the study. 'But such is our--' He stopped, the stillness of Nick's posture behind the desk seizing his attention. Ts something wrong?'
'I found the key,' said Nick.
'Splendid.'
'You won't think so when you read this.' He held up the will.
Basil walked across to the desk and took the sheet of paper from his brother's hand. As he read it, the sunlight beyond the window vanished behind a cloud and the room seemed to fill with darkness.
'My, my,' said Basil when he had finished.
'What do we do?' Nick asked.
'What do we do?' Basil smiled. 'We ask Irene, of course.' The vacuum cleaner was roaring somewhere in the house. 'I'll fetch her.'
Basil dropped the document on the blotter and hurried from the room. Nick sat where he was, studying the copperplate loops and uprights of his father's handwriting. Then, suddenly, he noticed the dog-eared folder with his name on it lying on the desktop just to his left. For a moment, he did not know what to do with it. He knew only that there was little time to do anything. He jumped up, carried the folder to the cabinet he had taken it from and dumped it back in its pocket. Then he noticed the silence. The vacuum cleaner had stopped.
95
A moment later, Irene bustled into the room, Basil lagging a few yards behind. 'What's this about a will?' she demanded.
'See for yourself.' Nick passed her the sheet of paper.
It took no more than two or three seconds for Irene to grasp the significance of what she held in her hand. In those seconds Nick saw her expression move from irritation to something midway between fear and anger.
'The will Baskcomb has dates from a few months after Mum died. This is ... far more recent. It's dated . . . just last week.'
'Quite,' said Basil.
Ts it valid?'
'Signatures of the testator and two witnesses are all that's required, I believe. And there they are. It's clearly not a forgery. So, the answer to your question must be yes.'
'But it's not been drawn up by a solicitor.'
'It doesn't have to be.'
T've never heard of a cousin Demetrius.'
'Nor have I,' Nick joined in.
'Which makes three of us,' said Basil. 'Three of us who had not heard of him. Until now.'
'Who are these people?' Irene continued. T've never heard of the Daveys either.'
'No doubt we shall find out in due course.'
' "The remainder of my property real and personal". What will that amount to?'
'Without Trennor, very little.'
'I don't believe it.' But what Irene really meant was that she did not want to believe it. 'Why would Dad do this to us?'
'To prevent us selling the house to Tantris,' said Nick.
'And to punish us for trying to force him to,' concluded Basil. 'It seems the only thing we talked him into doing . . . was disinheriting us.'
'You think so?' Irene glared down at the will, as if she could somehow wish its contents out of existence. 'Well, we'll see about that.'
'What do you have in mind?' asked Nick.
96
'It's handwritten. So, there's no copy. And no solicitor's involved. The only living people who know of the will's existence are we three plus the Daveys. And the Daveys may not even know what's in it.'
'Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?' enquired Basil.
'What do you think I'm suggesting?'
'Something deeply criminal. Besides, how can you be sure no-one else knows? Dad may well have advised cousin Demetrius of his intentions.'
'But cousin Demetrius isn't here. We are. As is the will.'
'Even so--'
'Call Andrew and Anna.' Irene was much calmer now, Nick noticed. She had absorbed the blow and already was preparing to strike back. 'I think a family conference is in order.' She dropped the will back on to the desk in front of him. 'There's a great deal to discuss . . . before we do anything.'
Anna's shift did not end until mid-afternoon and Andrew was likely to be out and about on the farm until dusk, so the conference Irene had decided to convene could not feasibly take place before early evening. She went back to Saltash to open up for lunchtime at
'I found the key,' said Nick.
'Splendid.'
'You won't think so when you read this.' He held up the will.
Basil walked across to the desk and took the sheet of paper from his brother's hand. As he read it, the sunlight beyond the window vanished behind a cloud and the room seemed to fill with darkness.
'My, my,' said Basil when he had finished.
'What do we do?' Nick asked.
'What do we do?' Basil smiled. 'We ask Irene, of course.' The vacuum cleaner was roaring somewhere in the house. 'I'll fetch her.'
Basil dropped the document on the blotter and hurried from the room. Nick sat where he was, studying the copperplate loops and uprights of his father's handwriting. Then, suddenly, he noticed the dog-eared folder with his name on it lying on the desktop just to his left. For a moment, he did not know what to do with it. He knew only that there was little time to do anything. He jumped up, carried the folder to the cabinet he had taken it from and dumped it back in its pocket. Then he noticed the silence. The vacuum cleaner had stopped.
95
A moment later, Irene bustled into the room, Basil lagging a few yards behind. 'What's this about a will?' she demanded.
'See for yourself.' Nick passed her the sheet of paper.
It took no more than two or three seconds for Irene to grasp the significance of what she held in her hand. In those seconds Nick saw her expression move from irritation to something midway between fear and anger.
'The will Baskcomb has dates from a few months after Mum died. This is ... far more recent. It's dated . . . just last week.'
'Quite,' said Basil.
Ts it valid?'
'Signatures of the testator and two witnesses are all that's required, I believe. And there they are. It's clearly not a forgery. So, the answer to your question must be yes.'
'But it's not been drawn up by a solicitor.'
'It doesn't have to be.'
T've never heard of a cousin Demetrius.'
'Nor have I,' Nick joined in.
'Which makes three of us,' said Basil. 'Three of us who had not heard of him. Until now.'
'Who are these people?' Irene continued. T've never heard of the Daveys either.'
'No doubt we shall find out in due course.'
' "The remainder of my property real and personal". What will that amount to?'
'Without Trennor, very little.'
'I don't believe it.' But what Irene really meant was that she did not want to believe it. 'Why would Dad do this to us?'
'To prevent us selling the house to Tantris,' said Nick.
'And to punish us for trying to force him to,' concluded Basil. 'It seems the only thing we talked him into doing . . . was disinheriting us.'
'You think so?' Irene glared down at the will, as if she could somehow wish its contents out of existence. 'Well, we'll see about that.'
'What do you have in mind?' asked Nick.
96
'It's handwritten. So, there's no copy. And no solicitor's involved. The only living people who know of the will's existence are we three plus the Daveys. And the Daveys may not even know what's in it.'
'Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?' enquired Basil.
'What do you think I'm suggesting?'
'Something deeply criminal. Besides, how can you be sure no-one else knows? Dad may well have advised cousin Demetrius of his intentions.'
'But cousin Demetrius isn't here. We are. As is the will.'
'Even so--'
'Call Andrew and Anna.' Irene was much calmer now, Nick noticed. She had absorbed the blow and already was preparing to strike back. 'I think a family conference is in order.' She dropped the will back on to the desk in front of him. 'There's a great deal to discuss . . . before we do anything.'
Anna's shift did not end until mid-afternoon and Andrew was likely to be out and about on the farm until dusk, so the conference Irene had decided to convene could not feasibly take place before early evening. She went back to Saltash to open up for lunchtime at
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