A Liverpool Legacy by Anne Baker Page B

Sylvie? Will they want her to give evidence too?’
    ‘I’m afraid they might. I’ve given them your home address, you’ll hear direct about that. How is Sylvie?’
    ‘Taking it badly, she can’t stop crying. The boys are coping better with the bad news. I’m going to take them all out for the day tomorrow to try and take their minds off it.’
    ‘By the way, I’ve rung Uncle James again and he says he’ll make the funeral arrangements, and would you let him know what hymns you would like in the service, and whether there’s anything special you want.’
    ‘I must go and see him,’ Millie said. ‘Pete and I should have gone back to work on Wednesday.’
    ‘Uncle James won’t expect you yet,’ Valerie tried to soothe. ‘Don’t go back until after the funeral.’
    ‘You’re probably right, I’ll leave it a bit longer but it’s my responsibility to make sure there’s enough perfume on hand to keep the factory working, and I’m sure the sooner Sylvie has something to occupy her, the sooner she’ll feel better and more her normal self.’
    Millie was worried about her changed financial position. She was suddenly head of her household and responsible for three children, though Sylvie considered herself grown-up now that she had started to earn. The problem as Millie saw it was that she wouldn’t have Pete’s salary.
    He’d always spoken freely about their income, but he’d believed in enjoying life and she knew they’d lived up to the hilt on it. He’d encouraged her and Sylvie to spend their earnings on themselves. She knew he had life assurance and had made a will in her favour when they were married. He’d shown her a copy at the time but it was so long ago she’d forgotten the details. She knew where he kept important personal documents so she looked it out.
    The sum assured on his life now seemed quite small. His will gave a legacy of three thousand pounds to Sylvie and to each of his older daughters, and a codicil added at a later date left the same to each of his sons. Millie could see that he’d left her the residue of his estate, comprising the family home on which there was no mortgage, all his goods and chattels as well as his half share of the business. It was more or less what she’d expected.
    Pete had been a good provider and had taken his responsibilities seriously. She was comforted. She’d have her own salary and a share of the business profits and it all seemed manageable, she had no reason to worry. She rang Pete’s solicitor to tell him about the accident and his words of condolence made her weep again after she’d put the phone down.
    William James Cornelius Maynard had been in bed when his niece Valerie had telephoned; he rarely felt able to get up before eleven o’clock these days. His man Dando had had to help him into his dressing gown and slippers so he could speak to her, as his phone was downstairs in the hall. It had given him a nasty shock to hear of Peter’s terrible accident. He’d felt quite faint and had had to go back to lie on his bed for half an hour.
    He was sorry about Peter, of course he was. He’d not had a lot in common with his brother, but Peter had stood by him and supported him in his periods of illness. It was unfortunate that he couldn’t run the business in his brother’s place, but he was afraid his bad back would no longer allow him to spend long days in that office.
    Lilian his wife and the eldest of his three sons, Roderick, had been killed in a freak daylight air raid in 1941. They had been visiting Lilian’s mother and sister when the house had received a direct hit, wiping out all that side of the family. Roderick had been the son most interested in working in the business and the most able. Peter had praised him and said he always pulled his weight. He’d been the designated heir for the job of managing it.
    Marcus, his youngest son, had started work in the office too, but both Pete and Roderick had thought his heart wasn’t in