‘No. As long as they don’t die in the next seven years, you’re fine.’ He softened. ‘They said they’ve no intention of pegging it.’
Bridie’s lips twitched. ‘They sound like they’ve got a sense of humour.’
‘It’s just sound inheritance tax planning,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘Many people gift money or property early to avoid leaving beneficiaries with large tax burdens.’
Bridie nodded, still dazed.
Mr Carter stood, smoothing his suit jacket, and offered his hand. ‘You know where I am if you need anything. Call or visit – whichever you prefer.’
She rose on shaky legs and took his hand. ‘Thank you.’
He walked her to the door. ‘I hope it all works out well. And I trust I’ll receive an invitation to your theatre production?’
Bridie blinked. ‘How do you know I’ll go ahead with that?’
‘Because you seem like a nice person,’ he said. ‘And I expect you feel you owe it to your benefactor to carry out his wish.’
Her smile faltered. ‘Hiswish?’
Mr Carter visibly winced. ‘Oh dear. That was a slip. Please – forget I said that.’
Bridie stepped back into the crisp Ipswich air, the winter wind cutting across her face.
Forget it?
Not a chance.
And as she looked at the sealed envelope in her hand – the keys to a theatre no one was supposed to know she owned – her heart thudded with a mix of fear and something else. Something close to hope.
She couldn’t be more thankful for Hannah, and her little job in the shop – especially the flat above that went with the job – but she wasn’t sure Cobblers Yard was where she truly belonged.
Someone else was looking out for her, and maybe this was the opportunity she needed to get her life back on track.
Chapter 27
On Friday afternoon, after returning from her appointment with the solicitor in Ipswich, Bridie went straight back to Cobblers Yard to finish working in the shop, even though Hannah had told her she could take the whole day off. Walking back into the yard, she spied Mabel watching her from the charity shop window.
Mabel had watched her leaving the yard in the morning, eyebrows arched, probably wondering where she was off to. And now there she was again, in the shop window as though she hadn’t moved from her spot all morning. Her eyebrows were arched again on Bridie’s return. She was clearly now wondering where Bridie had been. Bridie had glanced her way and then avoided her gaze as she returned to the shop.
Hannah was excited to see her and wanted to know how the appointment had gone. They sat for coffee in the cosy corner of the art and craft shop, and Bridie recounted what the solicitor had told her, or rather hadn’t told her – he had strict instructions that his client, her benefactor who had gifted her the theatre, was to remain anonymous.
‘Benefactor,’ Hannah had mused. ‘How mysterious.’
‘I know, right?’ Bridie replied. She opened her bag and showed Hannah the keys to the theatre. ‘There’s something else…’ Bridie also told Hannah about her benefactor’s wishes – they wanted her to stage a play at the theatre.
‘Stage a play at the theatre? How would that even be possible? I imagine the place would need a lot of work to get it up to scratch to stage a play.’
Hannah had read her mind. Bridie agreed. She admitted, ‘I had thought of just selling the place. Oliver reckoned it would fetch a decent price on the market because of where it is, even though it’s run down.’ Bridie didn’t mention the other conversation she’d had with Oliver about Jack – that he’d jump at the chance of buying the theatre and had been trying to get his hands on the property for years.
‘The property is yours now, Bridie. You can do with it what you want, surely.’
‘Yes, that’s what the solicitor said. But …’
‘It’s your benefactor’s wish to see a play put on at the theatre, so you feel obligated to do that.’
‘Yes, I do. For some reason, whoever they are, they’ve given me the theatre. I guess it’s the least I can do. The solicitor said I can do with it what I want afterwards.’
‘But you can do what you want now,’ Hannah reminded her.
