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‘You want to sell it?’
‘Of course. What would I want with a bookshop?’
There was a silence down the end of the phone. The solicitor said, ‘He must have had a reason for leaving you the shop.’
Callum sighed. As if he’d want to run a bookshop. In any case, what did that have to do with bookbinding and rare books? He looked at the address. ‘Where on earth is Aldeburgh?’
‘I believe it’s a seaside town in Suffolk.’
‘Suffolk?’ Callum smiled. He remembered Jack mentioning how buoyant property prices in the area were.
‘Now, on the subject of you selling the property … I’d like to just add a caveat to what we were talking about earlier regarding dementia. It is possible that in these instances someone might challenge a will or inheritance.’
‘Who?’
‘I’m not saying someone in particular. I’m just giving you a heads-up, if you like, theoretically speaking. But of course that’s why your father consulted a solicitor, and we do take steps to ensure we are satisfied with our clients’ mental capacity before progressing with the legal paperwork. So if a person were to challenge the changes made to the deeds or his will, for argument’s sake, we can provide evidence on your behalf that his mental capacity was not diminished at the time of signing the paperwork.’
As Callum was listening to all this with his mobile phone balanced in the crook of his neck, he was going through the old brown leather wallet that he’d also found in the drawer. There was some loose change, just coppers, a very old, faint, hardly discernible receipt, and a photo. Callum nearly dropped the phone when he lifted the dog-eared photograph out of one of the compartments of the wallet.
‘Is there anything else?’
‘No, er … that’s all, thanks.’ He put the phone down, sat back in the chair and studied the photo. There were two girls standing together. They were obviously sisters because they looked alike, although the youngest had dark hair, the older girl was blonde. The youngest looked around eight or nine, the other twelve or thereabouts. But what really caught his eye was where the photo was taken – outside a bookshop.
He turned it over. There was no date or names, no indication to say who the girls were or when the photo was taken.
‘Callum, would you like something to eat?’ Moira called from the hallway.
He hastily tucked the photo back in the wallet and stuffed it and the envelope in his backpack. ‘No, I’m fine.’ He got up and opened the door to the study. ‘I’m going to nip out for a bit.’
‘Catching up with some old friends?’
Callum thought of the bookshop in Suffolk. If he was going to put it on the market, he should perhaps pay a visit, check it out, and find an estate agent willing to handle the sale. While he was at it, he thought he could pay his best friend a visit. ‘Yes, perhaps I will.’
Chapter 16
Callum was about to ring for a taxi when he remembered he was trying to watch the pennies. He couldn’t afford to spend more money on taxis if he could help it. Would the old campervan still work? It would save him waiting for a taxi, and save twenty quid paying for a trip across town. If the engine didn’t switch on, perhaps he’d just sleep in there tonight; the thought had occurred to him earlier anyway. Callum couldn’t imagine sleeping in his old childhood bedroom. Perhaps it had been redecorated – if so, it wouldn’t feel so weird – but maybe, like the study, his mum had left that room stuck in a time warp, with all his old stuff in there along with the original carpet and décor. Either way, Callum didn’t feel exactly enthusiastic about finding out.
He grabbed his bag and scooted past the kitchen. He could see his mum behind the frosted glass of the door. ‘Would you like me to save you some dinner for when you get back?’
‘Yeah – sure.’
‘You sounded quite American there for a moment.’
‘Oh, did I?’ Callum frowned. He rather wished he didn’t. It was all he had to show for his time in the States – that and a tan.
Callum got the set of keys from his pocket as he walked out of the front door. Now he knew what they were for – one to his father’s desk, the other one he hadn’t recognised must be to the bookshop, and this one, to the campervan. Luckily, there was also the small key that unlocked the garage door. He opened the garage door as quietly as possible. He didn’t see why his mum would object to him taking the van out for a spin. She had her car, after all. Even so, he didn’t fancy explaining to her that his dad had been in possession of a spare set of keys. She might ask him what else he’d discovered. Callum thought of the old wallet and the photo of two girls.Who were they?
As he walked up to the yellow VW campervan, which was in surprisingly good condition considering its age, he put the key in the lock and recalled what was written in the note.
The van is for the girls. I made them a promise, so you must give them the campervan. Don’t tell your mother, but promise me you’ll look after them, they are—
Callum opened the van door and slung his bag on to the front seat. It had been years since he’d set foot in it. As a child, he’d sometimes played in it and had invited his friends round for sleepovers. He remembered that they’d had secret midnight snacks in there. But, more often than not, his father and the campervan had been gone, driving around the country to deliver rare or recently bound books to his clients. At least, that was what he’d thought his dad was doing. He thought of the bookshop he now owned. Perhaps his father had been there all along? If so, what was the big secret, and why had he never known about the bookshop? His mother, presumably, wasn’t aware of it either.
The last thing Callum intended to do was to ask her about the bookshop – not until he had got to the bottom of what was going on. He realised that if she knew all about the bookshop, it would make his life easier. Perhaps she knew about the old wallet, and the photo of the girls. But something told him that was not the case. The fact was, his father had hidden the wallet and the deeds at the back of the desk drawer in his study for a reason.
Callum got in the driver’s seat, hoping he remembered how to drive on the left-hand side of the road and use a gear shift. It had been years.
He adjusted the seat, the wing mirror, and the rearview mirror, then put the key in the ignition. The engine started immediately, the loud rumble of the old VW engine startling him. ‘Bloody hell – that’s loud!’ He’d forgotten how loud it was. His mother was bound to hear it. The whole street would. After all this time, Callum had expected it to have a flat battery, but clearly his mother had taken it out from time to time, keeping it in working order, most likely because she knew that it was what his dad wanted.
