She was going to be late.
It was almost nine o’clock and she still had to find the place. Pushing her dark hair away from her face, she stopped suddenly when an outfit caught her eye in the window of Pamela Scott - a seventies-print halterneck dress that would be perfect for Jenny’s wedding.
Pity she already had her outfit. Ah, she might buy it for herself anyway. With everything that was happening lately, she deserved a treat.
Karen continued quickly towards College Green, and just as she reached the pedestrian crossing at Trinity College, she heard her phone ring from inside her handbag. The lights went green and she struggled to find the device whilst crossing the road. Blasted things….
She’d only just stepped into the doorway of theVictorian bank building to take the call when the ringing promptly stopped. Typical.
“Shite,” she exclaimed, glaring at a passer-by who was staring at her with undisguised interest. She was about to replace the phone in her handbag when it beeped loudly.
A text from Jenny:CALL ME AS SOON AS YOU GET THIS.
Sadly her friend would have to wait, Karen thought, rushing up the street. She wasdefinitelylate now. She raced along and eventually stopped in front of a building with Stevenson & Donnelly Solicitors inscribed on a brass plaque by the doorway. Then pushed the intercom buzzer to gain entry.
Inside, the receptionist smiled at her. “Miss Cassidy? Mr Donnelly is ready for you.” She gestured to one of the doorways behind the reception area. “Would you like some coffee?”
“I’d love a cup, thanks.” Karen smiled back as she removed her coat and knocked on the heavy wooden door.
“Come in, please.”
She was duly greeted with a nod from a serious-looking older man seated behind a large oak desk with heavy books and sheets of paper strewn all over it.
Typical solicitor’s practice.
“Karen, hello. It’s nice to finally meet you face to face. Please – sit down.” The solicitor gestured to the plush leather armchair in front of his desk.
“I’m very sorry I’m late, I couldn’t find you at first.”
“That’s no trouble at all, dear. Did Linda offer you some coffee?”
At that very moment the aforementioned receptionist appeared with a tray, and Karen gratefully accepted a mug of strong coffee and a Rich Tea biscuit.
“Thank you, Linda.” The solicitor smiled and then sat back in his chair. “So, let’s get down to brass tacks. We discussed the basics over the phone but I just want to run through the broader specifics with you again, to get a better sense of the issue. The property in question - it’s located in Harold’s Cross, you said?”
Karen nodded. “Yes, a two-bedroom townhouse jointly purchased a couple of years ago.”
“And there’s a mortgage remaining on the property?”
“Yes. Which is basically the root of the problem. I’m unsure of my rights – legally I mean, because the house was never in my name. I just didn’t see any need at the time.”
“I see. Both mortgage and property were solely in your partner’s name?”
“That’s right,” she answered solemnly.
“But you contributed financially throughout.”
“Oh, absolutely – Shane and I each had separate accounts but we keep – I mean we kept – a joint account for utility bills, heating and whatever.”
“Well, that’s a start certainly. I assume you have bank statements that verify same? And Mr Quinn does not dispute the fact that you made mortgage contributions?”
“Not as far as I know, he doesn’t. It’s just …” Despite herself, Karen was nervous. “From what I’ve read, it seems that it was always Shane’s house, wasn’t it – legally I mean and what I paid means nothing?”
“Mr Quinn may have been registered as sole mortgage holder, but in truth, the building society holds full title until the mortgage is fully repaid. Though based on what you’ve just outlined, any courtroom is likely to rule in favour of the other party.”
He was so dispassionate about it all. Didn’t he realise how hard it was for her to come here and discuss all of this with a complete stranger? Still, it meant nothing to him, she supposed. He was just doing his job. Sympathy didn’t come into it. Karen had sought his advice and here he was advising her. What did she expect; a big hug, soothing words and a box of Kleenex?
“You see,” she told him, “I have nowhere else to go so I’m still living there. Mr Quinn has asked – ” She frowned.Asked?That was an understatement.“that I move out so that it can be sold. But I don’t see why I should move out. That’s why I’m determined to bring this to court. That house is my home and it’s just not fair that he can evict me after … everything.”
