The Legacy: Trouble Comes Disguised As Family (Unspoken Book 2) by T. Belshaw (warren buffett book recommendations .txt) 📕

is, Jess, I was going through a bad patch. I was struggling to find work, and you, my usual reliable rock, was spending all your time with your Nana. I can understand why you did that, but I felt lost and alone over that last couple of weeks. You were always there for me in the past, and I didn’t know who I could turn to.

I ended up falling into Tania’s trap. She had been trying to tempt me for weeks, cornering me after the classes I gave at Uni, following me into the café when I dropped in for coffee. I wouldn’t normally have been so weak, but I was so lost, my darling, I just needed the company.

I’m not blaming you, or Nana, for it. Sometimes things can’t be helped and this was one of those times. If Nana hadn’t fallen ill when she did, none of this would ever have happened. It was just fate, trying to test us.

I haven’t been in touch by phone or text because I thought I’d give you a chance to calm down. I know you were upset by the whole thing and your Nana’s death won’t have helped with that.

You may have news about her will by the way. There is a solicitor’s letter with a few others, mainly junk mail and bills, in the drawer of the coffee table. I hope there are good tidings inside.

Don’t forget your friends when you are rich. Ha Ha.

Speaking of money. I’m managing to survive by doing a bit of home tutoring and I’ve been sofa surfing for a while. I really could do with moving back in here, but the rent and utility bills are due and I don’t have the funds to pay them. I don’t know if you mean to keep the place on or whether you’ve moved in with Sam, permanently. Could we meet up here, or on neutral ground, to discuss things? I’m really getting a bit desperate now.

All my stuff is in a friend’s garage and it’s a right pain when I need something. When I say friend, he only put me up for a few nights. He said his girlfriend didn’t feel right having sex, with me sleeping on the sofa. I snuck back in here for the odd night, though I only brought a bag with me, I didn’t want to move all my stuff back before I knew we were going to be all right again. I always kept a spare key in the car. I know that was a bit naughty of me but I was scared of losing the main set you gave me and being locked out.

So, Jess, my darling. I hope you have calmed down. Even if Sam can’t forgive me, I think that maybe you can. We had so much, let’s not throw it away over a silly moment brought on by extreme stress.

We were so good as a partnership, Jess. We were meant to be together. I even gave up my mother to be with you, she didn’t think you were good enough for me, but I didn’t care.

Please leave your reply where you found this. I’ll pick it up the next time I’m passing. I always ring the bell before I let myself in, just in case you’re here.

My love for you remains as strong as it ever was and I think, deep down, you feel the same.

Please don’t throw it all away now. Take your time and remember what we had.

I love you.

Calvin.

Xxxx

When she had finished reading, Jess dropped the letter on the coffee table and burst into floods of angry tears. Sam wrapped her arms around her.

Eventually, Jess stopped sobbing, eased herself out of Sam’s arms, and still sniffing, pulled a tissue from the box on the coffee table and blew her nose.

Sam picked up the letter. ‘Do you mind if I read it?’

Jess nodded and blew her nose again.

‘He’s right, we did have a lovely relationship once.’

Sam snorted as she reached the part about her.

‘Arrogant bastard… Sorry, what was that?’

‘I’m just saying. It wasn’t all bad. We were really close for a long time.’

‘What! Jess, please tell me you aren’t considering taking him back? You have to be kidding me.’

She stared hard at Jessica, who dropped her head and began to sob again.

Chapter 4

Martha lay on her side, her turban-covered head nestled into the deep pile of down pillows. Her bedside clock read four minutes past seven.

‘Late again,’ she said under her breath.

She rolled onto her back and studied the thick crack in the ceiling that she was sure had spread further over the last few days. She would have liked to get it fixed but the young man she had booked to give her a quote had looked like a bit of a rogue builder, although he claimed to be a member of the Master Builder’s Federation. Martha didn’t believe a word of it, there were a lot of rogues about these days. At one time you could get a local builder who would take pride in his work, knowing that if he messed up, the word would quickly get about, but now, all the trades seem to come from a minimum of twenty miles away and they wouldn’t give a damn about receiving a complaint. Just look at that Rogue Traders program on TV. The country was full of cowboy builders.

Only last week, old Mrs Hardy a few houses down the lane had been told by a ‘passing builder’ that the roof of her old bungalow looked in danger of collapse. After an inspection, he blew out his cheeks, shook his head and told her it couldn’t be repaired for a penny under ten thousand pounds. The silly old woman had agreed to have the work done, but luckily her son came over to visit at the weekend and he had brought in his best friend, a builder himself, to have a look. Finding no fault, he suggested they ring the