Trelawny

Only Evil Lies within

Goodbye old – Hello new!

Gabrielle Marchant climbed into her car. She turned her head and looked back at the house she’d lived in for five long years, particularly the front door she had finally closed behind her. She now closed her eyes, thankful it was all over. Grateful for the opportunity to open a new door to a new life beckoning her forward.

Gabi, as she was known, looked at the rear of the car, packed jam-full of essential baggage; the sort she would wear, use to smell, and look nice too. Others to look at wistfully and to be reminded of happier memories before…...! Before? What she meant was before she met John Marchant. She was Gabi Tyler then. Becoming that name again, casting off other baggage, before leaving it behind the closed door she would never open and walk through again.

Gabi wasn’t religious or even believed in fate, but from the lowest ebb, two weeks ago, as she lay on the landing nursing a bloody nose and a split lip, she heard the postman call. At that moment she was trying to work out whether to go to work in the florist, which had been her escape from the hell which was her marriage to John. The biggest problem then was how to explain her bruised and battered face.

Her work colleagues knew how ‘accident’ prone she was; walking into doors, catching her mouth on the kitchen working surface, falling down the stairs? The biggest problem now was producing a new excuse for her facial injuries. The real issue was simpler, the business owner had pointed out; it was not her or her staff she had to convince but her regular customers. Gabi had been warned that there was only so much slack she could be offered before customers would start to look elsewhere for their flowers.

Getting up stiffly from having been kicked also, Gabi had made her way to the front door and the pile of letters lying scattered on the mat, which ironically had “WELCOME” embossed in large letters across its width. She gathered them up and took them to the kitchen where she would place them for John when he returned that evening.

Normally she didn’t bother checking; they were always for him. Gabi had asked any friends she did have left to avoid writing to the address where she lived in a suburb of London. She knew John would open them, looking for any sign she was ‘screwing around.’ Fat chance she thought; being married to him was enough of an incentive to never seek out a relationship with a man ever again.

Then, a glance identified one letter addressed to her. It was from the firm of solicitors and the postmark showed Cornwall. She frowned and placed it down near to where she was about to seat herself for a cup of tea, before walking across and switching on the kettle with its correct amount of water set to boil.

While she waited, her mind drifted to Janice. She was to be her escape route. Gabi recalled how they met in a coffee shop just off the high street. The place had been packed out, and as she looked around for somewhere to sit, a woman seated at a table for two raised her arm and waved. Gabi headed over.

‘Sorry, do I know you?’ Gabi asked the attractive woman occupier, still unsure if she should take the seat going spare or just wait for a table to be vacated.

‘No, but I’d like to.’ Gabi shook her head as the kettle clicked off, even now still stunned by the reply. That was how it had started, a long probing conversation which felt like a first date had led to further meetings before an invitation to dinner had moved everything onto territory Gabi had never imagined possible – lying naked, skin to skin with another woman.

As she poured boiling water over a tea bag, she shivered at the memory, conscious that it was now all that remained of an affair which was intended to be far more. Gabi squeezed the bag, realising how stupid she was to imagine she could escape. She had no money, nowhere else to live; she was battered regularly, but even then, it wasn’t too frequent. She had even convinced herself she had to try harder, to reduce the mistakes which drove John to get so angry with her. He said it was all her fault, and she was increasingly convinced it had to be.

Gabi looked at the letter with her name typed on the envelope. She wished she could type. She picked up the envelope, taking a sip of tea; she thought of Janice once again. Hadn’t she been looking for a way out too? Her marriage wasn’t violent, quite the opposite. Hers was so boring she had remarked that watching paint dry was more exciting, so why had she got cold feet at the eleventh hour?

Janice had phoned her at work and said the plan was off, that she had got caught up in the excitement of an illicit forbidden relationship, and instead she had settled for the security of dullness and boredom. Just two days away from her planned escape with another woman, then the lights went off. Gabi looked at the unopened letter through a blur as tears welled in her eyes. She knew those were tears of utter disappointment, certainly not of love; just a moment of hope shattered like a treasured ornament dropping to a hard stone floor and shattering into a thousand pieces. That was then, weeks earlier; now was now, and she had procrastinated enough, and the envelope was not going to open itself.

Gabi nearly dropped her cup when she read the first few lines. She did a reset and started once again from the beginning. The letter was brief; it explained how an aunt named Molly, someone Gabi had never heard mentioned, apparently knew of her existence. She had died and, in her Will, Gabi had inherited a large property in a Cornish coastal village. That was not all; she had been left a sum of money too, one hundred and fifty thousand pounds to be precise. She couldn’t read any more; her hands shook so much. There was a telephone number to call and a contact name too. There was a request to get in touch as soon as possible. Gabi dropped the letter on the table and stared ahead over the rim of her cup. Emotions started to boil over as an inevitable conclusion formed in her mind. Like the Children of Israel making their escape when the waters of the Red Sea parted, an escape route opened up for her too. Gabi had to get to a phone, but not the house phone in case John found where she had rung. This had to be kept secret; nobody could ever find out.

Two weeks had flown by. First the phone call, made from a public phone box, although these were now hard to find. The firm of solicitors based in St Austell needed to see Gabi in person. She had to provide her birth certificate and a photo identify. Gabi kept the former, together with her virtually unused passport, under a loose floorboard out of John’s reach. She had told him her mother had kept her birth certificate then lost it, while she herself had lost her passport. Both bald-faced lies but something all battered women learned to do to survive. She had departed early the following morning as soon as John had left for work; she hoped she would be back before he had returned home that same night, as a planned stay overnight in a hotel was out of the question.

Outside, Gabi started the car. Nothing was keeping her here now, and with her nosy neighbour thick with her husband John, there was always the chance he would ring him and tell him she had loaded the car to the gunnels. Gabi shivered as she tried to imagine her husband arriving home, blocking her means of exit, and dragging her inside for another beating. She reversed out, deciding not to give her former home even a glance as she moved forward. This was her plan now, no looking back and certainly no going back.

Gabi gripped the steering wheel, noticing how bare the ring finger on her left hand now looked. Two white circles where her wedding and engagement rings had sat until that morning, when with the aid of soap, she had slid them off and dropped them one by one into the upstairs toilet. She didn’t flush them; she had peed first, as an act of contempt, then after dropping the rings she had stared at them for a full minute while the magnitude of her decision overwhelmed her. She could see them both lying in the toilet bowl; she knew he would pee later too and see them. She smiled as she tried to imagine his flow suddenly cut off in shock, followed by anger at the message it would drive home.

Gabi was taking the same route she had used two weeks earlier as she travelled west with her trusty satnav keeping her company. At the firm of solicitors, she was shown into the offices of Melissa Grant, of Grant, Rowlands and Gough. Gabi had never sat facing a law expert before, and she wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Melissa Grant was a woman in her early fifties, her greying hair cut short in a manly hairstyle. She wore a charcoal grey suit over a white silk blouse. Coffee was ordered, and Gabi sat back and waited for everything to be explained.

The first thing was overcoming the shock of learning that, at the age of thirty-four, she had an aunt called Molly. One thing was for sure: she had grown up thinking her mother was an only child. This was to be an interesting discussion next time she visited the family home, although this was so long ago, Gabi wasn’t sure she would remember the way.

John had driven a thick wedge between herself and her family, and despite warnings not to marry John Marchant, she had gone ahead. As her mother had put it - you’ve made your bed, now lie in it! The question was, why in the intervening thirty-one years had her parents never mentioned a sibling who appeared to be wealthy and not like the family who had raised her. Hers had been a hand-to-mouth existence. Gabi had concluded Molly must have married well, and what she was about to inherit had itself been inherited? Then another question. Why choose her? Choosing to leave everything to a family member who must have been a total stranger?

‘I imagine this must have come as rather a shock?’ Melissa Grant opened the conversation finally.

‘You could say that, although bolt from the blue would be more accurate.’ Gabi replied submissively, nervously.

‘What does your husband feel about this?’ Now that was a question.

‘I am planning to leave my husband; he is violent, and I am fed up going into work having to lie about why my face is bruised. One can only trip over so many times or walk into enough doors before people start raising their eyes to the heavens.’ Melissa smiled, which seemed a bit out of place after what Gabi had just disclosed.

‘So, as well as dealing with your inheritance, you are likely to be seeking our services in other matters too?’ It was Gabi’s turn to smile now. ‘I can apply for a restraining order if you wish; this is not your fault even though you must have it drummed it into your head that somehow it must be?’ Gabi nodded.

‘Oh yes, I’d almost convinced myself, but this god-given opportunity has allowed me to look forward for the first time in five years. Please change the contact details; I don’t know how you found me, but now you have, you cannot send anything to my previous home address. If John finds out, he will muscle in and take over.’ Gabi watched as a note was taken of her final comments, then Melissa continued.

‘I’ll instruct my secretary to have your personal details transferred to wherever you choose. Have you any suggestions?’ Gabi thought briefly; the only place she could think of was the florist where she worked. She gave Melissa that address and made a mental note to let the owner, Celia, know to expect mail addressed to her.

‘I didn’t know I had an aunt called Molly, and I’m even more puzzled why she has left everything to me?’ Gabi had these two questions burning their way out of her skull; she was relieved she had finally got them out into the open, but would Melissa Grant even know?

‘Normally, a law firm will take instructions from a client and just stick to their wishes regarding property, chattels and money. It is not our job to be involved in how decisions were made and issues relating to the relationships of those involved. Obviously, we look out for irregularities, any sense that pressure is being applied to sign over that which I have just described. In the case of Molly Pearson ne Tyler, this was different, and she predicted you would have these questions when you came here.’ She paused. ‘Did you bring your birth certificate?’ Gabi, who was concentrating hard on Melissa’s words, came back to the present and quickly realised she had just been asked a question.

‘Of course.’ She replied, reaching down for her bag and removing the document plus her passport, which she handed over. ‘These are the documents you asked for.’ Melissa opened the passport and compared the picture with the woman seated opposite and was satisfied; she handed it back. She now took the document and unfolded it.

‘Have you ever noticed that details of your parents are rather sketchy; your mother’s name is displayed, but your father is shown as unknown, haven’t you always thought that strange?’ Gabi had seen this.

‘Of course, I always wondered. I did ask my mother, but she said she wouldn’t discuss it and to let sleeping dogs lie.’ Melissa then explained further.

‘What I have been instructed to tell you now is going to be extremely hard for you to hear. I think you need to have a very frank discussion with your mother upon your return and demand she answers questions you are likely to have after I have explained. She will owe you that much.’ Gabi sat back; she had always felt there was something which was never discussed. Some dark secret, and as a result there had always been a lack of warmth between herself and her parents.

‘Do I have to know? Can’t I just accept my inheritance and just see Aunt Molly as my saviour? The person who unwittingly allowed me to escape a brutal marriage?’ Melissa nodded then answered.

‘You can, of course, but it will drive you mad. My advice is to let me share with you what I was told, and then you can decide what to do. It is everybody’s right to know who they are and know where they came from.’ Gabi felt some dark cloud was about to float overhead and shut out the sun. It would perpetuate and condemn her to eternal gloom.

‘Okay, I’m listening.’

Gabi was making great progress. She had chosen the motorway route this time, rather than the slow, often congested roads she had used that illuminating day. A cursory glance at the satnav told her she still had 70 further miles to travel as she reached Exeter. She was dying to pee and a break for coffee would provide that relief plus some time to stretch her legs and relax.

Later, as she sat at a window seat, watching traffic hurtle by, Gabi began to wonder how it would feel to open the doors to her new home, using the keys Melissa had handed over as she left the offices of Grant Rowlands and Gough two weeks earlier. What she’d been told, what had been explained, had been a shock. In fact, for days afterwards she’d felt devastated and even betrayed. She even wondered what she was about to see would ever compensate for what she now knew.

Upon returning home, thankfully before John had arrived home from work, Gabi had time to call her mother; she knew now she had handled it badly, becoming accusing instead of conciliatory. Perhaps it was the distance in time since they had previously spoken, but any hope of her adding her side of the story had been put out of reach, kicked into the long grass. Gabi hadn’t mentioned her inheritance, just her relationship to both women. That had been enough for her mother to close down and remind Gabi of the decision she had made five years earlier. The call had ended acrimoniously, and Gabi felt it was terminal too.

Refreshed, Gabi was back on the road. This was unfamiliar territory for a city girl, someone unused to views of open sea. She had checked the postcode of her property and Google Earth had displayed a location where this was about to change her life, big time. Gabi put on the radio and tried that as a distraction from the seemingly endless road ahead. The road then forked and Cornwall beckoned. Reaching St Austell and heading further south, Gabi realised this would soon be her main shopping location.

She noticed all the major stores were located there; the only issue would be negotiating the narrow lanes which would take her to and from where she lived. This was what was facing her now; tiny roads which threaded their way through the countryside, like tiny capillary arteries within her body, growing expectant and more excited as each mile was passed. There were regular lay-bys, pull-in places where cars could pass. Twice she’d had to reverse and ease in to let traffic by, one a farm tractor which she imagined was a common sight on these roads.

Then, with her satnav telling her she was just two miles away, a turn appeared on her left and as if in an answered, but unasked prayer, a sign appeared with the word “Trelawny” emblazoned along its length. Gabi’s heart raced as she realised this was where she was headed, where she needed to be. She continued, and as she progressed, the terrain dropped down ahead, and a vision straight from heaven opened up before her. All she could see was blue. The colour of a near cloudless sky becoming greener as it joined the sea horizon. Immediately below, in front and on both sides, were fields of ripening wheat and as she progressed, a house appeared on her left.

She reached an open gate. It had a sign up, “Trelawny”. This was it. This was hers. She had arrived. She pulled in, continuing along a gravel drive to a gable-fronted house which looked far from modern. She stopped and got out, standing by her open car door staring at her inheritance. The house was large, but hardly a mansion; it was old too, and Gabi sensed a bit neglected and in need of repair and modernisation. One thing was noticeable: the gardens which surrounded the property, together with the lawns, were immaculate, so the woman who had lived here until recently had either been a very keen gardener or she had help. Gabi stopped, and she was about to close her door when her mind was jerked back to the immediate present.

‘Who are you and what do you want?’

To read more read forr free on KDP Select or follow the links below.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Trelawny-Only-Evil-Lies-Within-ebook/dp/B0H8FSFCCZ

https://www.amazon.com/Trelawny-Only-Evil-Lies-Within-ebook/dp/B0H8FSFCCZ