Scene Twenty Nine

The Hollamby family home was not a cheerful place these days as the reality of their ignominious brush off by Claire Walker sank home into their embittered souls. They settled down at their dining room table with their traditional meal of roast beef and Yorkshire puddings.

While Nikki and Helen had been doing some soul searching on the way their customary kind-heartedness had quite unexpectedly steered them in the direction of a substantial legacy, the Hollambys were gnashing their teeth that the legacy that they had hoped for was fast slipping through their fingers- and to make it worse, into the hands of Bodybag's bitterest enemies.

"You were a right help Bobby," gloomed Bodybag as her first contribution to what passed for family discussions after hours of charged atmosphere and pointed sulking. This was a mainstream Winters family trait which had been passed down the generations, like mother, like daughter by imitation or directly through the genes. It was a quality that Margaret, growing up an acute outside observer of her own family had deliberately steered clear of in her relationships. Such calculated emotional dishonesty was repugnant to her. "You did all the talking, Sylv. Once you started, I couldn't get a word in edgeways," protested Bobby with perfect truth. Unfortunately, it didn't do him any good from the deepening scowl that locked up her facial features. "We have to do something about this," he finally ventured into the oppressive gloom after swallowing a mouthful of roast potato and sliced beef. He knew that Sylv needed to stop brooding over the matter. It didn't do her health any good. "Such as what," she snapped, glaring from the opposite side of the dining room table. "Well, what about seeing a solicitor? I know this tip-top solicitor, Jim Patterson from the Masonic Lodge. Let's face it, Sylv, there's no sense in going at it like a bull at a gate," he reasoned as he put his knife "Well, you supported me," Bodybag snapped back." You were all for confronting them and backed me up all the way- that is, till we got to the front door." "I know I did but I've been thinking about it. Let's face it, both of us were a bit too hasty." "I suppose we've got nothing to lose. You'd better check that this friend of yours doesn't land us with a whopping big bill. I see enough briefs at work and they're all suspicious characters, all up to no good."

"But Sylv," reasoned Bobby." The ones you see are trying to wangle it for hardened cons to get their way out of prisons. They're not necessarily all like that."

"On your head be it," Bodybag finally spoke in surly tones, wanting to camouflage her retreat and to make sure that in the perpetual blame game that made her life, Bobby would carry the can, not her. After all, she only reluctantly agreed to the idea.

********

Curiously enough, the Hollambys found themselves in precisely the same office from where they had beaten such an ignominious a retreat. The receptionist kept her mild surprise to herself while Claire Walker was in court and her secretary was busy at work. They found themselves welcomed into Jim Patterson's ground floor spacious office like honoured guests. As Jim Patterson and Bobby Hollamby exchanged knowing glances and as the solicitor drew the chair back for Bodybag, she smiled foolishly at the thought of being treated as an Important Client

"Nice to see you, Bob. We got a lot done at that last Masonic do. Business and pleasure can mix. Now what can I do for you both," the solicitor said in his best brisk fashion.

"We've got a bit of a legal problem we need sorting out," Bobby said with the kind of vocal delivery that made other people want to wind up the spring that governed his speech delivery."Sylv and I have well, expectations from her only aunt, Margaret Winters. She lives on her own and, let's face it, time isn't on her side since Sylv and I aren't young any more. What does the old bat do but make a will that leaves everything to this notorious ex con and her precious accomplice who Sylv used to lock up till she wormed her way free. It's an outrage and all because she thinks this precious pair have done her a good turn."

"And have they?"

"Only some woman's emotional fancy," Bobby continued derisively. Bodybag was none too pleased at her husband's tactlessness about women in general but she swallowed her pride and had to accept that he had got the facts more or less right.

"Just how right in the head is your aunt?" Jim Patterson asked cautiously, questions about this case already starting to form in his head.

"She's well, she's very eccentric," Bodybag interjected with great emphasis on the last word." She's a spinster by choice, never had a man about the house to look after things. She used to have a collection of similarly minded female friends but they've died off one by one and she's rattling around on her own in that large mansion of hers."

"Let's put it this way, have you had the neighbours call you out because of their concerns? Have you had much to do with her doctor? Does she call you out in the middle of the night for no good reason in an attention seeking fashion? Does she have a home help round or meals on wheels round to make sure she doesn't put her cat in the fridge?" demanded Jim Patterson in his typically cynical, quickfire fashion.

"Well, er no," Bodybag confessed looking sheepish," but she is very eccentric, I can assure you, speaking as a professional from years of locking up the dregs of humanity as well as knowing her personally." Jim Patterson intercepted the warning look from Bobby not to get carried away in her sales talk. He was beginning to get that sinking feeling that they were on a loser.

"Well, let's see if we can glean anything from our contacts. You say she's already made a will. Do you know what practice she's used?"

"Well, by some sheer coincidence we think she might have used this practice," Bodybag confessed sheepishly under Jim Patterson's searching gaze. He immediately picked up the phone and asked for a check to be made. Sure enough, the Margaret Winters file was brought through. Strictly speaking, he was debarred from touching a client who might counter sue an existing client that a colleague was dealing with. Nevertheless, as Bob and he were saying the other night over the third straight whisky in a moment of out of focus sentimentality, there were rules and there were rules. The way society was going these days, cutting through needless red tape was definitely very appealing.

"So who's involved in this shenanigans?" exploded Bodybag, her curiosity

"Let me see. You will keep your source of knowledge confidential, Bob as there could be legal consequences if we don't watch our step," Jim Patterson confided with a sharp meaning look.

"You can count on us Jim."

"In that case, here's a copy of the will for you to look at. I don't see any problem in letting you look at it as your wife is a named beneficiary."

The couple strained their eyes to work their way through the legal gobbledygook but finally, Bodybag's face turned purple as the implications sank in. She looked as if she was going to blow a gasket until she finally found her voice.

"Well, of all the diabolical liberty. She promised us the she'd leave us a mere quarter of her estate and now she's gone back on her word and now she's cut us down to a mere one thousand five hundred pounds. I might have known not to trust her word. Her type is very sly and deceitful."

"So who are all these women, Sylv? I've never heard of them before," questioned Bobby.

"I don't know them from Adam. I suppose they are some of Wade's friends. What I don't understand is who this John Deed character fits. Must be like some kind of lawyer," pronounced Bodybag loudly and setting the man's character in stone for all the world to accept as fact.

"Perhaps he's working some kind of scam. Why else should a man get involved with these calculating women? It doesn't add up otherwise," Bobby intervened, the slow weight of his voice emphasizing his 'man of the world' businessman persona.

"My colleague's secretary has helpfully noted his address."

"Give it to us," demanded Bodybag to the accompaniment of Bobby's raised eyebrow." We'll jolly well go round and talk to him. What I don't know of that precious pair, Stewart and Wade, can be put into a cigarette packet. He's their weak spot. He doesn't know their scheming minds. That will put a spoke in their wheel if he is persuaded to back out," Bodybag exclaimed triumphantly.

"You hear what Jim said, Sylv. We can't land him in any trouble," Bobby protested in alarm.

"Don't worry, Jim. We'll be ever so discreet. You know that years in the prison service have taught me to handle things in a delicate fashion if need be not to mention the help I give you with the business," Bodybag answered in soothing tones.

"All I'm telling you, Bob is be careful," Jim Patterson advised anxiously as he saw the man to man deal with Bob Hollamby start to slip through his fingers thanks to this domineering woman. He lay back limply in his chair.

**********

On a bright sunny afternoon, John Deed drove back calmly to the digs and parked his car with a smart flourish. After all this time, an apologetic Helen had phoned him up to make contact with him and to give hers and Nikki's regrets that they hadn't been in contact recently. They had been particularly busy recently.

"Why don't you come round to my digs after work and grab a bite to eat? I know how busy life can get. Alternatively, we could meet somewhere for lunch."

"If it's all right with you, tonight seems fine by us. That's better than having one eye on the clock and rushing back to work," came Helen's enthusiastic reply after a faintly audible exchange of words with Nikki.

"That's great then," John enthused in response." Just pop round. The butler will show you in."

He was leaning back in the high chair, the long dining table stretching either side of him, covered with a starched white tablecloth when he received a message.

"There's a man and woman coming to talk to you."

John pricked up his ears in slight concern. Surely the butler, set in his ways as he was, couldn't make an elementary blunder in his description of the unmistakably feminine Nikki, even with her short-cropped hair and invariable trouser suit?

"Show them in," he said guardedly.

At once, a very loud and argumentative North Country female voice and a gravelly voiced man disturbed the accustomed atmosphere of tranquillity of his home. John knew instantly that he had to deal with these interlopers and fast.