Chương 7
“And repay your company.”
“Yes.”
The admission arrived without drama.
Eleanor felt something inside her settle rather than break. Perhaps it had broken earlier, in the admissions office, when he lowered his eyes.
“Was the permanent transfer necessary for the sale?” she asked.
“No.”
Beatrice made a quiet sound.
Daniel glared at her. “Not legally necessary. Practically, the agent wanted clarity about possession.”
“So you wanted me settled elsewhere.”
“I wanted a plan.”
“You had a plan.”
“I was trying to keep everything from falling apart.”
Eleanor studied his face.
“Did you tell Claire about the money?”
“The first transfer.”
“And the second?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because she would panic.”
“Did she know you told the estate agent the house would be empty?”
“She knew we were considering a sale.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Daniel stood and walked to the window. He put one hand against the frame.
“She knew I was getting a valuation.”
Eleanor remembered him as a child standing in the same posture at the kitchen window, watching his father leave after an argument. Daniel had always turned his back when shame threatened to show on his face.
“Why did you tell me the valuer was from the insurance company?” she asked.
He did not answer.
“Why?”
“Because I knew you would say no before hearing the reasons.”
“That sounds like a reason not to ask.”
“I was going to explain.”
“When?”
“When there was something definite.”
“The transfer form was definite.”
He turned around. “Mum, you signed it.”
Beatrice shifted, but Eleanor stopped her with a glance.
“Yes,” Eleanor said. “I did.”
Daniel seemed relieved by the acknowledgment.
“I signed because you told me you couldn’t keep doing everything,” she continued. “I thought I was helping you.”
“You were helping yourself too.”
“Perhaps.”
“You can’t manage that house.”
“Perhaps not.”
“You fell and lay on the floor for three hours.”
“Two.”
“You don’t know how long.”
“I watched the kitchen clock.”
“You had pneumonia.”
“Later.”
“You left the gas on.”
“Once.”
“You forget appointments.”
“So do you.”
“I’m forty-seven.”
“That seems a poor defense.”
His mouth tightened.
Eleanor’s fingers trembled in her lap. She pressed them together.
“Did you want me at Hawthorn because you believed it was best for me,” she asked, “or because you needed the house sold?”
Daniel looked at her for a long time.
“Both.”
The honesty was late and incomplete, but it was honest.
Eleanor nodded.
He came toward her. “I know how it looks.”
“How does it look?”
“Like I used you.”
Beatrice’s cane shifted against the floor.
Daniel ignored her. “But you were terrified after the fall. You called me at three in the morning because you heard someone downstairs.”
“There was a fox in the bins.”
“You didn’t know that.”
“I know now.”
“You stopped eating properly. The fridge was empty.”
“There was food.”
“There was mustard and half a lemon.”
“There were things in the freezer.”
“From 2019.”
Eleanor looked toward Beatrice. “He is not wrong about everything.”
“I have never claimed he was,” Beatrice said.
Daniel’s anger faltered. “Then why are you treating me like a criminal?”
“Because you moved money without clear permission, misrepresented an estate agent, concealed facts from your wife, and used your mother’s fear to secure a permanent placement that made the sale easier.”
“I didn’t force her.”
“No. You made refusal expensive.”
Daniel’s face reddened.
Eleanor saw him prepare an answer and abandon it.
“What happens to the company?” she asked.
He sat again. “If the Chipping Norton payment doesn’t come through, we miss wages next month.”
“How many employees?”
“Twelve.”
“And their families,” Eleanor said.
“Yes.”
Beatrice looked irritated, which meant she was afraid Eleanor would turn twelve employees into permission for everything.
Daniel leaned forward. “I can fix this. List the house, repay the account at completion, put the rest into a proper care plan. Nobody loses.”
“I lose the house.”
“You don’t even want to live there.”
“I said it was difficult. I did not say I wanted it taken from me.”
“It wouldn’t be taken. It would be sold for you.”
“By you.”
“For you.”
“With money returning to your company first.”
“To replace what I borrowed.”
“Without asking.”
“You did ask me to help,” Eleanor said quietly.
Daniel stopped.
She had not meant to rescue him, but the truth would not arrange itself neatly around Beatrice’s case.
“I gave you permission once,” Eleanor said. “Carelessly. You extended it because you needed to. Then I let you frighten me because I was frightened already. We have both been pretending the other person made all the choices.”
Beatrice looked at her.
Daniel’s eyes filled, though he did not cry.
“Can you save the company without my house?” Eleanor asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Can you repay the money?”
“Not now.”
“Will you give Helen every account, every invoice, every loan document, and every message concerning my money?”
His hesitation lasted less than a second.
It was long enough.
“What else is there?” Beatrice asked.
Daniel’s head turned sharply.
Eleanor felt cold under the cardigan.
“What else?” she repeated.
Daniel looked down at his hands.
“The company took a short-term loan.”
“Secured against what?” Beatrice asked.
He did not answer.
Eleanor knew before he spoke.
“The house,” she said.
“Not the whole house. It’s a legal charge contingent on completion.”
Beatrice stood so abruptly that the cane struck the table.
“You used the power of attorney to secure corporate borrowing against her home?”
“The lender required collateral. The valuation supported it.”
“Did the lender know the attorney was also the director benefiting from the loan?”
“Yes.”
Beatrice’s voice went very quiet. “Which lender?”
Daniel named a private finance company Eleanor had never heard of.
Beatrice looked toward the kitchen where Helen’s documents remained stacked near the telephone.
“How much?” Eleanor asked.
“One hundred and twenty.”
May you like
Her first thought was absurdly practical: Arthur had paid twenty-eight thousand pounds for the house.
Her second was that Daniel had always disliked asking twice. As a child, if refused a biscuit, he would go hungry rather than ask again. He had built a life around appearing not to need permission.
