A Body in Seaview Grange by Dee MacDonald (jenna bush book club TXT) 📗

‘studio’ and the rest either with Fergal or at The Greedy Gull. It wasn’t the first time Angie had been absent either, because back in July she’d flown up to Sweden for her annual ten-day pilgrimage to see Jeremy and his Swedish wife and two boys. Angie and Ingrid did not get on terribly well, mainly because Ingrid strongly disapproved of her mother-in-law’s fondness for gin, and so Angie was forced to considerably limit her intake while she was there. She was not over-enthusiastic about Ingrid either, particularly her passion for healthy outdoor living. Jeremy, of course, made it all worthwhile but, nevertheless, Angie was always relieved to get home. At least now she’d have the opportunity to see her son on his own for a couple of days.

Angie phoned late that evening. ‘We finally have chère Maman pushing up the daisies,’ she informed Kate. ‘Tomorrow morning we must all present ourselves at the solicitor’s office to find out what she’s left us. Not much, I suppose, but it should be interesting. From there I’ll go straight to Charles de Gaulle and I should be home by the evening. Anyone else been poisoned or booted down the stairs in my absence?’

Kate still felt too emotional after Sharon’s death to tell her sister the latest news over the phone. Furthermore, the police had done a thorough search of all the flats in Seaview Grange and found nothing.

Angie arrived home at about ten o’clock on Thursday evening. As she dragged her overnight case through the door and flung her coat onto a peg, she said, ‘You’ll never guess what!’

As Kate hugged her sister, she asked, ‘What?’

Angie headed into the kitchen. ‘I’ll just pour myself a gin and then I’ll tell you. Can I pour one for you?’

‘Might as well,’ Kate said, preparing herself for a detailed account of who was who at the funeral.

As Angie deposited two gin and tonics on the coffee table she said, ‘We saw the solicitor this morning. And he read out the will.’

‘Did you get the coffee pot?’

‘No, I got two hundred and fifty thousand euros!’

‘What?’

‘I’m not too sure of the official exchange rate at the moment,’ Angie went on, sipping her gin, ‘but it’s well over two hundred thousand pounds.’

‘It certainly is!’ Kate agreed. ‘Wow, that’s amazing! And unexpected!’ And it could buy a lot of gin, she thought. ‘She must have loved you more than you thought.’

‘She loved George,’ Angie said, referring to her late husband, ‘and so she left the same amount to Jeremy and to each of his boys, and to each of Paul’s family too, of course.’

‘She wasn’t exactly poor then?’

‘No, she wasn’t.’

‘Have you had any thoughts on what you might do with the money?’ Kate asked, imagining Fergal would probably get his holiday paid for after all.

Angie took another sip. ‘I’ve been thinking about that. Kate, you don’t have to work any more! I’m going to pay off all those bloody bills!’

‘Angie, you don’t have to do that…’

‘Look, you took this job to pay for everything and I appreciate that – I really do!’

‘I’m sure you do, Angie, but—’

‘Kate, I’m rich! We’re rich!’

Kate was moved by Angie’s generosity but at the same time she wondered why she wasn’t feeling over the moon at the prospect of becoming a lady of leisure. What had begun as a financial necessity had now become her way of life. And she liked it.

As if guessing her thoughts, Angie said, ‘Well, I’m going to pay everything off anyway. And you can go out to Australia too – how about that? It’s entirely up to you if you want to carry on working or not.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘It wouldn’t be my scene working with all those unhealthy people and their germs.’

‘No,’ Kate agreed, ‘it wouldn’t be your scene.’ But it is mine.

‘But I have got another idea. Did you know The Locker’s closing down?’ Angie referred to the little coffee shop close to the beach, which could be seen from their window.

‘The Locker Café?’ Kate asked, puzzled.

‘Yes, Polly Lock told me she’d had enough of tourists and teas and she is planning to close permanently now the season’s over. I’m interested in buying it.’

‘Buying it? You? What the hell would you do with it? And, if Polly can’t make the place pay, why do you think you could?’

‘I have ideas,’ Angie replied loftily. ‘I’ve always liked that little place. It would make a lovely bar.’

‘A bar?’

‘You’re beginning to sound like a bloody parrot, repeating everything I say. Yes, a bar! Somewhere you could get a drink, right?’

Kate took a deep breath. ‘But The Greedy Gull’s just down the lane!’

‘I know where The Gull is! But it’s a pub! This would be a nice little bar, continental style, selling alcohol, of course, but also coffee and snacks.’

‘Angie, you’d be your own best customer!’

‘Don’t talk rubbish! OK, so I’d probably have a little drink now and then but that place, given a bit of character, could be a gold mine! A few yards from the beach; not just booze, but ice cream, sandwiches, cakes.’

‘And you’d dispense all this single-handed?’ Kate asked. ‘Because for sure I’m not getting involved!’

‘I haven’t asked you to. No, I’ll take Fergal in with me.’

‘Fergal? But he hasn’t got two pennies to rub together!’

‘I’ll employ him, stupid! He could give up most of his jobs except, maybe, the postcards.’

‘And he’d commute from Plymouth every day?’

‘Well, no, because there’s a tiny two-roomed flat above the café.’

‘What?’ Kate stared at her sister in amazement. ‘You seem to know an awful lot about the place, considering it’s not even on the market yet.’

‘Well, I’ve got quite friendly with Polly Lock,’ Angie said. ‘I had a long chat with her at The Gull the other night and she told me all about it. And, given this unexpected inheritance, it almost seems like it was meant to be.’

‘And now you’re going to tell me that Fergal will take up residence in this two-roomed flat? Not rent free, I