The Legacy: Trouble Comes Disguised As Family (Unspoken Book 2) by T. Belshaw (the best books to read .txt) 📗

put a few quid on the gas and electricity cards last week, so if I’m careful I’ll last until payday.’

‘Have you got credit on your phone? You need that in case of emergencies, Mum.’

‘I’ll buy a ten-pound top up on Friday,’ Nicola promised.

‘And what about food? What have you got in the cupboard?’

‘Jess, stop interrogating me like I’m a special needs teenager,’ Nicola stormed.

‘I’m sorry, Mum, but I worry about you. It’s only natural. I am your daughter.’

‘If you were that worried, you’d put a few pounds in my bank account. You can afford it now, Jess. Don’t be mean. You know we should all have shared the money that Alice left.’

‘I don’t know why you always call her Alice, and not grandma,’ replied Jess.

‘She was never a grandmother to me. Grandmothers dote on their grandkids. She left us high and dry when we had our money worries. That’s the reason your father left and why I’m in such dire straits now.’

‘I’m not going to argue about this again, Mum. Nana gave you money and Dad squandered it, gambling.’

Nicola sniffed. ‘Well, she could have helped me when he left, but she did nothing, so don’t expect me to mourn her passing.’ She was quiet for a moment to let the message sink home, then she continued. ‘So, what is it you want, Jess?’

‘I rang to invite you out to a family dinner, Mum. I’m booking a table for four at the Café Blanc for this Friday evening. It will just be me, you, Grandma and Aunt Marjorie.’

‘What’s the occasion? Are we celebrating your inheritance or have you decided to do the right thing by us all?’

‘I’m not allowed to do the right thing, Mum, I’ll explain on the night. Nana tied all her money up in a trust fund. I couldn’t give you a decent portion of it if I wanted to.’

‘Typical!’ spat Nicola. ‘So, what’s the point in this family dinner?’

‘Mum, I just want us to be a family. I want all the back biting and nastiness to stop. Nana’s gone and I don’t want to be at the centre of hostilities like she was.’

‘Is there a bar at this Café Blanc place?’

Jessica sighed. ‘Yes, Mum, and don’t worry about money. I’m picking up the tab for the evening.’

‘I stopped worrying about money years ago, when I ran out of it,’ said Nicola coldly.

‘I’ll see you on Friday then, I’ll pick you up about six-thirty if that’s all right?’

‘I’ll be here,’ replied Nicola, ‘but, Jess… can you help me out with the rent? I’m sure there’s an eviction notice amongst the pile of mail on the mat.’ Her voice became tearful. ‘I daren’t open it, Jess. I just let it pile up. Can you help me? I’m begging you; I’ll have nowhere to go if they chuck me out.’

‘Mum, you know I won’t see you on the streets. Sort through that mail and give me the ones that are threatening court or eviction on Friday night.’

‘Bless you, Jess. I’ll pay them this time, I promise.’

‘You won’t need to, Mum. I’ll pay them by bank transfer. You won’t have to worry about going to the council offices and I’ve still got the estate agency’s bank details from last time, so all I need is to know how much you owe.’

‘Bank transfer….’ Nicola’s voice betrayed her disappointment.

‘Mum, you know what you’ll do with it if I give you cash. You really have to get yourself sorted out.’

‘I can handle it, Jessica,’ snapped Nicola. ‘I don’t have a problem; I can stop drinking whenever I want.’

‘Okay, Mum, but take it easy will you, and don’t have too much before I pick you up on Friday. The bar won’t run out.’ She paused. ‘Bye, Mum, love you.’

The call ended. Nicola stared at the phone for a few moments then tossed it onto the sofa and walked through to the kitchen. She picked up the large, plastic cider bottles and shook them in turn. Disappointed, she dropped them onto an overflowing black bin bag near the back door, before opening the wall cupboard next to the sink and pulling out a half-full bottle from her emergency, vodka stash. She took a glass from the draining board, then uttering, ‘sod it’ to herself, put the glass down and took a deep swig from the neck of the bottle. Wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, she walked back through to the living room, took another swig of vodka, placed the bottle on the table, picked up the phone again and pressed the buttons to speed dial the only name on her list.

Chapter 13

Jessica spent Tuesday clearing out Alice’s clothes and belongings. Because of the amount of time she had spent indoors over the last twenty years, the vast majority of her wardrobe items would be better suited to a company specialising in period drama costumes than the charity shop.

Jess bagged up the clothes, but placed the handbags, shoes and costume jewellery into a large box. Some of the items might be collectable and although Jess wasn’t interested in any money that could be made, she wondered if a charity like Help the Aged could make use of them. She decided to take the garments to a clothing recycling bank, where any unusable items were shredded and mixed with fresh fibres to make new fabric.

In the afternoon, she sat at the kitchen table with her laptop and an old notebook that she had recovered from the attic on Nana’s instruction. Written on the front, in Alice’s beautiful handwriting were the words, Alice Mollison. Aged 19. Personal Memoir. 1939.

Jess made a large coffee, picked up the notepad and pen from the worktop and returned to the kitchen table. She opened the pad to a new sheet and wrote 1939 across the top of the page, then she opened the hard-back notebook, only to find that the months from January to May had been roughly torn out. Jess was puzzled, she was sure that