there are some photographs, and it seems to be an old croft house.” Lexy wished she could see the photos for herself. “Another view shows the sea and some small islands in the distance, and this one seems to be from the other side. There’s a hillside rising up behind it. Quite steep.” Lexy’s frustration grew at his lame descriptions. He wasn’t exactly narrowing the field for her. “That’s odd.”
“What is?”
“It seems we prepared a lease for the property some years ago.”
“Yes, I know. I have a copy.” She took a deep breath. She was sounding snappy and she knew that wouldn’t help her get what she needed. Patience is a virtue.
“Miss Reid has signed it, but there’s no tenant signature, or name.”
I know , Lexy screamed inside her head, sick to death with the ponderous ways of the legal profession. Get to the point. “So … ?” she prompted with a restraint that would have made her mother proud.
“It leads me to believe it’s never actually been put into use. So I’m not sure why we have retained it in the current file.”
“Just for your records, perhaps?” Lexy suggested.
“That would be in another file. Our archives, in fact, given how long ago it was drafted. Unless …”
“Unless?” The end of Lexy’s pencil broke as she stabbed at the doodles that were in danger of obscuring the hard-won address.
“Well, it’s possible Miss Reid had been planning to do something with it more recently. But I don’t understand why we wouldn’t have just drafted a new one. I find it hard to believe terms and conditions from so many years ago would still be relevant to a tenancy today. Perhaps Ms Hamilton will be able to shed some light.”
Perhaps, but unlikely, Lexy had thought as she’d wound up the call. Ms Hamilton would have been a child at the time the lease was drafted, no doubt holding mock trials with her Barbie dolls or something suitably career-focused, but hardly likely to have any insight into Ursula’s intentions of over twenty years ago.
Wishing she’d asked when she might expect to hear back from Ms Hamilton, Lexy decided against a dip in the hotel pool in case she missed the call. She was sure the lawyer wouldn’t leave important information as a message with a hotel receptionist, nor would it be the kind of call Lexy wanted to take dripping wet or lying poolside slathered in protective slime.
The rest of the day stretched ahead of her and she debated her options, which were limited but all came down to the same thing in the end. More of the paperwork. She opened the desk drawer where she’d stashed the photo albums and papers she’d brought with her and saw the tea-stained folder she’d found beneath the cushion of Ursula’s armchair. She’d been surprised to find it there and would have dismissed it as an old woman’s idiosyncrasy until she saw, written in pencil in the top-right corner, the words For Isobel . That had been enough for her to scoop it up and drop it in with the pile of post and other papers needing her attention.
She pulled it out and placed it on her lap, swinging the desk chair round to face the balcony doors, now finding herself a little reluctant to open it. It was addressed to her mother. It didn’t seem right, somehow, this prying and peeking into the affairs and correspondence of her elders.
But it had to be done, whether she felt comfortable doing it or not. It might hold the answer to the identity of Ursula’s son. Although that wasn’t the only reason she had to read it. She needed her own answers, needed to understand what could have happened between Ursula and Izzie to make her mother deceive her. And they were hardly in a position to complain. Ursula had wanted her mother to read it, and if her mother, then why not Lexy herself? Besides, her mother would have shared it with her. Lexy felt a stab of resentment. Well, at least her mother should have shared it. Qualms quashed by the reminder of her mother’s betrayal,
“What is?”
“It seems we prepared a lease for the property some years ago.”
“Yes, I know. I have a copy.” She took a deep breath. She was sounding snappy and she knew that wouldn’t help her get what she needed. Patience is a virtue.
“Miss Reid has signed it, but there’s no tenant signature, or name.”
I know , Lexy screamed inside her head, sick to death with the ponderous ways of the legal profession. Get to the point. “So … ?” she prompted with a restraint that would have made her mother proud.
“It leads me to believe it’s never actually been put into use. So I’m not sure why we have retained it in the current file.”
“Just for your records, perhaps?” Lexy suggested.
“That would be in another file. Our archives, in fact, given how long ago it was drafted. Unless …”
“Unless?” The end of Lexy’s pencil broke as she stabbed at the doodles that were in danger of obscuring the hard-won address.
“Well, it’s possible Miss Reid had been planning to do something with it more recently. But I don’t understand why we wouldn’t have just drafted a new one. I find it hard to believe terms and conditions from so many years ago would still be relevant to a tenancy today. Perhaps Ms Hamilton will be able to shed some light.”
Perhaps, but unlikely, Lexy had thought as she’d wound up the call. Ms Hamilton would have been a child at the time the lease was drafted, no doubt holding mock trials with her Barbie dolls or something suitably career-focused, but hardly likely to have any insight into Ursula’s intentions of over twenty years ago.
Wishing she’d asked when she might expect to hear back from Ms Hamilton, Lexy decided against a dip in the hotel pool in case she missed the call. She was sure the lawyer wouldn’t leave important information as a message with a hotel receptionist, nor would it be the kind of call Lexy wanted to take dripping wet or lying poolside slathered in protective slime.
The rest of the day stretched ahead of her and she debated her options, which were limited but all came down to the same thing in the end. More of the paperwork. She opened the desk drawer where she’d stashed the photo albums and papers she’d brought with her and saw the tea-stained folder she’d found beneath the cushion of Ursula’s armchair. She’d been surprised to find it there and would have dismissed it as an old woman’s idiosyncrasy until she saw, written in pencil in the top-right corner, the words For Isobel . That had been enough for her to scoop it up and drop it in with the pile of post and other papers needing her attention.
She pulled it out and placed it on her lap, swinging the desk chair round to face the balcony doors, now finding herself a little reluctant to open it. It was addressed to her mother. It didn’t seem right, somehow, this prying and peeking into the affairs and correspondence of her elders.
But it had to be done, whether she felt comfortable doing it or not. It might hold the answer to the identity of Ursula’s son. Although that wasn’t the only reason she had to read it. She needed her own answers, needed to understand what could have happened between Ursula and Izzie to make her mother deceive her. And they were hardly in a position to complain. Ursula had wanted her mother to read it, and if her mother, then why not Lexy herself? Besides, her mother would have shared it with her. Lexy felt a stab of resentment. Well, at least her mother should have shared it. Qualms quashed by the reminder of her mother’s betrayal,
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