Any Day Read online

  “What if we challenge the will?”

  This time, Matthew spoke. Leonard felt a flash of anger ignite in him at the thought of a family member challenging his father’s wishes. On his part, Mr Dawson appeared to agree because he sat up straight in his chair, his lips pinched together. With both hands pressed together beneath his chin as though in prayer, he leant forward, elbows on the table, and peered over the top of his glasses.

  “I am not your solicitor, Mr Darlington, but had I been, I would have strongly advised you against doing so. Not only would you end up spending an unsightly amount of money in legal fees, but in my long experience, challenges of this nature are rarely successful. Possession truly is nine-tenths of the law in this country. Look, rather than go that route, why don’t you begin by asking Mr Day junior if he would be prepared to sell you the property? Or come to some kind of arrangement with him?”

  Aunt Millicent’s eyes darted to Leonard, a glimmer of hope in them and a pinched smile replacing the previous unpleasant grimace.

  “Would you, Leonard? Would you consider selling our lovely holiday home back to us? It holds such dear memories for me and my family.”

  “It’s as good as derelict anyway,” added Matthew, still unsmiling, but something lighting in his eyes. “We’d be doing you a favour taking the pile of worthless rubble off your hands.”

  Up until the frankly aggressive challenge from his relatives, Leonard had been even-tempered and might have considered coming to some arrangement, as Mr Dawson had put it. But now? He took a deep breath before replying.

  “When I walked in here today, my only concern was to make sure my mother was taken care of financially, and it appears my father has done that. Until five minutes ago I had no idea he owned a farmhouse in Wales. But he clearly wanted me to have the place. So I’m not going to hurried into making a decision right away. Before anything I’d like to drive down there and give the place a quick once-over. After that I’ll make up my mind. But rest assured, Aunt Millicent, if I do decide to sell the property, I promise you will get first option to buy. My mother has your contact details. And Mr Dawson and my mother are witnesses to my promise.”

  “Excellent.” Mr Dawson clearly wanted to move the matter along. No doubt, like Leonard, he hadn’t anticipated anyone to challenge the will. “In which case—”

  But Leonard’s aunt hadn’t finished.

  “You’re just like him, aren’t you? Just like your father?”

  Her caustic tone and scowl left nobody in any doubt about her true feelings, except this time Leonard had no hesitation in glaring back across the table.

  “I hope so. And if that’s what you see in me, then I am honoured.” Leonard turned his attention back to the solicitor. “Sorry, Mr Dawson. You were saying?”

  “Um, yes, so in order to finish matters off, I’ll need you and your mother to sign the necessary paperwork, and then get copies made for our records. Shouldn’t take more than another fifteen to twenty minutes. In the meantime, Mrs Darlington, if you and your son wish to leave, I can get someone—”

  “Don’t bother. We can find our own way out.”

  Without another word, they rose from their seats and left without bidding farewell.

  After the door shut behind them, Mr Dawson waited a few moments before looking apologetically at Leonard and his mother, gently shaking his head but saying nothing.

  “Did you know about this family house, Mum?”

  “I didn’t. Your father mentioned nothing to me. But you know him, he did nothing without thinking things through meticulously. In spite of what your aunt insists, if he wanted you to have the farmhouse rather than her, and made a point of specifying the fact in his will, then there is no mistake and you should trust his good judgement.”

  Before they left, Mr Dawson furnished Leonard and his mother with their copies of all the signed paperwork. Leonard thought they had finished, and began to rise until Mr Dawson handed him a bulky envelope.

  “The deeds to the property will continue to be kept here, Mr Day, in our safekeeping, unless you wish them to be held elsewhere. But they will be transferred into your name. These are the keys to Bryn Bach. Somewhere on file we have a photograph of the place. I’ll get my assistant to email a copy to you. And off the record, I agree with your mother. Your father clearly wanted you to have the place, and as such, he did so for a reason.”

  All well and good, thought Leonard as he and his mother strolled unspeaking down the plush corridor, but if that was the case, his father had taken the reason to the grave with him.

  Chapter Six

  Request

  Adrian lay back into the corner of his sofa, bare feet up on the coffee table, drumming the fingers of one hand on the armrest, the remote in his other hand, flicking mindlessly from one television channel to the next. Nothing caught his imagination. Repeats of old shows aired on the major networks and sports he didn’t really follow ran on the cable channels.

  With no work on the horizon, and all the grocery shopping he needed already done, he had stayed indoors all day, trying to find things to keep him busy. After a morning run followed by an hour’s workout with the multi-functional weight machine in his spare bedroom, he tackled his domestic chores. Right now, the apartment shone spotless, each room scrubbed clean, bedding changed, washing and ironing done, the open kitchen sparkling once again after a frozen microwave dinner of spaghetti carbonara and grilled garlic bread.

  Being alone with his own thoughts made him cagey, threatened to unsettle and unnerve him, like an itch he couldn’t quite pinpoint and scratch. He needed distractions. Exactly this kind of sullen mood had first led him to Chappies in town and to his chance meeting with Nick. And that would never happen again. Had it been any other day than Wednesday, he might have considered going to see his mother—however painful on the ear that might be. But on Wednesdays she had her church group meeting, which normally entailed a day trip out somewhere in their minibus. Honestly, his mother had a better social life than he had ever enjoyed.

  During the good times, punishing manual work provided the perfect antidote. Arriving on-site early, working hard all day in the open air, pushing himself to get things finished even if that meant working late, then returning home exhausted when all he craved was fast food, a hot shower and sleep.

  Most of his work on-site meant grafting alone. During tea breaks or after they had all clocked off for the day, he would often end up somewhere with their group of workers, most of them familiar, in a pub or café, grumbling about this or that, making one inappropriate joke after another about race, religion, gender, sex or sexuality. Nothing became taboo in this still largely male-dominated environment, where political correctness became cannon fodder for their funnies. Some knew about Adrian’s sexuality. Nobody cared, treating him as they did everyone else. As communities went, he found the camaraderie comforting and supportive—and strangely liberating.

  Today, all day long, his phone had remained silent. If only he felt more confident, he might have dialled any one of his builder buddies and dragged them out for a brew. But social connection had never been a strong point and he usually waited for one of them to call him. In a fit of irritation, he threw the remote down on the sofa just as the phone on the arm of the chair pinged with an incoming message.

  With desperate expectation, he grabbed for the device.

  Lenny Day.

  Amazed at how reading a name could instantly put him in a better mood, he shifted his feet onto the floor and read the text.

  Lenny: Fancy a pint at the Lion? I have a favour to ask.

  Adrian grinned broadly as his thumbs flashed over the display keyboard with a response.

  Adrian: Oh, yes? Should I be concerned?

  Lenny: It’s a job, actually. Only if you’re interested. I’d rather explain in person than over the phone.

  Lenny: Plus my mother’s driving me up the wall and I need an excuse to get out of this house before I get put away for matricide.

 
Adrian laughed at the phone.

  Adrian: Matricide? Is that something to do with beds?

  Lenny: Funny man. So is that a yes?

  Adrian: OK, you’ve got me intrigued. What time shall I meet you?

  Lenny: It’s 6:30pm. See you there in an hour?

  Adrian: Done. And I’ll have a pint of my usual as you’re offering to buy.

  Lenny: Did I mention anything about buying?

  Adrian: I listen a lot better when someone else is paying.

  Lenny: ;0) See you there.

  His mood brightening, Adrian threw the phone on the couch before peering down at his clothes. Grimy grey tee, baggy sweats and flip-flops. He jumped to his feet and headed to his bathroom. With the Lion only ten minutes’ walk away, he had time for a long shower and also to decide on something decent to wear. When he heard the voice in his head, he told himself to calm down. This was not a date, simply a new pal meeting up for a drink.

  Still, no harm in looking good.

  * * * *

  Traditionally, except for diehard locals who had nothing else to do with their time, punters avoided the pub until later in the week. When he opened the door, he realised this particular evening was no exception. Adrian found Lenny sitting at the same table they had bagged on Saturday, facing the pub door with two pints of ale already sitting on the table. Lenny had clearly been anticipating him, because his gaze lifted from his phone towards the doorway and the smile that transformed his face had Adrian beaming instantly back, a tingle in his stomach.

  “Evening, Adrian. You’re looking sharp.”

  Adrian had picked out a pair of denims he filled out nicely, with a tight, long-sleeved burgundy tee—knowing the pub interior would be warm—and his wool-lined black hoodie hanging open. Lenny’s reaction stalled him for a moment, the way his gaze travelled slowly up and down Adrian’s body until their eyes met again. Only then did Lenny’s smile falter and his eyes flutter to his drink, as though he had been caught openly checking him out.

  Interesting.

  Lenny recovered quickly, looking up and maintaining eye contact this time.

  “Under Armour? The tee? I’ve got the same one in my wardrobe. Something else we have in common.”

  With a twinge of disappointment, Adrian looked down at his burgundy shirt, realising perhaps Lenny had not been checking him out after all.

  “Oh, yeah. I like their designs. Got the same style in three different colours.”

  “Looks better on you. Anyway, thanks for coming. Pint of beer, as ordered. Sorry to drag your arse out on a Wednesday night. What have you been up to?”

  After waving a greeting to the pub landlord, Adrian slumped down on the booth bench opposite. While sitting, he twisted out of his hoodie and once again found Lenny checking out his chest and biceps, or maybe the design of his tee. With a resigned sigh he wondered whether he was losing his touch. When he was younger, he used to be much better at interpreting the signs of attraction.

  “Me? Not a lot. Stuck indoors all day. My flat has never been so spotless. I think I must have scrubbed the kitchen clean at least three times. My mum would be proud.”

  Lenny grinned and Adrian met his gaze, also smiling. Up close, he realised not only how nice his eyes were, a kind of slate grey, but how his greying beard betrayed dimples beneath whenever he smiled or laughed.

  “Shame,” said Lenny.

  “What? Why?”

  “Because I’ve been stuck inside the house, too. I should have called you. We could have had some fun together.”

  Adrian took a sip of beer and studied Lenny’s face. This man bore no resemblance to the angry boy he’d known from high school. Not that they had ever really interacted. If they did get to know each other better, as he hoped they would, he vowed to find out why Lenny had been so antagonistic when they were younger.

  “I thought you were sorting out your dad’s estate or something. Doing all the legal stuff?”

  “Done. We were in the solicitor’s office for barely an hour. Pretty straightforward, actually. Well, most of it. Ted phoned me about the car this morning, by the way.”

  “And?”

  “It’s exactly what you said. New alternator and battery. But he says he’ll also need to do some work on the brakes, steam clean the interior and patch up some of the bodywork, so he’s offering me fifteen hundred cash.”

  “Bollocks. He’s trying it on—”

  “It’s fine, Adrian. If it means the damn thing is no longer gathering dust outside the house, then everyone’s happy. Mum doesn’t want the car or need the money. Their mortgage is already paid off and the substantial money Dad left behind will take care of her even if she lives long enough to get a telegram from the Queen.”

  Adrian nodded, but felt irritated. Ted would most likely make over three thousand pounds on the second-hand Astra, probably nearer four. What rankled was the idea of a nice guy like Lenny being taken for a ride by an old crook like Ted. Oddly enough, Lenny sensed Adrian’s annoyance.

  “Let it go, Adrian. Remember I deal with the buying and selling of cars all the time. Not bulk standard ones, like the Astra. But don’t you think I haggle when I get called out to visit the owners of old jalopies, usually left to rot in their garages? One guy wanted to sell off an old Daimler as spare parts and scrap metal. Honestly, we’ve made tens of thousands on some of the cars we’ve bought and renovated. And in my book, as long as you can settle on a good price that keeps both buyer and seller happy, then it’s a win-win all round.”

  “Yeah, I suppose.”

  “Anyway, change of topic. Any work on the horizon?”

  “Sod all. Not even a sniff.”

  Lenny stopped then, took a long gulp of beer and reclined against the back of the bench.

  “Well, on that note, the reason I asked you down here tonight, apart from my mother annoying me to hell, is because I seem to have inherited a holiday home from my father. And before I decide what to do with it, I thought I’d go down there and see what kind of state the place is in. But I could really use a professional eye and a second opinion. So I wondered if you might be interested in being hired as my—not even sure what it’s called—structural consultant?”

  “Holiday home?”

  “That’s what they said. I’ve never been there, but my father’s family used the place as a holiday home when they were kids. It’s not a caravan, in case that’s what you’re thinking. It’s a farmhouse in the Welsh countryside.”

  Adrian had worked on a number of cottage-style houses in and around the area, so had no reservations about whether he could be of any help.

  “How many bedrooms?”

  “No idea.”

  “Is it a one or two-storey structure?”

  Lenny laughed and shook his head.

  “Honestly, Adrian. It’s all a mystery. Until the reading of the will, I had no idea the place even existed. All I know for sure is it’s a holiday home, a farmhouse called Bryn Bach in a tiny Welsh village called Disserth. Although he promised to email a photograph to me, the solicitor gave me no blueprints or floor plan, which is why I want to go for a look-see. No idea what state it’s in, so it might be just a pile of bricks. According to an online map application, the plot is in the Welsh countryside about forty minutes from the English border. My aunt mentioned the nearest main town being Newbridge. I thought I would book us into a local pub for a couple of nights—if you’re onboard—and we can go and see exactly what kind of state the place is in.”

  “When?”

  “So you’re in?”

  “Got bugger all else to do, have I?”

  “When would be good for you?”

  “How about after we finish these drinks?”

  Lenny laughed, a sound Adrian had already begun to enjoy, as well as the way his eyes crinkled in the corners.

  “I think we might both want to pack a bag first. So how does tomorrow sound?”

  “Perfect. I assume we’ll be driving there?”

  “Yes, I’ll t
ake my SUV. I promised to drop my mother off in Norwich town centre at nine, but we could leave straight after. It’s around five and a half hours cross country, depending on traffic. Let me confirm the booking.”

  Adrian warmed to the idea of a road trip, to the thought of getting out of Drayton for a couple of days. And the fact that a mystery surrounded the building made this break from the mundane even more of an adventure.

  “So that means if we set off at ten with an hour’s break for lunch, we should be there around five. Yeah, that would work. You know, if we took my truck, I could bring some ladders and equipment so we could do a proper check of the roof and guttering, assess the plumbing and check out any structural issues. But if we don’t arrive until after five, it’ll probably be too dark to do a full inspection until morning. Although I’ve got some floodlights we could use, ones I’ve employed on-site before. Does the place have utilities like electricity and running water—?”

  While Adrian talked, Lenny had been tapping something into his phone, but had started chuckling even before he looked up.

  “Slow down a bit, Adrian. Loving the enthusiasm, but we’re only going down to have a quick inspection of the interior and exterior. I wasn’t planning on us going up ladders or knocking down walls. But maybe a small toolkit would be a good idea. As far as utilities are concerned, I have no idea. Sounds like it’s been left empty for a number of years, so my guess is no. Also, you’re right. By the time we get there, it’ll already be getting dark, so I suggest we drive straight to the accommodation and head to the house first thing Friday. I checked and found a pub hotel in Newbridge that provides accommodation, so I’ve just booked us rooms. Hope that’s okay?”

  “Brilliant.”

  Right at that moment, Adrian’s phone buzzed repeatedly in his jeans pocket with an incoming call. When he squeezed the device out and saw the name on the display, he let out a soft, irritated sigh.

  Nick.

  If he didn’t take the call, he knew Nick would leave messages and pester him with more calls all night. With a quick apologetic glance at Lenny, to pressed accept.