Chapter 39
Violet
I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep after Henry left the bedroom, but almost as soon as I closed my eyes, slumber crept in and snatched me away. I slept more deeply and dreamlessly than I had in months, only waking when my phone, which had ended up on the floor, started to buzz with an incoming call.
Opening one eye, I read the name on the screen and groaned.
‘Hello, Mum.’
‘They’re taking the car.’
‘What?’
I sat bolt upright, so fast that the room spun.
‘Your car, Violet. There are some men here with a tow truck. They say they’re from the dealership. Where is the paperwork? Oh, heavens, the neighbours have just come outside – I’ll have to call you back.’
‘Mum!’ I cried, but she’d already hung up.
Stabbing at the phone as I pulled on a pair of gardening shorts, I listened while the call rang out and my mother’s voicemail picked up.
‘Ring me back,’ I commanded, then baulked as I noticed the time. It was almost eleven. How had I stayed asleep so long? Having located a vest top and scraped my sex-knotted locks into a toggle, I hurried along the landing and down the stairs. There were no signs of life save for two crumb-coated plates on the kitchen worktop, and as I glanced towards the boarded-up back door, I was reminded sharply of the previous evening; of the tears and the breakages, the fear and the pain, the sensation of Henry’s lips as they roved across my body.
The phone rang again.
‘Mum, thank god – what the hell’s going on?’
‘I couldn’t stop them.’ She sounded thoroughly ruffled. ‘Peter next door says that because you’ve paid less than a third of the original agreement, they can seize the vehicle without going to court.’
‘That sounds right.’ I sighed, opening the fridge door only to close it again.
‘I told them there must be some mistake. That they must have you confused with another Violet Torres.’
‘Because there are loads of those around.’
‘Well, then, they have the wrong address.’
I could have gone along with the lie, but what was the point? There had been so many lies, and I was tired of them, tired of trying, tired of pretending.
‘Mum, listen to me. They took the car because I haven’t been paying for it. Not for months. In fact, I’m surprised they didn’t come and get it sooner.’
‘Why on earth not?’ She was edging closer to anger, and for once, it was justified.
‘I had to prioritise other things.’
‘Like flying off to Spain for a lovely holiday, I suppose?’
A lovely holiday.
I crossed to the sink and began to wash the plates, the handset clamped by my shoulder to my ear, my movements mechanical. A throb was beginning to radiate from my temples, a heat burning through me that couldn’t be blamed on the temperature outside.
‘Violet, are you still there?’ Her voice sounded tinny and far away.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I know it must be embarrassing, having such a feckless daughter.’
She didn’t appear to have heard me, or if she had, my words hadn’t registered.
‘This is what all those letters are about, aren’t they – unpaid debts?’
‘I’m sorting it out, Mum. It’s just going to take a few more weeks. But, until then, I don’t suppose that you could lend me a bit? Just a few hundred.’
‘And where am I going to conjure that up from? I’ll have to get equity release on this house,’ she went on shrilly. ‘Bail you out. Mr McCabe says it’s worth a lot more than your father and I paid for it you know. He told me we made a wise investment, that if I ever sold, I should let him know and he’d give me a good price. I might have to take him up on it, because I tell you one thing, Violet, I won’t have the bailiffs here. I refuse. What would people think?’
She had worked herself up into such a state that I had to shout her name repeatedly in order to get through to her.
‘What did you say?’ I said urgently. ‘About Mr McCabe?’
She sniffed. ‘He knocked on the door a few days ago, looking for you. I recognised him as an associate of Henry’s and so I invited him in for a cup of tea.’
The tiles below my feet seemed to tremble.
‘And?’
‘And it was as I said. He said I was sitting on a moderate fortune, and that he’d be very happy to help if I ever decided to sell up. Very nice man. What’s his given name again, Colin?’
‘Corbin,’ I intoned, picturing the man as I did so, hearing the menace behind his outwardly jovial tone as he’d reminded me that ‘a deal is a deal’. I had stopped responding to his texts and no longer answered when he called – was it any real surprise that he’d sought an alternative way to reach me? The message was loud and abundantly clear: I know where your mum lives; I can get to her whenever I want.
‘Corbin, that’s it,’ went on my oblivious mother. ‘Very nice man.’
I heard the sound of voices in the hall, then Eliza appeared in the kitchen, Luke a few feet behind. He was clutching a potted flamingo lily wrapped in cellophane, which he thrust towards me.
‘Oh, how wonderful,’ I said, accepting the plant. Then, ‘No, Mum, not you. Listen, don’t worry about the –’ I turned away, lowering my voice to a murmur – ‘other stuff. I’ll make sure everything is paid off soon, you have my word. I have to go now, but I’ll call you. Soon. Take care of yourself, OK? Be safe.’
‘Grandma’s on the warpath,’ I said as I ended the call. Luke busied himself by looking everywhere but at me.
‘Eliza thought you’d like it,’ he muttered.
‘We both did,’ she interrupted gallantly. ‘And Ynes sends her love.’
The three of us fell silent as a low rumble signalled the arrival of the jeep in the road outside. I opened one drawer after another, searching in vain for scissors to remove the cellophane, before selecting a carving knife from the block to use instead. I was in the process of watering the lily when Henry strode into the room.
‘Oh,’ he said, stopping short. ‘You’re all here.’
Touching a hand to Luke’s arm, checking his son was calm, he took a glass from the cabinet and filled it from the tap, not once looking in my direction.
‘How was the meeting?’ I asked, taking my new plant to the table, and positioning it in a spot where it would benefit most from the morning light.
Henry shook his head.
I caught Luke’s eye, saw a question there. ‘What meeting?’ he said.
When Henry didn’t immediately answer, I filled in the details I knew, explaining about the will but leaving out the part about Juan being executor.
‘And?’ he pressed. ‘Dad?’
Henry put down his glass. ‘There’s a sum for you.’
Eliza gave in to a tentative smile, but Luke remained impassive.
‘Right.’
‘It’s being held in what amounts to a trust,’ Henry went on. ‘And I’m afraid it’s in there until you turn twenty-one.’
I experienced a rush of gratitude towards Antonio.
Luke said nothing, and after a beat or two, Henry continued.
‘I can’t give you an exact figure, because it may change due to various investments, but it’s somewhere in the region of five hundred thousand.’
Eliza’s gasp of astonishment matched my own.
‘Five hundred thousand euros?’ I said, and Henry took a deep breath.
‘At least.’
Luke had yet to respond. He was staring at Henry as if waiting for the punchline.
‘That’s... well, wow. Enough for a house, or a business start-up. How incredibly generous of Antonio,’ I said.
Henry cleared his throat. ‘There’s more.’
‘Oh?’
I had been the one to reply, but he had the undivided attention of everyone.
‘Well, for starters, Mateo gets the villa, the boat, and the family share of the business. There are cash gifts for a few staff, those he was closest to –’ Henry shot me a look – ‘including Juan. He’s inherited a ten-thousand-euro lump, as well as the car.’
‘I don’t understand,’ I said. ‘Why so much to Mateo? He doesn’t even live here.’
Henry looked nonplussed. ‘Spanish tradition decrees that most assets go to the eldest child. That’s not me.’
‘No, but—’
‘And I wouldn’t want the business share,’ he added firmly. ‘Mateo is a better fit.’
Given that Antonio had been a property developer and Henry was a property restorer, it made little sense to me that Mateo, a neurosurgeon who lived full-time in Dubai, had been deemed the obvious successor. As if I’d spoken my concerns aloud, Henry added, ‘He’ll probably sell – or stay on as a partner in name only.’
‘What do you get?’ asked Eliza, who’d slithered into her usual place under the nook of Luke’s arm. It was as if the blow-up from the previous night had never happened, and I was relieved to see zero sign of any lingering unease on her part. It would help Luke, to know he could trust Eliza implicitly, and it helped me, too. Henry was tapping his hands against the edge of the worktop, a sure sign he was agitated.
‘The office,’ he said, to which Luke and I both frowned. In all the years I’d known Antonio, he’d always worked from his sprawling hillside mansion here in Pollen?a. Seeing our confusion, Henry went on, ‘There’s a place in Palma, the ground floor of a house in the old town. It hasn’t been used as anything other than a dumping ground for decades, but apparently Papá still owns it. At least, he did. It’s mine now.’
‘You should contest,’ I blurted. ‘The will, I mean – surely Mateo can see how unfair it is?’
Henry was shaking his head. ‘I got this place, remember? La Casa Naranja is my inheritance.’
It was impossible to miss the look he threw Luke’s way, the hope he’d harboured that his son would accept the keys for this house one day, and thus continue the tradition.
‘But it makes no sense,’ I insisted. ‘I can’t believe Antonio would’ve left you so little of real value.’
‘But he did.’ Henry’s rebuttal was concise, confident. ‘The only things I value more than this place are you and Luke.’
I had been ready to say more, but his words abruptly halted mine. Henry looked uncomfortable, as if he’d let slip a secret that wasn’t his to share.
‘We should visit the office,’ said Luke, from beneath an acre of dark fringe. ‘Check it out, see what’s there.’
‘Sure,’ Henry agreed. ‘When do you want to go?’
Luke looked down at Eliza, who smiled encouragingly. ‘What about right now?’