Clara reached for her own phone.
“Bring them to the kitchen door. You can wait there with them while I call my lawyer.”
“So you’ll let us in?”
“The children need somewhere warm. That is what I’m saying.”
Clara watched Vanessa cross the gravel. Noah climbed out first, holding his little sister’s coat. Maisie emerged clutching a stuffed rabbit by one ear. Neither child looked surprised by the shouting. That hurt Clara more than the key.
She admitted them through the kitchen and set milk on the stove. Vanessa remained beside the doorway, still wearing her coat.
Noah glanced at the closed sitting-room door.
“Is Lily’s room ours now?”
Clara turned off the burner before answering.
“No. Lily’s room is Lily’s. There are other beds.”
“Dad said she doesn’t need it anymore.”
Vanessa flinched.
Clara put three mugs on the table, though her hands wanted to do something less useful.
“Your father was mistaken.”
When Miriam answered, Clara carried the phone into the pantry. She described the suitcases, the key, the message. Then she said the thing she had been ashamed to say since the previous afternoon.
“He brought papers yesterday. Said the trust needed updating. When I refused, he told me I was getting confused.”
“Did you sign anything?”
“No.”
“Good. Keep it that way. I’m coming.”
Clara pressed her forehead against the cool shelf. Between jars of peaches stood the biscuit tin her husband had used for loose screws. She had kept it because throwing it away had once seemed impossible.
“I don’t know what he’s done, Miriam.”
“Then we’ll find out before he asks you to fix it.”
A car engine sounded outside before Clara finished washing the mugs. Ethan’s tires scattered gravel against the gatepost. He came through the garden carrying a leather folder, his smile already arranged.
At the kitchen door, Vanessa stepped into his path.
“You signed the trust.”
He looked past her at Clara.
“Of course I did. Years ago. Before we agreed on the new arrangement.”
“We agreed on nothing,” Clara said.
Noah stopped drawing at the table. Ethan noticed him and softened his voice.
“Why don’t you take your sister upstairs?”
Clara moved beside the children.
“They’re finishing their milk.”
Ethan set the folder down.
“Mum, we really don’t have time for this.”
Vanessa caught his sleeve.
“Where is the money from our house?”
His face changed so quickly Clara almost missed it. The smile remained, but his eyes fixed on his wife.
“Not here.”
“You said it was held for the purchase. You said your mother wanted us to have the cottage because she was moving.”
“I was handling everything.”
