? ? ?
Ross had intended to take the first available flight back to London, as he didn’t have a moment to spare before he carried out the first part of his plan. He would have done so, had he not been stopped by the elderly gentleman who’d delivered the eulogy, not a word of which he’d understood.
‘Excuse me, Mr Hogan. My name is Pierre Monderan,’ the old man said, with only the suggestion of an accent. ‘I was your late wife’s financial adviser.’ He handed Ross an embossed card. ‘Perhaps we could sit down, as what I have to tell you might take a few moments.’
‘I wish I’d been able to follow your kind words about Jo,’ said Ross, as he took a seat on the bench next to Monsieur Monderan. ‘They were so clearly appreciated by her friends.’
‘It’s kind of you to say so,’ said Monderan, taking an envelope out of his overcoat pocket and handing it to Ross. ‘I’ve translated my eulogy. I admired your wife greatly, and thought you might like to read it at your convenience. Your wife’s untimely death has left me with one last duty to carry out. For some time, I took care of Josephine’s personal finances, as I do for all the other girls in the syndicate.’
‘The syndicate?’
‘The joint holdings of their company were registered under the name of The Vestal Virgins. Twelve of them in all, each of whom invested ten thousand francs a month in a joint enterprise, which I administered on their behalf. Quite successfully, I think you will find. The object was that when the time came for them to retire, they would have sufficient financial reserves not to have to be concerned about their future. Sadly, in Josephine’s case, she will not benefit from what I believe you would call her nest egg. As her next of kin, that now passes to you.’
He took a second slim white envelope from an inside pocket and handed it to Ross.
‘But what about her family, or close friends? Shouldn’t they take precedence over me?’
‘She never spoke of any family and, let me assure you, her friends are well taken care of.’
‘Then a favourite charity, perhaps,’ said Ross, not wanting to open the envelope.
‘That is not for me to decide, sir,’ said Monsieur Monderan. ‘However, if you were my client, I would politely remind you you have a daughter who might benefit from her mother’s prudence.’ Without another word, Monsieur Monderan rose from his place, gave Ross a slight bow and departed, having carried out his fiduciary duties.
Ross looked down at the unopened envelope and felt guilty that he had not considered his daughter’s future. It was some time before he finally tore open the envelope and extracted a cheque made out to Mr Ross Hogan QGM. He smiled at the thought of how Jo had pressed him on several occasions to tell her what he had done to be awarded the Queen’s Gallantry Medal. He had always managed to subtly change the subject.
He stared at the cheque and had to look at the noughts a third time before he realized that, for the first time in his life, he was a rich man. Though in truth, he felt like a poor man, and would have torn the cheque up without a second thought if it would have brought Jo back.
? ? ?
Beth didn’t have to ask William which foreign city he’d spent the day in when he returned home that night, because she already knew. She had wanted to accompany him to Paris, and would have done so if Artemisia hadn’t caught chicken pox, which meant that Peter almost certainly would follow her, as he always did. But Josephine had been in her thoughts all day.
She was just about to read the twins their bedtime story when she heard the front door close. She ran downstairs to find William hanging up his coat. They clung to each other for some time before William managed, ‘How’s Artemisia?’
‘Recovering. But now Peter’s gone down with it, as expected. They’re hoping you’ll read them their bedtime story.’
‘Of course I will, and then over supper I’ll tell you about everything that happened in Paris.’ Although he still hadn’t decided just how much he would tell her.
William walked wearily upstairs, but his spirits were lifted the moment he entered the children’s room and the twins scampered out of bed and clung onto a leg each. His thoughts turned once again to Ross and the joy he knew his daughter would bring him. Those thoughts were rudely interrupted when Artemisia reminded him, ‘We’ve reached Chapter Three, and we want to find out what’s going to happen to PC Plod.’
He smiled at her, pleased to see her spots had nearly disappeared; but the smile turned to a frown when he saw that Peter’s were just appearing.