I nod slowly, feeling the tension build in the room. ‘That’s right. Did you know her?’
Stephen stays silent, and I notice his gaze quickly dart away, suddenly avoiding making eye contact with me. He becomes overly focused on his meal, picking apart his sausage with a fork. I wait for Stephen to answer, but he never does.
All I hear is the sound of my own breath.
Gus shakes his head and answers. ‘I can’t say that I did,’ he admits. ‘I was away in the States for many years before returning to Innisfree. However, I did know the Kennedys; they were good people. Old money, of course, but still good people.’
I lean back in my chair and contemplate Gus’s words.
‘So that solves the mystery of Mick’s will,’ Gus remarks. ‘He left everything to Rose Clarke. And how did they know each other?’
I shrug. ‘I don’t know – it’s all been completely unexpected. James O’Connor came to London saying my mother had inherited a house in Ireland and that the property was now mine to inherit as her closest living relative.’
Gus pauses, head bowed in understanding. ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ he says softly. He runs a hand through his silver-streaked hair, an anxious look on his weathered face. ‘It sounds like you’ve got a difficult few weeks ahead. I don’t imagine this will be much of a holiday for you. Anything to do with inheritance and property will be messy.’ He scratches his chin and nods slowly, showing sympathy.
‘Do you think there will be many problems? I mean, I’m the only heir so that should make things more straightforward?’
Gus takes a sip of his tea and thinks for a moment before replying. ‘You never know with these things. Jonathan O’Connor will give you some good legal advice. He knows the score on the house, all the personal risk you’re now facing…’
‘Personal risk I’m facing? I don’t follow.’
Stephen nods vigorously in agreement. ‘Gus is exactly right. Huge risk now landed on your lap. Get rid ASAP. The last thing you need is a lawsuit for libel or someone getting killed up there. It won’t be long until that happens.’ His eyes widen as he speaks, and beads of sweat form on his forehead. ‘Without any insurance or safety measures, if anything happens, the blood’ll be on your hands and the police will be at your door.’He blows out his cheeks. ‘I wouldn’t sleep a wink while my name was attached to that death trap.’
Blood on my hands? What on earth? Stephen’s words have frightened the bejesus out of me, but it seems he’s not finished yet.
I watch and wait as his eyes frantically scan the room, as he hunches forward and says ina lower tone, ‘I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I got called out to the Kennedy estate last night. Another late-night disturbance. More trouble.’
‘Trouble?’ I utter, worry starting to set in.
‘Yep, troublemakers were raising a ruckus. Whenever trespassers are around, up to no good, the neighbours call me in. We scared them away and made it clear they weren’t wanted here.’
‘What kind of trouble are they causing?’ I ask nervously.
‘Drinking, rioting, setting fires, damaging property. Since the old man’s death, the place has a reputation for being a party place. Mick’s Mansion, they call it. Free – for all. The woods are full of those bums – eco-warriors or whatever they call themselves. Sure, what do you expect when Mick let every waif and stray stay on his land and now people are taking advantage. Look at Moya Collins. She’s been there for years and shows no signs of leaving.’
My vision of wildflowers and swimming in the lake has been replaced with images of an old, run-down house surrounded by rowdy partygoers and police tape.
Gus mutters, ‘Terrible shame, it used to be such a nice place. Our kiddies loved it there – happy summer days by the lake, picking flowers, not a care in the world.’ He shifts his gaze and asks, ‘What about the house itself? What condition is it in, Stephen?’
I swallow hard as I wait for his judgement.
Stephen lets out a deep breath and stares at me with weary eyes. ‘It ain’t lookin’ good,’ he utters quietly, as if to keep it between the three of us. ‘I don’t envy you havin’ to get that oldplace back in shape. It’s gonna cost a fortune to fix.’ He speaks softly, carefully considering his words. ‘If you don’t mind me askin’, what’s your plan for it?’
I inhale deeply. ‘To sell it. I need the money for a new place in London with my boyfriend,’ I confess truthfully.
Stephen nods and grunts in agreement. He steps towards the kitchen entrance, takes a quick glance into the hall and closes the door again. ‘Let me give you some advice, Daisy’ he begins. ‘Get rid of that house swiftly. It brings nothing but misfortune, and it will only bring you grief too.’
‘I see,’ I say slowly, trying to take in everything that Stephen is saying. It’s a lot.
Gus chimes in. ‘All is not lost, Daisy. You can put it up for auction and that way you’ll have it off your hands in no time – it’s all online these days, so you could get bidders in from all over the world – no viewings, no long-winded process, cash buyers only. That’s what I’d be looking at if I were you.’
‘I’ll definitely take your advice into consideration, Gus. Thank you both for your help.’
Which is the complete opposite to how I really feel! What kind of help is this? It only makes me more anxious –if the house is in a complete state of disrepair and looks like it’s been taken over by a mob, will anyone want to buy it?
Gus’s face tightens as he takes my plate and empty mug. ‘Sorry to be the bearer of bad news,’ he says quietly.
I offer a weak smile and nod, trying to appear strong. ‘No, no it’s fine. I appreciate your honesty.’ And I do appreciate honesty, even if I’m not always prepared to hear it. Especially when there’s so much at stake with this sale.
