The Legacy: Trouble Comes Disguised As Family (Unspoken Book 2) T. Belshaw (management books to read .txt) 📖

She jumped as Sam put her hand on her left shoulder.

‘Shall I go first? He won’t be in there, love. His car isn’t here.’

‘I know,’ Jess replied. ‘It isn’t that…well, it is, but it’s mainly that I was so happy here for so long. Until those last few weeks, I was the happiest I had been in my life. Bloody Calvin.’

‘Try to remember the times before he moved in,’ Sam suggested. ‘The times I came around in the evenings and we’d get riotously drunk watching Dirty Dancing for the hundredth time.’

Jess bit her lip, put one foot on the doormat, then stepped back again. ‘I can’t…’

Sam slipped behind and gave Jess a two-armed push. She hurtled forwards and steadied herself at the foot of the stairs. ‘That’s cheating.’ She laughed nervously.

Sam pointed towards the landing. ‘Up, Missis,’ she ordered.

Jess climbed the stairs slowly. When she reached the top step, she stuck her head into the flat and looked left and right. The place seemed to be as they had left it a few weeks before. She blew out her cheeks and stepped into the open lounge. Sam followed, reassuring words on her tongue.

The flat was spotless. Jess tried to remember when she had last cleaned. It would have been her that did it. Cleaning was women’s work, as Calvin had often told her, and, he had insisted, it was her flat after all. Calvin was a stickler for cleanliness and didn’t like even a single cushion to be out of place, but he drew the line at starting up the Dyson himself. He had once called Jess into the bathroom and showed her a smudge of dirt on the floor of the shower. She had had to clean it and rinse off the chemical spray before he would go in.

‘Let’s be fair, Jess, you wouldn’t like to have athletes’ foot, either.’

Jess, who had never suffered from the fungal infection, had said nothing and went back to making their lunch.

Jess wandered into the kitchen, filled the empty kettle and put it back on the stand. ‘We may as well have a coffee while we’re here.’

She reached into the cupboard and took out a jar of good-quality instant. Calvin’s designer packet of Barista was in its place on the bottom shelf. On impulse she picked it up and shook it. I’m sure that was almost used up, she thought. She remembered Calvin complaining that he’d be running out soon and needed a top up when she did the weekly shop.

Puzzled, Jess walked through to the bedroom. The bed was made, but there was nothing of his in the bedside cabinet, nor anything in the built-in wardrobe. It was the same in the spare room.

Jess breathed a sigh of relief. Sam had helped her clear all his things out the morning after Nana had died. They had left his stuff outside on the parking bay as they had promised they would. She hoped he was there in time to pick it all up before the local lads spotted it. She hadn’t hung around long enough to find out.

She tutted at herself for caring, and walked through to the bathroom. Just inside the door she stopped and sniffed. Tom Ford aftershave, there was no mistaking it. Calvin was the only man she had ever known that used it. It was just too expensive for most people. Jess couldn’t even afford to buy it for him as a Christmas present.

‘Blimey, that scent hangs around,’ she said aloud.

Sam came into the bathroom and handed Jess a mug of coffee. She sipped her own and sniffed.

‘Ugh. I have expensive tastes myself as you well know, but I never could understand why anyone would pay hundreds of pounds for that muck. It’s awful.’

‘You get used to it,’ replied Jess. ‘And, if you can still smell it weeks after you dabbed it on, then it might explain the cost.’

‘Nothing lasts that long in the air,’ said Sam suspiciously. ‘Oh shit,’ she said and pointed to the lavatory seat.

Jess groaned as she saw the envelope sitting on the closed, grey, lid.

‘Shit,’ she echoed. Turning on her heels, she hurried out into the lounge.

Sam found her sitting on the sofa with her head in her hands when she followed a few seconds later, the letter in her right hand. She put her coffee mug on the table and set next to Jess.

‘Shall we burn it, shred it or dissolve it in hydrochloric acid?’ she asked.

Jess sighed heavily and took the letter from her friend. On the front was the single word ‘Jess’ written in his elegant handwriting, it was surrounded by a drawing of a broken heart. With shaking hands, Jess tore it open and slid out a single page. She wiped a tear from her cheek and unfolded the letter.

My Darling, Jess

So, it has come to this.

Never, even in my worst nightmare did I think I would have to write this letter. I thought we were bonded together, solid, unbreakable. I thought our love was a thing of pure beauty and could never die.

I hope we can put this thing behind us and start over. I have already forgiven you for your over reaction and I hope you can forgive me for any perceived failings. I didn’t mean this to happen, I honestly didn’t. I like Sam and I would never want to hurt her, but I was forced into a corner by lies and jealousy and I did what I tend to do when I find myself in those circumstances, and tried to defend myself as best I could. I was forced to do similar things as a child, at home when my father turned on me. It’s not something I like to shout about, but it kept me alive back then. I suppose I don’t know my own strength when I’m cornered and in fear. I hope Sam is okay, please give her my best regards. I know I probably frightened her and I really regret that.

The thing