Page 38 of Sanctuary at MacLeod's Cove
Kate grunted a small laugh. ‘Yes, I suppose she could appear like that. I never thought of her as scary, so much as strong. But then she’d had to be. By all accounts they had no money. The family was very poor.’
‘I didn’t know that,’ said Jen. ‘I thought our family had always been comfortably off, buying the land, building this house, and the farm before it all got sold off.’
‘For generations they were more than comfortable. But then my great grandmother — Ngaire’s mother — had the misfortune to marry someone who managed to gamble away all their money until the house was their only asset. She was forced to sell it before Grandmother gave birth to Hope.’
‘So where was Nana Hope’s first home?’
‘On Maori land, just along the main road. The houses are still there.’
Jen followed her mother’s gaze to the small cluster of cottages at the foot of the steeply rising escarpment. ‘I wonder what it was like back then.’
‘Unrecognisable, I should imagine. At least until the war and the Americans came.’
‘The US Marine’s camp would have changed Macleod’s Cove completely,’ said Sam.
‘It did by all accounts.’ Kate stood up and pointed to the highest ridge in the sand dunes. ‘The closest camp stretched from there, right over to the hills.’ Her finger drew an arc and then she dropped her hand by her side. ‘Must have been quite a sight. Especially for an impressionable young girl who knew nothing of the world.’ She grunted a laugh. ’Grandmother’s face always used to light up when she talked about those days.’
‘Must have been fun,’ said Jen. ‘Eighteen years old and suddenly surrounded by lots of handsome young men. Enough to make a young girl’s head turn.’
‘Maybe. But not my grandmother. She was always quite serious, not the flirty sort, I wouldn’t have thought. No, she worked hard at home and in her community and had a strong sense of responsibility and duty. But she did love to dance, and it was the dances the Americans put on which she talked most about. Happy days for her I think.’
‘And then she moved out of the house, got married, had Hope, and then moved back in again.’ Jen shook her head. ‘It doesn’t make sense.’
‘I guess we don’t have all the pieces of the puzzle to form a coherent picture. All I know is that my mother used to say her life began when she was five and she moved into MacLeod’s Cottage. She loved it here.’
‘So much so, she never moved out.’
‘She couldn’t afford to. She had me. So there were three generations of Macleod women under the same roof.’
‘Until Hope died.’
Kate nodded. ’And Grandmother was never the same after that. Her daughter dead before her. She used to say it was the wrong way around; that her girl shouldn’t have gone before her.’ She blinked misty eyes and turned to Jen.
‘Is that why our family stayed here, with Ngaire?’ asked Jen.
‘Yes. Neither your father nor I could imagine living anywhere else. My grandmother loved the fact that Andrew had the same surname as us. What were the chances?’
‘High, I should imagine,’ said Jen with a laugh, ‘when you spend time in Scotland.’
Kate sighed. ‘Yes. There were more MacLeods there than I’d thought. And I certainly never imagined I’d fall in love with one! Anyway, MacLeod’s Cottage was a wonderful place to live, and to have a family. And to grow old in. And die in, too, I guess. Grandmother’s end was so peaceful. It wasn’t until after her death that things became less peaceful. That’s when I discovered that the finances around the house weren’t what I’d been led to believe — what any of us had been led to believe.’
‘It was held in a family trust,’ said Jen. ‘That’s what you once told us.’
‘Because that’s what I thought. And it had been, of a kind. Unfortunately, it’s the kind of trust which, after the death of the main beneficiary — in this case, Grandmother — winds up. I eventually managed to track down the trust company who handled it and they said it was a cut and dried case. The trust’s only asset was the house and land and that it had been designed to end upon Grandmother’s death.’
‘What? I don’t understand,’ said Jen.
‘And neither do I,’ said Kate. ‘The trust company refuses to divulge the names of the trustees or any other details of the trust. Apparently, I’m not entitled to that information without all the trustees agreeing. And, as I haven’t heard from them, I have no idea if they simply don’t want me to know, or they haven’t been told I’d like to know, or if they even know how to contact the solicitors or me.’ She shrugged. ‘But I didn’t give up, not immediately anyway. I hired a private investigator two years ago but even he hit a brick wall, and I… lost hope, I guess.’ She sighed. ‘So I’m left precisely nowhere. All I know is that the trust company has said they’re awaiting instructions from their client as to the disposal of the asset.’ She grunted. ‘By that they mean my house. McLeod’s cottage is just an asset to these anonymous people, but it’s my home.’
‘That’s terrible,’ said Jen, outraged.
‘Yes, it is,’ agreed Kate quietly.
‘And it’s outrageous that you’ve been sitting waiting, day by day, for the last God knows how many years, to be evicted. It’s inhuman! Surely, it’s illegal?’
‘Not illegal,’ said Sam quietly. He was sitting forward, his arms resting on his legs as he’d been quietly listening. ‘I’ve heard of this kind of thing before when basically a trust has gone on for such a long time that the original trustees have disappeared or died. In some cases, even the trust deed has gone missing. Finding the trustees can prove difficult, if not downright impossible. Especially if you’re dealing with a legal firm who has messed up but won’t admit it.’
‘So, what happens if they never find them?’ asked Jen, suddenly hopeful. ‘Can Mum keep the house?’
