Chapter Thirty-Eight Orkney, two weeks earlier
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Orkney, two weeks earlier
For the first time in months, she found herself desperate for a drink. A freezing-cold can of lager, almost painful to swallow, burning her throat on the way down, or a bottle of big-bodied red wine, full of fruity oblivion.
She spent the morning trying to distract herself, cleaning every corner of the already clinically pristine flat, and pacing up and down her tiny living room until she had to leave to meet Amelia at the solicitors as planned.
Liv gasped when she saw Amelia. The resemblance to Evie was uncanny, and Amelia had played it up even more by perfectly replicating Evie’s distinctive elegant casual style.
They agreed that Liv would do all the talking as Amelia’s American accent was too much of a giveaway.
Liv told the receptionist bluntly, “We both have an appointment with Mrs McIver. I’m Liv Muir and this is my sister, Evie.”
“Just take a seat in the waiting room. Mrs McIver’s with a client but she’s just finishing up and won’t be long.”
The receptionist, Mirren, a plump fair-haired woman with a most impressive bosom, which she kept hidden under baggy brown Fair Isle jumpers, sneaked another look at Liv, who clearly didn’t remember who she was.
Mirren had been a few years ahead of Liv at school, but she recalled her as a troublemaker and a bully. Mirren had been one of the many kids who was forced to hand over their pocket money to Liv and her gang.
Mirren had to admit that Liv had cleaned up her act. She no longer looked like a ravenous crow. She’d put on a bit of weight, her hair was going grey, and she looked less bitter and angry, but Mirren still wouldn’t like to get on her bad side.
She vaguely remembered Evie as a bookish child who had run away to London but had returned recently and opened up the new art gallery.
She remembered reading about her in a glossy magazine.
She looked amazing. The combination of green eyes and blonde hair was striking.
And that cashmere camel coat over a brown sweater and trousers looked so elegant.
Evie looked rich and successful while Mirren was suddenly all too aware her knickers didn’t match her bra and her shoes needed a clean. She went back to a game of solitaire on her computer and waited for Mrs McIver’s current client to leave.
Amelia had specifically chosen to see Joan McIver.
The solicitor had arrived from Edinburgh a few months ago with her husband, Aden, and two small children.
They’d sold their townhouse in Bruntsfield and bought a large crumbling mansion just outside Birsay, in the north of mainland Orkney, and were busy turning it back from a hotel into a family home.
It was her husband’s passion project and he spent every hour of the day on site.
In the meantime, they were living in one of the small cottages on the grounds. She was overworked, stressed and worried about how much cash had to be thrown at the house which had turned into a money pit.
On the plus side, she had never seen Aden so happy and the kids were thriving with a lovely young nanny from the village of Dounby. They had already picked up her sing-song accent and said peedie instead of little.
Aden had just emailed to say that Andrzej, the builder who was giving him help and advice, had found damp under the kitchen; it would cost a fortune to put it right, and maybe they should take out another loan.
He was hopeless with money. She quickly emailed back: Do Not Do Anything Until I Get Home Tonight.
Joan tried to stop herself feeling distracted, gave herself a shake and asked Mirren to send in the next client. She looked again at her notes about Evie Muir; the business was thriving, and Evie owned her own property outright without a mortgage.
She looked up as the two women came into her office. She thought, ‘Well, the resemblance might be slight but you can tell these two are related. Evie is clearly the younger sister – she looks bright and intelligent. The older looks like she’s had a hard life.’
Joan asked them both to take a seat and gave them her best professional smile. Liv came straight to the point.
“As you know from what I told you over the phone, Evie wants me to take over the gallery business so she can devote herself to her painting. She doesn’t want all the hassle. I assume that’s straightforward enough?”
Amelia nodded enthusiastically and gestured to her throat.
Liv explained, “My sister had a bad touch of laryngitis, and the doctor told her to rest her voice completely. To be honest, it’s giving us all a bit of a break. So can we get this all done and dusted?”
Joan replied smoothly, “Well, Miss Muir, or can I call you Liv? Thanks to Evie starting the process a few months ago, it’s really just a case of paperwork today.”
Liv and Amelia looked at her, utterly astonished.
Oblivious to their reaction, Joan continued, “Yes, I can see here that Evie first got in touch about sharing the business back in January, so we’ve been able to put the necessary steps in place.
I have everything prepared. I just need to see ID from both of you. Just belt and braces you understand.”
Still in shock at the unexpected news, Liv handed over two passports. Joan gave them a cursory glance and nodded her approval, before pushing over the paperwork for both women to sign. Liv held her breath as Amelia forged Evie’s signature.
Joan said briskly, “Well, there we are. You’re all set, and it should be official in a couple of weeks. Good luck to both of you, and if there’s anything else you need, don’t hesitate to get in touch.”
Amelia gave her a dazzling smile and they both got up to leave.
Once outside in the street and round the corner, Amelia hugged herself and cackled with glee.
Liv glowered at her. “Stop drawing attention to yourself for fuck’s sake.”
“Oh lighten up,” said Amelia. “You have to admit it was just so, so easy. I can’t believe Evie made it even smoother for us but still has no idea of what’s coming.
She’s so wrapped up in losing her friends and falling out with Freya, the business will be the last thing on her mind right now.
It’s delicious don’t you think? Once the paperwork goes through, you’ll be able to access the business account and take out all the money. For yourself and for me, of course …”
Liv’s mind was in a whirl. Her sister was giving her a share of the business anyway. Amelia’s plan was never needed.
She needed to think. She hissed at Amelia, “We need to get her passport back to the house before she misses it. Give it here.”
It was Liv who had taken her sister’s passport, going round to Evie’s house when she knew she was away on one of her regular visits to their mother in her care home. She’d let herself in and quickly found the passport in her sister’s desk drawer in a folder marked ‘personal’.
Coming back to the family home was tough on Liv, especially as Evie had made it look so welcoming and beautiful, turning the old rarely used front parlour into a studio and refurbishing the kitchen into a cosy haven had been a stroke of genius.
She barely recognised the cold, empty shell where she had spent so many unhappy years with her highly strung mother, and a father who couldn’t hide his preference for his daughter Evie, his precious Teenie, over Liv, who he found impossible to deal with.
Liv couldn’t wait to escape from the sad, unhappy house she had left as a teenager.
Amelia gave her a malevolent grin. “I’ll hold on to this passport, thanks. I’ll find a way to return it, don’t worry.”
Liv didn’t reply and just stared stonily ahead, thinking about what had just happened. She turned to go.
Amelia elbowed her sharply in the ribs, “Oh come on, Liv. Look, I couldn’t have done it without you. Fancy cracking open a bottle of champagne with me to celebrate?” She grimaced, “If there actually is such a thing as decent bubbly in this hellhole of a place.”
“For fuck’s sake, Amelia, I’m an alcoholic and there’s enough vintage champagne drunk on these islands every weekend to float a fishing fleet. Don’t be so fucking condescending. Now why don’t you fuck off and leave me alone,” Liv replied crossly.
“No need to be so tetchy. I will indeed leave you to celebrate however you wish. Maybe a cup of peppermint tea? Try not to have too much fun. Laters.”
Liv watched her disappear down the high street, no doubt on her way to the nearest wine bar. Amelia was singing to herself as she flounced away. She thought, ‘This is all working out even better than I thought. Soon Evie Muir will have nothing.’
The thought of leaving Evie desolate and broken was intoxicating. She laughed out loud, drawing smiles from people passing by, who thought she must be celebrating something really special.
Amelia had to bide her time, and a week later, sneaked back to Evie’s house in the wee small hours, on the same night of Evie’s outburst, when she made such a fool of herself in front of all her friends.
Amelia had actually prowled past the house a few times since the visit to the solicitor with Liv, but hadn’t had an opportunity to put the passport back unnoticed.
This night she sneaked a look through the window and saw Evie passed out in the kitchen, snoring loudly due to the amount of booze she had thrown down her neck.
Amelia couldn’t believe her luck. Not only had she been able to creep in the front door and put the passport back, she’d also had the euphoric satisfaction of destroying the portrait of that idiot Freya, then daubing Evie’s hands with the paint so she’d think she did it herself in a drunken rage.
It was just all too fabulous, and Amelia congratulated herself on a job well done.