The Ardmore Inheritance by Rob Wyllie (reading the story of the .txt) 📕

three and a half thousand miles from home, then a man just can't bloody think straight. So when the Swedish princess had turned up at that Helmand concert like some bloody modern-day Vera Lynn, well what was he supposed to do? It was she who had made the first move, but he didn't have to say yes. Sure, she was beautiful and alluring, but then so was Flora. Looking back, he knew exactly why he had said yes. It was simply because she was there and he'd needed something that night. Tonight was different. Elspeth Macallan too was beautiful and alluring and had already made it plain she was available. But that just wasn't going to happen. He was with her for one reason and one reason only. To find out what she knew.

On arrival, the maître d' had taken Elspeth's jacket and passed it to a colleague, then led them to a quiet corner table where he handed each a leather-bound menu. He allowed them to settle for a few seconds then asked, 'Sir will be choosing the wine this evening?'

'Aye, I suppose sir will be,' Jimmy said, taking the menu from him. The only problem was that before they'd left her home, Elspeth had finished the bottle of fizz, out-drinking him in a ratio of three to one, and he wasn't sure how wise it would be to allow her some more. And then he checked himself. Allow her some more. What was that all about and who did he think he was exactly? If she wanted to get herself pissed, that was entirely up to her. And in any case, it seemed she had her own ideas on the subject.

'Of course he will,' she said, suddenly looking serious, 'and whilst he's doing that, bring us some champagne please.'

'Certainly madam. And I'll give you a few minutes sir, shall I?' the waiter said before gliding away.

'Are you ok?' he said, sensing her change of mood.

'Yes, I'm fine,' she said. 'Honestly. I suppose it's just everything that's going on. I can't seem to put it out of my mind.'

'Aye, understandable,' he said, not quite sure if he believed her. It had been more than three months since she'd discovered the perverse terms of her father's will, and over six months since the tragic incident at Ardmore House. And she'd been fine back at her place, when she'd been knocking back the champagne and running her hands all over him. So whatever the reason for her mood change, he felt it had somehow been prompted by their arrival at the restaurant.

As he skimmed through the wine menu and finding not unexpectedly that it comprised exclusively of French vintages, he saw her take her phone from her bag and place it on the table. Screen down. Maybe she just didn't want to be distracted during a lovely romantic meal, or maybe she didn't want him to be able to see the ID of any callers or texters. He wondered which of those it was. Perhaps both.

'Any preference?' Jimmy asked, wearing a perplexed look, 'because I'm more of a new world man myself. Shiraz if it's red and Sauvignon if it's white. And I usually choose the one that's a pound dearer than the cheapest on the menu. Although I read somewhere that's what they want you to do. It's usually the crappiest wine and the one they make the most profit on.'

She shrugged. 'Let's get the waiter to choose after we've ordered our food, shall we? They'll probably recognise me eventually so they'll want to make a good impression. They may even decide it's on the house, that happens a lot. Kirsty and me can make or break a restaurant you know.' It was said with an absence of conceit. He guessed for her, she was simply stating a fact. And by mentioning her sister, it left an opening for a question he wanted to ask.

'How are relations with Kirsty if you don't mind me asking?' he said, dropping his voice so as to dial down any potential offence. 'I know it must be difficult for you.'

'It's shit, since you ask. We were so close until our father died and now this stupid will's screwed everything up. I just don't know what's got into her, I really don't. Because she knows I'm the elder twin, of course she does. But it's Rory who's behind all of this of course. He's a hateful man and so money-grabbing. And he's got Kirsty twisted around his little finger. She can't even go for a piss without asking his permission. It's pathetic.'

Just in time, Jimmy remembered. Rory Overton and Elspeth Macallan had history. So it wouldn't be a surprise to find that her opinion of her sister's husband was coloured by that relationship.

'It's a terrible shame though,' Jimmy said. 'I mean, me and my brother Frank aren't always best mates but I'd hate if anything came between us.'

'It is a shame,' she said, 'but look, here's the waiter coming to take our order and I don't really want to spoil our evening talking about all that boring stuff.'

So she wanted to change the subject. The only problem was, he did want to talk about all that boring stuff. That was the mission, to find out what she knew and have one final attempt at getting a deal, but he could see it would have to be delayed for the time being. Smiling he said, 'I'll second that Elspeth. But there's just something I wanted to ask you, it's about your old nanny Susan Priest. I assume you know she was killed recently? In a hit and run accident?'

She shrugged. 'An old nanny? God, that must have been twenty-five years ago at least. No, I didn't know. Why should I? I've never given her a day's thought in all of that time.'

He remembered what John Priest had said to him. Elspeth, Kirsty, how the hell should I know. Maybe she was telling the truth, and whatever