Page 6 of The Mended Hearts Bookshop

“In what way, exactly, is this unusual for you?” he asked.

“Well, there’s the fact that you won’t tell me what I’m supposed to inherit,” she said. Then she shrugged. “And I suppose the fact that I can’t think of anyone that’s died recently that might want to leave me something.”

“Ah, that I can help with,” he said, scanning down a document. “Here we go. Mary Wells.”

Which enlightened her not at all. “Mary Wells.”

“Mmm.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Doesn’t ring any bells?”

Ash thought hard then shook her head.

“Looks here like she was of a decent age. Perhaps a grandmother, an aunt maybe?”

She narrowed her eyes. Now that he mentioned it, Aunt Mary did sound a little familiar. “Perhaps.”

“Well, like I said, we don’t just hand out inheritances to anyone that comes knocking,” he said, putting down his sheaf of papers. “This is an unusual case in that generally, a person either mentions the familial relationship in the will itself or, in most cases, there is an extended family to provide answers. In this case, neither of those things happened.” He grunted again. “Which is what happens when one writes a will on the back of an envelope and doesn’t employ a solicitor.”

“It’s on an envelope?” Ash asked, worried now that she was wasting her time.

“Don’t worry, girl, it’s all legal. Signed and witnessed.”

Ash decided that if he called her girl again she would punch him. “So what makes you think that I’m the person in question then?”

“We do our research,” he said grandly. “Wells is your surname, so there’s a start. But a birthname isn’t enough in cases like this, obviously. However, according to the electoral role you were born and lived in Ecclestown, Kent.”

“Right.”

“As did Mary Wells at an overlapping point. Furthermore, both she and your father, a Mr. Allan Wells, were born in the Queen Elizabeth University Hospital, Glasgow, which adds another layer of respectability to your claim.” He did the looking down his nose thing again. “I would suggest that you question your father. His sister, perhaps.”

“If I knew where he was, I might,” Ash answered. Her father had left her mother when Ash herself had been less than two years old. She’d never spent time wondering why or where he was. She didn’t particularly care.

“Your mother then?”

Her mother was busy eating guinea pigs in Peru or tangoing in Patagonia and was therefore unreachable. Ash shrugged. “I suppose I’ll just have to take your word for it.”

“That would be advisable,” Snythe sniffed. He fumbled with another file.

Aunt Mary. Auntie Mary. Now that she thought of it, she was sure there’d been an aunt there somewhere. She could even almost conjure up a picture of her. A cap of unnaturally dark hair and a scent of something too strong and alcoholic smelling. She sat forward in her chair. “So, the will?”

Snythe frowned at her, then returned his attention back to the paper in his hand. “Let’s see then. Ah, yes, it appears that you have been left… a bookshop.”

A BOOKSHOP? WHAT was she supposed to do with a bookshop? Ash stared at the map on her computer screen. According to Snythe, the obvious thing to do was to visit her inheritance, which, given that she had yet to sign the papers wasn’t technically hers yet.

So perhaps she shouldn’t waste her time.

Tetherington was by the sea though, which had a lot to offer. Ash liked the sea, liked walking down long isolated beaches. She could, perhaps, do with a break, getting out of London for a while. She could work from anywhere, so that wasn’t a problem.

She was, she admitted, curious about the bookshop. She was more curious about Mary Wells, whoever she’d been. But there was one huge factor that was weighing into her current decision. Today was Wednesday.

Tomorrow was Thursday.

She clicked over to a new tab and started the process of renting a car. A car would waste less time than the train and she’d be independent, which was important to her. And by this time tomorrow she would have some idea of what this inheritance business was all about.

Property was a sensible investment, she thought as she filled out her credit card information on the site. But then again, house prices were at a high, so she might be better off selling the place and investing elsewhere. Rental properties required management and she wasn’t willing to add to her list of things to do.

She finished the rental process and stood up, time to pack.

It took her precisely thirty minutes to pack. She then ate a healthy and balanced dinner of Pot Noodle and microwaved broccoli, spent half an hour watching the news, took a shower, read her latest book and turned out the lights by eleven.

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