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‘So, if … when he dies, I get the property back?’ There was a long pause. Abigail waited for a simpleyes. It wasn’t really a question. But it didn’t come. Abigail swallowed. She had a bad feeling. ‘Please don’t tell me the tenancy can be inherited.’
The solicitor found her voice. Abigail got heryes.
‘Hello?’ There was a rat-tat-tat at the door. ‘Abigail, are you in there?’
Abigail turned from the window. She could hear Joss calling from downstairs. ‘Miss Watson, I’ve got to go.’
Miss Watson added, ‘The rent is paid through a letting agency in Southwold. I’ve passed your details to them. You just need to pop in at some point and pass over your bank details. They can then deposit the monthly rent into your bank account.’ She paused. ‘Is there anything else I can help you with?’
Not unless you know how to bump off an old man with a penchant for interfering in her business,she thought. The problem was that Joss’s unclewasnow her business. He was living on her land in what had turned out to be her lighthouse.
‘Abigail – are you up there?’
She slipped the phone away from her ear and called out, ‘Joss, I’ll be right down.’
Abigail returned to her phone call. ‘You’ve answered my question.’
The solicitor said, ‘It can only be passed on once, though, so it’s not like it can go on down the generations.’
‘Okay,’ Abigail said. It didn’t make her feel any better about Joss’s uncle, but she was thinking that perhaps there was a way of carving up the land and selling the lighthouse separately.She hoped so, otherwise it would put a huge spanner in the works; it would ruin her plans.She wondered if someone might take it on as an investment. What did it look like inside? Was it habitable? It must be; the old man lived there.
At least if the worst came to the worst and she couldn’t sell the property, then perhaps the tenancy of the lighthouse would pass to Joss and he would live there. She still wasn’t entirely sure what his story was. Everybody – and by that she meant herself and Lili – had an opinion; they thought he might be an out-of-work artist or a young tech billionaire who’d sold his company and had retired at the grand old age of … well … Abigail didn’t know exactly how old he was either.
‘Is there anything else you need, Mrs Forrester?’
My husband back from the dead, thought Abigail. ‘No, thank you.’ She ended the call and stared at the title deeds until a noise downstairs reminded her Joss had walked into the cottage. She looked up, frowning. What was he doing there?
When she got downstairs, Joss was standing in her lounge with shopping bags. ‘I’m dropping off some groceries for my uncle.’
Abigail looked at the shopping bags. From what she’d seen, Joss’s uncle was quite capable of taking care of himself. He was only in his seventies, but she sensed that Joss was worried about him. That explained why he was visiting the lighthouse, but what was he doing here, in her cottage?
As if reading her mind, Joss pointed at the door. It was wide open. ‘I got out of my car and noticed your front door wide open.’
Abigail followed her gaze. ‘Oh.’ In her hurry to find the deeds, she hadn’t realised she’d forgotten to shut the front door. She turned to Joss. ‘I think he’s out.’ His uncle’s car wasn’t in the driveway.
‘Yeah, I know. I’m just going to leave these in the kitchen.’
Abigail followed him to her door. He stepped outside.
She frowned at the lighthouse, relieved Joss’s uncle wasn’t here. After what she’d found out, he was the last person she wanted to see.
Joss caught her expression. ‘Are you okay?’
Abigail looked at him, wondering if he knew his uncle was a tenant – her tenant, as it happened.
He said, ‘I’m sorry.’
‘What for?’
‘Asking a stupid question. Of course you’re not all right, you lost your husband not too long ago.’
And now I’ve got a permanent interfering neighbour who will make my life even more difficult if I want to sell.She looked at Joss. Her face softened. It wasn’t his fault. Her gaze drifted back to the lighthouse.
‘Well, I’d better drop this off.’ He hesitated. ‘Would you like a tour?’
‘A tour?’
Joss glanced over his shoulder. ‘Of the lighthouse?’
