other beneficiaries. Signed Reginald Wickens.’ The solicitor laid his hands flat on the document and patted it gently. Nobody spoke.
Daisy’s mouth had gone dry, she was baffled and a quick glance at Aunt Coral showed she mirrored how she felt. Daisy put her hand to her necklace and closed her fingers around her locket for comfort. ‘I’m sorry, but he’s left me what exactly?’ she asked.
‘Ottercombe Bay Railway Station and car park.’
‘But there’s not been trains here for years,’ said Aunt Coral.
The solicitor shuffled through a pile of papers and leaned across the desk to hand something over. It was a dog-eared auction notice. ‘The railway station at Ottercombe was decommissioned in 1975 and bought by …’ he checked his notes, ‘… a Mr Arthur Wickens who bequeathed it to your great uncle on his death. There are also some historic planning applications for demolition and site development that were refused in 1989, 1992, 2001 and 2010.’ He removed his glasses and smiled at them warmly from across the desk.
Daisy stared at the piece of paper in her hand. She was looking at a faded photograph of a Victorian railway station building. ‘He’s left me an old railway station?’
Aunt Coral was peering over her arm. ‘Do all those refused planning applications mean there’s not a lot she can do with it?’
‘Not at all. It simply means the council weren’t in favour of it being demolished, although there is a letter here saying they would be open to an application for change of use but it’s dated 2010.’
‘Can I sell it?’ asked Daisy, her voice coming out a little croaky.
‘Once it has passed to you formally following the adherence to the conditional clause.’
Daisy stared at him. Why didn’t these people just use normal words? ‘And when does it pass to me formally exactly?’
The solicitor twitched. ‘One year from today, assuming you have been resident in Ottercombe Bay for the full twelve months. This is also for you,’ he said, handing Daisy a thick cream envelope with her name beautifully written on the front in fountain pen; she recognised it instantly as Great Uncle Reg’s handwriting. ‘I believe this letter will explain things a little further.’
For once Daisy opened her mouth but could not think what to say so she shut it again. What was going on?
‘This may be a stupid question,’ started Aunt Coral, ‘but I’m guessing this is all legal and watertight and there’s no way to get around the conditions he’s set?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ said the solicitor, who started to discuss paying for the funeral and the process of probate. Daisy thumbed the envelope in her hands and studied the writing. There was a slight wobble in the letters but it was unmistakably Reg’s; she could imagine him sitting in his favourite chair writing it.
‘I wasn’t expecting that,’ said Aunt Coral, as they left the solicitor’s office a few minutes later. ‘How do you feel?’
‘Flabbergasted, but I’m fine,’ Daisy said, when she really felt like running away.
Daisy hardly spoke a word on the way home. She could feel an uncomfortable sensation take hold, a feeling akin to claustrophobia; a sense of being suffocated and chained down that she needed to fight against and escape from. Back at the cottage she changed out of her smart clothes quickly and shoved her things into her backpack.
‘Cup of tea?’ came the call from the kitchen.
Daisy started to panic. She couldn’t stay for tea, she couldn’t stay another minute. This place was simply not good for her; she was uneasy most of the time she was here but knowing it was only for a couple of days it had been bearable. A whole year was unthinkable. She stood for a moment and gripped her locket. As long as she had it she could be anywhere and her mother would be with her. She took a deep steadying breath before replying to Aunt Coral, ‘No thanks. I’m just going out.’ She grabbed a pencil and searched for a piece of paper. She scribbled a note on the back of an old envelope.
She left the note on her pillow, picked up her bag and left the bedroom as quietly as she could. Panic rose as she wrestled with the porch door. It was one thing to run away but to be foiled in her attempt would be excruciating. ‘Bloody thing,’ she grumbled but a whimpering at her feet drew her attention. Bugsy was sitting watching her, his head on one side. He studied her with his abnormally big eyes. She stopped for a moment, for some odd reason she felt she needed to explain to him why she was leaving, although she suspected he wouldn’t be sad to see her go.
‘I have to go,’ she whispered. ‘This place has too many bad memories for me. Too many ghosts.’
Bugsy stood up, turned around and she heard a sort of phht sound, which was followed by a foul smell. Daisy shook her head, gave the door one more shove and slunk out.
She pulled on her helmet, got on the bike and was thankful it started first time. She surveyed Sea Mist Cottage one last time, opened the throttle and drove away. Hopefully this would be the last she’d see of it for a very long time.
In a few short minutes her breathing had steadied and despite a small niggle she knew she was doing the right thing. She didn’t like not saying goodbye to Aunt Coral but she would only have tried to make her stay. She turned into the high street and pulled up at the traffic lights. Tamsyn jumped in front of her waving her arms.
Oh cock, thought Daisy.
‘Hello. I knew it was you; your bike sounds ropey. Wasn’t it a lovely service? Proper good send off, lots of people, which is really lovely, especially for an old person because sometimes there’s not many people there because all their friends have died, but everyone loved Reg. Why have you got your rucksack with you?’
‘Umm,’ mumbled Daisy.
Tamsyn came to the side of the bike. ‘Are you leaving?’ Tamsyn’s face fell, she looked instantly despondent.
Daisy wished she was a better liar as she lifted her visor. ‘Sorry, Tamsyn, I need to go. You take care now.’
‘No. You’ve only just come back, you can’t leave now …’ Her eyes filled with tears and Daisy felt like she was torturing a toddler.
The traffic lights changed. ‘I’m sorry,’ said Daisy, she meant it. She flipped down her visor. Someone behind hooted and Daisy revved the engine and started to pull away.
‘Sandy wants you to stay!’ shouted Tamsyn with desperation in her voice.
Of all the things she could have shouted after her this was the one thing that would have the desired effect. The words were still ringing in Daisy’s ears as she pulled her bike into the kerb and switched off the engine. Tamsyn walked over looking anxious.
Daisy felt numb. She pulled off her helmet and stared at Tamsyn.
‘What
