The Theotokis Inheritance. Susanne JamesЧитать онлайн книгу.
bar smiled at her enquiringly. ‘Hi there,’ he said. ‘I’m Adam—can I help?’
‘I believe accommodation has been booked for me for a couple of nights,’ Helena said. ‘I’m Helena Kingston.’
‘Of course—yes.’ The man glanced at the huge calendar in front of him. ‘Room numbers two and five have been allocated, one for Mr Theotokis and one for yourself,’ he said, smiling again. He paused. ‘Would you like something to drink before I show you to your room? The chef’s on duty until midnight if you’d like a meal,’ he added.
Immediately, Helena felt completely at ease. The inn had a sophisticated air, yet was welcoming and reassuring, its ambience the sort she imagined Oscar would approve of—though what his opinions, likes and dislikes were she actually had no idea of at all. Not now, not any more. But, hopefully, they might have just enough in their shared pasts to make this unlooked for alliance reasonably pleasant. Helena certainly hoped so, even though his reaction to the news had been slightly ambivalent.
‘I’d love a pot of tea in about ten minutes, and perhaps a sandwich?’ Helena said, glancing over to the lively-looking restaurant area at the far end. She picked up the small case she’d brought with her, then hesitated. ‘Is Mr Theotokis about?’
‘Haven’t seen him—and he hasn’t booked in yet,’ Adam said, taking a key from one of the pegs on the wall. ‘Let me show you the way,’ he said, taking Helena’s case from her.
Her charmingly rustic bedroom with every conceivable mod con was going to suit her very well, Helena thought as she looked around her. She’d be quite happy to stay here for a couple of nights. Sitting on the edge of the huge double bed for a moment, she glanced at her watch. It was getting late and she’d imagined Oscar to have been here by now, and she wasn’t sure what to do next. Would he expect her to wait around for him until he turned up, or could she go to bed after she’d had her tea?
At that exact moment her mobile rang. It was Oscar. ‘Helena, I’m sorry to be this late,’ he said. Then, ‘I take it you found the place OK?’
‘I did, and my room is excellent—thanks.’
There was a pause. ‘I’m not far away, so I should arrive in twenty minutes or so.’
‘Shall I… Would you like me to order something for you?’ Helena asked. ‘I’m told the chef’s still on duty.’
‘You can order me a whisky—but nothing to eat, thanks,’ Oscar said, and without another word he rang off.
By the time he arrived almost half an hour later, Helena had eaten the sandwiches she’d ordered for herself, and was sitting in a quiet corner of the still busy bar with her glass of wine and Oscar’s whisky already on the table. He came straight over and sat down opposite her.
‘Hi,’ he said briefly, then picked up his glass and took a generous swallow. ‘You obviously got here with no difficulty,’ he said, sitting down, and feeling fleetingly pleased to be with someone he knew—or knew once. And she was looking good—amazing, in fact—in her jeans and striped sweater, her hair tied back in a long ponytail.
Helena couldn’t help noting the dark expression on his features, and an uncomfortable chill ran through her. He was obviously thoroughly annoyed at being so late, she thought—or maybe he wasn’t appreciating having to be here at all—with her. Helena’s spirits sank at the thought of what lay ahead of them, of how he might view everything to do with their shared legacy. And, now that he’d had time to mull it over, how he was viewing her significant presence in the whole affair. Was he going to expect her to meekly see his point of view—to kowtow just because of who he was? And would she ever have the nerve to put her suggestion to him about staying at the house? He certainly didn’t seem in a particularly positive mood at the moment, she thought.
‘Anyway, it’s rather late for us to discuss anything tonight,’ he said briefly. ‘So we’ll have an early breakfast in the morning, then spend the rest of the day at Mulberry Court and catalogue all the items that need disposing of.’ He took another drink. ‘The quicker we make a start, the better.’
Helena finished her wine and picked up her bag. ‘I’m aware that you have a very busy life, Oscar,’ she said firmly, ‘but…’ She paused. ‘I would really like to spend some time just looking around Isobel’s home, revisiting something of my past, perhaps,’ she said. ‘I knew Mulberry Court so well when I was growing up, but it is such a long time since I was there—I wasn’t even able to make the funeral—which upset me a lot. And Isobel’s death was so sudden—so totally unexpected.’ She paused.
‘Yes, I thought you’d been forgotten,’ Oscar said, ‘that your name had somehow been omitted from the long list of my aunt’s friends and acquaintances who would have been informed of her death.’
‘No, I wasn’t forgotten—and I did explain later, with my apologies,’ Helena said carefully. ‘I was actually ill in bed with a horrendous attack of flu,’ she added, surprised that her attendance at what would have been a very crowded occasion had been missed by anyone—especially Isobel’s ambitious great-nephew. She stood up.
‘Well, then, I’ll see you in the morning,’ she said, and Oscar stood as well, looking down at her briefly.
‘Yes, and tomorrow you can have your little trip down memory lane,’ he said obliquely.
After she’d gone, Oscar bought himself another whisky and sat back down, relieved that the golden liquid was beginning to calm him, bringing him back to normal. The reason behind his lateness had been an accident that had shaken him up quite badly. In all the countless hours of driving he’d done, he’d never been caught up in anything like it—and he hoped he never would again. One of the first on the scene, and having to rescue two young kids from the back of a car that had seemed ready to burst into flames, had been a shattering experience. But the emergency services had arrived in an impressively short time and had been fulsome in their praise of Oscar’s quick thinking—which, when he thought about it now, had been purely instinctive. He drank quickly again. It was a miracle that no one had been killed or badly hurt, though the young mother who’d been driving had clearly been in deep shock. Thank God he’d been there at just the right moment to be of some use.
After a while, his thoughts turned to his reasons for being here. In the few days which had elapsed since the reading of the will, he’d had time to think things over and had to accept that its contents—and instructions—were hardly Helena’s fault. But one thing was certain—it was going to be a major inconvenience for both of them. Though, from what she had said just now, she was going to take her time. Well, if there was too much procrastination he’d have to hurry her up a bit, he decided.
He fingered his glass thoughtfully, that other idea occurring to him again. Could he get her to agree to sell him her share straight away? She might be glad of some quick money—living in London was expensive, and she could certainly do with a new car.
He drained his glass and went over to the bar for the key to his room. Adam looked up and smiled. ‘Everything all right, Mr Theotokis?’ he asked.
‘I certainly hope it’s going to be,’ Oscar said enigmatically.
‘No, no, no! You can’t do this to me… it isn’t fair! You shan’t have them… you can have the house, you can have everything… but these are mine! Isobel promised!’ And then a low, pitiful scream followed as the figurines fell to the floor and shattered into a thousand pieces. Helena sat bolt upright in bed, putting her hand to her mouth. Had she screamed out loud just then—had anyone heard her? That was one of the most awful, vivid dreams she’d ever had in her life. But this dream—this nightmare—had been so strong it had actually felt physical. She had felt Oscar’s hands holding hers in an iron grip as they’d both struggled for possession of the beautiful ornaments. Pushing and pulling each other like demented creatures. But Helena had been no match for his masculine strength and with that cry of despair she had released her hold and watched her precious figurines destroyed before her eyes.
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