Miranda’s Family

Chapter One

Miranda Westerby walked into her tiny alcove of a kitchen, sighing as she looked at the envelope she’d picked up from the post box in the entrance hall to the block of flats. The letter had a lawyer’s name and address printed on the envelope.

She couldn’t face opening it yet, just couldn’t, so tossed it down on the table. She was always afraid when she got a letter from that law firm that her only close relative would have played another nasty trick to spoil her peaceful life.

Before she did anything, she wanted to sit and relax for a few minutes after ending her working day with another tedious so-called ‘team meeting’ run by the recently appointed CI (which stood for Chief Idiot, in her opinion, whatever fancy title the senior management might give him). The new man now supervising her working group would win a gold medal in the boring Olympics if such a thing existed.

Unfortunately, Miranda couldn’t push the thought of the unopened envelope out of her mind, so she didn’t manage to relax properly. The Westerby family’s lawyers had never before contacted her at this time of year and that worried her. What did her great-aunt want?

She picked up the letter and scowled at it. There was a new name given on the back as the actual sender from the lawyers’ office. Who was this guy?

It was ridiculous to be so anxious because the main thing these people had contacted her about during the last few years was the annual statement by the auditors, saying that the accounts of the Westerby Family Trust Fund had been found to be correct. She had to approve this formally by letter, not email, each year.

Only, the audit wasn’t due for another three months so was there some other problem? Oh please, no! The less she had to do with her only close Westerby relative, the happier she was.

She had unpleasant memories of her great-aunt Phyllis, who had become her guardian when she was orphaned at the age of fourteen. Phyllis had immediately made it clear to Miranda at their first and only meeting that she wanted nothing to do with her young relative and was only doing her family duty by arranging for her to be looked after. She hadn’t spoken to her great-aunt in person since then.

Phyllis hadn’t sent her another letter until four years later. That one stated that she had done what she considered to be her duty to the family by making arrangements for Miranda’s care until she turned eighteen.

Care! No one else would count it ‘care’ to leave her for four years in a boarding school which lodged and supervised mainly students whose parents were working overseas. There had been no such thing as going home for the school holidays for any of them but at least the others got letters from their families.

When Miranda turned eighteen, she applied to the Trust for help going to university and the lawyers had told her that her great-aunt would agree to the fees and living costs being paid only if she studied accountancy and her marks were good.

At the end of her final term of university, her great-aunt had sent another message saying she felt she had now done her duty to the family and her great-niece could manage her own life in whatever way she chose from then onwards.

There was no offer of money to tide her over till she got her first wage and Miranda was proud of how well she’d coped. She’d got a good degree and worked part-time as a barmaid while she studied, living frugally and saving money so that she’d have something to fall back on.

She was still in touch with some of her university friends but they were now married with children and it wasn’t possible to stay close when they moved to other parts of the country.

How pitiful was it now to get anxious about that spiteful old woman simply at the sight of this envelope? ‘Get it over with, you fool,’ she told herself loudly, so picked up her mug of coffee and went to sit at the small kitchen table.

After another warm, comforting mouthful, she ripped open the envelope and quickly scanned the letter it contained. Gasping in shock, she read it again slowly and carefully. 8

Dear Ms Westerby,

I have recently taken over management of your family’s account with our company and regret to inform you that your great-aunt Phyllis passed away suddenly two weeks ago.

She did not wish a formal funeral to be held and had made arrangements years ago to be cremated privately when the time came, with only a lawyer in attendance.

This has been done as per her instructions.

I would appreciate it if you could contact our London office and make an appointment to come here as soon as possible to discuss her Will with me.

Since your great-aunt mistrusted modern technology, as you are no doubt aware, the instructions that came with the Will require this to be done in person.

Yours faithfully,

Darren Parker

Miranda’s initial reaction was to wonder whether this was some sort of trick. No, her great-aunt must really be dead, but typically she worried that the old witch would still be trying to cause trouble for her great-niece if she could.

Then she snapped her fingers as she guessed that this must be to do with the Westerby Family Trust Fund. There were probably new forms to be signed because, as she’d been informed by the lawyers when she turned twenty-one, the management of the trust would pass from her great-aunt to herself after that lady’s death, since Miranda was next in line. Yes, that’d be it. 9

The trust might have paid for her secondary education after her mother died, but she’d never had to apply to it for financial help since getting her degree. She’d felt deeply ashamed when she found out that her father had incurred debts that had had to be paid off by the trust after his sudden death.

Now that her great-aunt was dead, she would be in charge of managing the trust but there wouldn’t be a lot to do, surely, with such a small number of family members involved. This meeting should be quite straightforward, therefore, and would presumably be only to sign relevant documents.

Unfortunately, the lawyers’ office was right across the other side of London and it’d take two or three hours out of her working day to get there and back. Her new supervisor wouldn’t be happy about that but too bad. It’d be great to get away from him and his fussy ways.

She checked the time and reached for the phone, hoping someone would still be in the lawyers’ office but she only got an answering service. Bother! She’d have to wait until the following morning to arrange an appointment.

The letter ruined the peace of her evening, of course. And what a nuisance that this had happened now! She’d booked to go on holiday, starting in three days’ time, and had been looking forward to spending a couple of weeks in a luxury hotel in Italy with her friend Libby, who was older than her and had started out as a pleasant new neighbour in their block of flats a couple of years ago, then quickly became a close friend.

Oh well, these things happened. She’d manage. She always did. 10

The following morning, Miranda phoned the lawyers’ office as soon as it was open to make an appointment to see this Mr Parker.

Whoever picked up the phone told her there were no vacant time slots that day and said it casually, as if it didn’t matter.

For once she let her irritation show. ‘Then you’ll have to make time, won’t you? It was your Mr Parker who contacted me to say it was urgent that he speak to me in person and he asked me to make an appointment. However, as I have an overseas holiday booked, either I see him today or he’ll have to wait two weeks till after I get back to deal with whatever this is about. Please don’t forget to tell him I tried to do as he asked.’

The woman’s tone changed. ‘Ah. I see. Sorry. Could you please hold on for a moment, Ms Westerby? I’ll pass you to our chief clerk, who’s just come in.’

Miranda half hoped this man wouldn’t be able to arrange an appointment, either. If it was bad news, it could jolly well wait as far as she was concerned. When you didn’t particularly enjoy your job, holidays were doubly precious.

However, the chief clerk fitted her in for an appointment just after lunch the next day and said Mr Parker would be very grateful to her for contacting them so promptly.

‘Could we not do this online?’ she asked.

‘I’m afraid not. There is not only the question of passing on management of the trust and signing a contract to that effect, but also your great-aunt’s personal Will to deal with.’

‘What about her personal Will? That surely won’t have anything to do with me.’ The old hag had hated her and it wouldn’t be likely that she was leaving her great-niece a bequest.

‘It’s a bit complicated, Ms Westerby. Better if Mr Parker explains in person, then he can answer any questions you may have.’

Miranda worried about that for the rest of the morning. She only hoped she wouldn’t have to go to Wiltshire afterwards to deal with the family home, in which her great-aunt had been living for decades and which Miranda could only vaguely remember visiting once as a small child.

She didn’t know any details about the place but guessed that at the very least there might be Phyllis’s personal possessions to dispose of. Her heart sank at the mere thought of having to go through drawers and cupboards to throw away an old lady’s underwear and who knew what else. Ugh.

At just before one o’clock the next day, she walked into the lawyers’ rooms and Mr Parker immediately came out to greet her. He was about her own age with a more pleasant manner than the previous elderly man she’d dealt with, which made her immediately feel better about this visit.

‘Thank you for coming here so promptly, Ms Westerby. Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?’

‘Nothing, thank you.’ She just wanted to get everything to do with her great-aunt over and done with and then forget that the woman had ever existed.

He led the way into a luxurious office, gesturing towards a chair. ‘Please take a seat.’

She did that and waited. She was so anxious to get this finalised that she spoke more sharply than usual. ‘I was surprised that whatever this is about couldn’t have been dealt with digitally now that my great-aunt is no longer involved. I know she always refused to deal with things online but surely we can move on from that now?’

‘I’m afraid we still have to deal with this in person because of the conditions set by your aunt in her own Will.’

She might have known it’d be that old witch’s doing! ‘I usually deal with a Mr Lloyd, who understands the situation between my great-aunt and myself, in that she disliked me for some weird reason, so he always used to fill me in on all the details she’d missed out. Isn’t he available today?’

‘I’m afraid he retired a few months ago. I took over your family’s accounts, but it wasn’t time for the annual auditing of the trust and Miss Westerby was managing the other things that cropped up as usual, so there was nothing that needed doing until she passed away quite unexpectedly.’

‘How did she die?’

‘Massive stroke. She was found by her housekeeper, Miss Parnham, who dialled for an ambulance and they took her to hospital, quite rightly informing us. We knew Selma Parnham owned a house in the village so when the hospital informed us that your aunt wasn’t likely to recover, we immediately closed up the big house. Your aunt lingered for a week or so but never regained consciousness.’

‘I see.’

He got out a folder that appeared to be brand new, with the name Westerby Family Trust in big letters on the front label. ‘I took the liberty of starting off a new folder because the family records are in rather a mess.’

‘My great-aunt hated spending money on administrative matters.’

‘That’s obvious. Um, did she ever share any information about the contents of her own Will with you?’

‘No, never. I’ve had no contact whatsoever with her in person since I was fourteen.’

He looked at her in surprise. ‘Goodness! But I thought you were her closest relative and that she used to be your guardian?’

‘Once she’d taken over as my guardian, she did everything through your firm. I never visited her at Fairfield House after that.’

‘Ah. I see. Well then, I’m happy to inform you that apart from one other relatively small legacy to a third cousin of yours, a Mr Mitchell Westerby, you’re her sole beneficiary.’

‘Mr Lloyd informed me when I turned twenty-one that the trust would come under my supervision after my great-aunt died,’ she said cautiously, puzzled by how he’d phrased that. Surely he couldn’t mean it literally? Phyllis wouldn’t leave anything to a niece she hated, surely?

‘It’s not just a question of you taking over management of your family trust, Ms Westerby. You inherit that task automatically for the rest of your life, then it passes to your next of kin. No, what concerns us more today is that you’re also Miss Westerby’s main beneficiary and she’s left everything she owned personally to you apart from that one small bequest to your cousin.’

Miranda was too surprised to say anything for a few moments, could only gape at him, thinking she must have misheard. In the end she managed to say jerkily, ‘There must be some mistake. Why on earth would she do that? She hated me.’

Mr Parker looked startled. ‘Surely not!’

‘I’m certain of it.’ She had been since the age of fourteen.

‘But you’re her great-niece, her closest relative if I’m not mistaken.’

‘I might be related to her but we only ever saw one another a few times and I’ve not spoken to her in person since I was fourteen. No, there must be some mistake.’

‘I can’t tell you why she did it but there is definitely no mistake legally. You are her main heir. At least, you will be if you accept the conditions attached to the bequest.’

‘Conditions?’ Ah. That sounded more like something Phyllis would do, pretend to leave everything to her then make it too awkward for her to accept. ‘Go on,’ she prompted.

‘To inherit you must go to Wiltshire and live in the family home in the village of Fairford Parva for two years.’

‘What? Is that sort of condition enforceable legally?’

He shrugged. ‘I’ve made a quick check with my colleagues because it’s quite rare for someone to do that these days and I’m not sure of all the ins and outs. You might have to take it to court to find out for certain whether you’re obliged to accept the condition, which could waste a lot of your time and inheritance money. One or two senior colleagues whose opinions I respect said that people who inherit substantial amounts which have conditions attached usually do as they’ve been asked, as long as it’s something fairly reasonable – whether it’s legally enforceable or not.’

‘And does this cousin who also has a bequest have a similar condition attached to his inheritance?’

‘That information is confidential.’

When she didn’t say anything, he added quietly, ‘To return to your bequest. This type of conditional legacy seems to be generally regarded by most inheritors as a moral obligation, especially when they’ve been left a generous amount of money, as you have been.’

She might as well find out what was involved. ‘Oh? How generous?’

‘I gather it’s enough to live on comfortably for the rest of your life after the two years have ended and that you’d never need to go out to work again.’

She could only stare at him in shock.

He waited then added gently, ‘Living in that house as per your aunt’s request seems a fairly reasonable thing to ask in view of the amount of money you’d end up with, don’t you think, Ms Westerby? It’s only for two years after all and there would be no rent to pay, of course.’

Miranda didn’t answer at once, was still trying to come to terms with this. There had to be some nasty trick involved if this had been arranged by her great-aunt, she was sure. ‘How much has she left me? Will there really be enough to live on and to maintain Fairfield House? And I’d need some regular payments myself during those two years because I’d have to give up my job in London to live there.’

‘I don’t know the exact financial details, I’m afraid. Your aunt’s final Will was drawn up long before I took over your account and there were no copies giving the details left in the office. I therefore only have the summary and the information that the financial details of the trust have been stored in the family home.’

She hesitated, not liking the idea of being beholden to her great-aunt in any way but at the same time unable to get past the fact that it’d free her from working under the Chief Idiot or anyone like him ever again. She stalled for time as she tried to figure out the pros and cons.

‘I don’t actually know anything much about my great-aunt’s finances, except that they include the home that’s been in the family for well over a century and is, I gather, entailed so it goes to the Westerby relative who is the next of kin.’

‘Nor do we know the details. As I said, all we have here is a summary statement that everything goes to you because of your relationship to her. She kept any other paperwork at the house in Wiltshire for safety, so I’m afraid you’ll not find out the full details of the inheritance until you move there.’

Something he’d said puzzled her. ‘Why did you say she kept it all there “for safety”?’

‘Because most of the older records were lost in a fire at our company’s storage unit in London over two decades ago. From then onwards, I gather that your aunt didn’t trust us to look after the remaining documents.’

He paused, shaking his head sadly. ‘We could actually have retrieved more information from digital sources even then but she said she didn’t see the need to waste her time or money on accounts that were long over and done with, and all she needed to carry on was the relevant financial information from her mother’s generation onwards.’

‘I do wish she’d let you retrieve more of the details. I know hardly anything about my ancestors!’ Miranda exclaimed involuntarily. ‘You’d think she’d want future generations to understand their family background.’

‘Apparently she considered going that far back irrelevant. However, we could still help you to learn more about your family history if you’re interested, Ms Westerby. My firm works occasionally with a very good genealogist and I’m sure he’ll be happy to see what else he can find out about the earlier records and therefore your ancestors. And we could then add the verified details to your family’s account records at no extra cost to you. I’m very much in favour of preserving history.’

‘Oh, good.’

‘I’m afraid you’d have to bear the extra cost of the research after all these years.’

She knew so little about her family background that she seized this opportunity without hesitation. ‘I’d like to do that. I’ll check the records at Fairfield House, then get back to you about what I find there, after which you could perhaps arrange a search for any older family records for me by this expert? I wouldn’t know how to undertake genealogical research at that level myself.’

‘Yes, of course we can arrange that. It’s not cheap but the expert we consult from time to time is very skilful. Um, I presume this means you’re going to accept the conditions of the inheritance?’

‘Yes, I am.’ She didn’t actually feel she had any choice. She was, after all, the heir and had a duty to the family – well, she considered she did even though the head of that family had neglected her. But she’d love to know more about her family, she had felt so alone in the world.

‘I’m delighted to hear that.’

She watched him make a note in the file. She’d regretted for years her lack of knowledge about her mother’s side of the family. She had no idea about her father’s family either, but had less interest in that. They might be as careless with money as he had apparently been. Did you learn such careless habits or were they engrained in your genes? She was enough of a Westerby to be upset at the idea of him incurring such debts.

She found it hard not to smile at the thought that she would be getting away from her idiot of a boss, and there would be nothing about the reason for her resignation that he could use to blacken her reputation professionally, in case she needed to find another job.

She’d become an accountant because it was the only way Phyllis would agree to finance her university education. She wouldn’t miss it as a job, though the skills would probably come in useful for helping her manage her inheritance and the family trust.