From Italy With Love. Jules Wake

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       Chapter 4

      Her hands shook so hard the key barely hit the lock. Tears filled her eyes … again. The brass letterbox had done it.

      Over the years how many postcards often starting with the imperative, Niece, you must see this place, dropped through the door? Miles loved his postcards.

      Although they wound her dad up, each one made her smile. Even in the last few years when Miles was supposedly slowing down, the postcards had never let up. Random in their frequency, there was never a place too small or insignificant for him to stop and pick one up. She’d had cards from the Empire State Building in New York, the Bellagio in Las Vegas, the Great Orme in Llandudno and Arthur’s Seat in Edinburgh. Today Miles’ familiar, impatient scrawl, addressing her in his usual bossy fashion, brought piercing regret. No more postcards. Ever.

      No more anything. She wouldn’t even argue against the terms of the will. Miles knew her too well. Knew that she wouldn’t deny him his last wish. Frowning hard, she gritted her jaw. Duty. She’d always been good at that. She’d stuck by her dad’s side, despite Miles’ repeated invitations to visit. Dad liked to blame Miles for the break-up of his marriage, not wanting to admit that it was probably inevitable that Celeste would leave him. He never really got over it. For him it had been a grand passion, love at first sight. At least on his part. With ten years apart, he had tried to be the sensible one, holding her at arm’s length, which had made the spoiled, wilful eighteen year old Celeste all the more determined to marry him.

      Damn. The note. She’d leave it in the plastic bag in the hall along with the envelope that Ron had handed over. It felt too raw to share with anyone. Anyone? She meant Robert. Who else was there? And what would he say?

      His car was already in the drive. Squaring her shoulders, she went inside.

      And there he was already, twitching with anticipation.

      ‘So? Did he leave you anything?’

      She nodded. Well that was the truth. He had definitely left her something.

      ‘What?’

      She bit her lip. ‘It’s complicated.’

      Robert frowned, ‘How so?’

      Shrugging out of her coat, she took her time hanging it up. ‘Let me get us a cup of tea.’

      ‘So you got nothing then?’ Robert sounded sulky.

      She faced him. ‘Like I said, it’s complicated. Come in the kitchen, sit down and I’ll tell you.’

      Holding the mug of steaming tea as if it were some kind of talisman, she decided it was best just to spit it out and see where the conversation went.

      ‘Uncle Miles has left me one of his cars.’

      ‘Oh,’ Robert looked crestfallen. ‘Is that all?’ Then he rounded on her, irritation lining his face. ‘But that’s ridiculous? You don’t drive.’

      Her fingers strayed to her eyebrow, and she rubbed the bone there back and forth.

      ‘I know,’ she sighed thinking of the provisional driving licence still tucked in her drawer. Renewed faithfully for the last six years but yet to be upgraded. Booking a proper driving test was still … she couldn’t do it. She would get round to it … one day, when the memories of her dad’s first massive heart attack on the driveway of the test centre faded.

      ‘So why leave you a bloody car?’

      For a moment she stared bemused at him, but then he hadn’t had much to do with Miles and had only been to the house on the day of the funeral.

      She wanted to СКАЧАТЬ