Page 70 of Snow Falls Over Starry Cove

Don’t we all, I almost say. ‘Why did they let it fall apart like this, Bill?’

He shrugs. ‘Many reasons. Come on – let’s go and look at the garden.’

Outside, in truth, is no better. Weeds have literally turned into bushes and the picket fence has joined the family of rot. There are remnants of African lilies in the pots just outside the door and I can almost picture an ancient scene of the previous tenants watering them lovingly. I wonder where they are now, but it’s not Bill I should be asking.

A loud bark makes us turn our heads to see a huge German shepherd bounding towards us, its huge red tongue lolling.

‘Max!’ Bill calls, getting down on his haunches as it careens into him, licking him all over. ‘Where’s Jago?’

‘Never far behind,’ calls a deep voice through the thicket as my skin prickles.

Does he have to beeverywhereI go?

‘Hiya, partner,’ he greets me quizzically. ‘Bill – what’s up? Why are you here?’

‘The lady’s come to see her house,’ Bill replies, ruffling Max’s fur.

‘Her house? This is my property.’

Bill’s mouth falls open as he turns to look at me. ‘You didn’t inherit it?’

I nod. ‘Yes, I did. My grandfather left it to me. Well, 50 per cent of it. I didn’t realise Jago was the other shareholder. I thought that was just the shop…’

‘The hell he left it to you,’ Jago snorts. ‘He can’t give what isn’t his, now can he? A 50 per cent share in the business is one thing, but this cottage belongs to me.’

Bill lifts his hands. ‘I assumed—’

‘No worries, Bill. A lot of people round here seem to be assuming a lot lately.’

And with that, Jago shoots me an annoyed glance as if I were some pestiferous insect ruining his day. Just about now I’d like to clock him. Right in the middle of that self-satisfied face of his.

‘I’d best be off, then. Miss, I’m sorry for the misunderstanding,’ Bill says. ‘If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to call us. You have our card.’

I glare at Jago, then turn to Bill. ‘I… thank you, Bill. You’re very kind.’

Bill gently pulls on the leash. ‘Jago, no hard feelings?’

‘Of course not. See you, Bill,’ he says.

‘Come on, Daphne, let’s go home,’ Bill says, heading back to the entrance of the clearing.

‘This is too rich. Just what makes you think that it’s all yours?’ I demand as soon as Bill and Daphne are gone. ‘My grandfather was the rightful owner and now he’s left half of it to me.’

‘Not happening. This cottage is mine.’

‘There’s a will that states otherwise.’

‘A will I wasn’t summoned to.’

‘Well, at your convenience, maybe we could sit down like two civilised people and discuss it. All I want is what’s rightfully mine.’

Jago shakes his head. ‘And so it begins, the schooling of the next Lady Heatherton.’

‘My surname is Weaver.’

‘Poor, poor Miss Weaver. You’ve no idea what kind of mess you’ve just walked into.’

‘Then why don’t you tell me?’

He studies me for a moment, then shakes his head. ‘Naw. I’d rather you heard it from the horse’s mouth.’

And with that, he walks into the cottage, followed by Max, and shuts the door in my face.

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