Coming Home to Ottercombe Bay: The laugh out loud romantic comedy of the year. Bella OsborneЧитать онлайн книгу.
singalong. It had been exactly what Reg would have wanted.
Daisy didn’t really want to hear his will read. She didn’t need anything to remember Great Uncle Reg; she had her memories. Although she had to admit she was curious about what he had left her that could be described as ‘substantial’. Cash, perhaps, but she wasn’t sure Reg had a lot of money. She needed some cash; she hated living hand to mouth. Possibly a share in the cottage, which would be very tricky because it was Aunt Coral’s home and she definitely wouldn’t want to sell it. Daisy decided she wouldn’t think about that option as it made her uncomfortable. Maybe it was a family heirloom, although the only items she could think of were pieces of furniture. That’s probably it, she thought. The large clock in the hallway and the dresser in the kitchen could both be described as substantial. Her mind wandered off and imagined her on the Antiques Roadshow trying hard to master her ‘I’m not at all disappointed it’s only worth tuppence’ face.
‘I am terribly sorry to keep you waiting,’ said the solicitor, hurrying into the office with a folder in his hand. ‘Now, I shouldn’t keep you long.’ Daisy was warming to the old gent already; she was keen to get packed up and head off up the M5. She hoped to get as far as Gloucester tonight but she wasn’t sure where she was heading afterwards.
‘This is the last will and testament of Reginald Montgomery Fabien Wickens …’ There then followed a paragraph of formal jargon before Daisy tuned in again. ‘… To my niece, Coral Anne Wickens, I leave the property of Sea Mist Cottage, Trow Lane, Ottercombe Bay, in its entirety …’ Aunt Coral let out a small sob and Daisy took her hand to comfort her. Daisy’s heart was starting to increase its speed. ‘To my great niece Daisy May Wickens, I leave the property and grounds of the former Ottercombe Bay Railway Station and adjoining car park, subject to her being resident in Ottercombe Bay for a full twelve months from the date of the reading of this will. My residuary estate is to be divided equally between Coral Wickens, Daisy Wickens and the Royal National Lifeboat Institution Ottercombe Bay Station. Should any beneficiary fail to meet the conditions of bequest their share will be divided equally between the other beneficiaries. Signed Reginald Wickens.’ The solicitor laid his hands flat on the document and patted it gently. Nobody spoke.
Daisy’s mouth had gone dry, she was baffled and a quick glance at Aunt Coral showed she mirrored how she felt. Daisy put her hand to her necklace and closed her fingers around her locket for comfort. ‘I’m sorry, but he’s left me what exactly?’ she asked.
‘Ottercombe Bay Railway Station and car park.’
‘But there’s not been trains here for years,’ said Aunt Coral.
The solicitor shuffled through a pile of papers and leaned across the desk to hand something over. It was a dog-eared auction notice. ‘The railway station at Ottercombe was decommissioned in 1975 and bought by …’ he checked his notes, ‘… a Mr Arthur Wickens who bequeathed it to your great uncle on his death. There are also some historic planning applications for demolition and site development that were refused in 1989, 1992, 2001 and 2010.’ He removed his glasses and smiled at them warmly from across the desk.
Daisy stared at the piece of paper in her hand. She was looking at a faded photograph of a Victorian railway station building. ‘He’s left me an old railway station?’
Aunt Coral was peering over her arm. ‘Do all those refused planning applications mean there’s not a lot she can do with it?’
‘Not at all. It simply means the council weren’t in favour of it being demolished, although there is a letter here saying they would be open to an application for change of use but it’s dated 2010.’
‘Can I sell it?’ asked Daisy, her voice coming out a little croaky.
‘Once it has passed to you formally following the adherence to the conditional clause.’
Daisy stared at him. Why didn’t these people just use normal words? ‘And when does it pass to me formally exactly?’
The solicitor twitched. ‘One year from today, assuming you have been resident in Ottercombe Bay for the full twelve months. This is also for you,’ he said, handing Daisy a thick cream envelope with her name beautifully written on the front in fountain pen; she recognised it instantly as Great Uncle Reg’s handwriting. ‘I believe this letter will explain things a little further.’
For once Daisy opened her mouth but could not think what to say so she shut it again. What was going on?
‘This may be a stupid question,’ started Aunt Coral, ‘but I’m guessing this is all legal and watertight and there’s no way to get around the conditions he’s set?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ said the solicitor, who started to discuss paying for the funeral and the process of probate. Daisy thumbed the envelope in her hands and studied the writing. There was a slight wobble in the letters but it was unmistakably Reg’s; she could imagine him sitting in his favourite chair writing it.
‘I wasn’t expecting that,’ said Aunt Coral, as they left the solicitor’s office a few minutes later. ‘How do you feel?’
‘Flabbergasted, but I’m fine,’ Daisy said, when she really felt like running away.
Daisy hardly spoke a word on the way home. She could feel an uncomfortable sensation take hold, a feeling akin to claustrophobia; a sense of being suffocated and chained down that she needed to fight against and escape from. Back at the cottage she changed out of her smart clothes quickly and shoved her things into her backpack.
‘Cup of tea?’ came the call from the kitchen.
Daisy started to panic. She couldn’t stay for tea, she couldn’t stay another minute. This place was simply not good for her; she was uneasy most of the time she was here but knowing it was only for a couple of days it had been bearable. A whole year was unthinkable. She stood for a moment and gripped her locket. As long as she had it she could be anywhere and her mother would be with her. She took a deep steadying breath before replying to Aunt Coral, ‘No thanks. I’m just going out.’ She grabbed a pencil and searched for a piece of paper. She scribbled a note on the back of an old envelope.
I“m so sorry but I have to go. I“ll be in touch. Take care of yourself. Love D x
She left the note on her pillow, picked up her bag and left the bedroom as quietly as she could. Panic rose as she wrestled with the porch door. It was one thing to run away but to be foiled in her attempt would be excruciating. ‘Bloody thing,’ she grumbled but a whimpering at her feet drew her attention. Bugsy was sitting watching her, his head on one side. He studied her with his abnormally big eyes. She stopped for a moment, for some odd reason she felt she needed to explain to him why she was leaving, although she suspected he wouldn’t be sad to see her go.
‘I have to go,’ she whispered. ‘This place has too many bad memories for me. Too many ghosts.’
Bugsy stood up, turned around and she heard a sort of phht sound, which was followed by a foul smell. Daisy shook her head, gave the door one more shove and slunk out.
She pulled on her helmet, got on the bike and was thankful it started first time. She surveyed Sea Mist Cottage one last time, opened the throttle and drove away. Hopefully this would be the last she’d see of it for a very long time.
In a few short minutes her breathing had steadied and despite a small niggle she knew she was doing the right thing. She didn’t like not saying goodbye to Aunt Coral but she would only have tried to make her stay. She turned into the high street and pulled up at the traffic lights. Tamsyn jumped in front of her waving her arms.
Oh cock, thought Daisy.
‘Hello. I knew it was you; your bike sounds ropey. Wasn’t it a lovely service? Proper good send off, lots of people, which is really lovely, especially for an old person because