BooksBarbecue
Back The Widow
Chapters (92)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. PART I
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. PART II
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. 66
  71. 67
  72. 68
  73. 69
  74. 70
  75. 71
  76. 72
  77. 73
  78. 74
  79. 75
  80. 76
  81. 77
  82. 78
  83. 79
  84. 80
  85. 81
  86. 82
  87. 83
  88. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  89. MORE FROM VALERIE KEOGH
  90. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  91. The Murder List
  92. About Boldwood Books

Allison frowned. It felt like she’d skipped a page in a book. Suddenly she didn’t know where she was in the story. ‘I don’t understand. Of course I’m going to stay here.’ She dragged a smile into place. ‘Peter loved this house; I owe it to him to stay.’

It was the solicitor’s turn to frown. ‘Stay? Oh, I’m sorry, but that’s impossible!’

45

Allison cast her widow’s weeds aside, her expression hardening, her voice sharp when she spoke. ‘What do you mean, impossible?’ She saw confusion flit across the solicitor’s face before it was set into rigid, professional lines.

‘I assumed you were aware, that Peter had told you.’ He looked disappointed, as if he’d been let down. ‘I’m surprised he didn’t. He should have done.’

Allison felt as if her world had suddenly tilted, throwing her off balance. She barely recognised her voice when she finally managed to speak. ‘What should he have told me?’

Perhaps it was easier for the solicitor to adopt a formal manner when delivering bad news. He straightened in the seat, clasped his hands together again and spoke slowly, as if aware of the repercussions of what he was about to say. ‘You can’t stay here, my dear, because this house was left to Peter for his lifetime only. Now, I’m afraid, it will need to be sold and the proceeds given to charity. The RSPCA to be exact.’

It was a joke. It had to be. Perhaps this odd, bird-like man was trying to lighten the mood by making a joke in very poor taste. She waited for the punchline… and waited… watching the solicitor’s expression soften in sympathy. In pity.

‘I think you’d better explain.’

Brown tilted his head and nodded. ‘You know Peter had issues with substance abuse when he was younger—’

Allison’s gasp of disbelief must have been louder than she’d thought, stopping the solicitor’s flow.

He took a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and dabbed his upper lip in evident discomfiture. ‘You didn’t know?’

‘It seems I know very little about anything.’

‘You did marry very soon after meeting, of course.’ He folded the handkerchief and replaced it in his pocket. ‘It was while he was in university. His parents maintained he’d fallen in with the wrong crowd.’ He shrugged, the movement sending a ripple over his ill-fitting suit. ‘I’d met him a couple of times by then; it struck me he wasn’t the strongest of characters. Easily led, you know. When he dropped out—’

‘Dropped out?’ Allison held a hand up. ‘He never qualified?’

‘No, I’m afraid not. His parents did help, though; they paid for him to go to a private clinic to get clean and it seemed to work. As far as I’m aware he hasn’t indulged in anything more dangerous than tobacco since.’