Faith - Lesley Pearse [195]
He had spun out his one glass of beer, and resisted her efforts to get him to drink more. He’d come for a showdown with Charles and he needed to be sober for that.
Around five the sun went off the garden and it felt chilly. They went back into the kitchen and Belle said she would make them something to eat.
Stuart made himself a cup of coffee, but she was still drinking vodka. Her laughter had grown louder and she kept forgetting what she was going to say, but she was still steady on her high heels, and not obviously drunk.
She had just got a curry out of the freezer, remarking that it would take forty-five minutes to cook, then suddenly she came round his side of the table, bent over, took his face in both her hands and kissed him on the lips.
It wasn’t a gentle, affectionate kiss, it was a full blown, I-want-to-go-to-bed-with-you kiss. She pushed her tongue into his mouth and insinuated her breasts against his shoulder.
Stuart was alarmed that she had taken the odd flirtatious remark he’d made as proof he’d come here for this.
‘No, Belle,’ he said, nudging her away. ‘It’s not right, you are a married woman, and I came to see you and Charles.’
‘Don’t be coy,’ she said, taking one of his hands and putting it on her breast. ‘You came purposely to see me knowing Charles would be out playing golf. You want to find out what you missed all those years ago.’
Stuart snatched his hand away. ‘Belle, you are drunk, and that’s not what I came for. I needed to talk to you and Charles together. I’ve got something to tell you.’
Her seductive kitten look vanished, replaced by suspicion. ‘What?’
Stuart felt angry with himself for not foreseeing Belle might react like this. He realized his plan just to sit it out with her until Charles came home was foolish and ill-conceived. The man might not arrive back for hours, if at all.
‘Look, I’ll go,’ he said, getting up. ‘I’ll stay the night somewhere else and come back and see you both in the morning.’
‘You’ll do no such thing,’ she said, her face becoming flushed. ‘You’ll tell me whatever it is now. That wanker of a husband of mine relies on me for everything. It’s not a partnership, I’m the one that keeps everything together.’
Stuart thought that was probably true, but he could hardly tell Belle that he needed Charles there to see his reaction to the news.
‘Come on, tell me,’ she insisted.
‘It isn’t right for me to tell you alone,’ he insisted. Yet as he spoke he realized that a lawyer imparting such news would talk directly to her; after all Jackie was her sister, Charles merely the brother-in-law. Perhaps it was best to tell her now, let her have the hysterics that would inevitably follow, and when Charles came in and she relayed it to him, Stuart could sit back and watch the fireworks. That seemed so cruel to her though, especially as for the last two hours he hadn’t given her any inkling he was about to drop a bombshell.
‘It’s about Jackie’s will,’ he said nervously.
‘What’s that got to do with you?’ she asked, putting her hands on her hips belligerently.
‘I’m the executor.’
‘Don’t talk rubbish,’ she snapped. ‘It’s Grant Spender, her accountant in London.’
‘He might have been the executor for the will you found, but Jackie made a far more recent one. I collected it from her solicitor a couple of days ago.’
‘What solicitor?’
‘Mr Calder of Conway and Calder in Portobello.’
She swayed a little on her feet, and her mouth opened and shut. ‘B-b-but,’ she stuttered.
‘But what, Belle?’ Stuart asked. ‘This one was duly signed and witnessed six months before she died. I take it she didn’t tell you she’d made one?’
He thought she was behaving oddly, and that most people