Ottercombe Bay – Part One: Where There’s a Will.... Bella Osborne

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Ottercombe Bay – Part One: Where There’s a Will... - Bella  Osborne

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remember Max, don’t you?’ she asked.

      Daisy jutted out her lip and slapped a piece of ham on the buttered bread Aunt Coral had just handed her. ‘Not sure.’ But even as she said it a picture of a cider-fuelled teenage snogging fest loomed ugly in her mind. Whilst she had left Ottercombe Bay at seven years old she had returned each year for a two-week holiday, giving her a snapshot of the life she’d been pulled away from.

      ‘You doooo,’ said Tamsyn. ‘Max Davey, he never tucked his shirt in.’

      ‘Sounds like every boy at primary school to me.’

      ‘Jason Fenton, remember him?’

      Daisy paused with a slice of ham held aloft. ‘Skinny kid, played with trains at break time?’

      ‘Yes. That’s him. He’s a policeman now,’ said Tamsyn, with a firm bob of her head.

      ‘Wow, well done Jason. Why would Jason and this Max be coming to my great uncle’s funeral?’

      Tamsyn opened her mouth but Aunt Coral was already on the case. ‘They’re both lifeboat crew and your great uncle supported the lifeboat his whole life. He was Lifeboat Operations Manager for many years,’ said Aunt Coral proudly. ‘Max and Jason both used to meet him for a coffee once in a while to hear his stories.’ She paused briefly mid-spread with her buttered knife aloft. ‘There’s lots of people in this town who are going to miss him.’

      Daisy patted her arm, Aunt Coral gave her a wan smile and returned to spreading.

      Daisy shed a few tears during the service but overall the funeral was surprisingly cheerful, which reflected Reg’s personality. A few people told their favourite stories of Reg – one of them involving a donkey and a top hat, which had them all belly laughing – so as everyone filed out of church most of them were smiling, which was exactly what Reg would have wanted.

      Daisy studied the floral tributes and wondered who all these people were who knew her great uncle but who she’d never heard of, especially some calling themselves Bunny and Toots.

      ‘Hi … again,’ said a deep voice behind her. Daisy turned to see a ruggedly handsome young man. ‘I’m sorry Reg died, he was a sound bloke. You okay, Daisy?’

      ‘Hi …’ She paused where his name should go as a cavalcade of memories bombarded her.

      He twitched his head. ‘Don’t remember me? For one thing, I stopped you riding your bike through the carnival procession on Saturday. Prevented a potential massacre, I reckon,’ he said, his local accent soft and barely noticeable.

      ‘Ah, yes,’ said Daisy feeling more than a little embarrassed at her behaviour that night. ‘Sorry about that.’ He didn’t look half as aggressive now, with his hair groomed and wearing a smart shirt and tie although he kept running his finger around his collar giving the impression he wasn’t very comfortable in the outfit. ‘You’re Max. You were the boy who always had his shirt untucked at school.’ She was keen to avoid reminding him about their teenage antics.

      The corners of his eyes crinkled. ‘Yep, that’d be me, all right.’

      ‘And you were friends with my great uncle?’ It still seemed an odd pairing to Daisy.

      ‘Yeah, me and Reg used to catch up from time to time. I’ll remember him fondly.’

      The look in Max’s eye intrigued her. ‘What will you remember most about him?’

      ‘He taught me I’m as good as anyone else …’ Max blew out a long slow breath and looked for a second like he was going to get emotional, ‘… and how to judge the tides.’

      ‘That’s nice,’ said Daisy feeling awkward; her memories weren’t quite as profound. ‘I’ll remember being curled up next to him watching films with a steaming mug of hot chocolate.’ In a flash a memory of the film Bugsy Malone popped up and she had a ‘doh’ moment when she realised where the dog’s name had come from. They’d watched that film many times when she was little.

      ‘Ah, here you are,’ said Aunt Coral joining them. ‘Daisy, you can come back to the house in car one with the oldies; I’m in car two with the Exeter crowd.’ She turned her attention to Max. ‘Lovely of you to come today, Max. Are you coming back for the wake?’

      ‘No, sorry, Coral, I’m working. I swapped my shifts so I could see old Reg off. Raise a glass for me at the party.’

      ‘Okay. If you’re sure.’ Aunt Coral gave him a fleeting pat on the shoulder and went to organise some others.

      ‘I ’spect I’ll see you around, if you’re staying here for a bit,’ said Max.

      ‘Unfortunately, I won’t be staying,’ said Daisy. ‘But it was nice to see you again. Bye.’

      Max paused. ‘That’s a shame,’ he said, his eyes warm and intense making her almost rethink her decision.

      The next morning Daisy found herself in a warm and stuffy solicitor’s office sipping a strong filter coffee.

      ‘Do you think he would have liked the party?’ asked Aunt Coral.

      It was an odd question, but she knew Aunt Coral had been worrying about giving Reg a deserving send off. ‘He would have loved it. He definitely would have approved of all the port.’ Aunt Coral visibly relaxed and Daisy felt a swell of affection for her. The wake had been well attended and diverse, with some serious talk about coastal erosion and an impromptu singalong. It had been exactly what Reg would have wanted.

      Daisy didn’t really want to hear his will read. She didn’t need anything to remember Great Uncle Reg; she had her memories. Although she had to admit she was curious about what he had left her that could be described as ‘substantial’. Cash, perhaps, but she wasn’t sure Reg had a lot of money. She needed some cash; she hated living hand to mouth. Possibly a share in the cottage, which would be very tricky because it was Aunt Coral’s home and she definitely wouldn’t want to sell it. Daisy decided she wouldn’t think about that option as it made her uncomfortable. Maybe it was a family heirloom, although the only items she could think of were pieces of furniture. That’s probably it, she thought. The large clock in the hallway and the dresser in the kitchen could both be described as substantial. Her mind wandered off and imagined her on the Antiques Roadshow trying hard to master her ‘I’m not at all disappointed it’s only worth tuppence’ face.

      ‘I am terribly sorry to keep you waiting,’ said the solicitor, hurrying into the office with a folder in his hand. ‘Now, I shouldn’t keep you long.’ Daisy was warming to the old gent already; she was keen to get packed up and head off up the M5. She hoped to get as far as Gloucester tonight but she wasn’t sure where she was heading afterwards.

      ‘This is the last will and testament of Reginald Montgomery Fabien Wickens …’ There then followed a paragraph of formal jargon before Daisy tuned in again. ‘… To my niece, Coral Anne Wickens, I leave the property of Sea Mist Cottage, Trow Lane, Ottercombe Bay, in its entirety …’ Aunt Coral let out a small sob and Daisy took her hand to comfort her. Daisy’s heart was starting to increase its speed. ‘To my great niece Daisy May Wickens, I leave the property and grounds of the former Ottercombe Bay Railway Station and adjoining car park, subject to her being resident in Ottercombe Bay for a full twelve months from the date of the reading of this will. My residuary estate is to be divided equally between Coral Wickens,

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