Drowned Lives

13

The next couple of days passed in a blur. I was busy working, of course. The launch of the website was due soon, and we needed some content. So I could hardly concentrate on anything but routine, while at the same time being aware that significant events were happening that might affect my life. And then it came to Thursday morning.

On Thursdays I’d started to have the Lichfield Echo delivered. Sometimes the local hacks don’t realise they’ve got hold of something that will be of interest to the nationals. Or their editors frown on the idea of reporters flogging stories they’ve written for their own papers. It means more opportunities for people like me, and every unconsidered trifle is potential grist to the freelancer’s mill.

This Thursday morning, there was little in the Echo to interest me. The front page was concerned with a nasty assault on an elderly couple during a robbery that had gone wrong, and a report from the planning committee about the siting of a new supermarket. It was purely local interest.

But when I got to page five, a small item caught my eye. ‘Inquest adjourned’, it said. It named Samuel Joseph Longden, aged 83, of Whittington, and said that he’d died in a road accident a few days earlier. Cause of death was given as multiple internal injuries. The entire item was only three paragraphs long, and it concluded by saying that the coroner had adjourned the hearing until some future date, so that police could continue their inquiries.

By one of those coincidences that could make anyone believe in the action of fate, there was another item in my morning post that was demanding my attention. Not a bill, but a letter from a firm of solicitors in Lichfield called Elsworth and Clarke. They invited me to make an early appointment regarding a will. The will of Mr Samuel Joseph Longden.

The solicitors’ offices were in St John Street. The modern-looking facade of smoked glass and pink brick concealed a rabbit warren of corridors that seemed stuck in the 1950s. Maybe the decor was deliberate, to give clients an impression of age and solidity, a reminder that Elsworth and Clarke were an old-established firm on the inside, though they were aware on the outside of the imminent arrival of the next millennium.

Mr Elsworth himself gave much the same impression. His desk might have contained a computer loaded with the latest electronic database package, but his mind was still a dog-eared card index. He motioned me to an uncomfortable chair and took off his glasses, which hung from a cord round his neck. His suit was an aged grey pinstripe, but his tie seemed to be a cartoon strip, in which I vaguely recognised Wile E. Coyote.

‘Could I just confirm that you are Mr Christopher John Buckley, of 6 Stowe Pool Lane, Lichfield, Staffordshire? And that your parents were Arthur and Sheila Buckley of the same address?’

‘Would you like to see some identification?’ I asked, surprised. I felt like a young-looking eighteen-year-old being challenged in a pub as an underage drinker.

‘A driving licence perhaps?’ he said. ‘Ah yes, that’s fine.’ He replaced his glasses to study my licence, made a brief note on a pad with his pen and handed the licence back. ‘Just a precaution, you know. There’s no great formality about the reading of a will these days. Even when it happens to involve substantial assets.’

I wondered what Mr Elsworth was like on a formal occasion, if he thought he was being informal just now.

‘So I’ll press straight on to the business in hand, if you don’t mind,’ he said. ‘There’s a clause in Mr Longden’s will which is of interest to you. Also, there are one or two other items.’

‘Go ahead.’

‘You’d like me to read the relevant clause?’

‘Of course.’

‘Well, it reads: “And to my great-nephew, Christopher John Buckley, I leave fifty thousand pounds, in addition to all my manuscripts, notes, letters, and any other items which may already be in his possession relating to my work on a publication called The Three Keys. The bequest of fifty thousand pounds is to be conditional on the said The Three Keys being completed and published before the end of the year 2000, that being the two hundredth anniversary of the death of my ancestor, William Buckley.”’

‘Sorry, how much?’

‘Fifty thousand pounds. Quite a generous bequest. I dare say it will come in useful, Mr Buckley?’

‘Useful?’ I laughed. ‘It’ll only save my life, that’s all.’

My brain must not have been working too quickly that day. My surprise was so great at hearing my name and the sum of fifty thousand pounds mentioned in the same breath that it took me a few moments to track back to the beginning of the sentence and work out what else was wrong with it.

‘Hold on. Did you say “great-nephew”?’

‘That’s correct.’

The great surge of hope that had washed through my body a moment before was instantly smothered, leaving me flattened and more hopeless than ever. But there was no point in claiming to be somebody I wasn’t.

‘You’ve got the wrong person then, Mr Elsworth.’

The solicitor removed his glasses and looked offended. ‘I don’t believe so, Mr Buckley.’

‘I met Samuel Longden only a few weeks ago. I’m certainly not his great-nephew.’

‘But Mr Longden was very specific. He gives your full name and address and the names of your parents, which you agreed were correct.’

I sighed. It came painfully hard to give up the chance of so much money. God knows I needed it. But I couldn’t take it under false pretences. I had the sort of luck that meant I’d be found out and have to pay the whole lot back some time in the future, probably with interest. Redundancy and debt were quite enough, without a charge of deception and fraud to add to my troubles.

‘Samuel Longden did seem to take a liking to me for some reason,’ I said. ‘But he was a very old man. I suppose his mind must have been wandering towards the end, and that led him to imagine I was a long-lost relative.’

Mr Elsworth pursed his lips as if I’d accused him of some legal misdemeanour. He replaced his glasses to refer to the front page of the will. ‘This document was signed and witnessed in these offices on the 15th of June last year.’

My mouth fell open in astonishment. ‘You must have got it wrong.’

‘I assure you, Mr Buckley, there’s no mistake. You say you met Mr Longden a few weeks ago. But clearly he knew of your existence some time before that. And he believed you to be his great-nephew. Also, may I state that this firm does not allow clients to draw up a will if there’s any doubt about their mental condition.’

‘I wasn’t suggesting that, I’m sorry. But this is very difficult for me to understand. You did say fifty thousand pounds?’

‘I see it’s come as something of a shock.’ The solicitor withdrew a white padded envelope from the folder. ‘Perhaps this will cast light on the situation, Mr Buckley. My instructions are to deliver this package into your hands once the provisions of the will have been communicated to you.’

I took the envelope cautiously. It bore my name on the front in unsteady handwriting, along with the words ‘Private and Confidential’. I recognised the writing from Samuel Longden’s letter and notes.

‘There’s also one other item which I’m instructed to give you,’ said Mr Elsworth. ‘This is a copy of a document that one of the former partners of this firm witnessed some years ago in his role as notary public. My own father, in fact. It dates from the 3rd of March, 1949.’

What surprise was there to come next? I looked at the photocopy blankly, unable to make any sense of the gothic script, the copperplate handwriting and archaic language. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand what this is.’

‘It’s a copy of a notarised deed by which our client, Mr Samuel Joseph Buckley, changed his name to Samuel Joseph Longden.’

‘You mean a deed poll?’

‘A deed poll isn’t necessary to change one’s name. This document is all that’s required, and it’s perfectly legal. In fact, even this isn’t strictly necessary, though it constitutes a very sensible record of date and intention. It rather adds weight to the late Mr Longden’s claim of a family relationship existing between you, does it not? It appears his name was formerly Buckley.’

‘But why? Why would he change his name? And if he was my great-uncle, why didn’t I know of his existence?’

Mr Elsworth leaned back in his chair, his job done. ‘I’m afraid I have no more information I can give you. However, this publication my client refers to... a biography of some sort, I presume? Another family member? I take it you do have in your possession the items to which the late Mr Longden refers?’

‘Yes, he gave me a whole heap of stuff.’

‘There’s a clear implication in Mr Longden’s will that there may be other documents you require to help you complete the project. As executor, I’m able to permit you access to Mr Longden’s property, so that you may locate and remove any relevant items. That would be in accordance with the provisions of the will.’

‘Thank you.’

‘If you do require access, give my secretary a call and we can arrange a convenient time, Mr Buckley.’

‘And the money?’

‘I’m afraid it will have to wait for probate. It’s difficult to say how long that might be. It depends how complex Mr Longden’s estate proves to be. There are tax considerations, and the sale of the property of course. If there are sufficient liquid assets, it could be a different matter. But I suspect all that is rather academic, in view of the conditions on this bequest. You’ll first need to produce a copy of the book Mr Longden refers to.’

‘I have to wait, then?’

‘I’m afraid so. The condition is specific that the book must be published before the legacy can be released. But I can’t foresee any problems in that respect. Unless you’re aware of any complications?’

I saw plenty of complications, but none that Mr Elsworth would understand. I shook my head.

‘I understand the funeral will take place next Thursday,’ said the solicitor. ‘Again, the provisions seem to be rather unusual.’

‘In what way?’

‘It seems our client was well known for his connections with the inland waterways system,’ he said, with the air of a man who’d been told of a particularly repulsive sexual fetish. ‘So his funeral will reflect that. It was Mr Longden’s specific request, and there’s money set aside for the necessities in his will. It will be a novel occasion, no doubt. I’m not conversant with the exact details, but I believe you’ll receive a formal invitation within the next day or two, Mr Buckley. As a member of the family.’

One last thing occurred to me, which showed my mind was working after all.

‘Who gets the property? The house and all that?’

‘The principal beneficiary.’

‘And that is?’

Mr Elsworth smiled condescendingly, as if he were performing a huge favour for an ignorant fool who’d just walked in off the street.

‘The main beneficiary of the will is a Miss Caroline Longden. Yet another of your relatives, I believe.’