‘You are. As usual.’
He frowned. ‘As usual?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll rephrase the question.’
‘I’ll save you the bother,’ I replied, really not needing to be on the receiving end of another potentially barbed comment. ‘I haven’t decided what I’d like to buy or where I’d like to live yet,’ I said, only knowing that I didn’t want to look back and recreate what I’d once had and lost, since it held few reliably happy memories and had all been built on sand anyway. ‘But it will have space, a garden and no flatmates.’
‘What else?’
‘I’d like my mother to be provided for for the rest of her life.’
Nick’s response to that was a sharp lift of his eyebrows and it triggered another stab of irritation. ‘There you go again.’
‘You’re overreacting.’
‘Next you’ll be calling me hysterical.’
A glimmer of what looked like weary exasperation flickered across his face. ‘I’m merely surprised.’
Yes, well, while his exasperation was rude and outrageous, his surprise I could understand. My mother and I had barely spoken since the funeral. Things between us were complicated and feelings ran deep. By monopolising my father’s attention as a child, I’d inadvertently come between them. The jealousy and resentment she’d felt had led to her affair. Ultimately, I’d driven my parents apart and wrecked their marriage, so even though my mother had proved remarkably resilient in the face of adversity, dealing stoically with the aftermath of my father’s fall from grace and then demise, ensuring her financial security was the least I could do. Would it assuage the guilt that still tormented me day in day out? I could only hope.
‘We might not get along,’ I said, having no intention of sharing anything so deeply personal with the annoyingly supercilious man before me, ‘but she’s still my mother.’
‘I can draw up a few ideas.’
‘That would be helpful.’
‘What about Seb?’
‘He’s adamant he doesn’t want any of it for himself,’ I said, recalling the phone call in which I’d offered to transfer a lump sum to him and been turned down, which had unexpectedly hurt. ‘But I know he’s looking to expand his company. I thought I could maybe somehow help with that. Invest in it or something.’
On leaving university, Seb had moved to San Francisco to take up a job in Silicon Valley. A couple of years later he’d left to set up his own software business. The timing of the move could not have been worse. When they’d caught wind of our father’s financial troubles, Seb’s potential investors had jumped like rats off a sinking ship. If it hadn’t been for Nick stepping in to provide the capital, he too might have wound up bankrupt.
‘That could be an option,’ said Nick with a short nod. ‘What else?’
‘What else would you advise?’
‘A portfolio of short-, medium-and long-term investments.’
‘All right,’ I said, just about convincing myself that that would be wise. Who cared if it felt a bit dull? Dull was sensible and I was all about the sensible these days. ‘I’m open to ideas. But nothing reckless.’
On the skids and veering further and further off the rails, my father had taken increasingly high risks in the hope of clawing back his mounting losses. The fallout had been catastrophic and a direct hit wasn’t something I ever wanted to experience for myself.
‘Nothing I do, either professionally or personally, is reckless.’
No, he was the most coolly controlled person I’d ever met. Sometimes it made me want to provoke and prod him just to see what might happen if he was pushed to his limits. That I’d always managed to resist was something of a miracle. ‘I’m delighted to hear it.’
‘Have you considered charitable donations?’
‘I have a very long list. I’ll email it to you.’
‘Do you still have your job?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you intend to keep it?’