‘Thank you, sweetheart,’ she says carefully. ‘But I think I’ll just stick to water.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Tilly says cheerfully. ‘It’s your favourite and everyone else is having one!’
Paula nods, and takes a tiny sip of the fabric softener. It’s horrible.
‘So first off,’ the solicitor clears his throat, ‘I should say that John appointed his daughter’ – he looks up from the page, pointing a flat palm at Tilly on his right – ‘as his executor.That means you are responsible for administering the estate and dealing with any assets, Ms Sheldon. We can talk this through in more detail after the will-reading.’
Tilly looks a little surprised and Paula feels a few eyes on her. She senses confusion from the room, but of course John appointed their daughter! Paula’s always been hopeless with that kind of thing and Tilly is so very capable.
‘It also means you’re technically in charge of funeral arrangements, which I understand’ – he pauses, glancing up for confirmation – ‘hasn’t taken place yet?’
Taking the lead, Tilly nods. ‘We’ve had to wait a couple of weeks for the paperwork and we’re still waiting on Dad’s . . . remains.’ She pauses to swallow. She’s only two years older than Seb, but while he seems like a teenager, sometimes Tilly seems even older than Paula. ‘But we’re hoping it’ll be soon.’ She glances at Paula. ‘We have it in hand.’
Paula nods, though she’s done nothing.
‘This is an informal process,’ the solicitor continues, ‘I’m just here to read out John’s statement and wishes, and then help clarify anything. So, if anyone has any questions, please do speak up.’ He leans back in John’s chair. It creaks in the same way it did for John. Paula fights back that urge again – the one that wants to scream for the man to move. But people are allowed to sit in chairs. Even John’s chairs.
‘I’ll crack on then.’ The solicitor nods around the room, then clears his throat. ‘I’ll start with John’s opening statement, which he wrote as follows: “Hello everyone, John here. It seems I’m dead, how strange. Hopefully I went peacefully in my bed at the age of 99, beside my loving wife, Paula.”’ Next to her at the table, Misha reaches for Paula’s hand but she shrinks away from the kindness. Affection is only going to make all of thisharder. The solicitor continues, ‘“I lived a good life. I tried to be a good man. I worked hard and made sure I provided for my wife and children. I hope I will be remembered fondly by one and all. Goodbye. See you when I see you. Love, John.”’ Paula stares down at the table as, across from her, she hears Tilly start to cry. Either side of her, both Misha and Seb sound a little sniffy, too.
Should Paula be crying? Probably. But if she starts crying now, goodness knows what might happen.
‘I’ll read out his estate bequests now,’ the solicitor begins, and the room shifts a little with expectation. ‘To his brother Pete, John leaves his collection of pool cues, along with his lifetime membership of the local snooker club.’ Pete looks pleased with this and nods slowly, sipping his whisky.
‘For his brother Tom, John leaves his clothes, along with his famous collection of belt buckles. His brother Leonard is to take possession of his stamps, his chess set, and the whisky under the stairs.’ Tom and Pete exchange guilty looks, whisky in hand, as Leonard regards them with outrage. Tom quickly downs the remaining liquid in his glass.
The solicitor watches them for a moment, his expression bewildered, then turns in Tilly’s direction. ‘Er, to his daughter Matilda, John leaves his most treasured possession: a signed, framed photograph of Ronnie O’Sullivan and a first edition of Ronnie’s autobiography.’ Tilly releases a small guttural sob as he continues, ‘And to his son, Sebastian, he leaves the fishing equipment out in the garage and his unfinished memoir, titledSnookered.’ The solicitor adjusts his glasses. ‘Apologies, I can see that name has been amended toAll Cued Up.’
‘That’s not better,’ Misha murmurs, but Seb looks pleased.
The solicitor continues, ‘The rest of the estate – including the house and any other assets, financial, etc. – have been bequeathed to John’s wife Paula.’
There is a moment of silence as the room digests this.
Misha leans forward gingerly. ‘Is there nothing specific or personal for Paula?’
‘Never mind that!’ one of the uncles shouts. ‘What about the lottery money? Does that mean she gets the lot?’
Paula’s head whips around. Pete is standing over them, hands on hips, his empty glass discarded on the kitchen counter. Behind him, Tom and Leonard are listening intently, their expressions hard and menacing.
Paula can feel shock making her face slack. How do they know about the lottery win?
Every week, when they checked the results, John would turn to Paula and say, ‘If we win, we won’t tell a soul. Lottery winners don’t make good friends.’
And of course he was right. He was right about everything. She had no intention of telling anyone about the win. No one beyond Tilly and Seb. She glances at her children fearfully. Seb is staring at the table, guilt painted clearly across his face. Tilly meets Paula’s eyes, then rolls hers.
‘Ah,’ the solicitor says, and it’s clear he, too, knows about the win. He removes his glasses and adopts a serious expression. ‘From what I understand, the ticket was jointly bought, and even if it were John’s ticket exclusively, it would still automatically become part of his estate. And – as I said – the will is very clear that it all goes to Paula.’
Pete takes a step forward. ‘That’s outrageous!’ He waves his hands and Paula cowers, though he’s at the other side ofthe table. ‘What does she even need twenty million for? I’ve got three ex-wives and six stepkids.’ He huffs furiously, waving at Paula without looking in her direction. ‘John paid off this house years ago. She’s living on easy street!’
Paula feels a stab of horror as Tilly jumps up, looking angry. ‘Hey!’ she says. ‘You have no right to speak to my mother like that.’
Pete waves at the solicitor. ‘I was talking tothisguy, actually. We’reowedsome of that money. He was our little brother. We should be getting at least a couple of million each. She doesn’t need it.’
Paula swallows hard. The truth is, they did indeed pay off their mortgage a long time ago. But then they had to re-mortgage when the roof needed re-doing. And then re-mortgage again a few years ago when a neighbour complained about the asbestos garage. They’ve long since run out of money. John hadn’t had a pay rise at work in years and Paula never brought in much from her work at the care home. Maybe they could’ve just about made ends meet, if the bills didn’t keep going up and things didn’t keep going wrong with this old house.
She glances anxiously over at the stain on the ceiling.
Never mindeasy street,it has beenquite difficult and stingy streetfor a long time now. John had to count every penny in the last few years. It’s why they played the lottery so religiously every week.
