Vivienne had been nagged by the thought of some dark secret or secrets that Jacques was hiding refused to go away. His good looks and charming personality were tempered by this as yet unanswered question. She preferred to think that someone like him could not be all bad.
This was, of course, complete and utter bollocks naturally… but it sounded rather nice to her.

Nevertheless, and despite her trying all sorts of things to distract her, she could not settle down at all the next morning. At other times like this, she’d have taken Betty for a marathon walk until both of them were unable to walk another step. Then they'd take a taxi back home from wherever they’d ended up, and have a hot bath together. Betty had loved a good bath.

As Vivienne looked towards where Betty's basket used to be, the sigh that came out of her mouth showed that she missed her dog an awful lot. Far more than she would ever admit to anyone but that was life and until she got settled wherever that was any thoughts of a replacement… Betty could never be replaced. Any thoughts relating to getting another dog would have to wait for the time being at least.

---

Just before eleven, Vivienne began to get herself ready to go to the Estate Agents as she’d promised. She almost stopped and called for Betty but stopped herself in time. With a sigh and a shrug, she put on her coat and opened the front door.

As she stepped outside, something didn’t feel quite right. Then she saw it.

The ‘For Sale’ sign had been pulled down and its post snapped in half.

“Bloody vandals…” she muttered to herself.

There wasn’t much to do but leave it where it was and head off to the Agents.

---

It didn’t take very long for Vivienne and Mr Thurston to agree on the best photos to use for the flyers and online album. Then she broached the subject of the vandalised sign.

“I saw the ‘For Sale’ board when I returned home last night. The problem is that it had been vandalised by the time I left this morning. It had been ripped out and the pole snapped in half.”

This news didn't phase him at all.

“Don’t worry about that Ms Carter. These things happen all the time. A few years back some students were found to have a collection of over one hundred different agents boards. It was all part of a competition that they were in with another college.”

Vivienne smiled before saying,
“Vandalism is another thing entirely. It shouldn’t happen.”

“True but some people don’t like other people owning nice things.”

His words hit the nail right on the head. He could have been talking about Vivienne’s two daughters.

“That is very true. True but sad nevertheless.”

“I’ll get another board put up tomorrow morning,” agreed Mr Thurston.

“When will the details go up on your website?”

He smiled at me.
“There is already a placeholder there. It has the details and the price but no pictures. We’ll get them uploaded later today and the downloadable flyer will be done for tomorrow.”

“Has there been any interest so far?”

“It is too early to say. Lots of people are looking at the site but rarely linger very long on a property until the pictures are there to back up the text. A picture is worth ten thousand words in this business.”

“Ok thanks.”

“Have you got yourself a solicitor lined up yet? For the conveyancing?”

“I’ll get onto that today. I’ll drop off the details when I have one sorted out.”

"Good. Then we are all set. To be honest, I don't think it will take very long to sell at that price."

Vivienne smiled back at him.

“That’s what I’m hoping but I’m not going to give it away… if you get my meaning.”

He grinned.

“I do Ms Carter, I do.”

---

Vivienne had prevaricated about engaging the services of a Solicitor for one reason and one reason only. That was simply that she hated the profession with one exception, her BFF, Verity May.

Verity had been working abroad for a few years when she and Rex got divorced otherwise, she would have used her services for the case. The ones she’d ended up using had tried to rob her blind during her divorce from Rex. That had left a bitter taste in her mouth that had lingered to this day. In the end, she took them to court for not releasing all the money that the financial settlement had stipulated. Rex had paid it in good faith but her scumbag of a lawyer decided that he’d withhold his fees from it and would not turn over the full amount until she agreed to that. The fees were way beyond what she’d agreed to, so she had no choice. Vivienne was left with no choice but to sue. The lawyer lost and received a severe reprimand from the Law Society. Even so, he flat out refused to pay her costs despite the judge awarding them to Vivienne’s side. This time, she’d obtained a high court writ and sent the Bailiffs into their offices. Only then did they pay up. The resulting loss of reputation thanks to the comprehensive coverage in the local media meant that his business foundered less than a year later after she’d had a quiet word with a Tax Inspector. The resulting audit of their accounts revealed a veritable litany of malpractice. A successful fraud case saw the three partners each spend over three years in jail. It was an act of somewhat bittersweet revenge but in general, the whole of the legal profession gave Vivienne a bad taste in her mouth.

That bad taste was right there front and centre in Vivienne’s mouth as she walked into the offices of Hammond, Grey and Strauss, Solicitors in Camden. She’d been told sometime before by another dog walker that they’d done a good job with her house sale. On that recommendation, she’d arranged to visit them to discuss the work that she needed doing.

Forty-Nine minutes later, she walked out of their offices, feeling a lot happier. Their standard ‘seller’ contract was just about perfect for her needs and the fees were all laid out in terms that were easy to understand. That was a very different experience from her last encounter with the profession.

Once Vivienne had returned home, she sent the details of the partner, a Ms Grey would be handling her sale with the Estate Agents.

Vivienne was then faced with the monumental task of downsizing.

As she pondered the monumental task that lay in front of her, Vivienne remembered reading an article on it and it said to take one item from each room and put it aside. If you have not found a need to use it within a week then it could be disposed of.

The problem was that living in a home for well over a quarter of a century, you seem to acquire so many bits that you really can’t do without or at least think that you can’t do without.

Then she had an idea and did some searching on the internet.

Within an hour she’d spoken to three ‘downsizing’ specialist companies. They were going to send someone around to scope the job. Vivienne didn’t like the fact that two of them were going to charge her £150 for the privilege of giving her a quote for the job but if she wanted at least two opinions and quotes then that is what she’d have to bite her lip and go with it.

Despite some glowing recommendations Vivienne wasn’t altogether convinced about these companies and the services that they offered but if it made sense to her then she’d go for it.

---

The next morning, Vivienne was woken up by the men arriving to put up the new ‘For Sale’ board. This time, the pole was made of a metal tube and not a bit of wood. She could see that they were determined not to let this one end up, looking like its predecessor. After half an hour they went away seemingly happy with their work.

Vivienne went out and inspected their work after she’d had some breakfast. It looked pretty solid and was bolted to her front gate post. As the posts for the gate were sunk almost three feet into the ground and then concreted in place she felt sure that it could survive the vandals should they decide to return.

When Vivienne returned to the kitchen, she had another tinge of sadness. The whole house seemed so silent without Betty. Vivienne knew deep down that she’d have to get another dog sooner or later but felt it was the wrong thing to do just before she moved house. Betty had taken more than three months to get used to her new home so it would be wrong to get a new puppy and then move home just as her new pet was getting used to one home only to be taken to another one wherever that might be.

Thinking about Betty brought her thoughts back to Jacques. He’d made a great fuss over Betty when she just ignored his ducks, chickens and geese. Betty had plenty of experience with birds from the heath. She knew that Geese and Swans were bad news so she’d given up trying to chase them after the third close encounter with the snapping beak of a Canada Goose mother protecting her chicks. After that Betty had kept a good distance from any bird larger than a Blackbird.

Jacques didn’t seem to have any pets. It was fairly clear to her from her visit and seeing him at the Farmers Market that the income from his plant sales was what he lived on from week to week. That led her to wonder… no, imagine all sorts of things about him and his life and how he’d ended up here. She didn’t believe his tale about Asthma because he used copious amounts of straw as bedding for his animals and to keep slugs and snails away from his plants. Vivienne knew from first-hand experience as a child just how dusty straw could be.

All this cogitation and imagining eventually led her to come to a decision. There was a mystery and it needed solving. Vivienne knew just the person who could give her some help along the way.

With a hopeful look on her face, she picked up the phone and called one of her former colleagues.

“Hello Alec, it’s Vivienne.”

“I’m doing fine. You?”

“Yes, retirement has been very busy. I’ve decided to sell up and move out of London.”

“It looks like I’ll probably end up Devon. That’s why I called. I need your help.”

“This is NSFW [2] I’m afraid. Do you still go to ‘The Hole in the Wall’[1] after work on Fridays before you get the train home?”

“That’s great. I’ll see you there. Say 6:30.”

“No, it won’t come back to bite you. I’ll tell you tomorrow. See you then.”

Vivienne ended the call and found that she’d hardly breathed the whole time that she was on the phone to Alec. She was asking her best… or rather former best investigator to break some rules for her so that she could satisfy her inquisitiveness. There are ways to obtain information about someone what did not leave an electronic trail if you knew where to look. Vivienne knew thanks to her job, that the HMRC had huge amounts of historic information about people that were not kept on a computer. No computer means little or no trail and therefore, no comeback

Her former team had used this data source all the time when starting an investigation into someone suspected of Tax Evasion or other wrongdoing so for Alec to look up some data for her would not arouse any suspicion whatsoever. Looking at this data gave them a historical perspective right at the start of an investigation. It often made looking at any current breaches of the rule and even illegalities a lot easier to spot. The sad part was that many other departments ignored this huge source of data but it meant that Vivienne’s team had the top clean-up rate in the whole of the HMRC.

The only possibly fly in the ointment was that her successor could well have changed everything around in the few weeks since she’d retired.

Thinking about her replacement made her shiver. If ever there was a modern embodiment of the fictional Mr Macawber, then Reginald Fox was him down to a ‘T’. He looked slimy and had little beady eyes that were behind ‘granny’ glasses that naturally had very thick lenses. Without them on, he was as blind as a bat. He also sported a comb-over hairstyle that would give the one worn by President Donald Trump a good run for its money.

No one in the department liked him or would even give him the time of day. He was useless at the job yet somehow, he’d managed to wheedle himself into becoming the successor to Vivienne. His devotion to nitpicking knew no bounds. She knew that it would not be long before the likes of Alec and the rest of the team either put in for transfers or left the HMRC entirely. She’d seen the effect that people like him had on others at first hand. Her boss at her job previous to the HMRC was Macawber and Fagin rolled into one. She lasted just long enough to get another job.

Her successor was a weasel of a man named, Reginald Fox. He had an HMRC wide reputation for being a boot licker/ass crawler yet the powers that be thought him perfect to take over her job. She was just glad to be out the place but she did feel more than a bit sorry for those she’d left behind.

Her thought process was interrupted by the front doorbell ringing. She wasn’t expecting anyone so if it was someone trying to get her to spend thousands on a new drive or anything like that they’d get sent away with a flea in their ear.

She opened the door to find her daughter Janice. Vivienne smiled at her daughter. Janice made a move to come into the house but Vivienne stood in her way.

"Hello, Mum. Can I come in?"

Vivienne’s smile broadened.

“Yes, come in.”

Janice waited for her to close the door. All very proper. Vivienne began to wonder if those stern words she’s said to her daughters had started to sink in.

“Please go on through to the kitchen,” Vivienne said quietly.

Once they were in the kitchen, she took Janice’s jacket and hung it up. Then she sat down. Janice followed suit. She noticed that it had that ‘new’ smell about it. That was not unusual for her daughter.

“I wasn’t expecting you today. Is anything wrong?”

"Are you actually going to do it then?"

“Do what?” she said innocently knowing full well what Janice was talking about.

“Sell my home, that’s what.”

“Darling, you have to accept that this isn’t your home anymore. You have a perfectly good family home in Crouch End. After all, that is where you live with your husband and children. This isn't your home now and hasn’t been for well over ten years besides, I have been telling you and your sister for years that I would move away when I retired.”

“But… I grew up here.”

“You did. That’s perfectly true. Then you moved on with your life. Now it is time for me to do the same.”

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t have a clue.”

“That’s crap Mum and you know it.”

“No, it isn’t. I have not even started to look at properties yet. I haven’t looked at even one property and that includes on-line. If you want to check my computer then please go right ahead. The only property company you will find is the one handling the sale and those two jerks from Highgate Village.”

She pushed the keyboard towards her daughter.
“I’m sure that you know my password. After all, how many times did you order stuff in my name when you were short of a few quid while at University eh?”

Janice didn’t take up her offer but carried on the offensive.
“Then you know where you are going then?”

“That’s it, I really don't know where I'm going to end up. I have had a job offer from a charity in Norfolk. I might go there but I have not thought about it in detail at the moment."

That was a bit of a fib but Janice would never know it.

“Mum! You know very well that most charities don't pay very well at all. How will you live?"

“I’ll live very well thank you very much. What with the money that this place will give me and my pension I’ll be very comfortable.”

“But your pension won’t start until you are what? Sixty-Six or Sixty-Seven.”

“That’s my state pension. I can start receiving my HMRC pension anytime I want. I’ll get by so you don’t have to worry about me. Besides, I’ll have the money from this place to fall back on.”

Then Vivienne decided to change tack a bit.

“Did Suzanne put you up to this? You know how crazy she gets when she’s pregnant.”

“She didn’t know that I was coming here today but I do know that she’s hopping mad at you over this whole business. She is of the opinion that she deserves one-third of that three million or so that this place is on the market for."

"Suzanne is certainly keeping her ear to the ground then. I only agreed to the photos yesterday."

“I have to agree with her, she does have a point.”

“You mean to say that you think that you deserve the same share of money from the sale as your sister, don’t you?”

“Well? Don’t we?”

“No, you don’t. Let me make things perfectly clear to you.”

Vivienne stood up. Janice started to do the same.

“Stay there. I’m only going to fetch something from my office.”

She went upstairs feeling mad. She’d been thinking about money matters and Janice’s words had just made up my mind for her.

Vivienne returned to the kitchen carrying two sheets of paper.

She sat down and put her hand over the papers which were turned over so that her daughter could not read it until Vivienne deemed it to be appropriate.

“Did nothing of what I said at my Birthday Party sink in? I’m done handing over loads of money to you two and getting nothing in return for it?”

Janice sat there with a blank expression on her face.

“Do you remember signing this?”

She turned over the first sheet of paper.

Janice read it and pushed it back to her mother.

“So?”

"So? Is that all you can say? The document that you signed of which this is a copy clearly states that the deposit for your first house was provided by me and that I could request its return at any time after three years. That means my dear daughter, you owe me twenty-five grand plus interest. Do you want me to go to court to get it back?”

“Mum! You wouldn’t… would you?”

"If you and your sister don't back off then I'll have no alternative but to take steps to recover the debt that you and she have."

“But you are our mother?”

“And I clearly remember saying that ‘The Bank of Mum is closed’ when I spoke at my so-called birthday party or did you simply tune anything I said out? Yet here you are less than three weeks later demanding each of you to receive one-third of the money I'm going to get for the sale of this house?"

“We… We didn’t mean it like that?”

“Er… How else can it be interpreted? I don’t think that there is any scope for misunderstanding. As a result, I was toying with making some changes to my will.”

Vivienne turned over the second sheet of paper.

"As a result of the demands of that you and your sister have made, these are the changes that I will be making to my will. Until today, they had been just ideas but now? Coming out and asking for what amounts to a million quid from me was truly the last straw.”

When she’d finished speaking, Vivienne pushed the paper over so that Janice could read what it said.

Janice read the document. The expression on her face told Vivienne that it was hitting home hard.

“You can’t do this. Mum, you really can’t.”

“I can and I will. As a result of what has happened here today, I’ll be making this official later today.”

“But… it says that Suzanne and I are to get nothing in the event of your death.”

“That is perfectly correct. My current will, as you well know, has provision for you both to receive a few hundred thousand from my estate. The remainder goes to charity. This codicil changes that and specifically excludes either of you from benefitting from my estate.”

“Why? Why are you doing this?”

“Isn’t it rather obvious? You come here and as bold as brass asked me for the best part of a million quid because you and your sister think that you deserve it? That really is a bit rich after all that I've done for both of you in financial terms over the years."

Janice couldn’t look her mother in the eye. Her gaze went to the floor.

“You do remember. I’ve let your debt to me slide but I could easily go to court with the documents you signed and get a lien on your home. Then you would have fun trying to sell it. You can tell your sister that I’d do it to hers as well. You know how I am when it comes to money. I don’t make jokes when money is involved. My job taught me that money is no laughing matter.”

“Mum! You wouldn’t? Would you?”

“I won’t go to court at the moment but anymore demands such as this and I will. You should know not to mess with me when it comes to money. I didn't spend all my working life at the HMRC not to know how money can corrupt people. I'm not going to let my money corrupt my daughters."

“Mum? Corrupt is rather strong.”

"Ok, influence then. The root of all evil is money. Frankly, I'd rather give it all away than let you two squander it. Neither of you is very good at balancing the books, are you?”

“That’s nothing to do with you.”

"Really? What is your total credit card debt these days? That jacket must have cost a few hundred if that Marc Jacobs label is anything to go by. How much do you earn? I taught both of you to live within your means yet both of you have failed miserably in that respect. Well, my love as I said very clearly at my birthday party, the bank of ‘Mum’ is closed and for good.”

Janice was fuming. Her face had gone red, bright red.

“I think you had better leave before you say or do something you might regret.”

Janice stormed out of the kitchen only to return a moment later to grab her coat.

Vivienne followed her to the front door which she slammed shut in her face. She opened it and looked out.

Vivienne had to smile as she watched her daughter try to destroy the ‘For Sale’ sign. After a few seconds, she saw her mother watching and gave up.

She waited until Janice had driven away before going back inside. As she closed the door behind her, Vivienne wondered if Janice would manage to get home to Crouch End before crashing her car such was her mental state.

Vivienne returned to her kitchen and washed up the breakfast dishes. Her phone remained silent so she assumed that Janice had made it home unscathed.

After drinking a cup of tea, Vivienne picked up the phone and called an old friend of hers who just happened to be a lawyer who specialised in Wills and Probate. She was the current executor of her estate.

"Hello, Verity.”

“I’m fine. You?”

“Look Verity, I need to add a codicil to my will. If I send the text over could I pop in later tomorrow and sign it?”

“It is rather urgent. I’m cutting my daughters entirely out of my will.”

Vivienne managed a slight chuckled at Verity’s reply.

“I’ll tell you all about it over dinner if you are free?”

“Good. I’ll see you later. Just before five then?”

“Ok bye.”

She ended the call and found that she was visibly shaking. That was it. It had taken long enough but finally, she’d burned the bridges with her daughters.

The more that they messed with her, the more she fancied Jacques and …
“And to hell with any risks that might ensue…” she muttered to herself.

This was a very different Vivienne from the one that said goodbye to the HMRC just a few weeks before.

[to be continued]

[1] “The Hole in the Wall” is a pub just outside the front of London’s Waterloo Station. It is in a couple of the arches of the railway viaduct that leads to the nearby Charing Cross Station.
[2] NSFW = Not Safe For Work.