Laurie shook her head, a half-smile hovering on her lips at the thought of the ‘old car’. ‘Actually, it’s one of his classic cars.’ Miles had loved that car. ‘I helped him track it down.’ Despite being gadget mad, her uncle wasn’t actually very good at using them and she’d helped him research and find the Benelli family who’d been the last known owners of that particular model.
Robert looked even more disappointed. ‘You’re kidding. That’s a white elephant then. You won’t be able to keep it.’
Uncharacteristic temper flashed and Laurie bristled. ‘Why not?’
‘Don’t be daft. What for?’
He laid a hand over hers as if to soften the words but she found the gesture patronising and overbearing. ‘It’d be a complete money pit for one thing. Will cost a fortune to run. God only knows what it would cost to insure and can you imagine the repair bills? We couldn’t afford to run it. Besides it’s probably worth something, if we sell it.’
Funny how things went so quickly from you to we.
‘Thing is …’ she heard her voice, it sounded cool and brittle, ‘the condition of the will is that I’m not allowed to sell it—’
‘What?’ Robert slammed down his mug and tea splashed across the table. ‘I bloody hope he’s left you something for the upkeep then. That’s crap. What a bloody cheek.’ His voice tailed off as he stared angrily at her.
She returned his gaze, her chin lifting and her eyes narrowing. Controlled fury pounded, shocking her. Losing your temper was something other people did. Other people who let emotion rule without thinking of the consequences or taking responsibility for the fallout. Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself. ‘If you’d let me finish,’ she said slowly, feeling the control slipping back into place, ‘I can explain.’
Folding his arms, Robert leant back in his chair raising one eyebrow. She refused to be cowed by the deliberately patronising stance he’d adopted and waited a moment or two, holding his gaze until he dropped his arms.
‘Sorry,’ he said sulkily.
‘I can sell the car—’
‘I just thought you said you couldn’t.’
His face reminded her of an unhappy toddler complete with sulky lower lip.
‘Make up your mind.’
‘I can sell it …’she paused. In Ron’s office she’d wondered how he’d take it, now uncharacteristically she no longer cared, ‘once I’ve been to Italy in it first.’
‘What?’
‘Miles wanted the car to have one last outing back to its birthplace.’
‘So the old boy was bonkers then.’
‘No!’ She sighed. How did you explain Miles to someone like Robert who was as conventional as they came? Sitting in his winged leather chair offering her cigars and port, teaching her to taste wine, change spark plugs and polish chrome. ‘Just a bit sentimental about his cars … and this one was his favourite.’
Robert shook his head and leaned onto the table. ‘And how was he expecting that to happen? We’d have to take a couple of days off work. Use up our holiday allowance.’
Make a change from decorating then, she thought, tracing the track of the wood grain on the table in front of her.
‘You don’t expect me to drop everything to do that do you? You know what it’s like at work at the moment.’
‘No of course not,’ said Laurie, gnawing at her lip, she knew how difficult things were at the office at the moment. Poor Robert hated his boss, who’d pretty much slept her way to promotion, leap-frogging him, and now took all the credit for the work he did.
She leaned forward and touched his hand. She still had to tell him the worst bit.
Robert shook his head in disgust. ‘What was your uncle thinking? You can’t even drive to Dunstable let alone across Europe.’
Laurie felt the blush of temper staining her cheeks and fought again to tamp it back.
‘Whatever. It’s still a ridiculous idea. Those old cars drink petrol. It’ll cost an absolute fortune. Cost more in petrol than we’d get selling it. And think of the practicalities. We’d have to pay for hotels, food, the ferry crossing. What if it breaks down?’
Like she hadn’t been thinking that ever since Mr Leversedge had been through the exact conditions that went with her inheritance. It was scaring the crap out of her. The practicalities …
Robert shook his head. ‘No, it’s out of the question. It wouldn’t be worth it. I mean, at most, what’s this car going to be worth? A couple of grand.’
She shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea but that’s not the point.’
‘Well enlighten me, what is the point?’
She was sure he didn’t mean it to sound quite so disparaging when he adopted that low, superior tone.
‘Uncle Miles asked me to do it. He was good to me when I was younger.’
‘Good to you? That sounds dodgy.’
‘Robert!’ she said snatching her hand away. ‘Before my parents split up it was hell at home; it was a miracle we had a single plate left in the place. Going to Miles’ house got me away from all that during the school holidays.’
Robert shrugged. He thought her childhood odd but then he’d come from a respectable, normal family with parents who’d celebrated their silver wedding anniversary, two point two children, a dog and a cat. It sounded perfect. And anyone accusing Mr and Mrs Evans of occasionally seeming a little dull were just uncharitable. There was a lot to be said for creating a stable home life for your children.
‘He wants me to take his favourite car on one last journey across Europe to its original home in Italy. He said he didn’t trust anyone else to do it.’
‘He didn’t trust anyone else?’ Robert shouted with laughter. ‘That’s a joke. What a heap of sentimental crap.’
‘It’s not …’ Laurie began hotly.
‘Although a couple of thousand in the bank, now that would be nice … we’d have to do some sums,’ his eyes scrunched in thought, ‘but if we drove all day, stayed in cheap motels we could probably make a profit.’
There was that ‘we’ again.
‘There are conditions.’ She interrupted. ‘I don’t just have to … get the car to Italy …’ The wince on her face must have finally communicated to him that not everything was that straightforward.
‘You have to go somewhere else too?’ He’d sobered now. ‘Sounds like a con to me? I might have known it would be too good to be true.’
‘Nothing like that, it’s just that I have to … take a certain route and complete it within a—’
‘What do you mean a ‘certain’ route?’ Robert frowned.
‘I have to visit certain places on the way and …’ she had his attention now, she dropped her voice, ‘it’s got to be done within three weeks.’
‘But that’s impossible!’ He began to pace the tiny kitchen, three strides and then back again. ‘There’s no way I can get that additional time off work.’ He wheeled again, another three paces. ‘Even if I explained to Gavin …. And you said they were looking to make