Gloria peered out of the window. From the house she could see dust rising from the road, and a steady line of vehicles going to Arthur’s. Samuel had left early, to search for Dorian again. He’d not come home for a second night and he still wasn’t answering his phone. She’d paced the floor of her kitchen all night long, in between chastising herself for fretting over a thirty-year-old. But then Samuel told her that Beryl was missing too.
It was too much, and Samuel didn’t appreciate how much she had on her plate, what with Irene swearing her to secrecy over the fact that she knew where Victor had been last week. She’d told her she must report it to the police, but Irene had refused. She’d said she wanted a fresh start, away from here, possibly near one of her children. Gloria could only assume she wanted to forget, but Gloria couldn’t forget, and she was torn. But there was no time for that this morning and her priority was finding Dorian, who’d never liked mobile phones. The lad had never got on with the iPhone they’d bought him, and she knew he threw it either in a pocket of a discarded jacket, or the cabin of the vehicle he was driving. She’d already checked; the Gator was missing, and she knew he’d taken it because Samuel hadn’t.
Despite her son’s mature years, she still worried like she had when he was fifteen. A mother never stops fretting over her child. She knew he’d turn up at some point, like he always did, maybe having drank too much and left the Gator at the pub and slept over at a mate’s house. But she couldn’t shift the uncomfortable knot under her ribcage.
A loud bang at the door startled her and she rushed to it thinking Dorian had forgotten his key.
It was Irene.
She looked flustered and red faced. Gloria invited her in, but she was irritated by the intrusion. She didn’t like uninvited guests, it put her off her stride.
‘Is Samuel home?’ Irene asked breathlessly.
Gloria shook her head, closing the door as she watched Irene check the windows in the kitchen.
‘Are you all right?’ Gloria asked finally.
‘No.’
Gloria watched her nervous energy spill over into the room like a pan of boiling milk bubbling over on the Aga.
‘Where is he?’
Gloria took a deep breath. ‘He’s gone to see Arthur.’ She didn’t tell her Dorian was missing. Gloria waited for Irene’s response. The woman stopped shaking and calmed somewhat. ‘Really?’
‘Really, looks like they’re rekindling some kind of bond lately,’ Gloria said.
‘You don’t seem best pleased about it,’ Irene said.
‘You’d be right there, Irene, I’m not. But what do I know?’
‘Has it anything to do with Beryl?’
‘No, why would it have?’ Gloria snapped at her guest.
‘She has a habit of stealing other people’s men.’
Gloria glared at her, and her mind whirred with disgusting images of Beryl seducing her son, not her husband.
‘I didn’t know where to turn, Gloria. I’ve lost everything.’
‘Oh, pet, I’m sorry. Of course, you have,’ Gloria said softening, realising the woman’s ongoing pain. She chided herself for being impatient. ‘Are the kids with you now?’
Irene nodded. ‘They arrived late on Friday, just after I saw you. You haven’t told anyone?’
‘Not a soul. Not even Samuel. But I still think you need to tell the police.’
Irene nodded. ‘Victor’s lawyer brought this for me to read this morning,’ Irene said, handing Gloria an A4 sized envelope. ‘Read it.’
Gloria took it.
‘Go to the part where it mentions beneficiaries, the rest is all irrelevant,’ Irene said.
Gloria opened the envelope and pulled out the paperclipped pieces of paper, flicking through them. She realised that it was Victor’s last will and testament, and it was stamped as confidential. She peered up at Irene who urged her to go on. She scanned the document until she came to the clause which, to any relative, was the most important: where was all the money going? She expected to see the names of Irene and her children, but she didn’t.
The sole beneficiary of Victor Walmsley’s estate, including Dale & Sons, wasn’t his family, but Morningside Nursing Home.
‘Dear Lord, Irene, you must tell the police. This is enough of a reason for Victor to come to harm. Money is the root of all evil, or so they say, and look, this is your proof.’
‘I can’t do it, Gloria. The children…’ she said.
‘What’s worse? The children knowing Victor was having an affair, or them losing every penny that should have been theirs?’