The Theotokis Inheritance

‘It’s been such a long time,’ she said quietly. ‘Although Isobel very kindly arranged a small reception here for my father’s funeral, it was held in the conservatory… and, anyway, I was so… distraught… I hardly knew where I was at the time.’

Oscar gave her a sidelong glance. ‘I haven’t been here myself much, either,’ he admitted. ‘There just never seems to be the time… or a suitable opportunity.’

Together, and not saying much, they wandered through the rooms on the ground floor, Oscar making notes as they went, though Helena didn’t bother to follow suit. To her this was all so familiar, and little seemed to have changed, she noticed happily.

The glistening, well appointed kitchen was exactly as she knew it would be—the Aga still comfortingly warm and, in the dining room next door, the huge polished rosewood table was graced by the customary massive fresh flower arrangement in its centre. Helena smiled inwardly. Louise had obviously been determined that standards wouldn’t be allowed to drop just because Isobel was no longer there.

The main sitting room leading into the conservatory was still furnished exactly the same, though the heavy ivory-coloured curtains at the full-length windows were new, she noted. The smaller occasional room next door was where Helena and Isobel had spent many evenings together playing Scrabble or watching television.

Further along was the library, which had always been Helena’s favourite place, and now, as they went inside, she was stupidly relieved to see that her figurines were still there in their usual softly lit alcove.

But dominating the room on the opposite wall was the amazing gold-framed portrait of Isobel, and Helena had to put her hand over her mouth to stop her lips from trembling.

The painting was so touchingly real that it felt as if Isobel might get up from the chair she was seated in and step forward to greet the two of them in the room. She was shown wearing a soft, loosely fitting dress in a delicate shade of pink, her luxuriant silver hair elegantly coiffed on top, her large grey eyes smiling that gentle smile that Helena knew so well.

As with the other rooms, every available space was taken up to display all the ornaments to best effect and, as they turned to go, Oscar clicked his tongue, looking back briefly.

‘My aunt was some collector,’ he remarked obliquely. He refused to acquire much for his own homes, preferring to keep his space empty and clutter-free—much like his life.

‘Yes—but there are collectors, and collectors,’ Helena said, immediately on the defensive. ‘Every single thing here is exactly right for its situation. Isobel had an eye for such things and she had wonderful taste—and it shows.’ She paused, her head on one side. ‘I don’t know what you intend… I mean… I don’t know what your opinion is, but I think it’s best if everything is left exactly as it is for the time being—until after the sale of the house, I mean. I don’t think we should move a thing. After all, any prospective buyer is going to be far more impressed when viewing a property that looks lived-in… loved… cared for.’ She looked up at Oscar earnestly. ‘Once everything’s gone, the house will be just an empty shell. Lifeless.’ The fact was, she admitted, she couldn’t bear to see Isobel’s beloved home broken up and sold off in bits and pieces, even though it was inevitable one day. To Helena, it would seem like the ultimate betrayal.

A nerve pulsed in Oscar’s neck as he looked down at her, and he was aware of a certain hunger he hadn’t felt for a very long time.

‘We’ll have to think about that,’ he said, averting his gaze. Then, ‘By the way, as far as I’m concerned, you’re welcome to have anything you want… Take it now.’ He paused. ‘I don’t need any of this,’ he added.

Helena looked up at him seriously. No, I don’t expect you do need anything, she thought. And did she, Helena, need anything? Despite her prospective inheritance, she could never envisage a time when she’d eventually settle somewhere which would happily house such wealth.

‘I don’t want to think about what I want, or don’t want or need,’ she said coolly. ‘Not now. Not yet.’ She paused, her gaze lingering on the figurines for a second. ‘Only those over there—the shepherd and shepherdess—they are the only things that I would love to have.’

‘Feel free to take them, but it’ll all have to go eventually,’ Oscar said firmly. ‘Putting off the inevitable is just procrastination.’ And procrastination hinders progress, he thought. He avoided procrastination wherever possible.

Presently, Helena followed Oscar up the wide staircase to the first floor. Immediately ahead, there were the four bedrooms, and around the corner to the next wing were two more, all with en suite bathrooms, the long windows on this generous landing lighting up the pattern on the richly carpeted floor.

Helena caught her breath as her memories kept flooding in. This was the first time in over nine years that she had been upstairs at Mulberry Court and she had to resist the temptation to run along and throw open the door of the room at the far end which had been ‘hers’—the one in which she had stayed on the few occasions that her father had had to go away.

‘Isobel had so many friends… I remember she was always entertaining, always having people to stay. These rooms were never empty for long,’ Helena said, adding, ‘I stayed here once or twice.’

‘And… this was my room,’ Oscar remarked, throwing open the door to the one they’d come to. He paused, looking around him. ‘I used to enjoy my visits,’ he added, and Helena’s heart missed a beat. Could he actually have forgotten what his visits had meant to her—to both of them? Had he completely obliterated those times from his memory? Had they meant nothing?

After a few more minutes they went outside to wander through the grounds. The kitchen garden at the back was still flourishing and well-kept, Helena noticed, trying not to feel too sad that someone else was now in charge there. Though Benjamin didn’t seem to be around today.

Nothing had changed outside, either, she thought, her eye drawn towards the secluded wooded path that led to their willow tree and, even after all this time, Helena could feel her senses swim at the memory of the intoxicating moments she and Oscar had experienced together. Yet they were walking here now as if none of it had ever happened. As if they were two strangers in a foreign place…

Without her realizing it, Oscar had been looking down at her as they walked, his eyes following her gaze as she’d been reminiscing, and abruptly, as if he’d had enough of all this, he stopped and turned.

‘I need to get back to the Inn,’ he said briefly. ‘I want to check my emails, and I’m expecting an important phone call.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Anyway, it’s gone one o’clock—you’re probably ready for some lunch, aren’t you?’

To her surprise, Helena wasn’t feeling at all hungry, despite having had no breakfast. But another of Adam’s delicious sandwiches suddenly seemed attractive.

‘OK,’ she said casually as they walked towards the car. ‘And, actually, perhaps I ought to phone my boss. He hasn’t been in the office for a few days, but I know he’s back this weekend. Perhaps there’s something he needs to tell me before Monday morning.’

As they drove back to the Horseshoe, something made Oscar decide to try his luck. He’d been thinking about it for the last hour or more, but he knew he’d have to pick his words carefully.

‘Look, if it would be any help to you, Helena… I’d be more than happy for us to get a true valuation of Mulberry Court, the contents, everything,’ he said carefully, ‘and, allowing for inflation, to pay you a very generous half of the total, now. It would relieve you of all responsibility, and you’ve said you don’t want anything for yourself… other than those figurines.’ He turned to glance at her as she sat beside him impassively. ‘It would save you a great deal of trouble…’

There was complete silence from Helena, and he went on, ‘Of course, the sale can’t proceed for a year, as we both know, but if you agree, at least one of us will be spared considerable interruption to our life. John Mayhew would sort out the transaction for us, I’m sure,’ he added.

He drew into the car park and looked across at Helena, noting her flushed features.

‘You’ve forgotten what I said, Oscar,’ she said, staring straight ahead. ‘I’ve already told you—I want to be able to play my part in making sure that we deal sensitively with all the material possessions which Isobel held dear.’

Now she did look at him, her eyes almost crackling with distaste. She knew what his game was—he wanted her out of the way! For his own convenience, not hers. She was an unnecessary encumbrance! Although he may have cared for her once, he didn’t care about her now and he didn’t care about Isobel’s lovely things, either, which he’d make sure went to the highest bidder.

She opened her door, then looked back at him squarely.

‘I am grateful for your concern at the “interruption” to my busy life,’ she said, ‘but… thanks, but no thanks, Oscar. Mulberry Court and I have a very long way to go before we’re through.’ And with that she got out of the car and walked swiftly towards the entrance to the Inn.

* * *

Back in his room, Oscar took his laptop from the wardrobe and threw it down on the bed, admitting to feeling unusually distracted. Exploring Mulberry Court this morning had ruffled his memories more than he’d expected and he’d felt his aunt’s presence in every corner. He knew he had always felt closer to her than to his own parents, and her wise gaze as she’d looked down at him from that portrait had unnerved him slightly.

He shrugged. Anyway, he’d probably blown any chance of Helena agreeing to his perhaps unrealistic proposal. It had obviously been the wrong moment to have mentioned it, he thought. If ever there was to be a right one. He remembered enough about her to know that she had a mind of her own, and would not easily be persuaded into making decisions she might later regret.

But what to do with the house and its contents was a totally insignificant matter compared with the far more vital one to be handled, he thought. Because he had the distinct feeling that he’d been awakened from a hundred-year sleep and by the most desirable woman he’d ever known. Or was ever likely to know. But had he woken up in time?

CHAPTER THREE

TRYING to subdue her somewhat ruffled feelings, Helena went into her bathroom to wash her hands and put a brush through her hair.

The morning had been a rather emotional experience, she thought. At certain points it had seemed to her as if she and Oscar were trespassing, which was obviously silly because Mulberry Court was legally theirs. But Isobel’s presence had seemed to follow them as they’d wandered through her home, and it seemed wrong to Helena that she hadn’t been there as well.

But what was really getting to her now was Oscar’s proposal that she should wash her hands of their present situation and leave him to it. Even if it would obviously mean that straight away a very considerable amount of money would come her way. She sighed briefly. He wouldn’t have the sensitivity to understand her feelings—the look on his face had said everything. But she felt, acutely, that Isobel had left this assignment to the pair of them, to be handled with dignity, obviously thinking that two heads were better than one.

Helena frowned as she dwelt on all this. Perhaps she was being mean, not giving Oscar the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he really did have her interests at heart. Then she shook her head, responding to that thought. No, this was all about him, wanting to go it alone without the handicap of someone else possibly having an opinion that didn’t match his. He was, after all, a cutthroat businessman—he had to be, surely, as the head of the Theotokis dynasty? Sentiment didn’t come into it because everyone knew that there was no room for sentiment in business.

With her head beginning to throb with all these teeming thoughts, Helena decided that for the moment she’d had enough. Taking her mobile from her bag, she dialled his number.

‘Oscar, I’ve developed rather a bad headache,’ she said calmly. ‘So I’m going to have a lie down. Perhaps we can continue our… discussions… later. At supper?’

There was barely a pause as he responded snappily—she’d obviously interrupted something. ‘Fine. I’ll book a table downstairs for eight.’ And, after a moment, ‘If you think you’ll have recovered by then.’

Helena could imagine him raising his eyes impatiently at what she’d just said. Then she sighed. She didn’t usually have negative thoughts about people, about anyone, but somehow, she and Oscar… It had to be the disparity in their positions which had ignited the latent inferiority complex which she occasionally had to battle with, she thought. Well, thanks to Isobel, for the moment she was now exactly on a par with him. There was no need for her to feel that he had any advantage over her at all, and she must keep reminding herself of that. For one year, they were to be partners.

‘Oh, I’ll be fine by then,’ she reassured him. ‘I’ll see you at eight.’ And with that she rang off. Anyway, she thought, he wouldn’t be sorry to have some time to concentrate on far more important things.

As he drank his glass of whisky in the bar, Oscar had to accept that the morning hadn’t gone as he’d expected. He’d fondly imagined that he and Helena could have had a straightforward discussion about his aunt’s possessions—to make a list of what they wanted to take away with them, wanted to sell, to at least have made a beginning. He’d fully expected Helena to want some of the contents of Mulberry Court for herself, maybe a picture or two, or a small chair or some books, things that would easily fit into her car to take away. Arrangements could be made for anything else she might fancy to be delivered to her place later. But apparently she didn’t wish for anything at all except those ornaments, and she’d made it clear where her instincts lay—to leave it all in situ.

Helena was just lying on the bed reading her book and sipping the last of her coffee when her mobile rang. As she answered it, Simon Harcourt’s voice met her ears and she frowned slightly. ‘Oh—hello, Simon,’ she began, then listened for several minutes while he explained the reason for his call.