Chapter Sixty-Three
On Sunday morning, after Dylan and Charlie had left, I picked up the phone. I wanted to share my news with the kids. However, I was brought up short by my sister’s last text.
Hell, after all the excitement, I’d completely forgotten about Freya trying to contact me. I paled slightly at the memory of her first message. My phone had dinged while I’d been out with Dylan.
I have a bone to pick with you.
Since then, she’d sent several more WhatApps, so wordy they were more like essays.
I began to skim read and, as I did so, my eyebrows almost shot off my forehead.
I have a bone to pick with you… solicitor mailedme copies of our parents’ Wills…
why are your children mentioned?
What did she mean, why were my children mentioned? Obviously because our parents wanted to remember their grandchildren. That was why!
I had yet to properly read the copy Wills myself, but now recalled Dad telling me he’d included his grandchildren. Well, if Mum and Dad had gifted something to Tim, Ruby, and Ella, then how very generous of them. And how lovely that, one day, the kids would have a bit of money to bolster their bank accounts. Maybe to pay off a chunk of their mortgages. Or perhaps replace their clapped-out cars. Youngsters struggled to balance the money books. I, for one, was grateful my parents wanted to take away some of that struggle for their grandchildren. After all, they could have opted to give everything to charity. It was their money. Their wishes.
Absolutely not fair…
Outrageous that my inheritance is being shared with Tim, Ruby, and Ella…
I’ve never had kids…
Don’t see why my future bank balance should be compromised…
Frigging flaming flipping Nora!
Quite obvious to me that you knew about this all along…
You’ve never liked me…
Oh, stupid woman. What was she on about?
Certainly I’ve never liked you…
What? Wow, thanks for that, Freya. Thanks a bunch.
You have coerced our parents…
I will contest this in a Court of Law…
She had to be kidding, right?
YOU give your kids money from YOUR share…
I WANT MY FIFTY PERCENT!
Bloody hell. Our parents weren’t yet dead. How disgustingly distasteful.
I immediately tried calling Freya only to discover my number had been blocked. Oh, this was ridiculous. What on earth was going through my sister’s head? I knew we’d had our squabbles over the years. Some disagreements. But surely no more than any other family? To accuse me of never liking her was nonsense. And to cap it all off by saying she’d never liked me, was hurtful to say the least. Who was it that had said money is the root of all evil? Someone wise, for sure. I’d have to find an alternative way to contact her.
I logged on to Facebook. I’d send Freya a direct message. Less than a minute later, I had discovered that she’d blocked me on all platforms where we were mutual friends.
‘Pathetic,’ I said aloud. ‘And actually, how dare you, Freya. How dare you make such horrible and untrue accusations.’
At the sound of my voice, Bess wandered into the kitchen. I was currently perched on a chair with my phone. My girl looked at me quizzically, as if to enquire who I was talking to.
‘Hello, darling,’ I said, stroking her silky head. ‘You’re not going to believe what my daft sister has said.’
I stood up. Made for the kettle. Whenever drama struck, I made a brew. Either that or stuffed my face with chocolate. I reached for the biscuit tin. Damn. Empty. Dylan had polished off all the Hobnobs.
What about the freezer? The top drawer contained some ice-lollies. Hmm. Did an orange popsicle go well with a cuppa? Not really. I shut the door.
‘I’ll have to go shopping,’ I said to Bess. ‘We need biscuits.’
At the mention of that last word, her tail-wagging went into overdrive.
‘Message received and understood,’ I smiled. I reached into the cupboard where her treats were kept. ‘Here you are,’ I said, giving her a chew.
She took the treat from me, and trotted off to the lounge. I knew she would spend the next few minutes in a sun puddle happily munching away.
‘What the heck am I going to do about Freya?’ I said to myself.
Email her, said my inner voice. Tell her you’re outraged, disgusted and that she’s a total bitch.
No, I silently replied.
Much as my ego wanted to respond in an enraged way, I refused to give Freya ammunition for her gripe. And never mind her objections. What about our parents? If anything happened to Mum and Dad, then I’d need my sister’s help. How the hell could I contact her if she had blocked me? Even emailing was a gamble. For all I knew, my plea for a face-to-face might go straight to her Junk folder. It could be unseen for weeks. Lost amongst the usual spam that offered penis extensions or pay up scams. Well, that was the sort of thing you’d find in my Junk folder.
Taking a deep breath, I instead found my brother-in-law’s contact details. If Freya wouldn’t speak to me, perhaps Vernon would.