Inheritance by Jenny Pattrick Read Free Book Online Page B

her first choice. She’s been badgering the High Commission for years to help her find relatives. There was a brother who refused point-blank to have anything to do with her. Would not even acknowledge her letters. Then she approached three younger half-siblings, one a male McPhee who replied to her letter. That fellow, I forget his name, wrote to us at the High Commission saying that Gertrude had cheated him and his sisters out of their father’s inheritance fifty years ago and would I please inform her that if he heard from her again he would start criminal proceedings.’
    ‘Fascinating,’ I said.
    ‘Indeed. That was a couple of years ago. Finally she unearthed this O’Dowd. I would say out of desperation, given her views on the Chinese. She must have known about him all along – she traced him, not us.’
    ‘He seems a nice enough sort.’
    ‘Yes, but not legitimate, as she implied today. I’ve seen the birth certificate. Her sister was unmarried and “of unsound mind”. The father dead before John was born. It was a Sister of Compassion who signed the certificate and the papers of adoption.’
    ‘Indeed,’ I said. ‘Not the sort of heir Gertrude would have in mind.’
    Giles chuckled. ‘Hence the embroidered truth. By the way, keep all that to yourself. I gather O’Dowd thinks Gertrude’s version is the real McCoy.’
    Depressing. If Giles knew, the ‘secret’ would be all over Apia in a week.
    The tablecloth flapped against my hand. The wind was rising. Outside, the huge leaves of the breadfruit trees rose and fell as if to fan their green footballs of fruit.
    ‘Is bad weather predicted?’ I asked Giles.
    ‘Nothing serious. There’s the possibility of a hurricane well to the north. Won’t come this way.’
    Nevertheless, I felt uneasy. The air smelt different. Simone looked over at me. She recognised it too. She had left her chair some time ago and was sitting comfortably cross-legged with Vaifou, her headmistress friend. Somehow Jeanie had migrated with her. I don’t remember seeing John and Stuart leave. Perhaps they were showing guests around the plantation.
    Gertrude felt the change in the air too. Her age showedwhen she creaked to her feet and slowly straightened her back, but her voice still carried authority.
    ‘Bad weather comes,’ she said. She walked to the record player and lifted the needle. ‘Listen!’
    We all heard it then. The cicadas had fallen silent. You get so used to their shrieking you blot it out. Now the silence seemed deafening.
    ‘Bad,’ said Gertrude. ‘Very bad. I think we had better finish here.’ She was a difficult old lady but she cared deeply about the plantation and ran it well. Her cacao trees came first, second and third with her. We were left to leave or stay as we wished while she called back a couple of the plantation workers, who were carrying baskets of food to the guests’ cars. In a quick stream of immaculate Samoan, she delivered orders to cover the drying cacao beans, tie down the screens in the indoor drying shed, stack the fragrant sacks of dry beans safely under the house. Her workers clearly respected her wishes (or feared the consequences of disobedience). The feast was forgotten in a flurry of running feet and heaving activity.
    ‘Good God,’ said Giles. ‘What a storm in a teacup! Has she lost her marbles do you think?’
    Simone, tugging at my arm to come to the car answered him. ‘She’s right, Giles, for once; she feels it. She was here for the last hurricane. Probably the one before that. She’ll know the signs. Get home before the road is blocked.’
    John came hurrying towards us. He looked happy, animated, his dark eyes bright. ‘Can you take Jeanie and me back with you? My aunt thinks it better. She believes the plantation may be isolated for a while and she would like me to keep an eye on things in town. Stuart will stay to give her a hand here.’
    ‘Perfect, perfect,’ cried Simone. I hoped the other two would