CHAPTER FOURTEEN
William and Suellyn sat across from Martin Bartholomew. His desk was piled high with manila folders secured by faded red cotton tape. The only window in the first floor office looked out onto the busy street below. A coffee mug sat next to an empty ash tray and as Suellyn shifted in her seat, her eyes were drawn to the specks of dandruff on Martin Bartholomew’s cardigan and noticed his frayed shirt collar which was too tight for his thick neck.
‘Now where was I?’ Bartholomew directed the question more to himself than to the couple sitting in front of him. ‘Ah, yes. But before we begin, can I first offer my condolences? Mrs Phillips senior was a very fine woman. I had become quite fond of her over the years.’ Bartholomew wiped a rogue tear from the corner of his eye. ‘Well, on to business, let’s get on with it shall we?’ Bartholomew’s mood suddenly brightened as he sorted through the files on his desk. Here it is, the last will and testament of Rose Patricia Phillips or Evans as she was formally known. She changed her name to Phillips by deed poll, did you know that Mr Phillips?’
‘To be honest, no, I didn’t.’ William was genuinely surprised. He looked across at the insignificant little man sitting behind his timber veneer desk and wondered why his mother had chosen him to act as the executor to her estate. ‘Let’s get on with it then Bartholomew, what’s in this will? I can’t imagine there’s much to get too excited about.’ William looked at his watch. He had a midday lunch appointment in the city and knew he would be late if they didn’t get this over and done with quickly.
‘Well, you might be surprised. In fact William...’ Bartholomew paused for a moment and looked at his client’s son. ‘I can call you William, can’t I?’
William couldn’t believe that his mother’s solicitor was so pompous and so old-fashioned. He was surprised when he had insisted that they come to his suburban office to read Rose’s will. ‘Of course. Let’s just get on with it.’
Martin Bartholomew smiled and continued. ‘Your mother was a wealthy woman in her own right. There is actually quite a substantial estate.’ Suellyn stopped looking out the window, turned and faced William and then transferred her gaze to Bartholomew. She urged him with her eyes to continue. The fine hairs on the back of Suellyn’s neck stood on end.
Mr Martin Bartholomew of Bartholomew and Smyth, Solicitors, opened the file and handed copies of Rose’s will to Suellyn and William. ‘Let’s begin then shall we?’ He cleared his throat. ‘This is the last will and testament of Rose Phillips… To my next door neighbour Mr Kevin Taggart, I bequeath three hundred thousand dollars to assist him in the pursuit of his artistic endeavours and to my friend Max Gray, I bequeath twenty thousand dollars for his kindness and friendship.’
Suellyn and William looked at each other in disbelief, then looked back at Bartholomew. ‘You’ve got to be kidding,’ Suellyn moaned, rolled her eyes and shook her head in disbelief.
‘The remainder of my estate,’ Bartholomew paused solely for effect, ‘I bequeath to William Seymour Phillips and Thomas Seymour Dwyer, to be divided equally.’
‘Who the hell is Thomas Dwyer?’ William looked at Bartholomew, searching his eyes for an answer.
Bartholomew ignored William’s question and peered over his glasses and looked at Suellyn as she sat rigid in the chair, her eyes glazed, she was visibly shaken. But he was only mildly concerned. He had seen this sort of thing before. ‘Are you all right, Mrs Phillips? Can I get you a glass of water?’
Suellyn ignored his question and William waved his hand by way of a dismissal.
The solicitor returned to the document and continued. ‘To answer your question William, Thomas Dwyer is the son of the late Mrs Isabelle Dwyer. Mrs Dwyer and your mother had a special friendship which spanned many decades.’ Bartholomew scratched his chin, drawing them out, sensing their excitement and anticipation.
‘Now, regarding the value of the remainder of the estate, I would estimate, once the shares are sold and brokerage fees, funeral costs, commissions and stamp duties have been taken into account, we are looking at around the ten and a half million dollar mark.’
‘Good Lord,’ William gasped. ‘How did my mother end up with that sort of money?’ Suellyn rubbed her arm nervously, crossed and uncrossed her legs. She looked pale and Bartholomew thought she had the look about her as if she was about to faint.
‘Are you sure I can’t get you a glass of water, Mrs Phillips?’ he asked almost too kindly.
Suellyn shook her head. She didn’t want to take the risk of picking up any infectious diseases.
Bartholomew took his wired glasses from his face and leant forward on his elbows. He placed his fists on his chin and looked across the desk at William and Suellyn, sighed in a judgmental sort of way and began to explain how Rose had inherited money from a Miss Dora Valentine when she died and also received a considerable amount of money from the estate of a Mrs Isabelle Dwyer six months ago. Rose invested the funds in the share market, and wisely, so it seemed. ‘When Mrs Phillips came in to sign her will, she told me she spent at least four hours a week at the Council library where she had access to a community computer. Afterwards she would pick up a few groceries at the local supermarket before heading home.’ Bartholomew smiled to himself. He loved the drama of will readings, especially when the beneficiaries didn’t have the faintest idea what was in them.
Suellyn and William couldn’t wait to leave Bartholomew’s office. They thanked him for his time, grabbed a copy of Rose’s will and left. Suellyn followed William down the uncarpeted flight of stairs to the dingy foyer. In his haste to get out of the building, William tugged at the door and pulled it towards him. Suellyn brushed past him and pushed the door open.
William’s face was ashen. ‘Let’s have coffee,’ he called out to Suellyn as she walked off in front of him, heading back towards the Council car park.
Suellyn stopped and spun around in surprise. ‘What about your lunch appointment in the city?’
‘There’s a lot we need to talk about. I need some time to think this through, to look more closely at this will. There are things in it that just don’t add up and don’t make sense.’
They waited together on the footpath for the traffic lights to change but William was impatient. He grabbed Suellyn by the elbow and dragged her across the pedestrian crossing. They passed the Council library and an Indian takeaway, the distinctive smell of curry and fried samosas reminded William that it was almost lunchtime and he’d not eaten breakfast. They walked past a coffee shop and decided on a table inside. The outside tables were all taken, filled with mothers drinking coffee and their toddlers slurping babycinos. They decided on a table near the front door and William hung his jacket on the back of the chair and ordered a short black and two slices of toasted, banana bread. Suellyn ordered a skimmed latté.
Suellyn rested her wrists on the table, placed her handbag on her lap and turned and looked behind her. Apart from a young couple sitting in the back corner next to the coffee machine and the cash register, they were the only customers inside the café. Suellyn fiddled with one of the sugar sachets, which poked up from a glass sugar bowl, she bent and twisted it. It broke and the contents spilled out onto the table. She brushed the grains into a pile with the side of her hand and was still holding the empty paper sachet when William grabbed both her hands and looked into her eyes.
‘Suellyn,’ William took a sudden breath. ‘Look at me. Tell me what’s going on. Who is this Thomas Dwyer? Did Rose ever mention his name to you?’
She pulled her hands away from his and sat back in her chair.
‘You’d think the solicitor would know, after all, he drew up the will. And what was this Thomas Dwyer’s relationship with my mother? She never mentioned his name to me, at least not that I can remember. Thomas Dwyer, Thomas Dwyer… the name is familiar for some reason. Hang on, wasn’t he the guy who spoke to us after the funeral?’
William thought back to the day of his mother’s funeral. Tommy, his name was Tommy, and
William remembered the bumping of black umbrellas, drips of rain, getting wet and thinking that he somehow looked familiar, as if he had met him before.
Suellyn was thinking her own thoughts. She had no idea it would turn out this way. What was Rose doing leaving half of her estate to Tommy. She wondered if he had known about the contents of Rose’s will. ‘William, we really need to go through the house in Eden Street and sell it as soon as we can. The agent says that presentation is everything in this market. Ambah also told me that she hasn’t had much interest in the house, especially because your mother decided to die in the kitchen. That can apparently put some buyers off.’
‘Slow down will you Suellyn, what’s all this business about selling the house. I’ve seen the sign, you didn’t waste anytime did you? How can you even think about selling it? It’s not as if my mother died from some long-term illness. Everyone apart from me seems to think that she committed suicide. And if that isn’t enough, she also decided to include her whacko neighbour and a complete stranger in her will, someone who just happens to share the same middle name as me. And you’re talking about selling the house?’ William was incredulous. Suellyn didn’t like the direction the conversation was heading.
‘Come on Suellyn, tell me something, will you? Why did you disconnect the power to the house? Didn’t you have any idea of what effect that would have on her?’ He looked at Suellyn’s face and didn’t like what he read in her eyes. ‘But maybe you did? I can’t understand why you did it, what were you trying to achieve?’
‘How did you find out about the power?’ Suellyn asked, with surprise.
‘The police told me. You must have known that I’d find out sooner or later?’
‘It’s my house William, you bought it in my name remember? I’m entitled to do with it whatever I like.’
‘I bought the house in your name as a tax break, you and I both know that. Just because the house is in your name certainly didn’t give you the right to treat my mother the way you did. Why did you want her out of the house anyway? And don’t tell me you were worried about her well-being.’
Suellyn looked at William’s face and saw the disgust written there. ‘Well if you must know, I wanted it sold because I knew your mother would be better off in a retirement village and because I wanted the money. I’m leaving you, William. I’m fed up.’
William buried his face in his hands, but this didn’t stop Suellyn,
‘I want a divorce.’ Suellyn waited for this piece of information to sink in before she continued. ‘And tell me one thing, if you cared so much about your mother, why didn’t you bother to look after her yourself, instead of leaving it up to me?’
‘Hang on a minute. Before we start casting blame, first things first. What’s this about a divorce?’
Suellyn was aware that the owner of the café and the young couple at the corner table were looking at them. Outside, a baby began to cry and Suellyn watched as a young mother stuck a dummy in the baby’s mouth to quieten it. ‘Keep your voice down for God’s sake,’ Suellyn hissed, as the waitress placed their orders in front of them. ‘Let’s be honest with each other for once.’ Suellyn continued, quietly but firmly, as she looked into her cup of coffee. ‘I know I’ve made mistakes and I don’t really blame you for cheating on me, but with everything that’s going on now I’ve had enough, enough of you, enough of the secrets, enough of the lies.’ The froth on the latté had a cocoa powdered heart on the top of it and as she stared at it she wondered if the waitress was playing a cruel joke on her.
‘What do you mean, cheated on you? The only mistress I’ve ever had was my work.’
Suellyn laughed. ‘That’s a bit rich, isn’t it darling? What about Anita, your PA? She even came to your mother’s funeral and managed to shed a few tears. And then there was that analyst, what was her name? Peggy, wasn’t it? No one knew why she suddenly left. But I did. There was talk, William, and it all got back to me. All those late nights and out of town appointments. Not to mention your overseas’ business trips.’
William was surprised by the venom in her voice. ‘You’re talking rubbish, Suellyn. It was all just drunken, office gossip. You may not know this, but a lot of people I work with are jealous of my lifestyle. I can’t believe you didn’t trust me enough not to believe the lies they were telling you. I’ve given you everything and there has never been another woman. Without me you wouldn’t have the expensive clothes, jewellery, the flashy car, or a beachside apartment.’ William felt his blood pressure rising. He took a bite from his banana bread and a large mouthful of coffee. ‘Let’s get out of here and go somewhere we can talk privately.’
They both stood. William left a crisp twenty-dollar note on the table and followed Suellyn out of the café, embarrassed by the scene they had caused. As they approached the car park William recognised a familiar buff coloured envelope wedged under the windscreen wipers of his car. ‘Shit. What else is going to happen today?’ He lifted the windscreen wiper, screwed the parking fine into a tight ball and threw it in the gutter. ‘Get in Suellyn.’
She looked at him.
‘Now!’
They sat in silence. He gazed momentarily out through the front windscreen and watched as a young woman strapped her baby into a car seat in the car parked in front of him. For the first time in his life, William realised that he was losing control and he had no idea how to rein in his life and bring it back into line. He reversed out of the car space and almost backed into a white delivery truck. He swore. Suellyn was frightened. William had a reputation at work for being hard-bitten and aggressive, but she had never seen that side of him, he had never behaved badly around her and had always been if anything, too reserved, too self-contained.
William was driving too fast, too hard, his cheeks were flushed and pumping. He took one hand off the steering wheel and massaged the knots in the back of his neck with his fingers and Suellyn noticed the deep lines in his forehead. She closed her eyes, held her breath and dug her fingernails into the leather seat.
William made a hard right hand turn into Eden Street and came to an abrupt stop in front of his mother’s house. He looked at the ‘For Sale’ sign in the front yard and then looked over at Suellyn. ‘A detonate or renovate’ sticker was now plastered across the ‘For Sale’ sign. How could he have allowed his mother to live like this? If only he’d known, he would have done something to help her. He tried to think back to the last time he’d been to the house. Rose had always visited them at their apartment or else met William at his office in the city. They would often have lunch or morning tea together at the Two Spoons café in George Street. There was a bus stop at the end of Eden Street and it was an easy fifteen minute bus ride to the city. William wondered with all the money she had, why she’d not spent it on herself. She had more than enough money to buy an apartment in the city if she didn’t want to go to a retirement village. His mother had spent some of the happiest times of her life in the city when they had lived together in Dora Valentine’s boarding house and if he was honest with himself, they were also the happiest times of his life.