Every Picture Tells a Story - a little fiction from Lyssa Medana #HazardousToYourSanity
“So, your ex-wife hated this place,” Helen
said as they pulled up outside the large, neglected house. “Is that why you
only told me about it after we got married and had gone on honeymoon?”
Niall shrugged. “I didn't want to risk losing you. She said it felt haunted,”
he said. “And that it was full of dust traps.”
Helen stared at him. “Your flat is full of
dust traps,” she said, before grimacing. She had heard all about the ex-wife
from Niall’s friends. “I get it. Your flat is full of dust traps now but
she wouldn’t let you have them before.”
Niall looked embarrassed. “It sort of crept
up on me.”
Helen got out of the car and looked
around. “This could be a lovely place,” she said. “It’s quiet, of course, and
away from town, but it could be a really nice place to live.”
“I always liked coming here,” Niall said. “Uncle
Albert was always kind.”
“But he didn’t like your ex-wife either,”
Helen guessed. “Sometimes I almost feel sorry for her, but then I remember the
stories – and that’s just the stories with evidence.”
“I’ll show you around,” Niall said. “Uncle
Albert took me in after my parents died, and I spent a lot of time here when I
was a teenager.”
Helen followed him up the shallow stone
steps and watched him unlock the door. “And this is why your ex-wife left you?”
she asked. She turned and looked back over the untidy grounds. “It’s not so bad
from the outside,” she said. “What’s inside?”
Niall shrugged. “It’s nothing special,” he
said carefully as he stepped into the hall.
Helen followed him in. The hall was wide
and airy and there was a faint hint of polish in the air. Elegant pictures
lined the walls and the wooden floor gleamed. “It doesn’t look neglected,” she said.
“I have cleaners come in once a month to
keep down the dust,” Niall said. “And a gardener comes in now and then.”
Helen pushed open a door. “Is this a
library?” she asked.
Niall followed her. “It’s Uncle Albert’s
study,” he said. “He read a lot.”
Helen looked around the spacious room.
Bookshelves lined two walls and tucked into alcoves either side of the
fireplace and the bay window. A large mahogany desk was set to get the best
view of the garden through the window and several overstuffed armchairs were
set around a side table to make a perfect space for reading. She pulled out a
random book from the nearest shelf and raised an eyebrow as she flicked through
the first pages. “This is a first edition of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under
the Sea,” she said. “That’s worth a fortune!” She placed it reverently back
on the shelf.
“Uncle Albert had quite a few antiques and
stuff,” Niall said. “She was talking about selling them all, but I have such good
memories of them.” He smiled sadly. “I remember reading that book when I had
chickenpox and Uncle Albert sat with me in this room. He fed me ice cream and soup
to keep me going.”
Helen smiled. “Then we keep this the same,”
she said. “It looks like a great room. You’d have plenty of space to work and I
could bring in an extra desk.”
“You’d move here?” Niall asked.
Helen shrugged. “I suppose it depends on
the rest of the house,” she said. “But why not? You love this place, I can
tell.” She looked around with appreciation. “I don’t mind trying with an open
mind.”
Niall shuffled nervously next to the fireplace.
“You’ve probably heard a lot of stories about my ex-wife,” he said.
“And the divorce,” Helen said. “Apparently
the divorce was epic as well.”
“You see, everyone thought that Uncle
Albert had money,” Niall said. “I know that he invested in antiques, so a lot of
money must have gone on that. And he never seemed to be short of cash. He paid
for a private school for me and paid my way through university.”
“I remember hearing about how she screamed
for the missing money in the hearing,” Helen said. “And then got fined for
contempt of court.”
Niall nodded. “It was complicated. We hadn’t
been married long and friends dug up evidence that she’d been cheating all the
way through, I managed to stop her getting anything from the house and
contents. But the thing that made me go for divorce was that picture.” He
nodded at the painting, snug in a thick frame and hanging over the fireplace. “It’s
a still life celebrating the Dutch beating the British in a naval battle. Uncle
Albert’s will said that he’d put his money in the picture, but it’s just a
print.” He sighed. “I know he spent quite a bit on other paintings, but that
isn’t worth much. If he invested in it heavily, he would have wasted the money.
But I’ve always liked that picture, you know? It’s sort of complicated and
brooding.” He looked at Helen. “I could change it if you wanted, but I’d hate
to lose it completely. Anyway, my ex-wife lost it completely and screamed that
it would take ages to sell all the antiques and get her hands on her
fair share of the money.”
Helen looked at him thoughtfully. “You
know that I’m the practical one out of the two of us?” she said. “You know that
you get carried away while I deal with the basic, practical side of things?”
Niall nodded. “But I don’t think it will
help much here,” he said. “It’s all the clues that need to be put together. I
mean, the word Mercurious could refer to Mercury or the messenger of the
gods. So I checked in and around all the phones and the letter rack. The violin
could be a reference to music and I got someone out to check the old piano in
the parlour, but there was nothing.” He shook his head. “There’s a lot of clues
and ideas to explore.”
Helen sighed and fetched a step stool from
a corner. “Don’t worry about that,” she said as she climbed the small library
step and reached for the picture. “The clue is misleading.” She lifted down the
picture and carefully placed it face down on the desk. “I bet Uncle Albert
loathed your ex-wife as well,” she said. “And wanted to keep his money out of
her hands.”
“He didn’t like her at all,” Niall said. “He
would have loved you. But what are you doing with the picture?”
Helen picked up a letter opener and prised
back the tags holding the back of the picture in place. “You think like a poet,”
she said, grunting a little with the effort. “And your ex-wife thought like a
thief and a swindler.” She pushed back the last tag and lifted off the backing
board. “I suspect I think like your Uncle Albert.”
Niall looked confused. “Do you think it’s an
original?” he asked.
Helen pointed at the papers tucked between
the print and the backing board. “That looks like a bank pass book. Those look
like certificates of some sort.” She picked up a sheet of paper. “And this is a
list of bank accounts with all the details.”
Niall finally looked down and slowly pulled
out the paperwork. He flicked open the pass book. “There’s a lot of money in
here,” he whispered.
Helen smiled. “And it’s Uncle Albert still
keeping you safe,” she said. “Because the money was in the picture.”
1 comments:
Awww, I like this story!! She's so calm and kind, and then she finds the money. It's nice there's a list of bank accounts with details. Could have used one of those after my dad died. He refused to leave a list of all his accounts. One of the peculiarities of someone who lived through the Depression (US) and WWII.
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