Page 86 of One More Christmas at the Castle
‘Therewerea few difficult moments,’ I admitted. ‘He wanted to touch on my early life and the death of my father and stepmother – and you know how I feel about my father’s remarriage … not to mention my half-sister.’
‘That must have been painful,’ she said sympathetically, ‘even though it was so long ago, but I’m glad he made you talk about it because I expect it was a boil that needed lancing.’
‘Nancy! What an expression!’
‘Well, you can’t let all that bitterness and anger fester for ever,’ she pointed out. ‘And they are all dead now, even Faye, so I think it’s time to let those feelings go.’
‘I’llneverforgive Faye for what she did to Asa!’
‘Oh, my dear!’ she said. ‘After all this time?’
We were silent for a moment, sipping our whisky.
Then she said, ‘As we get older, the events of the past, good or bad, often seem clearer than the recent ones. But those of your early childhood were very happy ones to reflect on.’
‘True, and I’ve found myself thinking more and more about those days, when Mummy was here, organizing everything and especially our Christmases, with all the old traditions … And I want this one, which will be my last at the Castle, to be special, too.’
‘Do you know how long you’ve got?’ she asked, without any hesitancy or embarrassment.
‘Oh, apparently I could whimper on into spring … or I might suddenly go earlier. It remains to be seen,’ I said ambiguously, and then I told her more about my diagnosis and refusal of more radical, but probably pointless, treatment.
‘I mean to stay here and die in my own home, not go into a hospice,’ I said.
‘You can afford to have home nursing if you want that,’ Nancy said, then added, ‘Is there much pain?’
‘It’s slowly increasing and will carry on doing so, but it’s not yet unbearable. And I have painkillers doled out to me as needed. But they fog my brain – I only take them when I must, at night.’
‘I hope you aren’t hoarding them out of stoicism … or for any other reason,’ she said astutely, with one of her clear, searching looks.
She knows me only too well.
‘Of course not! I’ll take them when I really need them.’
‘Good, and you know that if you say the word, I’ll shut up my house after Christmas and come and stay with you to the end.’
‘Thank you, Nancy,’ I said gratefully. ‘I’ve had a good innings and I’m not at all afraid of dying, just of the manner of it.’
Then I went on, more briskly, ‘Meanwhile, I need to keep a clear head until I’ve worked out how to settle the estate. It wasn’t until my diagnosis that I seriously began to think about a will. Asa and I never made them, because it always seemed to feel like tempting fate, somehow …’
‘That explains why you’ve invited your solicitor for Christmas. I did wonder.’
‘He’s an old friend, as well, but not only have I invited him, but also all the remaining dregs of the family.’
‘But I thought Lucy and her brother, Nigel, were the only relatives you had left,’ she said, surprised. ‘Your father’s cousins.’
‘They are, though of course that means they aren’t descended from my mother’s side, the Archbolds, who were the original Castle family. I expect Nigel would inherit if I died intestate.His sister certainly seems to think he’s been counting on it for years!’
‘I expect he has, if there were no other near relations.’
‘I’ve invited the Mellings, too, though of course they’re related to Asa and only by marriage to me, but they do have a son, Dominic. He was an engaging scamp when he was young, but I haven’t seen him for years. Apparently, he’s now some kind of private dentist!’
‘I thought the Mellings had taken a huff after Asa died and they found he hadn’t left them anything?’
‘They did, but of course, since he never made a will, it all came to me.’
‘I suppose it was natural they should feel miffed, since they were Asa’s nearest surviving relatives. Dear me!’ she added, looking startled. ‘Old families do seem to dwindle away over the generations.’
‘While they’re all here, I thought I’d like to have a little talk with both Nigel and Olive Melling, before I finally make my mind up about how to leave the estate, though my chief concern is for Mitras Castle – that it should go on and be cherished.’
