Part One: Honey
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Heaving a weary sigh, Honey threw open the door to her room and flopped onto the bed. Trixie trailed behind, apparently deep in thought. She entered the room more slowly, shut the door with a soft click and sank onto the floor with her back against it.
“Now we’ve got to rethink everything,” Honey moaned. “Why couldn’t Dan have told us what he knew earlier, so that we wouldn’t have thought of such a perfectly perfect solution to all our problems, only to have him ruin it?”
They had just returned from questioning Dan on his knowledge of strange happenings, a meeting in which their working theory had been torn to shreds. Trixie pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, covered in yellow, green and pink highlights, from the pocket where she had shoved it.
“Do you have any highlighter pens?” she asked, smoothing the page out on the floor. “And a pen to write with?”
Her friend retrieved the items from the pen tray of her immaculately neat desk and settled face down on the bed, to get a better view of the proceedings. On the floor, Trixie first added a few entries to the existing list and then began to swipe bands of colour over the already well-highlighted page.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a new piece of paper?” Honey suppressed a smile at the impatient look on Trixie’s face. “This one’s getting kind of messy.”
“I’m almost finished,” she replied. “Here. What do you think of this, now?”
Honey cast her eye down the page, frowning slightly as she tried to decipher its meaning. Before, she remembered, Trixie had used pink for events in Winter Rock, yellow for events in Sleepyside and green for co-incidences. Most of the yellow entries had been turned orange; several of the green entries had become a dirty brown. Presumably, this meant that far more was related to their problem than they had previously believed.
“So, now we’ve got the girl who was pretending to be you, both in Sleepyside and here,” mused Honey, “both of your bosses’ accidents, the dead man – Andrew King – with Jim’s ID and the facts that you can see our house from where he died and that he was murdered, the hair clip in your garden, someone in the summerhouse at Ten Acres, Daddy’s mysterious envelope, someone trying to sell Jim’s house, J. - P.L. (whatever that is) and the fake advertisement.”
“Exactly,” said Trixie. “All that stuff to do with my parents and the bank is separate from this and so is everything to do with your aunt.”
“That’s a big relief,” said Honey. She tapped the list with a slender finger. “Do you think this is everything?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” she said, “Dan was holding back information. How about the rest of the Bob-Whites? Maybe some of them know something that we don’t. We were going to ask them all, before we got distracted by what Dan said.”
“We still will,” Trixie muttered. “But first, we need to think about this a little more. What are the things we need to know?”
Honey frowned. “Who is doing all these things, and why?”
“We need to break it down a little further.” Trixie hopped up from her position on the floor and started to pace the small room. “If this list is divided up right, the people who are being targeted are Jim, myself and – presumably – your father.”
“Jim knows what was in Daddy’s envelope.” Honey selected a notebook and pencil from her desk and began to write. “I mean, my father mentioned to Mother and me that there was a problem at his company, but that it was under control and nothing for us to worry about, but he never really gave us any details and I’m not certain that there hasn’t been something else since. If it’s related, maybe he’s told Jim about it.”
“So, that’s one specific thing we’ll have to ask Jim,” Trixie continued. “After that, we need to figure out if any of these other things might actually be related.”
“If you want Aunt Vera to be questioned, you’ll have to do it yourself,” Honey warned. “And there’s no way that I want to investigate my aunt’s car accident. As far as I’m concerned, that’s all it was.”
“You’re probably right.” The other girl stopped her pacing, deep in thought. “Then, there’s the summerhouse. I never did investigate it for myself. We don’t even know if it’s still being used and I only have Bobby’s word for it that it was ever used at all.”
Honey tapped the pencil against the paper. “I guess we could go back to Sleepyside for the weekend.” Her friend nodded, seeming deep in thought. “Trixie? Did you hear what I said?”
“What? Oh, yeah. We’ll go back to Sleepyside on Saturday.” She bit her bottom lip. “Honey? Who would want to harm your father and Jim and me? It doesn’t make sense.” The pacing started again. “I mean, I could understand it if someone wanted to get to both your Dad and Jim, or both Jim and me, but the other way is kind of strange.”
“How about someone connected with one of our past cases that had something to do with Dad?” Honey suggested, making another note. “We should try to make a list of all the people it could be.” She cast a glance at Trixie’s last attempt at list-making. “I could do that.”
Trixie nodded. “I think we should also try to investigate the girl who was impersonating me. If we can find her, it might give us more clues to what’s going on.” She turned to face her best friend. “Then there’s the big question: why was Andrew King watching the house? I have a feeling that once we know that, all this will make a lot more sense.”
Saturday, May 28, 2005
“Hon? Are you there?” She heard Trixie’s voice through the closed bedroom door and wondered what was bothering her friend.
“Come in, Trix.”
The door opened and a blonde head appeared. “I’ve been thinking,” she announced, without preamble, “but I can’t decide whether we should investigate the clubhouse further and tip off whoever’s using it to the fact that we know, or if we should try to catch them out. I talked it over with Jim, but we just can’t decide.” Before Honey could respond, her friend continued. “See, the trouble is that they must have picked the lock, or something. Jim’s certain that he had the place as secure as it could be. The door definitely wasn’t unlocked, but they still managed to get in without doing any damage that we can find.”
“How hard would that be?” Honey wondered, aloud. At Trixie’s blank look she suggested, “Maybe Dan would know. Should I go and ask him?” Trixie shot her a smile of thanks and she set off through the house.
“Dan? Are you home?” Honey called through the partly opened door. She gave it a gentle push. “Oh! I’m so sorry; I didn’t realise anyone was actually here.” Her face was tinted pink as she backed away from the scene she had interrupted.
“No, it’s okay, Honey,” Dan assured, letting go of the pretty girl he had been kissing. “Shari was just leaving.”
“That’s right,” she agreed. Her silky, brown hair swung forward as she leaned down to pick up her bag, before she slipped out through the doorway and was gone.
“Was there something you wanted?” Dan asked, when Honey had spent almost a minute staring after her.
“What? Oh! I’m sorry. Yes, I was just wondering…” Her brow creased in thought. “I’m sure I’ve seen her somewhere before.”
“You came here to ask me where you’ve seen Shari before?”
Honey shook her head. “Of course not. I came here to ask you about picking locks. Now that I’m here, I can’t concentrate because I can’t think where I’ve seen her before.” She frowned in frustration. “I can’t help but think it was something to do with Aunt Vera, but I don’t see how they could have been in the same place at the same time.”
A look crossed Dan’s face, which set off alarm bells in Honey’s head. All at once, she knew the answer to her own question. “She was here the day that Aunt Vera tried to take me away, wasn’t she?”
“Well… I guess …I don’t know…” Dan hedged.
“She was!” Honey declared. “And I saw you with her a couple of weeks ago between classes. You’ve been seeing her, haven’t you?”
“I…”
“And you’ve been trying to make us think that you don’t have a girlfriend and that you have a different girl for every day of the week and you’ve been seeing the same one for, well, ages, and not saying anything and just wait ’til I tell the other girls.”
“No, don’t do that,” he pleaded. “You don’t understand what it’s like. I don’t want her being scared off by you girls and your good intentions. Please, don’t say anything to the others.”
Honey frowned once again. “Why would anyone be scared off by our good intentions? That’s just plain silly.” The look on Dan’s face told another story. “Okay, I’ll admit that Trixie’s good intentions can be a little scary. And, I guess, it might be a little difficult if you don’t know Di and me to understand that we’re not like the regular society types. And, maybe, the Bob-Whites as a group could be a little overwhelming.”
“You think?” he gently teased. “I promise I’ll introduce her when the time’s right, but for now, it’s a secret, okay?”
“Okay,” she agreed. “Now, what do you know about getting past locked doors without the key?”
Thursday, September 15, 2005
“Are you settling in all right?” Honey asked her cousin, Ben, over a cup of coffee. He had taken up residence in a single room in the dorms at the beginning of the school year.
“Yeah, fine, thank you,” he replied, rather quickly. “I’m kind of glad I didn’t take you up on your offer of a room in Jim’s house, but all the same, it’s kind of lonely.”
His kind-hearted companion smiled. “You can visit us any time you like, you know,” she assured. “There’s almost always someone at home. Besides, I’m sure you’ll make some new friends soon.”
He nodded, but said nothing. After a long pause, he asked, “Did I tell you that the investigation into Mom’s death had been finalised?” She shook her head, no. “What it came down to was that she was driving too fast, not wearing a seat belt and that she was under the influence of a prescription drug, which slowed her reaction times. In other words, her own fault.”
“I’m sorry,” Honey replied, simply, and patted his hand.
Part Two: Mart
Friday, May 6, 2005
“Damn!” Mart whispered, dropping his head against the closed refrigerator door. A gentle hand on his shoulder made him jump.
“Is something wrong?” Honey asked, eyes showing her concern.
He took a quick glance around to make sure no one else could hear. “I promised myself I’d cut down on between-meal snacks to save money, but here I am again.” He opened his hand to reveal a king-size chocolate bar from his own, personal stash. “I can’t help myself.”
“Things are that desperate?” She led the way to the living area, which was currently empty. “I’m sure that we can all pull together …”
“No, this isn’t just about making ends meet. This is something more – well, more personal.” He gathered up his courage and whispered an explanation. “See, I want to buy Di an eternity ring – you’re supposed to give them for either the first anniversary, or birth of the first child and both of those are happening at the end of this year – but I don’t have enough.”
Tears glistened in Honey’s eyes. “Oh, Mart! That’s the most romantic thing I ever heard! Only, please don’t starve yourself. I’ll help you. Just tell me how much you need.”
He shook his head. “I couldn’t.”
“Interest-free loan,” she insisted. “From now until whenever it is that you can repay.”
Mart hesitated, torn between accepting Honey’s offer with gratitude and wanting to do this for himself. It’s the only way, he finally decided. I can’t go the next six months or more without snacks. I’ll pay her interest, though. It’s the least I can do.
“Thank you, Honey,” he whispered. “Thank you so much.”
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Feeling self-conscious, Mart wandered through the house in as nonchalant a manner as he could achieve. He tapped softly on Honey’s door, and was surprised by the flood of relief which washed over him when she replied, “Come in.”
“Could you do me a small favour?” he asked, after carefully closing the door and checking the room for further occupants. At her nod, he continued, “Could you please hide this for me?”
Honey’s eyes lit on the small jeweller’s box which he produced from a pocket. “May I see it?” she asked.
Without a word, Mart flicked the box open, displaying a band of gold, encrusted with a row of diamonds. Something inside him relaxed as he noted the approval in his friend’s face.
“Perfectly perfect,” she murmured, gently closing the lid. “I know just the place to keep it, too.” She stepped over to her closet and drew out a jewelry case. The little box was soon surrounded by several others.
“Won’t someone notice?” he asked, overcome by nervousness. “Di will see it and I really want it to be a surprise. Can’t you hide it somewhere more… secret?”
“Trust me.” Honey smiled. “Sometimes, the best hiding places are the ones that are in plain sight.”
Thursday, August 11, 2005
As Mart trudged along their street on his way home from work, he noticed his wife’s ungainly figure outside the house. From her clothes, he could tell that she too was just arriving. He saw her collect the mail and go inside. Hastening his steps, he went to join her.
“Hello, sweetie,” she greeted, giving him a kiss, as he entered. “There’s a letter for you.”
Mart took it without interest and carried it with him to the kitchen in search of a pre-dinner snack. The house seemed eerily quiet, with only the two of them resident at the moment. Honey, Brian, Jim and Trixie had returned to Sleepyside for a week or two and Dan was taking a short break before the next semester.
Taking a handful of pretzels out of their container, Mart hoisted himself onto the counter and opened the envelope. One hand popped a salty snack into his mouth as the other shook out the enclosure, unfolding it in one action.
“It’s not a bill, is it?” Di asked, her voice tight. “I was looking at our bank balance this morning and I don’t think…”
His wife was still talking, but Mart could not make out the words. His focus narrowed to the words of the letter in front of him. It purported to be from a casual acquaintance, but it asked for child support payments for a child that he knew with a certainty was not his. The veiled threat that, should he not comply, she would present the information to a certain law firm, hinted at a knowledge that this young woman should not have had.
No, no, no, no, NO! he thought, as his hands began to tremble. The ominous sheet of paper shook, making the words unreadable, but he had seen enough to know that all of his plans for the future were in jeopardy. His inheritance depended on his avoidance of this very situation. I tried so damn’ hard to protect that, too.
Diana’s voice broke into his reverie. “What’s the matter? Is it a lot of money? Will we need to borrow from someone?”
“What? No, it’s not a bill.” He handed her the sheet, watching her brow furrow as she read. Her face paled and she looked at him in confusion. “Is this true?”
“Of course not,” he replied. “Do you think that I would have even considered putting you in the situation you’re in with your mother if I’d already blown my chance at inheriting? I love you, Di. She’s lying and I’ll be able to prove it if the need ever arises. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about this. I don’t know how, but she knows exactly which lie to tell.”
“This amounts to blackmail,” she mused. “What are we going to do about it?”
“I’m not sure.” Mart turned the matter over in his mind for a few minutes. “I need to think, before I do anything.” He took the letter back from Diana and replaced it in the envelope. “One thing I know is that she’s not getting any money. For one thing, we haven’t got any to spare and I think I’d rather lose the inheritance than give in to this sort of threat.”
Admiration shone in Diana’s eyes as she looked up at him. “I think that’s one of the reasons I married you,” she said, smiling. Their lips met. “You have such a beautiful spirit.”
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
As Mart wandered through the dining room, he could not help but stop and stare in wonder at his sister and her best friend, who were evidently deep in some sort of investigation. Papers were strewn across the surface of the table, some of them violently highlighted in clashing and overlapping stripes.
“Damn it!” Trixie stomped her foot in impatience. “Why can’t I get this?”
The situation appealed to Mart’s sense of humour and he began to sing the refrain of a well-known song: “Let it be, let it be, let it be, oh, let it be! There will be an answer; let it be!”
His sister turned on him with anger in her eyes. “Be quiet, will you? I’m trying to think and the Beatles are not helping!”
“On the contrary,” he replied, his own face alight with mischief. “I think you will find, sister dear, that the Beatles are appropriate for every occasion. If you care to think about it, I’m sure you’ll see that I am correct.”
“Loneliness,” she blurted. The confusion must have been evident on his face, for she explained, “Name me a Beatles’ song that’s appropriate for loneliness.”
“Eleanor Rigby,” he suggested, without the slightest hesitation.
“Losing your car keys.”
“Baby, You Can Drive My Car.”
“Catching a train.”
“Last Train to Clarkesville.”
“That was the Monkees,” she corrected with a wide grin. “See, Mart, not even you know everything.” As she said the words, a strange expression crossed her face. “Hold that thought,” she muttered, as she sped away.
Mart shook his head as he watched her go, but made no move to follow.
Part Three: Brian
Saturday, June 4, 2005
Early morning sunshine was filtering through to the breakfast table, as Brian lingered over a cup of coffee and his newspaper. True to form, the rest of the household was peaceful and quiet at this time of day. So, it was with surprise that he heard the ringing of the telephone.
“Good morning,” he greeted, after taking up the receiver.
“Exactly the person I wanted,” claimed an angry voice. “What, may I ask, were you thinking? I can accept that you wouldn’t ask my permission, in this day and age, but to just announce it in the newspaper and think that I wouldn’t mind is beyond reason!”
“Mr. Wheeler?” Brian asked. “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t understand-”
“And to pretend that you don’t know what I’m talking is more than I can take. I want to speak to Madeleine.”
“Yes, sir,” the young man replied, gently setting the phone down on the table. A few moments later, he tapped on his girlfriend’s bedroom door. “Honey? Your father’s on the phone.”
From within came an indistinct mumble, which he took to mean that she was still asleep. He repeated the message, this time a little louder. When she eventually emerged, her hair was messy and her face plainly showed her sleepiness and displeasure at being awakened.
“This had better be good,” she muttered, as she wandered towards the telephone.
“I doubt it,” Brian admitted. “He’s furious. He said something about a newspaper announcement.”
She gave him an anguished look, before taking up the receiver. “Daddy? I’m sorry I- But I don’t have any news.… Of course, I’m sure. I’m sure that if Brian asked me to marry him, I’d remember that, which I don’t, because he hasn’t.… No, we’re not even thinking about it, at least, I’m not, and I don’t think he is, since we haven’t talked about it and, anyway, I wouldn’t want to now, especially after everything that’s happened with Mart and Di, and even if we did, I promise I’d tell you before it went into the paper.… No, Daddy, I told you about Jim and the trouble he had with the paper here and I’m sure it’s the same sort of thing… That’s okay. … Yes, that will be fine.… No, I’ll explain it to him. Goodbye, Daddy.”
Honey turned to her boyfriend, a sheepish smile on her face. “Daddy saw an engagement announcement for us in his morning paper and thought that we’d put it there and not told him.” She glanced down at her fingertips as she continued. “He’s going to talk to his lawyers about it. We might hear from them sometime soon.”
“Fine,” he replied, faintly.
“He’s also sorry that he yelled at you.”
Brian nodded. “I don’t blame him for yelling.” He considered for a moment the wisdom of sharing his thoughts on the matter. “I’m beginning to think we’ve made a serious mistake living here together. Someone obviously doesn’t like it and I think the sooner that we end this situation, the better.”
“Please, don’t say that!” his girlfriend cried, tears welling in her eyes. “I love having all the Bob-Whites together and sharing with everyone, even though it hasn’t been exactly peaceful, now that I come to think of it, and we have had quite a lot of trouble since we moved here, but I’m sure it has nothing to do with us all living in this house, but that it’s just a horrible coincidence and as soon as Trixie and I figure out who’s behind it, it will all go away.”
No point in upsetting her, he silently decided. I won’t say any more now, but it would be much better if I started making arrangements for next semester. With a few soft words of comfort to Honey, who returned to her room to dress, he set off in search of Jim.
As he crossed back to the other side of the house, he found his friend making breakfast in the kitchen. After checking that there was no one near enough to hear, he asked, in a low voice, “Can I have a word?”
Jim nodded. He took a moment to assemble a bacon and egg sandwich, grabbing it and a cup of coffee before following his friend out the door. The two found a comfortable place to sit, out of hearing of the rest of the household.
“So, what’s the trouble?”
Brian took a moment to collect his thoughts. “I had a call this morning from Mr. Wheeler.” In a few words, he summarised the conversation, understating the older man’s anger considerably. “Between this and the trouble you had with a newspaper announcement, I think it’s clear what we have to do.”
“It’s too late for that,” Jim replied, with an emphasis that surprised Brian. “Moving, or splitting up now will not solve anything. We chose the best solution to the problem; now we just have to live with the consequences.”
“And what if this is just the beginning?” Brian felt a surge of underlying anger which he had not realised he possessed. “Whatever this is, it’s not just an idle dislike. Someone is deliberately targeting members of this household and going to some effort to do so.”
“You’re telling me,” Jim muttered. Without leaving time for response, he continued, “I think you’re right about someone targeting us, but I’m almost certain that it has nothing to do with our living arrangements. Whoever it is may have taken advantage of them, but that’s not the source of the problem and changing them won’t solve anything. I think it would be safer for the girls to still be with us.”
Brian scowled. “You’re letting your desire to be near Trixie cloud your judgement. We’re endangering them by continuing this arrangement.”
“You think they’ll be safer if we move?” He shook his head in disbelief. “They’re investigating this already. Regardless of where any of us live, they’re involved in what’s going on. At least, if we’re all together, they won’t be alone somewhere with whoever this is lying in wait for them.”
“Okay,” his friend conceded. “I’ll drop the matter for the moment, but if anything worse happens, we’ll be having this conversation again.”
“Fine.” Jim nodded his head, seeming deep in thought.
Without another word, Brian went back to the house to consider the matter further.
Monday, June 6, 2005
“Brian!” he heard a shrill voice call, as he walked along the main street of Winter Rock late in the afternoon. Turning, he saw Trixie wave at him, violently, before disappearing inside the used book store in which she worked. With rapid steps, he followed her.
Once inside, he was confronted by scattered books under an overturned bookshelf. From the rear, Trixie was yelling at him again. “Quick! He went that way. You have to chase him for me, Brian! I can’t leave the store.”
She held the door to the deliveries entrance – which was usually kept locked – wide open for him and ushered him out. In the distance, he could see a running figure and he set off in pursuit.
Brian was puffing by the time he reached the corner. He turned to the left, as he had seen the strange man do before him, but there was no one now in sight. He kept running anyway, in the direction he imagined the man must have taken. They left the shopping precinct for an area of a more industrial character. Passing car repair firms and manufacturers, he slowed to peer into the yards he passed. Luck was with him, as he caught sight of a head of red hair and a green shirt through a high, chain wire fence. Smiling over his shoulder, the fugitive slipped in a side door and disappeared.
“Hey!” Brian called, to a worker in the yard. “There’s an intruder in your warehouse.”
The man shrugged. “He won’t do any harm.”
“He just caused a disturbance in one of the stores,” Brian added, in the hope of getting some assistance.
“No business of mine,” the man replied, turning away. He walked over to the door and clipped shut the large padlock that hung there. “If the police want him, he’ll be there ’til morning.”
“Thanks,” said Brian.
With slower steps, he returned to Porter’s Book Store. His sister was practically bouncing with impatience. “Well?” she demanded, before he had even set foot inside. “What happened?”
“He ran into a warehouse around the corner; a man there locked him in.” He took in the scene of destruction in the store. “Do you mind telling me what this is all about?”
She pointed to the fallen bookcase. “He tried to knock that over onto a customer, but she jumped out of the way. We’ve called the police.” Her eyes were shining as she whispered, “I think he’s the one who’s been causing trouble for Jim. This could be exactly the break we need!”
Thursday June 9, 2005
The sun was sinking in the west when Brian returned to the house after a day at work. He opened the door to find more than the usual late-afternoon confusion, as his housemates prepared for their various summer plans. Piles of camping gear battled with displaced furniture, books and suitcases. He passed his brother on the way to his room.
“Mail for you,” Mart told him, without stopping. “Might be a bill.”
Brian nodded and continued on his way. He carefully returned all of his belongings to their proper places, before heading for the kitchen, where the letter rack was kept. An official-looking letter which bore his name was tucked into his slot.
A chill ran up his spine as he examined the envelope. He took up the letter opener and slit the top, before extracting a single sheet from within. ‘Dear Mr. Belden,’ he read. ‘Please be advised that a document has been dispatched to Mr. Matthew Wheeler, father of Madeleine, in accordance with the terms of the Last Will and Testament of Geoffrey Herbert Belden and relating to the recent engagement announcement between yourself and the aforementioned Ms. Wheeler.’
The letter dropped from his nerveless fingers and a curse escaped his lips. Stooping to pick it up, he stumbled towards the telephone, fumbling as he tried to dial a familiar number. It was answered promptly.
“Miss Trask?” he asked. “It’s Brian Belden. Is Mr. Wheeler at home?”
“No, he’s not,” she replied. “He’s not expected for another hour and a half. Is there something I can help you with? Would you like to leave a message for him?”
“Could you tell me whether a particular letter has arrived?” he asked, quoting the return address. “I’d like for him to call me before he opens it.”
The estate manager offered to check while he waited, and Brian accepted with gratitude. She returned soon to say, “Yes, it’s here, unopened. I’ll be sure to bring the matter to his attention.”
Brian thanked her profusely, then settled down to a nervous wait for the return call. He took up a novel he had been meaning to read, but could not concentrate. After a futile fifteen minutes, he returned it to its place and turned on the television instead. He was aimlessly channel-surfing when Dan called out to let the household know that dinner was ready.
Nerves jangling, Brian fidgeted through the meal. Try as he would, he could not force himself to eat. He shifted his vegetables back and forth across the plate, hardly taking a bite. Aside from the occasional look of disbelief from Mart, his strange behaviour seemed to pass unnoticed. Now I know how Trixie feels when she’s anticipating something, he thought. This is unbearable! The sound for which he had so impatiently waited interrupted the meal and Brian’s fork fell to the floor with a clatter.
“I’ll get it; it’s probably for me,” he announced, excusing himself. With a thudding heart, he answered the call and waited to see whether his guess was correct.
“You wanted to speak to me, Brian?” Mr. Wheeler’s voice asked.
“Yes, sir,” he replied, with a silent sigh of relief. “I believe you received a letter today from a law firm. I also received a letter from the same firm, telling me that yours had been sent. I’d like to ask you not to open the letter.”
“May I ask why not?” his girlfriend’s father enquired. Beneath his polite and unemotional tones lay an element of something suppressed.
Brian took in a shaky breath. “My grandfather died when I was very young, but he made it quite clear that he did not approve of me. According to his will, a letter would be sent to my fiancée’s father at the time that I announced an engagement. I didn’t realise that Saturday’s notice would activate that clause.” He took another breath. “I don’t know what is in the letter, but I can only assume that it is not the sort of thing that I would want you to read, sir.”
“I see,” said the older man. “Well, I promise that I won’t read your grandfather’s letter, Brian, but I think I’d better open the letter to make sure that your surmise is correct. If it’s all right with you, I’ll do that right now.” There was the sound of tearing paper, and then Mr. Wheeler’s voice returned. “There’s nothing to worry about. Your grandfather’s letter is sealed in another envelope. I’ll return it – as I would have done if you hadn’t called.” There was a short pause. “I doubt that you have anything to worry about, anyway. If he died when you were very young, I don’t think there’s anything he could tell me about you that would alter my opinion at all.”
“Thank you, sir,” Brian replied, though inwardly was dubious. “That’s a weight off my mind.”