Page 3 of Secrets and Seashells at Rainbow Bay
Alexander Benjamin
I read the letter through twice and then I laugh: these spammers are getting far too silly for their own good these days. As if I’m going to ring someone and divulge all my personal information – do they think I’m stupid?
I throw the letter on the pile with the others, and I’m about to head into the kitchen to find Charlie when I stop.
But they already know all of my personal information, don’t they? And more importantly, they know about Charlie. If they’re spammers, that’s particularly worrying.
I pick up the letter and head into the tiny kitchen/diner/ living room. Charlie is already sitting down in front of the television.
‘Can I borrow your laptop?’ I ask him, putting the letter on the table.
‘Why?’ he asks, not taking his eyes from the screen.
‘Because I want to use the internet and I’ve run out of data on my phone,’ I lie. The truth is I haven’t got the money to top it up right now, and I need to go easy on the little credit I have left in case Charlie needs to call me in an emergency.
‘Why don’t you connect your phone to the Wi-Fi then?’ Charlie asks smartly.
‘You know my phone isn’t great with Wi-Fi,’ It was far too old and basic. ‘It’s too slow, and I need to search for something. Can I use it or not?’
‘Sure, okay then,’ Charlie shrugs amiably, his eyes still glued to the TV.
I pull Charlie’s laptop from his bag and open it up. Then, relieved we haven’t had our own internet cut off just yet, I pull up Google.
First I type in ‘Davies & Davies Solicitors’, and find there is indeed a law firm in Berwick-Upon-Tweed with that name.Could be a coincidence, I think, still suspicious. Then I type in ‘Alexander Benjamin – genealogist’ and I find to my surprise a professional-looking website telling me all about this Alexander, with very authentic-sounding testimonials from satisfied clients who have found long-lost relatives, and law firms just like Davies & Davies who Alexander has worked for with amazing results.
I close up the laptop and think.
It’s becoming harder and harder for me to believe this is a scam. But why would someone leave me anything in a will? An estate, the letter said. That was usually more than a few pounds or an antique vase. And for this law firm to have hired this Alexander fellow, it must be pretty important.
I stand up and head into our little kitchenette. I fill the kettle and put it on to boil. Then I open up the fridge to get out some milk.
The emptiness of the fridge suddenly scares me. There’s the pizza I’d promised Charlie for his tea, a nearly empty bottle of milk, some cheap margarine and half a tin of beans left over from last night’s tea of beans on toast. But that’s it. I know there isn’t a lot more in the cupboards, either, and it’s still three days until I’ll get paid again.
What if this will thingwasa small sum of money? It would come in very handy, that’s for sure. My job at the local supermarket is never going to pay me much; maybe this ‘estate’ might be enough for me to start that little business I’ve been thinking about for a while. After all, what’s the point in spending three years at university to end up working part time in a supermarket? And even if it isn’t that much money, it might still pay a few of those ‘red’ bills that are waiting for me on the hall table.
Stop right there, I tell myself.You’re getting carried away as usual. Good things like that don’t happen to you, Amelia. Not any more. This estate will probably be a scruffy dog you’ve inherited or something else worthless, something that’s going to costyoumoney.
But as I sip on my weak tea – made for the second time with the same teabag – I can’t help but wonder . . .
‘Just going to make a quick phone call,’ I tell Charlie. ‘Won’t be a mo.’
‘Thought you didn’t have much credit?’ Charlie asks distractedly, changing the channel on the TV.
‘And I thought you had a school project to finish tonight?’ I retort as I head towards my bedroom.
‘Yeah, I do. But you said you’d help me with it, didn’t you?’
‘Did I?’ I ask, hovering in the doorway. ‘Which one is it?’
‘The one about castles – remember? We’ve been studying all about them this term and Miss said we had to make our own model of one. That’s what I’ve been saving all the boxes for.’
‘Oh, yes, that’s right, I remember,’ I fib. ‘And when has that got to be in?’ I ask.Please don’t say tomorrow . . .
‘Er . . . next week, I think.’
Phew. ‘Sure, I’ll help you. Let me just make this call first and I’ll be right out.’
I close my bedroom door and then I perch on the bed and look at my phone. Should I really be wasting my credit on this possible wild-goose chase? But what if the wild goose turns out to be a golden one? It could be the answer to so many of my problems right now. I have to at least take the chance.
