Relief Valve: The Plumber's Mate, Book 2 (9 page)

“Yeah,” I muttered. “It was bloody inconsiderate of Auntie Lol to go dying like that, wasn’t it?”

“
Tom
,” Cherry snapped. Now back behind her desk, she turned to Mr. M and pasted on a smile. “I realise you’d been estranged for some time, but still, it must have been quite a shock to hear that Laura had passed away.”

“Yes, of course,” Mr. M said stolidly.

Cherry soldiered on. “This is my brother, Tom. Tom, Roland Morangie.”

I stood to shake hands with him and tried not to cringe too obviously at the moist, warm grip of his wrinkly fingers. We sat down in unison, Cherry in her executive swivel chair behind the desk, and me and Mr. M in the rigid, more-or-less-comfy chairs the other side, placed a good three feet away from each other. I wondered if that was to stop divorcing couples coming to blows in her office.

“Would you like a cup of tea? Coffee?” Cherry managed to imply with her tone that he’d be doing her the greatest of favours if he accepted.

Mr. M was unmoved, but he was willing to indulge her. “Thank you. Tea, I think.”

Cherry turned back to me. “Tom?” This time, she managed to imply I’d be doing her the greatest of favours if I choked on it.

Got to hand it to Cherry: she could put a lot of meaning into one short syllable.

“Ta. Milk, no sugar. And a biccie would be nice.”

Her eyes narrowed, and when she picked up the phone and gave the order to some minion or other, she unaccountably forgot to mention the biccies.

Oh well. I hadn’t really wanted one anyway.

“Were you aware of Laura’s rather strange will?” Cherry asked as she sat down again.

“No.” He paused a minute, twitching. “Laura and I didn’t speak after we parted.”

“It must have been difficult for you,” Cherry said with warm sympathy. Or at least a pretty good imitation.

He stared at her for a moment with bloodless eyes. “Not particularly. We weren’t married long. And it was all well over a decade ago, as you know.”

I wondered how many years it took to stop feeling bitter over a failed marriage. How long did it take until you could think of your ex objectively, like they were just an acquaintance or something, just another person you’d lost touch with? I supposed I shouldn’t be surprised Phil still had feelings for the Mysterious Mark.

The tea arrived at that point courtesy of the smiley receptionist, which was probably just as well from Cherry’s point of view. I don’t think she was impressed with Mr. M’s failure to keep to the script. “Cheers, love,” I said as I was handed a cup with a dimple. “I’m Tom, by the way.” I was pretty sure she already knew, but it seemed only friendly.

“Oh, I’ve heard all about
you
. I’m Jeanette.”

Cherry glared at me like I’d just dropped my trousers and taken a piss in her tea. “Thank you, Jeanette. That will be all.”

Me and Jeanette shared trying-not-to-laugh faces as she left, her high heels making her hips wiggle in her tight skirt. Conversation was reduced for a minute or so to polite murmurings as we passed the milk and offered the sugar, which was probably just as well.

Jeanette had brought biccies anyway, a plate of bourbons. I took one just to see Cherry’s face when I dunked it in my cuppa.

It was a classic: How Can We Possibly Be Related Death Glare #3. I almost did choke at the sight of it.

Fortunately for her blood pressure, Mr. M didn’t seem to notice.

“Now, according to Mrs. Morangie’s will, the codicil detailing Tom’s legacy is somewhere in your house. I don’t suppose you’ve been able to locate it?” Cherry didn’t sound too hopeful.

“Regrettably, no. I understand she wished your brother to search for it?” His mouth was all twisted up like someone had put salt in his tea instead of sugar.

“Yes.” Cherry made a
what-can-you-do?
gesture with her hands. “I know it seems a bizarre idea, but perhaps she’d become rather…eccentric as she aged.”

“Oi, Aunty Lol still had all her marbles. She wasn’t old enough to be going senile, nowhere near.”

Mr. M looked pissed off too, which, seeing as he had to have at least ten years on Auntie Lol, wasn’t surprising. Nice one, Sis. Cherry seemed to realise she’d shoved her foot in it, as she turned pink and got very interested in her cup of tea for a moment.

Mr. M filled the silence. “I’m sure you understand that I’m not keen to have a stranger invading my house. At my time of life,” he added, with a daggers glare at Cherry. “I thought perhaps we could avoid all the upheaval if I simply made you an offer to renounce all claims.” He named a figure that would have taken a hefty chunk out of the money I owed the mortgage company.

I blinked. Then I frowned. “Hang about. We don’t even know if she left me anything worth a fraction of that. I’m not taking your money if it isn’t due.”

“Nevertheless, it seems to me extremely likely that that is what Laura did. In the circumstances I’m quite happy to—”

“Yeah, but what if I’m not? Happy, I mean.” I sat forward, struggling to think how to put it. “Look, it was Auntie Lol’s last request, wasn’t it? For me to go looking for the…what do you call it, Sis? Coda?”

“Codicil.” It sounded like a brand name for nasal spray.

“So I’m not happy just saying fine, give me the money. It’s not right.”

Cherry cleared her throat. “Actually, the legal situation—”

“Sod the legal situation. I want to do what Auntie Lol wanted.”

“Tom, you’re just being difficult. Mr. Morangie is being very generous here.”

“Not necessarily. What if she left me the deeds to a diamond mine?”

Cherry’s face could have blistered paint. “Oh yes, of course, she always used to regale us with tales of her life in the diamond mines of South Africa.”

Me-ow. “I’m sure you used to tell me sarcasm was the lowest form of wit.”

Mr. Morangie rattled his tea-cup loudly in his saucer. Cherry and I turned as one to glare at him, and he leaned back with a worried expression as if he was trying to escape through the back of the chair. “Ah. It’s, ah, commendable that you want to follow my late wife’s wishes, but really, I have my doubts the codicil will ever be found.”

Why? Had he found it already, and chucked it on a fire? I frowned and opened my mouth, but he beat me to it.

“As you can imagine, I’ve already made a thorough search of the property, and I’ve been unable to locate it.”

“Yeah, well, fresh pair of eyes and all that,” I said breezily. I wondered if Cherry would mention my special talent for finding stuff, but apparently my
thing
was still on the list of unmentionables. Fair enough: he probably thought we were weird enough already. And if he didn’t expect me to find it, he wouldn’t bother getting a shift on with trying to find and destroy the thing before I got there. “So when can I come round? Sooner I start, the sooner I’ll finish and get out of your hair.”

Mr. M made a face like he was chewing on a cockroach and was too polite to spit it out. “I’ll have to consider the matter. I was given to understand we would be able to come to an arrangement.” He put his teacup down on Cherry’s desk, as if getting ready to leg it.

Cherry wasn’t giving up that easily. “Please wait, Mr. Morangie. Perhaps if I had a private word with my brother—”

“You’d be wasting everyone’s time,” I interrupted. “Sorry, but I’m not budging. What’s the bloody point of leaving a will if everyone’s going to bugger up your final wishes?”

Mr. M and I stood up at the same time like we’d planned it that way. Which was a bit unfortunate, seeing as we’d have to walk out together now. Maybe we could talk about the weather or the crap state of English football. We might even be able to agree on those subjects, although I doubted it.

“I shall have to consult my solicitor,” he said. His tone should have carried a warning for mild threat like you get on kids’ films.

“Then I’ll look forward to hearing from you,” Cherry said politely. “Tom, would you wait a minute, please?”
Her
tone was definitely the sort some small children might find upsetting.

It was a toss-up which was the least inviting prospect: small talk with a pissed-off Mr. M, or a lecture from a pissed-off Cherry. On the other hand, if I didn’t let Cherry vent now, she’d only bend my ear about it later on the phone. I sat back down, and while she ushered Mr. M out, did the modern equivalent of twiddling my thumbs. Gary had tweeted
Bellringers do it with ropes
and Darren had replied
Market traders do it in public
. I was still trying to think up a really good one for plumbers when Cherry said my name in that annoyed tone of voice people use when they have to repeat themselves.

I put my phone away hurriedly. “Gone, has he?”

“Yes. I don’t know why you had to be so obstructive.”

“Yeah, you do. So what happens now?”

She sighed. “I’ll give him a day or so to cool off and then give him a call. Hopefully
someone
will be willing to be reasonable by then. Anyway, that wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“No?” I tried to think what the hell else she might want to talk to me about, and worry tickled the back of my neck. “Mum and Dad are all right, aren’t they?”

“They’re fine.” I waited. Cherry took a deep breath. “Gregory and I are going to be married.”

“Bloody hell, that’s a bit fast, innit?” I stared at her. Was it something in the water round here? First Gary, now my sister.

Cherry went pink. “It’s not fast at all. Just because
you’ve
only just met him…” Another deep breath. Maybe she should see a doctor about her lungs. “Anyway, we’re having a party on Friday.”

“What
, this
Friday?”

“You know, you could congratulate me.” Her mouth tightened.

“Er, right. Sorry. Congratulations and all that.” Bloody hell, I was going to be the only one left on the shelf. “Going to be a church do, then?”

“Well,
obviously
. We’re hoping to be married by the bishop,” she added, sounding a lot less miffed. “It’ll be in the cathedral, in any case. Gregory wants to invite all the regulars to fill up seats.”

“Surprised he’s not planning to prop up that little ‘family’ of his in the pews.”

She
tsked
. “St Leonard’s doesn’t
have
pews.”

“Course it doesn’t. Silly me. Should’ve remembered.”

“Oh? I didn’t know you’d been there.”

“Er, yeah. Just for a quick visit.” Fortunately she didn’t ask when that’d been or who’d provided the guided tour.

“So are you coming, then?”

“Well,
yeah
.” Did she really think I’d miss my only sister’s wedding? “You want me to bring Phil, right?”

There was just the tiniest pause before she answered. “Of course. But, um, just the two of you,” she added, going even pinker.

I frowned. “Well, I’m hardly going to turn up with a whole crowd of blokes from the pub, am I? So when is it? You haven’t said, yet.”

She
huffed
. “Yes, I did.
Friday
. At Gregory’s. Starting at seven.”

“What?” Surely even Cherry couldn’t organise a wedding that fast? I did a quick mental gear change as I finally realised we’d been talking about two different things. “Oh, you mean the
party
. Right, yeah, we’ll be there. You sure you’ve got time to get it set up? Want me to bring anything?”

“Oh, we’ll be fine. Gregory’s going to get some of the cathedral ladies to do some finger food. And if we left it any later, Gregory would be all caught up in Alpha Courses and Confirmation Classes. He barely has an evening free before Easter.”

I nodded. “No rest for the wicked. Bit of a quiet time for me, as it happens—a lot of people put off the nonessential jobs until they’ve had a chance to recover from the Christmas bills. And the sales spending.”

“Oh.” She paused, and I was just about to get up again when she spoke. “Is work going okay? Are you, well, all right for money?” She brushed furiously at some biscuit crumbs on her desk. At least I assumed that was what she was doing, although, come to think of it, she hadn’t actually had a biccie with her tea.

“Yeah, I’m all right. Can’t complain. Er, you?” It was probably a daft question, looking at the wood grain on that desk of hers, but it seemed a bit rude not to ask, seeing as she had.

Cherry looked up sharply. “Oh, yes. Of course. Right, well, that was all I wanted to talk to you about. Unless you, er…?”

“Nah, I’m good,” I said, standing up. “I’ll see myself out.” I grinned. “I’m sure if I go wrong, Jeanette’ll set me straight.”

Cherry actually sort of laughed. Maybe it was more of a snort. “I’m sure she’d be only too happy to
set you straight
, but I always thought it wasn’t supposed to work like that.”

Bloody hell. That was almost a joke.

Maybe the Irreverently Reverend Greg was actually good for her.
 

Chapter Eight

Thursday night, Cherry rang me again. The land line probably thought my mobile had done a runner. I was home on my own—I hadn’t seen Phil since the night before last, and even the cats had buggered off somewhere.

Not that I was moping or anything. I made sure my tone was nice and cheery as I said, “Hello?”