled it out and opened it.
Pensions and insurances.
Maybe he’d put all the cash into some savings bond or pension to ring fence it from the taxman?
Of course, she’d worked for Ray since the kids were small, so she didn’t have any pensions or savings of her own, but she knew he’d made provisions for that. How many times had he told her that if he went first, she’d be set up for life?
She could hear his voice in her head. ‘I’ve made sure my girl will be taken care of,’ he’d tell her, before joking, ‘I’m worth much more to you dead than I am alive, but don’t be slipping anything in my dinner.’ She’d laugh, kiss him, tease him about how she just might, then she’d tell him in every way possible how she couldn’t live without him. It was all just frivolous chat. She’d had no idea she’d be testing those words any time soon.
Her fingers began to flick through the paperwork. One pension, left over from a million years ago when he still worked in the power plant. It had a few hundred pounds in it. Not even enough to pay for his cremation, she thought bitterly. There was another one, a private pension that she knew about. They’d set it up over twenty years ago with a broker who had visited the house and the idea was that it would provide Ray with a basic monthly sum after he retired. ‘No need for it to be huge,’ he’d said, when he was deciding how much to pay monthly into the fund. ‘After all, we’ll have plenty in the bank. This is just a bit of extra security,’ he’d assured her.
She flicked to the back page of the latest communication. The pension was worth less than £50,000. At current rates, it was estimated that it would pay out approximately £2500 a year. That might have seemed like a lot when they set it up, but it was nothing these days.
The next document was a surprise. Life insurance. In her name. She racked her brain but she couldn’t even remember setting it up. Her sore eyes scanned the words that were swimming in front of her. Life Insurance for Denise Harrow. Age at commencement – thirty-five. Over twenty years ago. That must be why she couldn’t remember it. Or perhaps Ray had organised it because he knew she couldn’t be doing with paperwork and stuff like this.
She read on. Sum assured £500,000.
What? If she died, Ray stood to inherit £500,000? All these years she should have been worried about him slipping something in her dinner!
She chided herself for the bad joke. Ray adored her. No amount of money would have soothed her loss, just as no amount of money could ease the pain of him being gone now. It did sting a little though. If she’d died first, he’d have been rolling in it. Who knows what he’d have got up to with that kind of cash.
A strange blast of jealousy coursed through her and she pushed the document to one side. It was irrelevant, because she hadn’t left Ray. He’d left her first.
Moving it aside revealed the final document, the one that he’d spoke about often. Ray’s life insurance policy. She saw that she was named on the document as the sole beneficiary should he die before her – sum assured £150,000. Wow. Not exactly living in riches as he’d promised, but at least it would take care of things until she got the finances sorted out.
A dark thought tugged at her mind and she tried her best to fight it back. He’d insured her for far more than he’d insured himself. Why would he do that? There must be a good reason. Had to be.
Before she really thought it through, she picked up the desk phone and dialled the number at the top of the page. After answering a dozen questions by pressing countless buttons, she was left holding on an automatic queuing system, listening to some country music that made her want to scream.
Fifteen minutes later, just when she was about to give up and batter the handset off the desk, a human voice eventually came on the line.
‘Winter Life Assurance, how can I help you?’
In the fifteen minutes she’d been waiting, she should really have thought the call through, but she hadn’t. Her mind was suddenly blank, her throat constricted and she had absolutely no idea what to say.
‘Hello?’ the customer service agent on the other end of the line prompted her again. She sounded like she was barely out of her teens and yet here she was waiting to talk to Denise about a loss that had destroyed her life.
‘My husband is dead,’ was the best Denise could manage. At once, she realised it was the first time she’d actually said that sentence and punctuated the last word with a deafening sob.
The agent paused, then some kind of crisis training must have kicked in, because she came back with a tone that made her sound like she was sympathetically talking to a five year old.
‘I’m so sorry to hear that. Please tell me how I can help you today.’
Denise fought for composure, knowing that she had to do this right because she didn’t have it in her to call back. She cleared her throat.
‘Sorry. I’m calling to let you know that my…’ She hesitated, trying to keep it together. ‘… Husband has passed away. He has a life insurance policy and I’m the named beneficiary.’
‘I see. Can I ask, do you have a lawyer acting on your behalf?’
‘No. At least, not yet.’ They did have a lawyer, but she’d only met him a few times over the years. He’d drawn up their wills for them, but she hadn’t even thought to contact him before now. She and Ray had always been very clear that all their worldly goods would pass directly to each other if one of them died. There was no one else to factor into the equation.
‘The normal process is that the lawyer who is handling the estate forwards on the death certificate to us and we then release the funds. Can you give me the policy number please and I will arrange to send you our handbook, which clearly explains the process?’
This wasn’t going to be as simple as she thought. Why couldn’t anyone just help her? Everywhere she turned it felt like she was hitting a brick wall.
‘Yes, it’s SDGEFV34562.’
‘And the name?’
‘Denise Harrow. The policy is in the name of my husband, Ray Harrow.’
The line went quiet apart from the tapping of a keyboard.
‘Can I just check that number with you again please?’
Denise repeated it slowly and carefully, enunciating every letter and number.
More tapping. Then finally, the voice again. It sounded strange now – hesitant and tentative.
‘Mrs Harrow, I’m afraid I’m having problems with my system right now and I can’t actually access that account. Could you possibly ask your lawyer to contact us directly and we can move this forward?’
‘Yes, ehm, sure.’ Denise agreed, not even caring any more. She was done. Had enough of speaking to some twenty year old who knew nothing about life, about love, about the pain she was feeling. She hung up without even saying goodbye.
She lifted up the document and put it to one side. She’d call the lawyer tomorrow and sort it out, let him deal with it.
Only when she moved the policy did she see the other letter that had been tucked behind it.
Same insurance company. Same letterhead. Dated five years ago.
Dear Mr Harrow,
Thank you for your recent communication. I can confirm that, as per your request, your life insurance policy has now been cancelled and no further payments will be taken from your bank account. We would advise that you notify the beneficiaries of this policy of your decision to terminate it.
Should you wish to discuss this matter further, please call the number above.
Kind regards…
That was as far as she got before every bit of strength she had deserted her.
He’d cancelled the policy? But why?
And…
The thought was forming in her head and she couldn’t stop it.
Had her husband, the man she’d loved her whole life, actually left her penniless?
Twenty-Seven
Denis
e – 1989
‘How’s that for you?’ the hairdresser asked, holding a mirror up so Denise could see her new cut and highlights from the back.
Denise smiled. ‘Perfect, thanks, Joanne. It’s lovely.’
‘Smashing. You have a lovely holiday, and I’ll see you in eight weeks.’
On the way out, she paid and left a four pound tip. Four pounds! There was a time when she’d had to make four pounds stretch to buy dinner for the whole family. For two nights!
How things had changed now, she thought, as she pulled on her new pink leather jacket and jumped into her Mini. Ray had bought it for her the day she passed her test and she adored it. She’d put off taking driving lessons for years because they didn’t have the money and she wasn’t sure she had the confidence to try, but she’d finally done it last year and never looked back. Ray had been so encouraging. He said now that he was working more than ever, she needed to be able to get about on her own. He was right. He couldn’t be coming off jobs to pick the kids up from activities, ferry them around or do the shopping, so it made much more sense for her to get herself on the road.
On the way home, she stopped off at Boots for some sun cream for their holiday. It was going to be their first time abroad and she couldn’t be more excited. Majorca. Flying from Glasgow airport. They were leaving later that evening, but she was pretty sure she had everything organised. Her case had been packed and sitting in the hall for three days. She’d offered to pack Ray’s case too, but he wanted to do it himself. He’d become so fastidious about his clothes in the last couple of years. He liked everything to be the latest fashion, and it all had to be perfectly pressed. Between that and the monthly haircut, he looked better than half the models she saw in the catalogue adverts.
‘All part of being a businessman,’ he’d tell her, when he came home with something new.
Yep, a businessman. A couple of years ago, he’d quit his job at the power plant, bought a van and set up his own business as an electrician and builder. Denise had been mildly terrified at the prospect of not having a steady income, but she’d been wrong to worry.
There was never any doubt he was going to make a success of it. So many people knew Ray – the guys from the football team, people from school, the folk that drank in the same pubs as him – that he was kept busy right from the start, so much so that she abandoned any idea of getting a part-time job and became his assistant instead. She answered calls, made bookings, typed out quotes on a second-hand typewriter she’d found in a charity shop. He’d also teamed up with mates who were joiners, plasterers, and painters to work on big jobs. Every time another one came in, there would be a big purchase. Her car. A shopping spree. And now a holiday. They were living the life. She was happy, his mum and dad were beyond proud, and the kids were doing fine. Life was good.
Sun cream in her bag, Denise headed home. The kids would be getting back from school soon and she wanted them to get their rooms tidied before they left tonight. Sometimes she thought about picking them up from school if she was out, but Ray said it would turn them into spoiled brats if they got chauffeured around. Maybe he was right. Her parents didn’t have a car, so they had never given her a lift anywhere in her life and it hadn’t done her any harm.
For once, he was home on time and greeted her by snogging her in the kitchen. ‘God I can’t wait for tonight,’ he said. ‘I’m going to make this the best anniversary present you’ve ever had. I’m going to spoil you every single day and I’m going to do filthy things to you. We are going to have such a good time.’
She knew he would. Wasn’t it already like that every weekend? Now that they could afford babysitters, they’d go out either Friday or Saturday night, to a nice restaurant, sometimes even a club for a bit of dancing. A couple of times, if Jenny was watching the kids, they’d even stayed overnight in a hotel in the city centre. It was so far from her old life, she found it hard to believe it. There had been many tough times in the early years, but her husband had always told her it would come good and it definitely had. Ray was all about enjoying his life, and to him that meant going out, having fun, partying whenever he could. Sometimes he still went AWOL – football team nights out, his mates’ birthdays, stuff like that. But they had just as many nights out together.
Ray went upstairs to finish packing, and Denise was just clearing up the dinner dishes, when she realised that Claire and Doug were standing silently in the doorway.
‘What’s up, you two?’ she asked warily. At ten and nine now, they always operated in a twosome. Apart from when they were bickering. Sometimes they were so noisy that she completely understood why Ray said he much preferred it when it was just the two of them.
‘I don’t feel well,’ Claire announced.
Denise put her hand against her daughter’s forehead. Yes, she did feel a bit warm. Bugger. Jenny and Pete were going to be here to collect them in five minutes. They were going to Gran and Grandad’s for a week. Of course she would miss them – she could count on the fingers of one hand the number of days they’d spent apart – but they had school anyway and it would be worth it to spend a whole week alone with Ray, just being adults and enjoying themselves. They’d missed their teenage years because they’d had two babies by the time they were eighteen. ‘This is our time now,’ he’d tell her. ‘Just you and me.’
Ray came downstairs and saw her concerned expression. ‘What’s up?’
‘Claire’s got a bit of a temperature.’
‘Och, she’ll be fine. When’s my mum coming?’ he asked.
‘In five minutes.’
‘Why can’t we come with you?’ Doug wailed. He wasn’t usually one to show his feelings or make a fuss, preferring to let Claire do his talking for him.
‘Because this is Mummy and Daddy’s trip,’ she told him, trying to be patient. She went back to Claire. ‘Does anything hurt?’
‘Look,’ Ray said, getting exasperated. ‘She just doesn’t want us to go, so she’s playing up. You know she’s an attention seeking little madam.’
‘I’m not,’ Claire argued sullenly.
‘Of course you are. Now get through there and make sure your bags are packed and get a smile on your face for your gran coming, OK?’
His tone made it clear that it wasn’t up for discussion. Denise briefly wondered whether she should stall them and just make sure Claire was ok, but dismissed that idea. Ray was right. Claire just didn’t want them to go so she was being difficult. Besides, Ray’s mum knew how to deal with sick bugs and ailments far better than she did, so better that they just left them all to it.
The kids trooped off in the direction of the living room. Not for the first time, Denise thought how Claire’s attitude to her father had changed. She used to be so desperate to get his attention. Now, it was as if she no longer cared. Must be the start of the pre-teenage hormones kicking in.
Ray slid his hand around her waist. ‘Stop worrying right now,’ he cajoled her. ‘I know you only do it because you’re such a great mum, but I promise you, she’s fine. The minute she’s out of the door, she’ll be back to normal.’
‘But…’ she began.
He didn’t let her finish. ‘No buts. I’m not having my holiday spoiled by a ten year old who just wants a bit of attention.’
The vehemence of his tone startled her for a moment.
He must have realised that, because he immediately softened, kissing her on the lips. ‘It’s only because I want to spend time with you. Do you know how much I’ve been looking forward to a whole, uninterrupted week with my wife?’
Placated, she nodded, ‘I know. I have too.’
‘Then don’t worry about Claire, she’ll be fine.’ Letting her go, he grabbed a beer from the fridge. ‘I’m just going to go back up and finish packing.’
Denise felt her doubts diminish. He was right as always. And he had every right to want a stress free holiday without the kids to run after. He worked so hard, slogging away, long hours, week after week to support them and give th
em this lovely house and the life that they now had. If ever someone deserved a break, it was her brilliant husband.
Her thoughts were disturbed by the doorbell.
Denise heard footsteps and knew it was Doug, running down the hall to let his gran in.
Jenny immediately bent down to hug him. ‘How’s my boy?’ she crooned.
‘Claire’s not even feeling well and they still won’t take us with them,’ he blurted.
Jenny looked up at Denise quizzically.
‘She’s fine,’ Denise explained. ‘She’s just a bit warm. Ray says they’re just playing up to get attention.’
She could see the conflict on Jenny’s face. She loved her grandchildren, but there was absolutely no one on this planet who came before her son. Not even her husband. Ray had been the centre of her universe since the minute he was born and, as far as she was concerned, he could do no wrong. There was no way that she would criticise him or overrule him. In ten years, Denise had never seen her so much as chide him, even when he deserved it. Unlike her own mother, of course. Even now, Agnes seemed to want to make it her life’s work to criticise and moan about her offspring. Ray had grown up feeling that the world was his kingdom. Denise had grown up feeling like she just wasn’t good enough to belong.
Jenny decided which side of the fence she was coming down on and it wasn’t a surprise. ‘I’m sure he’s probably right,’ she said.
‘He’s not right,’ Claire said, petulantly, and Denise realised she’d been standing just inside the living room doorway and had heard everything. ‘Why does nobody even care about me?’
‘Of course we do, pet,’ Jenny argued. ‘Look, go and get your stuff and we’ll get out to the car and get you home. We can lie on the sofa and watch whatever you want and I’ll take such good care of you that you’ll forget all about feeling sick.’
Claire could see that she wasn’t going to win this one, so she stomped off to get her bag and her jacket. Naturally, Doug followed right behind her.
