Page 4 of Serenity Falls

‘Well, the property is estimated to be worth around three million dollars.’

‘Three million?’

Stars danced in front of my eyes. I felt a little dizzy. This could … this could change everything for me and Sadie. I thought about our tired old terraced house. My beaten-up VW. My current problems with my employment. This could …

‘Mr Barker, there is one condition.’

I stared at him and felt my dreams deflate like a punctured balloon.

‘You mean a catch?’

‘If you want to call it that. The property cannot be sold.’

‘What? Why?’

‘Well, it’s part of the contract with Serenity Falls. Houses bequeathed to people outside of Serenity Falls cannot be sold or let by the recipients for a minimum of five years. Even then, you must get approval from the Winsom Corporation.’

‘How is that legal?’

‘It’s all in the small print. Theoretically the house is yours, but there are terms and covenants – and this is one.’

‘Well, what if we just don’t live in it?’

‘Well, that is an option, but then you would be subject to maintenance charges.’

‘Which are?’

‘Fifty thousand dollars a year.’

I feel my jaw slump open. ‘How the hell did Mum afford that?’

‘Your mother was smart enough to take out an insurance policy when she bought the house. The property was also rented for several years.’

‘When did Mum buy the property?’ I ask curiously.

‘Nineteen seventy-nine.’

Nineteen seventy-nine. The year I was born. That meant Mum had kept this secret for forty-six years. My entire life.

I took a breath. ‘Well, what can we do? I mean, we can’t move to Florida. No way would I get a green card.’

‘Well, that’s the other thing, Mr Barker. The residence comes with a rather unique and privileged extra – instant approval for a visa.’

‘It what now?’

I stared at the picture of the house again. The clear blue skies, the pool. It was ludicrous. Crazy. We couldn’t just up sticks and move from Manchester. Rainy, grey Manchester. No pool, but a decent-sized garden. And by decent, I meant enough room to swing a cat in. A dead cat.

The solicitor smiled thinly and slid a card across the table. I picked it up: Lansdowne and Mercer Estate Agents.

‘Let them know when you want to put your house on the market.’

Cash

I always wanted to be a mailman.

I know some folks might think that’s odd, or dull or just not ambitious enough. My dad, he would say, ‘Shut the fuck up, Cash, and get me another beer, you dumb fat shit.’

That’s a joke, by the way. To let you know my dad didn’t care too much about what I did. Didn’t care too much about anything except beer and poker. He was a mean son of a bitch. Yeah, I can admit that now. Never worked at a job for longer than a few months (unless you counted dealing weed and gambling). A walking, cursing, hunting, redneck cliché. But I guess he was still one up on Mom because he stuck around.