The Long Gallery, chapters two and three (standard:drama, 1591 words) [2/6] show all parts
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Aug 01 2014	Views/Reads: 2139/1655	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
For a reason unknown to her, Daisy Truman has inherited the vast Harvest Hall, deep in the Sussex countryside. But her troubles are just beginning.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

‘So that's your decision, Miss Truman. Well, so be it.' Alistair
Jeffries sighed, removed his spectacles, and after nibbling at one of 
the arms, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on Daisy, placed them on the 
desk. ‘There is a sum of money set aside for maintenance. Not a vast 
amount I'm afraid; most of the liquid assets have been allocated to 
William as you are aware. But it was your uncle's wish that the grounds 
– and indeed the house, be maintained in a manner reflecting the 
building's dignity.' He sighed, his hands travelling restlessly and 
randomly over an assortment of papers on his desk. 'I suggest, 
therefore that you direct your sights towards employing a gardener or 
two, in a full-time capacity. I can, if you wish, attempt to establish 
contact with former staff ...' 

‘No – that won't be necessary, thank you.' Daisy Truman cut him short
for reasons that escaped her. She should be grateful for assistance in 
finding experienced and trustworthy staff, but something about 
Jeffries' demeanour rankled her. 

Jeffries had taken his spectacles again, and with his mouth tightly
clasping an arm was regarding her intently. Daisy kept her cool though 
it wasn't easy – for whatever reason Jeffries appeared to be trying to 
intimidate her. ‘You do realise,' he said at length, ‘that efficient 
and responsible staff are ...' 

‘Difficult to find ... I'm well aware of that.' Daisy raised her head in
defiance at his lecturing tone. ‘I manage a number of staff myself as 
it happens, and my line of work is not dissimilar, so I can cope.' 
Before he could react she pressed on. ‘I believe you were a friend of 
my uncle's, is that right?' 

‘I wouldn't put it quite like that.' Jeffries' middle-aged countenance
reddened, she noticed his teeth briefly bite into his bottom lip. ‘In 
some regards he was an acquaintance, and, as his solicitor, I obviously 
have access to certain information; might I ask why you supposed there 
was a stronger affiliation?' 

Daisy shrugged. She was sure she'd seen the man present in the gallery
at Harvest Hall, but she'd been no more than a kid, and it seemed so 
long ago. Yet it was a definite impression, nonetheless. 

Leaning his elbows on the desk, Jeffries added, ‘Your uncle frequented
the Spa Club, as indeed I did, and from what I know of him he was a 
damned decent fellow, that's why I ...' 

‘Have you any idea why he should leave Harvest Hall and its grounds to
me?' Daisy asked bluntly, reaching forward. ‘After all, one would have 
thought his immediate family was a more obvious choice.' 

‘I've really no idea, Miss Truman,' Jeffries said tiredly, he threw out
his hands, cleared his throat, looking suddenly uncomfortable. ‘It 
really isn't my capacity to sit in judgment on family affairs. I can 
only assume that Mr Weston felt his grandson too immature to undertake 
the responsibilities involved.' 

Daisy's blue eyes widened. ‘You can hardly be unaware there's bad blood
in the family?' 

‘Miss Truman, as I've said, I'm really not party to any personal family
affairs, and I really do not think that's in my ...' ‘You must know 
there was a daughter, Clarissa,' Daisy added, her voice dropping in 
tone. 

‘If I am not mistaken, Miss Weston had been out of contact with your
uncle for a number of years, therefore I assume she did not feature 
amongst his considerations.' 

‘Nevertheless, you were obviously familiar enough to know of her
existence.' 

‘Historical information tells me that,' Jeffries countered gruffly. 

‘Miss Truman, if you are unhappy to accept the inheritance, you can
always decline.' 

Daisy fixed her eyes on Jeffries, holding them steady. ‘No. I'm not
going to do that.' 

‘Very well.' Jeffries breathed out heavily, placed his hands on the arms
of his office chair and made to heave himself up. ‘Now, if you don't 
mind, Miss Truman, I must be getting along. I have a lunch date with a 
client, and I'm running short on time as it is – I'll finalise matters 
and pass the details to my secretary – if you'd care to arrange an 
appointment with her. And I would press upon you once more the 
importance of employing responsible staff. If I can be of help, then 
please call.' 

Jeffries extended a hand, a brusque invitation for her to leave, which
she did promptly after making a final appointment with the solicitor's 
secretary. 

What was it about Jeffries that caused her unease? His manner – ranging
from pressurising, condescending – and then when she questioned him on 
his family connections – defensive. 

But despite Jeffries' refusal to concede to close family connections he
had been a confidant of her uncle, okay, her recollections were 
shadowy, but they existed, and her instinct told her she was right. He 
obviously couldn't, or wouldn't recall as much. But why play it down? 

Adam, her colleague and friend, had been strangely subdued since their
visit to Harvest Hall a couple of days previous. That was probably down 
to how she'd locked him out of her thoughts while reliving memories of 
her childhood there. But he'd raised the question that had been 
niggling her since the news of her inheritance broke – why her? There 
was William, and to a lesser extent Clarissa, who was out there 
somewhere – And there were other nephews and nieces with an equal, if 
not greater claim than hers; when it came down to it, she'd be hard 
pressed to find fond memories of Uncle Joshua. 

Out in the open Daisy took a large gulp of midday air before descending
onto Tunbridge Wells high street. 

No time to start unravelling the mystery now. She had an office to
manage, plans to formulate, but first and foremost – a proposal to put 
to her friends.   


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