The solicitor is feeling awkward. I can tell that the minute I open the door and he regards me with a nervous expression.
“Um, Miss Darlington. I’m Mr Frobisher of Hammond and Connor.”
“Of course, please come in.” I smile to put him at his ease and open the door. He follows me inside and we head towards the kitchen where I have made a pot of tea and thrown some biscuits on a plate with the usual doily underneath. It’s the way my mother always used to receive visitors and I know she would be happy for me to continue the tradition.
He clutches his briefcase to his chest as if it’s a lifeline and a feeling of dread prickles inside me.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Miss Darlington.”
“Thank you and please call me Katrina.”
He pushes his glasses further up his nose and nods. “Thank you, um, Katrina.”
I watch as he opens his briefcase and removes a sheaf of papers and clears his throat.
“Your parents entrusted me with their last will and testament, and I hoped it would be many years before I had to present it.”
He sighs heavily. “Far too soon; a terrible tragedy.”
I nod because he’s certainly right about that and he clears his throat.
“Anyway, as it happens, their will was very straightforward and may not make easy listening, so I must apologise about that.”
That feeling of dread is now drowning me, and it must show because he says with a worried frown. “Do you have anyone who can be with you and support you during this time? I could wait until they get here.”
“No.”
I could get Betty, but I don’t want to be a burden to her because I know this is her day for bingo and it’s the one thing she loves, along with her cats, of course.
He looks down and I can tell he is hating every minute of this as he says sadly, “The will leaves their entire estate, including this house, their savings and any possessions to The Green Valley Foundation.”
“Excuse me?”
I’m not sure if he’s picked up the wrong paperwork because my parents have never once mentioned a foundation of any kind.
“I’m sorry, Miss Darlington, but I was with them when they made this will.” He shifts awkwardly. “They were very clear that everything they own was to be left to The Green Valley Foundation and so it pains me to say, the house is no longer yours. Under the terms of the will, you have thirty days to vacate the property and are restricted from accessing any of their accounts. A hold has been placed on them and their assets frozen. As soon as they died, their estate reverted to the foundation and I will need you to sign a contract to say you will leave within the month.”
I am astounded and just stare at him in disbelief as he shifts nervously in his seat and shakes his head.
“I’m so sorry, Katrina. I specifically asked if there were any dependants and they told me the estate had been signed over before you were born.”
“So, I have nothing.”
I can hear the tears in my voice as I face a very uncertain future and he says sorrowfully, “I’m afraid it looks that way. Are you sure there is nobody you can go to?”
“No, there’s not.”
Looking very disapproving, he slides the papers across the table and says with regret, “I’m sorry to ask you to sign this, but I need to do my job.”
Lifting the pen, the signature line swims before my eyes, and I gulp as I hold it above the page. My fingers shake as I prepare to sign my life away and yet from somewhere, I feel a little of my fight return and I place the pen down and say, “No.”
“Excuse me.”
He looks surprised, and I shrug. “I’m not signing anything until I get this looked over by an impartial solicitor. Surely you can understand that, Mr Frobisher.”
“Of course.”
I gather the papers in my hand and say abruptly, “I’ll be in touch when I’m ready to sign.”
He nods and a faint smile ghosts his lips as he stretches out his hand towards me. “Thirty days, Katrina. Regardless of anything, this house needs to be vacant in thirty days, otherwise you will be evicted. Get a second opinion if you must, but I already know this document is legal and binding and there is no loophole to exploit.”
He stands and looks sad on my behalf. “I wish you luck, Miss Darlington. I have a feeling you’re going to need it.”
He sees himself out, leaving me staring at a pile of paper that has just made a desperate situation even more so.
I have nothing. No family, no parents and now nowhere to live. I don’t have any money to rent anywhere either and the only place I am heading is rock bottom.
* * *
Three hours later and I have read every line of their will. It’s so cold, so practical and nothing like my parents, who were the warmest people I have ever known.
Disbelief turns to anger, which in turn makes me cry and every emotion inside me is taking a battering because what will I do now?
I still can’t believe they left me nothing at all and so I start to turn out drawers, look in cupboards. Anywhere there could be an explanation for this.
However, despite my search, the only thing I find is a box of documents at the back of their wardrobe.
Once again, I sit on their bed and systematically go through every single one of them in the vain hope I can understand what’s happening. There is no mention of The Green Valley Foundation and with an exasperated sigh, I type it into the search engine on my phone.
It sits at the top of the search, but the details are few and far between. It appears to be a charitable foundation that distributes wealth to needy causes. There is no contact name, just a standard online form to request more details. There is no address, no phone number and very little information and I wonder why?
Turning back to the box, I rifle through it and the private photographs and letters my parents obviously treasured sit inside offering the sweetest kind of comfort.
It brings them back to me in a strange way and I read every word and stare long and hard at their pictures. When they first met, the look of love in their eyes makes me smile. There are pictures of me as a baby, family holidays, and celebrations through the years. Then it strikes me. It was always just the three of us, never anyone else. All through my life, we were a team, and I never thought it strange. Now I do because why didn’t they entertain, invite friends around, or make connections with anyone outside this home? The people that used to visit were just associates they worked with. Not real friends they used to hang out with at weekends. Something just doesn’t add up and so I continue my search and try desperately to look for anything that will give me a clue as to why we lived that way.
There is nothing in the box that helps and with an exasperated sigh, I lean back and cry bitter tears of frustration because where do I go from here?
Trying desperately to push aside my grief and deal with this latest bombshell, I systematically go through the house and try to discover anything that will give me answers and yet all I’m left with is the last will and testament of my parents that cuts me off and sets me adrift into a frightening world.
I don’t even have any money for a solicitor, so I couldn’t fight this even if I wanted to, and my only chance is to ask Betty for help. The trouble is, I know Betty struggles for money and I wouldn’t put her in that awkward position, because it’s money that I need the most. Then I think of Madelaine Covington and the soft look in her eyes and her kind offer of help.
Maybe she can give me the answers I need? She’s all I’ve got left, so I drop the papers and head to my room in search of the lifeline she offered me.
As soon as I find the crisp white card, I breathe a huge sigh of relief. I’m just surprised I need this already. Thank goodness she heard of their death. Maybe she can give me some advice. I certainly need it and so as I dial the number, my fingers shake because she is my only hope.
The phone rings for a few seconds and then her soft voice answers.
“Madelaine Covington.”
“Um, I’m sorry to disturb you but we met yesterday at my parent’s funeral.”
I can’t stop my voice from shaking and she says brightly, “Of course, Katrina, how can I help?”
She sounds so warm and friendly, which is exactly what I need right now, and I feel a tiny spark of hope that she can help me out of this impossible situation.
“I’m sorry, but I could use your advice, really. Can we meet, perhaps?”
“Of course, I would be happy to help. Shall we say the coffee shop on the corner of Dunstable Street at ten am? Would that work for you?”
“I don’t suppose you have any time today?”
I sound desperate and it certainly feels that way and she says with a hint of pity in her voice, “I’m sorry, darling, I have back-to-back meetings arranged all day. That’s the best I can do before I leave.”
“Leave?” If I sound slightly hysterical, it’s because I see my last chance disappearing over the horizon with her and she sighs. “Yes, this is just a fleeting business trip, I’m afraid. I must return to America tomorrow afternoon.”
She’s American. I’m surprised at that because she certainly doesn’t have an accent. She carries on, “It’s where I live, but I work all over the world. I’m heading back to Florida for a few weeks, so I don’t have much time. I’m sorry.”
“That’s fine, ten am will be perfect.” I’m quick to grab the one opportunity I have left, and she says softly, “Super, darling, we can catch up then.”
“Thank you.”
She cuts the call and I count myself lucky that I caught her in time and as I stare at the last will and testament of my parents, all I feel is overwhelming sadness that it’s come to this.