Found (9 page)

As I start my walk back home, I can’t help but think that whilst Tabitha may be right about Etta, I really hope she isn’t. I know how much Felicity would hate it if Etta relapsed.

‘You’re fucking kidding me.’ The solicitor flinches at Etta’s outburst. Needless to say, Etta is not happy at all with Felicity’s will.

I, on the other hand, never expected anything from Felicity, other than the tills and mannequins from the shop. She gave them to me before she died though – so why am I needed here?

‘Etta,’ Matt says in a warning tone.

Matt is actually really nice and quite easy on the eye, which makes me wonder:
how are they related?
He has bright wide-green eyes that are crinkled at the corner from laughing, dark-brown hair and a cheeky smile that he’s flashed at me more than once today; his mouth is the same shape as Etta’s, except you barely see her crack a smile. He’s also pretty ripped, which no one could fail to miss. He’s not what I was expecting.

I thought he might be like Etta – surly and seriously anti-me – but he’s a breath of fresh air which makes me wonder what, or who, has made Etta like she is? I wish now I’d had a chance to talk to him at the tearoom instead of slinking off like I did, but if I hadn’t done that, Etta and I would probably never have cleared the air.

‘Whatever, Matt,’ she snarls.

‘It doesn’t change anything,’ he says, which is met with a snort and a further glare.

Her attitude is how she always used to be with me, but I daren’t stare at her for too long to try and figure out if she’s using again. The papers showed her the night of the funeral falling out of a club in the wee hours, a plume of smoke hanging over her as she furiously chain-smoked, but how much of that was true? She told me that she wasn’t using and I believed her, but her angry outburst now makes me doubtful. Matt hardly seems fazed though, so maybe this is just situation normal for Etta. Maybe she always has a temper – drugs or no drugs.

‘Shall I continue?’ the solicitor asks brightly. I really wish I could recall her name.

I glance between the two half-siblings who are looking at one another with two polar expressions. Etta is all tensed up, lines furrowed on her face, whilst Matt is smiling at her, all teeth and relaxed features. The solicitor looks like she’s cursing that she pulled the short straw for this will reading; her face is a mixture between Etta’s and Matt’s. I’m trying to keep mine as neutral as possible. I don’t want to piss Etta off.

‘No,’ Etta flatly states, ‘because I don’t understand how Felicity can leave a house to Matt when it already belongs to me and him.’

‘Let’s see...’ The solicitor rummages through the papers. ‘No, here are the deeds. The house was bought by Felicity in 1990.’

‘
Mum
bought the house then,’ Etta argues.

‘With Felicity’s money,’ Matt points out.

‘So? It was
Mum’s
house. It’s
our
home.’

I really wish I could leave the room right now. I don’t need to hear this, don’t need to be present. I could be at Mum and Dad’s playing with Atlas, or catching up with Ob. I don’t need to be sitting here, feeling uncomfortable in a dress that feels a little too tight, whilst Matt and Etta fight over Felicity’s will. This is excruciating.

‘Look, I can sign over half to you. It doesn’t matter, sis,’ Matt says gently as I stare around the solicitor’s office. Her plant is looking a little brown in the corner. ‘It will always be your home.’

I sneak a look at Etta, who now looks close to tears. ‘I’ll move out.’

‘Don’t be–’

Etta cuts across him and turns her attention back to the solicitor. ‘Can you continue? Please,’ she adds as... Kerry – that’s her name! – gapes at her.

She’s gone from tearful to business-like in a blink of an eye, and Matt’s worried glance, so different from his ease a moment ago, makes me wonder if my suspicions might be correct.

Matt and Etta picked me up and Etta spent the entire journey gleefully belting out song after song that came on the radio, flicking through the channels if a presenter dared to speak for more than ten seconds – I don’t understand why she would jeopardise everything. Then again, I get nervous when I take a headache tablet ten minutes before I should. I really hope that Etta’s behaviour is nerves, uncertainty about her future, or even just a side effect of withdrawal. I hope she’s not succumbed.

The house in Bransgore and most of Felicity’s personal effects are left to Etta, so that gets a slight smile from her – and, funnily enough, no argument from Matt – but the next inclusion in the will causes her to swear again, and I want to join in. That’s because Felicity has left me and Etta her businesses. We’re now the co-owners of an art gallery in Mayfair that I knew nothing about, and co-own the lease for a shop in Camden – a shop I
do
know about.

It’s my turn to argue with the solicitor. ‘But the contract in Camden was cancelled. The shop is no longer Felicity’s.’

Etta snorts.

‘What?’ I demand.

‘She told you that because she didn’t want you to feel bad. She’s been paying the rent on it all this time.’

Frocks and Socks is still mine?
Well, ours, I guess.
Crikey
. This is interesting, not that I’m going to accept it.

‘But–’ I begin.

‘But nothing. And don’t think you’ll be pulling shit like this again if I let you stay on the lease. Flick might have been a soft touch, but I’m fucking not.’

‘Etta!’ Matt chastises, but I sort of deserve her rebuke, even though she has no say in whether I remain involved. I’m going to decline this, but it’s up to
me
to say I am.

Frocks and Socks was the perfect space to set up shop though, and I do feel gutted. It had two big windows either side of the door, perfect for displaying show-stopping pieces to get people inside, and its gorgeous mint-coloured shopfront caught people’s attention. I have no idea what state it is in now after the fire. I haven’t thought about that place at all; I thought I didn’t have to.

As for an art gallery –
are you kidding me
? What am I supposed to do with an art gallery? It must be ticking over nicely though since Felicity never mentioned it;
someone
must be looking after it.

With Etta’s music career taking off, that someone can continue to run it. Etta will surely agree to that, but that’s not the point. The point is: how could Felicity have made
Etta
my business partner? I suspect she’s very amused at this situation, wherever she is now. This is going to be a hideous partnership unless I turn it down, or...

‘I’ll swap you,’ I say suddenly. ‘Your half of the fashion stuff for my half of the art gallery.’

The art gallery could be worth millions, but I never wanted Felicity’s money or things. Why shouldn’t I take over the fashion side though, like Felicity and I first planned? If I give Etta the gallery, that makes it fair.

‘Sounds–’

‘Ah, I’m afraid not,’ Kerry interrupts. ‘Felicity was very specific that if you try and sell anything within the next three years, or if you try and give anything away, then you forfeit everything. That includes you giving Miss Millhouse half of the Kentish Town property,’ she says turning to Matt, ‘and it definitely includes the businesses. Felicity was very keen that the two of you work
together
. It’s as she willed it, or it all goes to charity.’

‘Of course it is,’ I mutter, but I shoot Etta a wry smile. Thankfully she understands I’m remarking on Felicity’s meddling – getting everyone to follow
her
plan, even in death – and I get a smile back.

‘Right, well those are the assets. The money and the sale of Felicity’s investment portfolio will pay the inheritance tax and settle the funeral costs. Felicity specified that any remaining money should be donated to an Alzheimer’s charity.’

That makes me tear up, and I notice I’m not the only person who seems to react to this.

‘I just need you to sign a few things and then you can be on your way.’

I clock the relief in her eyes that this is nearly over.

Twenty minutes later and the three of us are heading back to Felicity’s house, which I guess is Etta’s now. What a weird thought. The house in Bransgore perfectly suited Felicity; I can’t imagine Etta living there... she’s too
London
.

What’s even weirder is that even though there’s no Felicity pottering about, the place still feels like her. I half expect her to pop her head around the corner of the drawing room and cheerfully tell us about something amusing that happened to her that morning.

I don’t know why I expected this place to look different. This room is exactly the same as the last time I was here, though a pair of duelling pistols that used to hang on the wall have vanished. I don’t ask.

I don’t think I could keep this place. As Etta collapses down in a chair, it’s evident she feels the same way.

‘What a fucking mess,’ she mutters.

‘Language!’ Matt tuts, but he has a smile on his face which indicates that he’s more than used to Etta’s foul mouth. The grumpier she is, the cheerier he becomes. He really is the anti-Etta.

‘I seriously can’t sell this place?’

‘Do you want to sell this place?’ he throws back at her.

I hover by the window. This is not a conversation I should be involved with, but Etta and I do need to talk about the gallery and shop. This is the only opportunity I’m going to get before I head back to New York tomorrow.

Etta snorts at that. ‘I’m not living here.’

‘You could rent it out,’ I suggest. ‘The solicitor only said you couldn’t sell it for three years.’

‘That’s not a bad idea. Maybe I’ll do that with your room,’ Matt teases.

The look on Etta’s face says it all.

‘Joke,’ he hastily adds. ‘You know you can always live there.’

‘I still can’t believe she left the house to you. That’s
our
home,’ she rants, yanking her red curls back into a messy bun. She’s dressed in ripped jeans, a sheer blouse that’s giving us a bit of an eyeful – not that she cares – and she’s lolling on the chair in a way that would have Felicity cringing. I really wish Felicity
was
here. 

‘Ah, what’s mine is yours,’ he dismisses, though I think he realises this won’t be the last he hears about the matter. ‘Shall I make some tea? I know I could do with a mug.’

I shoot a grateful look at Matt and mouth “thanks”. He heads off into the kitchen and then there’s just me and Etta. Which is so odd.

‘Let’s make this simple,’ Etta immediately says, swinging her legs around so she’s facing me.

She nods at the chair opposite her and I take a seat.

‘I don’t care about any of this. Play shop if you want. As long as it doesn’t cost me any money if you mess up, you can do whatever the fuck you want.’

‘We’ll probably have to make it a bit more official than that,’ I say carefully. ‘Set out a business agreement. For your peace of mind,’ I add, though it’s more for mine. If this goes wrong Etta will blame me and conveniently forget that she could have had a say in matters, too.

‘Whatever,’ she snarls.

Crikey, I thought we were past all this. ‘Is there a problem?’ I dare to ask.

Etta snorts. Yep, there is, and I suspect I know what it is, too.

‘Look, I never asked for anything from Felicity–’ I start to say.

‘Yet here you are,’ Etta interrupts me snidely.

I do not have the energy to fight Etta on this one, and what’s done is done. ‘You’re going to have to get over this or the next three years are going to be pretty hideous,’ I point out.

None of us can change what Felicity has done, what Felicity wanted, and that includes more than her last will and testament. Besides, if I give up my bit, Matt and Etta lose the houses, so here we all are. Stuck together.

‘Whatever,’ she snaps.

I have a feeling that this is more about Matt and the house in London than it is about me and her... I hope.

‘Do you know anything about the art gallery?’ I ask hopefully. We were given paperwork, which I’ll look over, but I’m hoping Etta has some insight given she knew Frocks and Socks was still being rented out by Felicity. I still can’t believe we can use that once it’s fixed.

She shrugs. ‘I thought Flick sold it.’

‘OK, can you look into it?’

She shakes her head.

‘Can my mum look into it?’

I know my mum might have something to say about that, especially since my parents think I’m ignoring my career, but Piers and I have a wedding to sort out when I get back to New York and the time difference is a pain.

‘Why can’t you?’ She looks around the room, anywhere but at me. Why is she being like this?

‘I’m going back to New York tomorrow,’ I tell her, wishing Matt would hurry up with those teas.

Another snort.

‘You do know my fiancé nearly died,’ I point out. ‘I had to leave him in New York just as he was discharged from the hospital. It was either that or miss Flick’s funeral.’