The Thing About Clare Page 23

Anna looked at her feet. What could she do? She was completely snookered. Now all that remained was for her to keep quiet and hope that it all blew over quickly.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said.

  ‘Well, I don’t know what to think,’ said Miriam, standing up and pushing her chair noisily across the floor. ‘The others are going to go mad when they find out. Sebastian will be cross but Clare will be absolutely livid. And I will tell them, don’t you worry about that. I shan’t be playing any snake-in-the-grass games like you’ve been doing.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Anna again. ‘I really didn’t mean to cause any bother.’

  ‘Well, what did you think would happen, Anna? Honestly? I’m leaving now. I’ll send Richard round to collect the washing later. And I’m taking this’ – she waved the will at Anna – ‘with me. I’ll ring you when I’ve spoken to the others.’

  Miriam picked up the will, the envelope and even the pink ribbon and made for the door. She hadn’t seemed to register the missing letter, Anna thought, but of course she would when she thought about it, and then Miriam would be on at her about that too. Anna would just have to make out that the letter wasn’t with the will when she took it. More lies but what could she do? She couldn’t let them see the letter to Clare. She would protect them from that, no matter what it cost her.

  As Miriam was leaving, she turned to look at Anna.

  ‘I can’t tell you how disappointed I am in you, Anna.’

  Anna hung her head. Miriam sounded just like their mother and somewhere Anna was sure she was shaking her head in disappointment too. After all, Anna had let them all down – Miriam, Clare, Sebastian and her mother.

  Miriam left with the will, banging the door behind her. The washing machine went into its spin cycle. The letter to Clare was still safely hidden.

  Anna opened a bottle of wine.

  CLARE – 2017

  I

  The backbeat of next door’s music pulsed in time with the throbbing in her head. Clare looked at the clock. It was officially the middle of the night. Surely they had to sleep eventually, her neighbours? They’d probably gone out and just left it banging through her wall, searing through her nerve endings without giving it a second thought. Clare tried banging on the wall again but it was a half-hearted gesture. It wouldn’t make any difference, even if they were in. Never once had they turned the noise down after she’d asked. Last time she went round, the girl – twenties, white-skinned, black-haired and eyes that were barely open – had laughed at her. Actually laughed. It was a good job that Clare was sober or the girl would have come away from that little encounter without any teeth.

  She was wide awake now, not that she’d truly been asleep at any point. She turned on the TV and let the late-night dross wash over her. There was no point wasting any more energy on the situation. She would play her music as loud as it would go tomorrow at breakfast when the girl would probably be trying to sleep. The justice of this plan appealed and Clare smiled to herself despite it all. They’d move on before too long anyway. Clare knew the type. She’d been the type once. Living in the moment, thinking only where the next drink, hit, whatever was their particular poison was coming from. Looking at the girl, it was probably the drugs that would be her downfall and that tended to happen faster than with booze. You could be dependent on alcohol and still breathe for longer.

  And Clare wasn’t really worried about her neighbours. In fact, she was just pleased that she finally had some. This was her place now and she was going to hang on to it. Her days of begging favours and squatting on people’s floors were behind her. This was a new start. She’d been off the booze for sixth months now and although she considered having a drink every single day, in fact every single hour of every single day, so far the answer had always been no. It felt good. She was in control of her life for the first time in decades. She didn’t even have to put up with Miriam and that ‘concerned’ thing that she did because, for once, Miriam had nothing to be concerned about. Clare Bliss was sorted. Life was, if not exactly sweet, then at least not bad. She even had a bit of a job at the local bakery. It was only cash in hand – a real job would mess up her benefits – but she turned up when they wanted her, more or less on time, and it felt good to have someone relying on her. She hated the expression ‘in a good place’ but really, she kind of was.

  When the doorbell rang the next morning, she didn’t hear it over the din of the music that was pumping out of her ancient CD player, through the walls and straight into the jugular of the girl next door, or so she hoped. It was only when she saw Anna’s face peering through the window that she realised that there was anyone there. She went to open the door, taking the chain off and pulling back the bolts smoothly.

  ‘How can you stand that racket?’ asked Anna as she came in, fingers plunged into her ears.

  ‘It’s revenge,’ said Clare, and Anna smiled wryly. Clare turned it down a little bit. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, suddenly suspicious. In spite of herself, she flicked her eyes across the flat, checking out what kind of state it was in, but it was straight-ish and this was Anna, not Miriam.

  ‘I bring post,’ Anna said with a smile. ‘It was sent to my house for you. Maybe whoever it is doesn’t have your new address.’

  Clare was confused. Their mother’s house was long sold, the contents divided between the four of them as per the will. Clare could think of no one who would either be wanting to write to her or use Anna as the messenger. Well, there was River, of course, but letters weren’t his style and anyway she’d made sure that he always knew where he could find her even if he rarely bothered to look.

  Clare turned off the CD player. She could resume torturing the girl next door later. ‘What is it?’ she asked before she’d even got Anna to sit down or offered her a drink or any of the things she knew she was supposed to do now that she had a home of her own.

  Anna dug around in her bag and pulled out a white envelope. She handed it to Clare.

  ‘No idea,’ she said.

  The envelope was addressed to Miss Clare Bliss, care of Anna at Anna’s house. It was typewritten and franked and the envelope was heavy and textured, expensive-looking. Clare weighed it in her hand for a moment, considering it.

  ‘Maybe it’s “the” letter. The long-lost letter from Mum’s will,’ she said, although this seemed very unlikely.

  ‘Only one way to find out,’ said Anna. She was blushing, Clare noticed.

  Clare picked at the corner of the flap and then put the envelope down on the sofa next to her. It was bound to be bad news. It always was. Well, she didn’t want to know. Life was running smoothly for her at the moment. She didn’t need anything tipping things out of balance.

  ‘Well?’ asked Anna, looking at her, her eyebrows raised in expectation. ‘Aren’t you going to open it?’

  No. Clare didn’t think she would. She hadn’t asked for a letter. She had no need of anything. She didn’t want to know. Then again, what if it was something to do with that mystery letter that her mother’s will had mentioned? That had never turned up, despite a vigorous search, and Anna had continued to deny all knowledge of it even though she’d had the will. There was something very fishy about that whole situation and Clare wasn’t sure she believed Anna, but there was nothing any of them could do. They’d just had to accept Anna’s dodgy story. And also, why had someone sent this letter to Anna and not her? That was annoying. It was probably because she had been of no fixed abode for such a long time. Still, it rankled. Maybe she would open it, just to see what it was.

  Clare grabbed the envelope and tore the flap open, yanking the letter out by the corner. The paper was as thick and luxurious as the envelope. She flicked it open and began to read. When she got to the end she was no wiser. Someone, a solicitor it appeared, wanted to talk to her about something and she had to ring their office to make an appointment. She looked up, pulled a face at Anna, read it again.

  ‘Well?’ asked Anna, after Clare had read it for a second time. ‘W
hat is it?’

  ‘Fuck knows,’ said Clare, and passed the letter over, watching as Anna read it for herself. Anna’s face switched from interest to shock to . . . What was that last expression? Fear? No. Too strong a word. Anxiety, then. Clare couldn’t quite work it out but something wasn’t right here and Anna definitely knew more about this than she did. Clare wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of asking, though.

  ‘Will you go?’ Anna said.

  Clare shrugged. ‘Might as well. Got nothing to lose.’

  ‘Do you want me to come with you?’

  Clare thought about this for a moment. She didn’t need Anna trailing along after her getting in the way. She didn’t need any of them. She never had done. She was surprised, therefore, to hear herself say, ‘Yeah. That’d be good.’

  II

  The building wasn’t like anything Clare had ever been in before. The front, four or five storeys high, was all glass and you could see people rushing about inside like rats. She hated places like this, smug and self-important and full of people whose lives had turned out exactly the way they wanted. She was in the wrong place. Who cared about the letter? Whatever they wanted to tell her, she didn’t need to know. She turned on her heel to head back the way she’d come and walked slap-bang into Anna.

  ‘Is this it?’ Anna asked, and Clare noticed that she tactfully avoided mentioning that Clare had been going in the wrong direction. ‘Have you been in yet?’

  Clare shook her head.

  ‘Right, we’d better or we’ll be late,’ Anna said. ‘Unless . . .’ She stopped and stared, with what Clare took to be a meaningful look, into her eyes. ‘Well, we don’t have to go in. Not if you don’t want to.’

  Anna linked her arm with Clare’s, an odd enough gesture between the two of them, and pulled her away from the smart-looking doorway. It was such a subtle movement that Clare thought for a moment that perhaps it was subconscious, but it was definitely there. Clare eyed Anna suspiciously. The casual way that she suggested they abandon ship, the gentle tugging, whether intentional or not, in the opposite direction. Something was off here; it didn’t feel quite as it should. Clare knew all the tricks. She’d not spent a lifetime getting herself out of tight spots without being able to manipulate a situation. Anna was an amateur next to her, although it wasn’t a bad effort.

  Anna didn’t want her to go in. Clare was certain of it. So, Anna must know something about this that she didn’t. That probably meant that it was something that Anna didn’t think would be ‘good’ for her. Her siblings were all the same. They each thought they knew what was for the best, wanting to prove how much better they had organised their lives than she had. The reasons for this sense of self-congratulation had always been a mystery to Clare. What the fuck did they have to be so very pleased about? Miriam was a teacher. A teacher, for God’s sake. If ever there was a job that showed a lack of imagination, it was that. She wasn’t even sure what Anna did. Something for a charity? And Sebastian? Well, he was doing a bit better than the other two but not by much. Had none of them noticed that she was an adult? She had actually made it to her fifties. Admittedly, she’d not always followed the straightest path to get to where she needed to go but she’d got there in the end and she’d done it without any of their help. She wasn’t about to take Anna’s advice now.

  Clare tugged back on Anna’s arm. ‘No, it’s fine. Let’s go in,’ she said, hoping that her voice sounded like this wasn’t something that was making her heart pound.

  Was that a little flicker of disappointment across Anna’s face? Yes. She did believe it was. Good.

  They walked up the marble stairs and into the air-conditioned calm of the reception space. If Clare had to pick one word to describe the space it would be ‘clean’. The walls and floor were white and glossy and the reception desk a sharp red. Even the strategically positioned foliage which screened off the lift doors looked fresh. Clare didn’t think she’d ever been anywhere that looked less like a solicitor’s office. She whistled under her breath and Anna shushed her.

  ‘This is one hell of a gaff,’ she said as she ran her hand along a mirrored wall. Her fingers left a trail. She saw Anna wince as if she were a child so she put her fingers in her mouth and then did it again. This time the mark was significantly bigger.

  ‘Clare,’ hissed Anna. ‘Must you?’

  Before she had a chance to tell Anna that yes, she must, the receptionist interrupted.

  ‘Can I help you?’ she asked, and although Clare was ready for some full-scale disapproval, her voice was friendly, which threw her a little. For a moment she forgot why they were even there but then good old Anna stepped up to smooth over her inadequacies.

  ‘My sister has an appointment with Caitlyn Bear,’ she said. ‘It’s Clare Bliss.’

  The friendly reception woman smiled and nodded and directed them to some modern-looking red sofas, all skinny legs and low-profile cushions. Anna sat down but Clare paced about trying to find something to relate to. She failed. She glanced at Anna, who was flicking through some brochure or other. She looked completely at home, like she spent half her life in this kind of place. Maybe she did. What did Clare know about Anna’s world?

  The lift doors opened and a young woman in a navy suit and heels emerged, did a quick scan of the space and then walked towards Anna with hand outstretched.

  ‘Miss Bliss?’ she asked.

  Clare watched as Anna lost her cool for a moment. She looked flustered and a bit unsure. Maybe the ever-perfect Anna had limits too, Clare thought, and the thought pleased her.

  ‘Yes, but it’s my sister Clare that you want,’ replied Anna. ‘Clare?’

  Clare eyed the woman, taking in her expensive suit, her classy haircut, the quiet self-assurance that radiated off her.

  ‘Yep,’ she said after a moment. ‘That’s me.’

  The solicitor put out her hand to shake Clare’s but Clare didn’t offer her own, and so the solicitor had to drop hers awkwardly to her side.

  ‘Would you like to come with me?’ she asked.

  Anna stood up but Clare put her hand up to stop her.

  ‘Thanks, Anna, but I think I can go in by myself. I’m a big girl now.’

  Clare saw the look of surprise and then disappointment cross Anna’s face and enjoyed it. That would teach her to be so transparent. If there was something here that she didn’t think Clare should know then Clare was going to find out what it was on her own. That way Anna and the others would have to second-guess what had been revealed. Anna looked like she might object but then seemed to think better of it. She could hardly insist on coming into the meeting with her.

  ‘Back soon,’ Clare said with a wink.

  III

  ‘Did you find us all right?’ asked the solicitor. Clare had forgotten her name already, not that it mattered. It was such a stupid question, given that they were standing side by side in the lift, that Clare didn’t reply. The solicitor flicked at her fingernails to fill the silence. Clare watched the numbers light up on the control panel as the lift rose. When the doors opened, the solicitor showed her down a corridor to a room at the end. Clare was expecting it to be her office but actually it was a meeting room with big glass panels and views of the street below.

  ‘Coffee?’ asked the solicitor. Her tone was slightly less friendly now.

  Clare could hear Miriam in her ear. It wouldn’t do any harm to be polite to this woman. It might even be in her best interests. She smiled widely.

  ‘That would be great. Milk and three sugars, please.’

  She felt sure that the woman’s eyebrows lifted just slightly but she prepared the coffee to Clare’s instructions and passed it over to her. Clare took the cup and sat down at the round table on which was sitting a slim black folder. Whatever this was all about must be in there, Clare thought.

  The solicitor put a pen down on the table and looked directly at Clare. She was younger than Clare had thought. Very young, in fact. Barely old enough to be out of school. How lon
g did it take to become a solicitor these days? Maybe she wasn’t a solicitor at all. Perhaps she was the office junior. That would be right. No one would bother sending an actual solicitor to deal with someone as unimportant as her.

  ‘Now, Miss Bliss, do you know a gentleman called StJohn Downing?’ the solicitor/office junior asked.

  Clare shook her head. The name meant nothing to her.

  ‘He is, or was, a client of ours. Sadly, he died recently, leaving his estate in our management.’ She tapped the black folder.

  Clare’s mind raced. Was this going to be one of those situations that you saw in the films where someone inherited a fortune from a stranger? Well, Clare was up for that. Bring it on. Inheritance without all the effort of grief. Excellent.

  ‘Mr Downing left us a letter to be delivered to you in the event of his death. I have that letter here.’ She opened the folder and took out an envelope. It was made of the same heavy paper that the letter summoning her here had been printed on. The solicitor/office junior glanced at her nervously. ‘I have to tell you,’ she said, ‘that the contents of this letter are highly personal and may come as a shock to you. Because of this, you can either take the letter away with you and rearrange a further meeting for another time or open it now. It is entirely up to you.’

  Clare thought of Anna waiting in the reception downstairs. Had she known what was coming? Was that why she offered to come with Clare?

  The woman was staring at her expectantly and Clare realised that she had to reply. Without even considering it she said, ‘I’ll open it now. My old dad always said that there’s no time like the present.’

  The woman nodded and handed the envelope over. Clare could feel her heart beating faster but she didn’t want to give anything away. She hoped the woman couldn’t see that her hands were trembling. She opened the envelope. Inside there was a letter, handwritten in blue-black ink in a curling, old-fashioned script.