‘BUT AOIFE, WHY DO you need me here?’
‘So that you’re up to speed, Sinéad. Mammy made us both executors you know, we both have to take power of attorney.’ Aoife can feel her lips thinning to her teeth. ‘Why should I have to handle all of this all on my own?’
She rings the square bell with ‘Dunlin Solicitors’ written in faded blue fountain pen behind a strip of plastic. As they stand there looking at the varnished door, Aoife feels the moment shift a little and settle over itself; a déjà vu.
The young man who opens it doesn’t resemble Davitt. He is fat in the way that makes men look like giant schoolboys. Expensive clothing and an unruly crop of russet hair.
‘Hi!’ he says, leaning forward to shake Aoife’s hand. ‘You are…?’
‘Aoife.’ The hand is clammy, and Aoife has to resist the urge to take out a handwipe and clean his touch off her.
‘Aoife. Hi. I’m Derek. You must be Sinéad, is it? Come on up.’
As he mounts the stairs he twists his head back, talking to them. ‘Dad couldn’t be here, I’m afraid—’ Aoife hears something clog behind his nose and for a horrifying moment she thinks he’s going to cry. She looks back at Sinéad, who is struggling red-faced up the steps.
‘Yes, how is he?’ says Aoife in a manner cool enough, she hopes, to deter any intimacy.
‘He’s… We’ll see. He’s very tired. He said to tell you sorry he couldn’t come but he has all the information for you. I have everything you need to know. It’s strictly confidential, now. I’m the only one handling it. Hang on now till we sit down and we can go through it.’
At the top of the stairs, there are three glass-panelled doors, all with ‘Dunlin & Son’ in white appliqué. He pulls a key from his pocket and unlocks one of the doors.
The room is extremely bare. A new-looking green carpet, a big, cheap table and two sixties-style wooden chairs with tweed seats and dainty legs. They are standing far away from the table, facing each other. There is a small, slightly contracted water bottle on the table, its plastic fogged white.
‘Hang on now ’til I get the files. I’ll be back in a second.’
Sinéad pulls a chair up to the table, drapes her coat over it, and sits with her gloves on her lap and her hands folded neatly over them. Alone in the room with her, Aoife feels the need to say something, but what? She stands by the window looking down at the cold street, the rush of cars going by.
Soon Derek struggles in with another chair and two big box files. He is sweating. She saw from his email that he’s only a legal secretary. Didn’t make the Bar, so. Poor Davitt must be terribly embarrassed.
‘Right,’ he says, sitting down and locking his fingers together. ‘So, Dad asked me to explain to you that your mother made yet another will…’
‘She what?’ Aoife looks at Sinéad for support, but Sinéad just blinks back at her.
‘He says he had to witness it, you know, because she asked him to, but listen, he wants me to tell you it makes no difference anyway. He knows you’re worried about your nieces being irresponsible and all that, so he made sure there was provision there for you to work with. And that money arrived through just this morning, so I’m going to distribute it the way you arranged with him and there are no immediate tax implications but you might want to get a good accountant on it for the next lot.’
‘What’s this new will?’
‘He says there’s something left to her grandson. Does that make sense?’
‘Great-grandson, maybe,’ says Sinéad.
‘That’s right. But listen, you are still the executors and – he explained this to me – it’s left to the child himself, not to the custodian. He was careful to do that, so actually, you can sort of entrust it to anyone you like, within reason…’
‘Ha!’ A little chirrup runs up Aoife’s back.
‘But they’d have to keep it for him, wouldn’t they?’ Sinéad says.
‘Not really. I mean, they could spend it once they could justify it. You’d want them to keep it, is that it?’
Aoife shrugs. ‘Not necessarily.’
He takes a sheet of paper with tiny writing on it, and turns it around so that Aoife and Sinéad can read it. ‘So here is a list of all the things it could be used for. They could buy a house with it, for example, if the child was to stay there sometimes. They could take a holiday if they brought the child with them. They could use it for legal fees… There’s a whole load of provisions in there. In any case there won’t be much left, will there?’
‘No,’ says Sinéad, and she chews the inside of her cheek.
‘Not with the cost of care,’ says Aoife, ‘and, you know, the money Mammy owes people. She wants things to be fair. You’re sending that through today did you say?’
‘Yes, I just wanted to double-check with you…’
‘And then we can take power of attorney?’
‘Yes – Dad says once Mrs Kearney has signed all those papers, and those funds are in order, we can make power of attorney effective then, and after that it’s officially in your hands what you do with the rest of it, but you know, a paper trail has to show it was used for her benefit… within reason, you know.’
‘Well, I know who we will entrust it to, do you Sinéad?’
‘Us?’
‘The father. The boy’s father and Eileen together. Ha.’