Things We Never Say Page 20

  ‘Did you like him?’

  ‘He could be difficult,’ conceded Alex. ‘But I got on well with him.’

  They walked along the gravelled pathway towards the car park. Alex’s Lexus was at the opposite end to Ryan’s Golf.

  ‘I’ll see you there,’ said Alex, and walked away from them.

  The sun had been shining directly into the car, and Abbey gasped as a blast of warm air hit her when she opened the door.

  ‘I should’ve bought a convertible,’ said Ryan.

  ‘I like convertibles,’ said Abbey.

  ‘D’you have one?’

  She shook her head. ‘Are you crazy? I can’t afford a car. Jeez, right now I can hardly afford an apartment! Although when me and my mom were in Latin America, we drove everywhere in …’

  ‘Convertibles?’ He sounded surprised.

  ‘No.’ She laughed. ‘Open-topped jeeps.’

  Ryan laughed too. Then he put the car in gear and joined the queue to leave the car park.

  Chapter 21

  Suzanne recognised many of the people who came to the hotel after the funeral, among them Mrs Farrell, who’d lived across the road from the Fitzpatricks in East Wall, along with her daughter Adrienne. Mrs Farrell looked exactly the same as she always had – squeezed into a suit that was at least one size too small for her and cheerfully allowing her white blouse to strain across her sizeable chest. Suzanne had always envied Adrienne her easy-going parents; she’d been one of the clique of cool girls who wore short skirts and copious amounts of make-up and had a different boyfriend for every day of the week. Though she wondered whether she should envy her now. Adrienne, while still trowelling on the make-up, wore a permanently dissatisfied expression and looked older than her thirty-nine years. Would that have been me if I’d stayed? wondered Suzanne. Did Dad actually do me a favour by making me leave? The thought shocked her.

  Adrienne Farrell was looking in her direction and Suzanne, not feeling able to talk to her even though she knew that the aftermath of a funeral was exactly the place for meeting up with old acquaintances, turned to the long trestle table from where a waiter was dispensing tea and coffee. She asked for a black coffee and then moved to a corner of the room where she could observe other people without being seen herself.

  She watched Lisette walking around the room shaking hands with people as though she was the hostess for the day – which, Suzanne supposed, she might well be. She was the senior Mrs Fitzpatrick these days after all, wasn’t she? Not that Deirdre would feel too happy about that. Suzanne had already seen her ex-sister-in-law shoot a few daggered looks in Lisette’s direction. As well as in the direction of the woman who’d usurped her, the beautiful Zoey. Seeing Deirdre prowl around the room, Suzanne felt a bit sorry for her. It was as though she hadn’t been able to let go, hadn’t been able to leave the Fitzpatricks behind.

  Am I the only person in the world to happily extricate themselves from a marriage? she wondered. The only one who sailed through a divorce without acrimony? She hadn’t heard from any of her ex-husband’s family since her split from Calvin. They’d never been very close, of course. But the Fitzpatricks weren’t all that close either. Maybe it was different in Ireland, though. Maybe in a country with fewer than five million people, it wasn’t possible to completely cut the ties that had once bound you. That was why she’d been right to go.

  She saw Abbey Andersen, looking cool and smart in a black and white dress and high-heeled sandals. She was alone, and Suzanne walked over to her.

  ‘How are you today?’ she asked.

  ‘Grand,’ said Abbey, pleased to be able to use her favourite new word. ‘I’m grand. And you?’ Her voice softened. ‘The priest said some nice things about your dad. Donald, too.’

  ‘Never speak ill of the dead.’ Suzanne gave her a wry smile. ‘Nobody would’ve got up there and said that Fred was a womanising sod who lobbed a grenade into the bosom of his family before he departed this life.’

  ‘Am I the grenade?’ asked Abbey.

  ‘Sorry, that was a bit insensitive,’ said Suzanne.

  ‘Oh, not really. I understand.’

  ‘Will your mother be very upset when you finally get around to telling her about all this?’ Suzanne looked curiously at Abbey. She’d meant to tease out a little more about the American girl’s mother when they’d spoken, but she’d been too tired.

  ‘I’m sure she’ll deal with it,’ said Abbey. ‘At least I was here to say goodbye for her.’

  ‘It’s good to say goodbye.’ Suzanne looked surprised at her own words. She wasn’t sure why she felt the way she did, but she suddenly realised that despite everything, she was glad she’d come.

  ‘When do you go back to Spain?’ asked Abbey. ‘It is Spain, right?’

  ‘Yes. I’m staying till the day after tomorrow.’ She made a face. ‘It seemed right when I was booking it, but to be honest, I’d be quite happy to go back tonight.’

  ‘But you’re having the family meeting with me,’ said Abbey.

  ‘Indeed.’ Suzanne gave a quick smile. ‘I’m sure that’ll be fun.’

  ‘I’m sure it won’t.’ But Abbey couldn’t help smiling too.

  Lisette wondered what Suzanne and Abbey had found to talk to each other about. They seemed to be getting on well together, even laughing occasionally, though Lisette couldn’t imagine what there was to laugh about. She’d be glad when all of this was over and everything had got back to normal.

  She groaned inwardly as Edie Farrell walked over to her. Fred’s former neighbour wanted to talk, and Lisette didn’t feel like talking right now. She tacked a smile on to her face. Only a little longer to go, she said to herself. Only a little longer.

  In fact it was nearly three hours later before only the family (including Deirdre, her daughters and Abbey) remained. As well as Alex and Ryan, the legal people. Abbey was standing beside Ryan, who’d stuck to her for the majority of the afternoon, keeping her amused with anecdotes about his work with Celtic Legal and shielding her from Fred’s neighbours and acquaintances who, once or twice, tried to strike up conversations with her. Abbey was very grateful to him for looking after her so well; despite the solemnity of the occasion, she’d enjoyed his company. Not that the occasion had stayed overly solemn. After about an hour it had become more of a celebration than anything else, with people chattering and laughing and every so often recounting stories about Fred.

  But now the friends and neighbours had left and the family was alone.

  Donald spoke briefly to Alex and the solicitor cleared his throat and asked everyone to gather round.

  ‘You all wanted an opportunity to talk to Abbey Andersen,’ he said. ‘And this is that opportunity. However, I thought that perhaps it would be a good idea for me to talk to you too, especially with regard to the late Mr Fitzpatrick’s will.’

  The Fitzpatricks shared glances.

  ‘We would certainly welcome the opportunity to hear what Dad wanted for us,’ said Donald. ‘But it doesn’t concern Abbey. Does it?’

  ‘Why don’t we sit down and talk,’ suggested Alex.

  ‘Aren’t you the executor of Fred’s will?’ Zoey asked her husband quietly. ‘Why should Alex be talking about it?’

  ‘I may be the executor, but Dad didn’t keep me informed of all the changes,’ replied Donald. ‘And I’m guessing the old man left something to his damn illegitimate daughter.’

  ‘You can’t say illegitimate any more!’ Zoey squeezed his arm. ‘It’s not PC. Maybe Fred left her something nice and Alex wants Abbey to bring it home to her.’

  Donald grunted. ‘Even so, I don’t like the idea of her being part of a family gathering.’

  ‘Oh, who cares.’ Zoey plonked herself down on one of the well-upholstered sofas. ‘Let’s get this over and done with and then we can move on.’ And hopefully, she thought, me and Don will be moving to Fred’s house.

  ‘I know the whole thing about reading someone’s will aloud is usually confined to period detective nove
ls and movies,’ said Alex when everyone had found a seat. ‘But I think under the circumstances it might be worth making Mr Fitzpatrick’s wishes quite clear to you all.’

  ‘What circumstances?’ asked Donald as the rest of them gathered round.

  ‘Everyone who has any interest in it is here,’ said Alex.

  At his words, Deirdre Fitzpatrick straightened in her seat and her two daughters exchanged happy smiles. Abbey felt tense. Had Fred left something to her mother? No matter what it was, Ellen wouldn’t be able to accept it. She exhaled slowly. She been steeling herself all day to talk to the family about her mother. She hadn’t anticipated that Fred might have left her anything. As if things weren’t complicated enough already.

  The extended Fitzpatrick family sat in a semicircle and looked at Alex expectantly. The solicitor was calm and controlled, his expression neutral as he glanced at the papers in his hands. He cleared his throat before starting to speak.

  ‘Mr Fitzpatrick Senior’s estate is made up mainly of cash and property,’ he told them. ‘The cash, which amounts to somewhat over four hundred thousand euros, comes from the recent liquidation of his equity portfolio; he decided to sell all of his shareholdings at the beginning of the year. The property is his home.’

  The family nodded. Not a bad amount from the share portfolio, thought Gareth. Dad had done OK, despite the rocky markets of the past few years. He was a canny old devil, you had to hand it to him. Yet to look at him you’d think he hadn’t a red cent!

  ‘As you probably all know,’ Alex continued, ‘Mr Fitzpatrick, like many older people, liked to tweak his last will and testament from time to time.’

  Lisette reached for Gareth’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

  ‘The last time I met Mr Fitzpatrick about his will was a little over a week ago,’ said Alex.

  ‘A week ago?’ Donald looked at him in shock. ‘I thought the last time he changed it was at the beginning of the year! Why did he need to talk to you a week ago?’

  ‘He was advising me that he had made some alterations.’ Alex’s voice was steady. ‘And he wanted me to be the executor of his new will.’

  ‘Alterations?’ Donald was horrified. ‘What sort? And why am I not the executor? I always was.’

  ‘Oh for God’s sake, Don, who cares?’ Deirdre spoke impatiently. ‘Let Alex get on with it and tell us what the hell Fred has left us.’

  ‘Before I do,’ said Alex, ‘I want to point out to you that Mr Fitzpatrick was perfectly entitled to draw up his own will without any input from me.’

  ‘Is that what he did?’ asked Gareth.

  ‘In this instance,’ said Alex. He cleared his throat. ‘Mr Fitzpatrick’s previous wills had always been drawn up by our firm, but he wanted to do this one himself. He said that he was very clear about his wishes and that he didn’t need to waste time leaving it with me and having someone here draw it up again. When he called in to the practice, all he wanted was for two people to witness his signature.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ said Deirdre. ‘The old bugger has left it all to the cats and dogs.’

  ‘He hasn’t done that,’ Alex assured her, and Deirdre’s face cleared.

  Donald and Gareth exchanged tight smiles. Zoey tried to look unconcerned. Lisette tightened her hold on Gareth’s hand. Suzanne stared straight ahead of her.

  Alex took a document from his inside pocket and unfolded it. ‘With that in mind, he bequeathed equal sums of money to his four grandchildren.’ He glanced down at the paper in front of him and read from it. ‘“… as a means of starting out in the world. Which my two oldest granddaughters have already done. But hopefully this will stop them leaning on their father so heavily in the process.”’

  Sorcha and Karen exchanged glances, while Deirdre hid a smile.

  ‘Twenty-five thousand each,’ said Alex.

  The two girls hugged each other. Deirdre looked pleased. Donald’s face was expressionless while Zoey’s eyes were hard. Lisette leaned her head on Gareth’s shoulder. She hadn’t expected that sort of generosity from Fred towards his grandchildren. No matter how difficult a man he’d been, he’d still been mindful of the next generation and she was grateful to him for that. Whatever happened, at least her son and daughter would have money to go to college. She allowed herself a sigh of relief.

  ‘The money for Jerome and Fleur is to be placed into a trust until they are eighteen,’ said Alex.

  ‘That’s fine by us,’ said Gareth.

  ‘He’s left five thousand to the former Mrs Fitzpatrick,’ said Alex.

  ‘What?’ Deirdre looked affronted, while Zoey smiled surreptitiously. ‘Five bloody K! For crying out loud! I kept in touch with him. I called to see him. I cut his grass. And that’s the thanks I get.’

  ‘If you were doing it for the money, you should have charged him,’ said Suzanne. ‘I’m sure he would’ve paid the going rate.’

  Donald looked at his sister in surprise. He hadn’t expected her to be the one to spring to his father’s defence.

  Alex looked at her too. ‘As far as you’re concerned, Suzanne, I’ll read to you from the will. “I realise that as a father I failed with my daughter, Suzanne. I didn’t appreciate her spirit and her drive. That was my loss.”’

  Suzanne felt her eyes well up with tears. She remembered how she’d wanted to come back as a success and see Fred’s face. She’d never thought that he already considered her to be successful. She never dreamed he’d felt that it was a loss to him not to know her better.

  ‘“To my daughter Suzanne,”’ Alex continued, reading from the will, ‘“I leave the sum of two hundred and fifty thousand euros.”’

  Suzanne’s mouth fell open. She realised that she had been steeling herself to receive nothing at all from her father. He’d cut her out of his life so comprehensively in the past (and to be fair, she’d allowed it to happen) that she’d been quite prepared to accept that he’d left everything to her brothers. In fact, as soon as Alex had started talking, she’d been thinking of ways in which she might be able to persuade either one of them (or both) to become part of her hotel consortium. But now she could bring some money to the table herself. Not enough, she thought, as she took out a tissue and wiped her eyes. Not enough to put the whole thing to bed, but enough, surely, to influence the bank a little. If that happens, I can have my hotel. And it would be because of Dad. She crumpled the damp tissue and covered her face with her hands.

  ‘Congratulations, Suzanne,’ said Donald, his voice clipped. ‘You deserve it. You should consider yourself very lucky.’

  Suzanne couldn’t say anything. She was still overcome. Still shocked.

  ‘“I have previously settled a considerable amount on my two sons, Donald and Gareth, and their wives”,’ read Alex. ‘“At the time, I told them that I wanted them to have the benefit of my good fortune before I died. I wanted them to enjoy the money.”’

  Suzanne raised her head and looked at both of her brothers in surprise. This was the first she’d heard of any previous settlement.

  ‘He gave you money before?’ she said. ‘When? Why?’

  ‘After Mam died,’ Donald replied. ‘He said that he’d expected to be spending the money on her, but he decided to give it to us instead. I was working with him, after all. I deserved something for that.’

  ‘And you?’ She looked at Gareth.

  ‘I suppose he thought I could do with a bit of a leg-up,’ said her brother. ‘Teaching doesn’t pay all that well, you know.’

  ‘I always knew he favoured you both.’ Even though she was still reeling at her own bequest, Suzanne couldn’t help feeling hurt that Fred had given money to the boys already.

  ‘You were living abroad at the time,’ Gareth said. ‘You hadn’t been home in years. And when you did come home, for Mam’s funeral, you made no secret of the fact that you couldn’t stand him.’

  ‘He’s given you money now,’ said Lisette. ‘You should be happy.’

  Suzanne knew that Lisette was right. The past
wasn’t important. The future was the only thing that mattered. And her father had – so unexpectedly – looked after her future.

  ‘It’s always unfortunate when a parent favours one child or children over others,’ said Alex. ‘I don’t think that Mr Fitzpatrick intended to hurt anyone’s feelings. He wanted to do the right thing by everyone.’

  He returned to reading the will.

  ‘“I know that the economic situation has affected both my sons, and Donald’s domestic situation hasn’t been as easy as he would have liked, and so, taking into account the money I gave them a number of years ago, I am making an additional settlement of twenty-five thousand to each of them, as well as leaving them my two classic cars to help them smooth out their affairs.”’

  The brothers exchanged glances again. Getting such a small cash sum was somewhat insulting – especially compared to Suzanne – but not if they also shared the house between them. But, each of them was also thinking, what if Fred had left the house to the other brother? How would he have made that decision? And what then?

  ‘“To Lisette Fitzpatrick, Gareth’s wife”,’ read Alex, ‘“I leave five thousand euros and my silver collection, and I thank her for looking after it and polishing it for so many years.”’

  Not that damn silver, thought Lisette. None of it special and nothing but trouble to keep clean. Is he having a laugh? As for five thousand – even added to Gareth’s money, that’s still not enough to clear all our debts.

  ‘“To Zoey Fitzpatrick I also leave five thousand and my late wife’s jewellery, which I hope she will enjoy as much as Ros did.”’

  Bloody hell, thought Zoey. He’s left me some God-awful necklaces and a few unwearable rings. And five grand is hardly pushing the boat out, is it? But once he’s done right by Donald, it doesn’t matter. What’s mine is mine and what’s his is mine too. And one way or another, Furze Hill will be mine.

  Alex took a sip of water and cleared his throat before continuing to read. ‘“By now you are all aware of events in my past life. I hope you have found it in your hearts to forgive me.”’ He looked up from the will. ‘Mr Fitzpatrick had intended to talk to the family after meeting Miss Andersen. Obviously things didn’t turn out like that.’