Chapter Thirteen
Bringing my solicitor up to date took longer than anticipated. My eyes constantly flicked to my boss’s office door, lest he appear again and note that, so far this morning, I’d not done a stroke of work.
‘You should go after Robin’s pension,’ exhorted a disembodied female voice.
I could picture Annette Doyle at the other end of the line. There she was. Sitting in her smart but functional office. Face pinched. Salt-and-pepper hair cut aggressively short. A severely tailored suit. Her Clark Kent specs teamed with scarlet lipstick.
I’d only met her once and she’d terrified the pants off me. I wanted to challenge her recent interim bill but had yet to find the wherewithal to do so.
‘I don’t want Robin’s pension,’ I quavered. ‘I’ve found a house and would like to press on with its purchase. There are other interested parties and’ – my voice cracked slightly – ‘they cannot be allowed to succeed.’
‘Tilly,’ said Annette sternly. ‘I understand your desire to move forward and put your unhappy marriage behind you.’
‘Good,’ I said, attempting to copy her businesslike manner.
‘But–’
‘No buts, please, Annette,’ I whimpered.
‘But’ – she asserted – ‘the safest time to purchase a property is after a financial settlement. In other words, when the divorce has been finalised.’
‘But I have a financial settlement,’ I cried. ‘Robin put it on the table last night.’
‘His pension pot aside, there are still other matters to resolve. For example, the division of your capital assets. Your respective incomes. And other financial issues. You mentioned a savings account that you’d regularly contributed to. But we both know this is entirely in your husband’s name. This isn’t a five-minute job, Tilly. Clarity is paramount. Apart from anything else, it provides a more accurate picture of your financial standing which, in turn, gives a realistic insight into what kind of property you can truly afford.’
I rather suspected that this was also legal speak for Annette ensuring her fees were maximised. However, I didn’t have the bravado to state that.
‘I simply want to get a wiggle on,’ I muttered.
‘And rest assured that I am wiggling,’ said Annette sharply. ‘Was there anything else?’
‘No,’ I sighed. ‘And, um, thank you,’ I quickly added. Didn’t want her tacking another fifty quid on the bill because I’d been surly. ‘And, er, I really appreciate all your help to date.’ A bit of grovelling might not hurt either.
I heaved another sigh and disconnected the call.
‘Problems?’ asked Lisa sympathetically.
‘My solicitor says I need to be divorced before buying a house.’
‘Well, that’s the most sensible thing,’ said my friend. ‘Heavens, conveyancing is stressful enough, without having a divorce in the equation.’
‘I suppose,’ I said, chewing my lip. ‘But this means I’m no longer in with a fighting chance against Milo Soren.’
‘I hate to say this,’ Lisa gently pointed out. ‘But I don’t think you ever were in with a fighting chance. Anyway’ – she gave me a cheer up smile – ‘if it’s meant to be, it will be.’
‘I hate that saying,’ I grumbled.
‘But it’s true,’ Lisa reasoned.
‘I know,’ I wailed.
‘Don’t lose all faith.’ She gave a smile of encouragement. ‘After all, Leslie has promised to speak to Mr Garroway about your offer.’
‘I know,’ I said again.
‘And maybe Milo Soren’s son will hate Starlight Cottage. If so, his father will be forced to look elsewhere.’
‘True, but that still leaves a small army of other potential buyers all keen to view.’
My shoulders drooped at the thought of all these faceless people. Grinning smugly as they clutched their shiny mortgage offers. Delighted they were in rented accommodation and chain-free.
As I slumped over my keyboard, my phone dinged with a text. I straightened up and made a long arm. A message from Robin.
Samantha will be with you at six o’clock this evening.
‘Fabulous,’ I hissed.
‘Good news?’ asked Lisa hopefully.
‘Not really,’ I sighed. ‘After work, I can expect a visitor. The Bald One wants to look around the house. Do an inventory. Make a list of what’s staying and what’s going.’
‘I thought Robin was buying everything?’
‘He is, but I don’t think Samantha is wild about it. On the day of completion, she’s organising a skip on the drive. Presumably to chuck out what isn’t being kept.’
‘Fair enough,’ Lisa shrugged. ‘If I were buying my partner’s ex-wife’s house, I wouldn’t want it furnished. I’d prefer to start again. A fresh slate, so to speak.’
‘Me too, but that means spending money – something Robin doesn’t particularly like doing. Oh, Lisa,’ I wailed. ‘I don’t know what to do.’
‘About the Bald One?’
‘No.’ I pursed my lips. As far as I was concerned, Samantha could swivel. ‘I’m talking about Starlight Cottage.’
‘Sit tight,’ she advised. ‘All will be well. You’ll see.’
‘I hope you’re right.’
‘I know how to make things a tiny bit nicer.’ She reached into her handbag. ‘Ta da!’
Lisa produced a packet of chocolate cookies. As she waved them in the air, my eyes lit up.
Life is always better with biscuits.