Page 101 of Oleander

He was capable of love, and I’d prove it.

It was the Saturday the week before Cas was due home, and I was in the garden helping Beth hang up the washing. Luke was home for lunch, pottering about loudly in the kitchen behind us. It went quiet, and a few minutes later, he stuck his head out of the back door.

“Judey, can you come inside a minute? Beth, you too.”

Both of us looked over at the same time. The tone of his voice had pricked my attention – serious and polite, like the tone he used with my teachers or at the bank. I looked at Beth.

“Bit busy, Luke,” she huffed before going back to the pegs. She hadn’t picked up on the tone.

“I know, babe, but there’s a solicitor here to see us.”

This got her attention. She froze, looking back at him.

“What?”

“Can you come inside, please?”

There was a tilt of panic in his voice now. He usually deferred to my sister when dealing with professionals: doctors, police officers, solicitors. She dropped the pillowcase in the basket and started toward the house.

“You too, Judey,” Luke said.

Bewildered, I followed.

The solicitor’s name was Francis Moreland. He was from Moreland and Wright, a London-based legal firm that specialised in trusts and estates. After apologising for coming ona Saturday without warning – he hadn’t had a contact number for us – he said he’d been approached by a client who wished to remain anonymous but had asked them to set up a trust for a third party. Here he looked at me.

“In the name of Mr. Jude Alcott.”

Moreland was a tall, long-limbed man with big hands, so he looked almost doubled over in the loveseat by the window. He had a rather large mole on his temple that I was staring at so hard I momentarily didn’t hear him say my name.

“Jude’s?” said Beth, looking at me.

“Yes,” Moreland confirmed. He lifted his briefcase onto his lap and flipped it open, pulling out a sheaf of papers held together with a thick paperclip. “I can’t say it’s something we’ve ever handled before, might be a first actually, but all within the letter of the law. This…” He searched for the word. “…benefactor has deposited quite a generous sum into an ancillary account set up in the name of Moreland and Wright, but which is to be for the sole use of Mr. Alcott. There are some conditions to the trust which I must advise you of. There will—”

Beth cut in. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about. What trust fund? Is this to do with our parents’ life insurance?”

Moreland blinked, then looked at the papers as though he may have missed something. Then he shook his head. “Ah, no. Not at all.”

Beth looked at me and then at Luke. Luke was as confused as I’d ever seen him about anything.

“You’ll need to explain this properly, so I understand it,” Beth said.

“Of course, my apologies, Mrs. Alcott.”

“Green,” she said. “Jude’s my brother.”

“Of course, of course, my apologies. Mrs. Green.” Moreland was more or less calm, but there was a sliver of impatience as he explained the thing for a second time. “A benefactor has instructed Moreland and Wright to set up a trust in which Mr. Jude Alcott of The Groundsman Cottage, Deveraux Estate, St. Ouen, Jersey, The Channel Islands, is the sole beneficiary.”

It was after this that Luke finally spoke.

“Gideon,” he gasped. “It has to be. Gideon! Of course.”

I glanced at Moreland, who remained stoic and expressionless. If it was Gideon, then he either didn’t have that information in front of him or was an exceptional poker player.

“If I might go on to explain the conditions of the trust to Mr. Alcott?” he asked mildly.

The generous sum he’d spoken of was to cover my university fees so I wouldn’t need to apply for any loans, all three years and a fourth if I chose it. There’d be a monthly amount deposited into an account of which I alone had to be the sole holder. A ridiculous amount for an 18-year-old. There was a separate sum, apportioned off and to be used for things like private health care (including dental), gym memberships, and any extra study costs I might incur. I could access a portion of the trust from the date I received my provisional driver’s licence for driving lessons and a car.

I listened to it all without saying a word. I felt like I was in a dream or some weird reality show where the host would jump out at any moment with a camera laughing his head off at me.