December Girl by Nicola Cassidy

Author:Nicola Cassidy [Cassidy, Nicola]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B07WZWZTQ2
Publisher: Nicola Cassidy
Published: 2019-08-29T14:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

HENRY

It wasn’t something he expected. The interest. The letters. The gifts. The surrounding him at soirees and house parties.

The mothers were the worst. They pressed into him, their great big bosoms trussed up and in his face, lauding on and on about their daughter. Had he had the pleasure of meeting her yet? She really was a sight to behold. And so interesting!

He had learned that they were never interesting. That they were dull and some of them half-stupid, incapable of holding a conversation, no interest in the world outside of some dancing and light piano playing. They had nothing to offer him.

He stopped attending events, only going to gatherings that he absolutely had to. But this made him more of catch; the shy reclusive bachelor who was rarely seen.

Arthur attended everything he was invited to, bringing home tales of beautiful women and some not so beautiful, who he had kissed and fondled anyway.

‘I think I had my way with her,’ he would say, scratching his head at breakfast, his eyes bloodshot, his breath foul with drink. When he had had some tea and soda bread with butter, he would go back to bed, then get up late in the afternoon and start drinking again.

Henry looked forward to September when his brother would return to Oxford. He was tired of trying to control him. He wanted him gone, needed him away from the house and no longer in his worries. There was enough to be concerned about as it was. It had shocked him, the dire state the accounts had been left in.

The first boxes of papers had started arriving a month after his father’s death. They had been with his father’s solicitors, Faber & Sons, and on leafing through the first pages, he immediately made an appointment to go and see Faber himself. He’d sat in their offices, staring at the yellow walls, imagining himself working there. This is where his father had wanted him to intern.

‘Are you serious?’ he’d asked when Faber came into the room. ‘Are you honestly telling me this is the state of affairs you left my father in? This?’

He pointed at some papers he’d spread out on the table, stabbing at the statements of the various bank accounts and savings bonds Seymour had invested in.

‘Nothing? There’s nothing left?’ he said.

Faber, infuriatingly, shrugged his shoulders.

‘Henry, you knew your father liked to gamble. It got out of control.’

‘Out of control?’ said Henry, surprising himself with the venom in his voice. ‘There’s nothing fucking left. Nothing.’

‘We did offer advice that the stocks he was investing in could prove worthless. Which is what happened. Can I remind you, Henry, that we are executors of the will. We are not bankers.’

‘No, but he trusted you,’ said Henry. ‘He was always running to you for financial advice. You were his confidante. All those meetings, bringing in his papers. I know he was paying you – to oversee things.’

Faber shrugged again.

‘We offered advice where we could, Henry. We did try to warn your father.

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