AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Lili sat next to her on the sofa and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
‘I understand completely. I just need you to sign some paperwork – then it’s all yours.’
The trouble was that Abigail didn’t want the property. Her hand shook as she signed on the dotted line. She wondered where the money had come from to buy the cottage. She hadn’t even known it was on the market. And he hadn’t told her he’d purchased it. She remembered his text from work the day he died, saying he had something important to tell her when he got home. Was this it? Was it about the cottage?
Relief swept over her when she had a thought:he must have won the lottery. That must have been how he’d come by the money to buy the property. Why hadn’t it occurred to her in the first place? Of course, that was what it was. He’d enjoyed playing the Friday EuroMillions.
The solicitor quickly ran over the other items; the ones Abigail already knew about. There was the lump sum benefit and the insurance policy, which would start paying out soon. There were Toby’s personal possessions, and the things they’d bought for their rental flat, all of which he’d left to her.
Abigail had a question. Was she the only beneficiary? ‘What about his parents, his sister? Didn’t he bequeath anything to them?’ Abigail couldn’t imagine what he could leave them. It wasn’t as though he owned much – apart from the property that she’d known nothing about. She frowned.
Miss Watson shook her head. ‘No.’ She shifted nervously in her seat. ‘And there is this.’ She passed Abigail a brown envelope. ‘It’s a personal letter from him.’
Abigail’s frown deepened. He had said nothing about writing her a letter and leaving it with his will. ‘When was this written?’
‘Now, that was very recent. I believe a week before he died he came in with it to add to … all this.’
‘That’s odd.’
‘Perhaps he had—’ Miss Watson paused.
Abigail raised her eyes from the letter. ‘Perhaps he had …?’ She really hoped the woman wasn’t intimating he’d had a premonition about his death. That was both morbid and totally inappropriate under the circumstances.
Lili said it instead. ‘I hope you’re not suggesting that Toby had a premonition about his—’
‘No, no, not at all. Look, the family were – are – contesting the ownership of the property. Perhaps there’s some information in that letter as to why they would do that.’
Abigail looked at her, shocked. ‘Why would Toby’s parents and sister contest his will?’
‘Ah, we are speaking at cross purposes. Sorry, that’s my fault,’ Miss Watson said. ‘This isn’t about your late husband’s parents. I’m talking about the Somervilles.’
‘The Somervilles?’ Lili interrupted. ‘You don’t mean Lord Somerville from Somerville Hall in Suffolk?’
‘You know them?’ the solicitor said in surprise, sensing a conflict of interest.
‘No, not really. I was hired by them recently to landscape the gardens of Somerville Hall.’
‘I see.’
Abigail looked from the solicitor to Lili, and back again. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t know what this is about or who either of you are talking about. And what’s this got to do with my husband’s estate – and this letter?’
The solicitor leaned forward in her seat. ‘Look, I thought it best you hear it from me. As far as we’re concerned, you own that cottage. Please don’t take offence, but the timing of your husband’s death was a bit … unfortunate. He’d just come into possession of the cottage, you see.’
Abigail felt a migraine coming on. She rubbed her temples. ‘What do you mean?’
‘The Hideaway.’
Lili had picked up Abigail’s glass of water to take a sip, and nearly dropped the glass when she heard the name of the cottage. ‘You don’t mean …?’
Abigail glanced at Lili and nodded. ‘Yes, The Hideaway.’
‘But …’
Abigail rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t ask me – I don’t know how he came to be in possession of the cottage either.’
‘I was just about to explain the circumstances of your late husband’s acquisition of the cottage when you had a … funny turn. The family of the lady who put the cottage into a trust for your husband are contesting that trust.’
Abigail and Lili stared at the solicitor.
