The Legacy by Caroline Bond (e book reader for pc .TXT) 📕

be. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ Eloise had no desire to touch anything in the room, so she didn’t know why she made the offer, except perhaps for an irritating but nagging awareness that Megan’s position was truly pitiful – in the sense of actually deserving some pity.

Megan shook her head. ‘No.’ It was said softly, but very clearly.

Eloise stepped further into the room. ‘Are you sure? I could at least take some of the rubbish out.’

A tiny flicker of something clean and sharp ran through Megan, but her voice held low and steady. ‘It’s not necessary. I can do it.’ She moved towards Eloise, forcing her to retreat. They stared at each other: no more than a foot apart. Megan – taking short, shallow breaths; Eloise – breathing slowly, steadily, maintaining her composure.

‘I’m sorry,’ Eloise said. She was, and she wasn’t. Maybe coming back hadn’t been such a good idea. It had certainly muddied the waters. Megan was now a real person, not a fiction that could be fashioned into whatever shape Eloise chose. ‘I didn’t mean to intrude. I just thought you might need some help.’

‘I really don’t need your help.’ Megan’s voice was quiet, but her resolve was very clear.

‘Okay,’ Eloise demurred.

The flicker was still there, pulsing beneath Megan’s pale skin. Eloise saw it and recognised it for what it was – grief. Jonathan had been Megan’s for so little time, and what time they had shared had been so damaged by his illness. Losing him must hurt, deeply.

Megan stood her ground. ‘I’d appreciate it if you, and everyone else, stayed out of this room until I clear it.’ She stretched out her hand, obviously intending to close the door; Eloise was in the way. ‘If you don’t mind, I want to get on.’

They were standing very close. Eloise held her position for a second, then she relented and stepped back out into the hall, ceding territory and ownership to Megan.

The door was shut firmly in her face.

Chapter 42

MEGAN TRIED to breathe, but Eloise’s perfume clogged up her throat. She crossed the room and threw open the French doors, letting in the bright, cold air. So, it had come to this – fighting over the last remnants of Jonathan’s life. It was a fight she knew she was going to lose. She couldn’t hold them at bay much longer, not now Eloise was in the house.

When she’d seen Eloise sneaking around upstairs the previous night, Megan had been depressed not to feel anger. She had every right to be livid, or at least shocked, but she hadn’t felt either emotion. What she’d felt – when she saw Jonathan’s ex-wife standing on the landing, in the moonlight – was acceptance. The sight of Eloise looking in on her sleeping grandsons, her hand resting elegantly on her door handle of her son’s old room, had seemed perfectly natural. Eloise was where she was supposed to be: in her home, with her family. Because even now, after all this time, and despite everything that had happened, Megan couldn’t shake the belief that Eloise was still the rightful inhabitant of The View.

It was she who was the interloper.

Megan rested her head against the door frame.

The awful suspicion that Jonathan had come to think that way as well only added to her distress.

It was a bright, cold April day – more like winter than spring. Jonathan had been sitting by the windows in his study when she’d got back from work. Not that the seasons had the same relevance any more for Jonathan.

What immediately struck her as odd was that he was doing nothing. The absence of his laptop or a book was unusual. Even his phone was nowhere to be seen. She felt a ripple of ill ease. Was this the beginning of the next stage? She swallowed down her concerns. She was getting used to ingesting sorrow. The printouts of the candidates’ CVs lay on the desk in the same neat pile. She reminded herself to say PA, not carer. Patience and sensitivity were attributes she still struggled with. She had little hope that Jonathan had looked through them.

‘What are you doing?’ She dumped her bags on the floor.

‘Just looking at the view.’

‘It is beautiful out there today, isn’t it?’ Not that he had been ‘out there’ for days. There were so many pitfalls that she kept stumbling into.

He agreed and continued looking out across the garden. There was a stillness about him that was different – perhaps it was the new drugs making him feel zoned out – but when she pulled up a seat opposite him, he seemed alert enough.

They watched the sea breathing in and out down below in the bay. It was hypnotic. She felt her eyes grow heavy.

‘Meg. You know how much I love you, don’t you?’

‘I do.’ She smiled, brightly.

‘And that if things were different, there isn’t anyone else in the world I’d want to spend the rest of my life with.’

‘I’m not sure anyone else would have you!’ She smiled even more brightly, trying to lift the mood, but his expression didn’t lighten.

‘Good, because it’s important you know that, before I say what I’m about to say.’ Her stomach contracted. He stared at her, unblinking. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can do this any more. It’s killing me.’

‘Jonathan, please—’ She wanted him to stop, because she couldn’t bear the responsibility of trying to convince him things weren’t as bad as they were, and that the future wasn’t as bleak as it undoubtedly was going to be.

He interrupted her. ‘No. Please, I need you to hear me out.’ Megan sat back, forced to concede his right to express the darkness they both usually tried so hard to suppress. ‘I’ve had plenty of time on my hands lately to reflect on what’s coming down the line for me. That’s the odd thing about this,’ he gestured at his failing body, ‘I seem to have too much time –