Don't Marry Thomas Clark by Celia Hayes Page A

Margaret, unsure as to what to do.
    â€˜Of course, Miss Stone, let her in,’ answers Frank through gritted teeth and with a look that bodes ill for Margaret’s future.

Chapter 8
    Frank’s office is only a few minutes away from the centre, on the third floor of a building that overlooks a splendid tree-lined boulevard. Once through the doorway, I see a desk behind which there is a very busy secretary. Despite the ringing phones, she somehow finds time to walk over to me and ask how she can help me. When I explain that I have an appointment with the lawyer, she leaves me by a plastic ficus tree and disappears down a narrow corridor lined with doors, each with its own shiny brass nameplate. Five minutes later she’s back, and the smile with which she greeted me previously has completely disappeared. I can’t imagine what might have happened but it must be something serious, because she looks as though she’s about to burst into tears.
    â€˜This way, please, follow me. Mr Wright is expecting you.’
    We walk along the same corridor, and when we reach the last office on the left, she knocks gently and, without waiting for an answer, opens the door and ushers me in.
    I’m suddenly not sure anymore that I want to enter, and find myself hovering on the threshold.
    â€˜Sandy, come in,’ says Frank, walking over to greet me.
    Too late!
    â€˜Err… thanks.’ I take a deep breath, summoning up my courage and walking towards the others.
    â€˜Miss Stone, you can go,’ he says to the secretary, and the door closes with a thud behind me.
    â€˜Miss Price, it’s a pleasure to meet you,’ says a funny bespectacled little man, grasping my hand with more vigour than strictly necessary. ‘I didn’t think you were in England,’ he continues without letting go.
    And where did this character spring from?
    â€˜Let me introduce you to Mister Hill, the late Sir Roger’s notary,’ chirps up Frank at this point, and everything suddenly starts to fall into place.
    â€˜Nice to meet you,’ I answer, almost in a whisper, while my eyes wander the room in search of Thomas. I find him leaning against the bookshelf, looking at me silently. As soon as our eyes meet, he walks over to greet me.
    â€˜Sandy…’
    â€˜Thomas…’
    â€˜Have you already had lunch?’
    â€˜Yes, I had a sandwich, thanks.’
    â€˜Can I get you something cool to drink?’
    â€˜A glass of water will do, thanks,’ I answer with a vague smile.
    â€˜Right away.’
    I watch him as he walks towards the door without another word. He looks tense, but I might be imagining it. He never was particularly spontaneous, both because of his upbringing and because socializing with the plebs would be inappropriate.
    Where’s last week’s joviality gone? Well, in a way this is better – at least I know what to expect.
    â€˜Why don’t we all sit down?’ Cameron, Thomas’s notary says, taking a seat.
    We do as he suggests, and take our places around the desk. Thomas arrives last, holding a glass of water.
    â€˜Thank you,’ I whisper, as he puts the glass on the table.
    â€˜Miss Price, when did you arrive in town?’ Cameron asks me.
    â€˜Just yesterday.’
    Strange, I don’t remember mentioning my trip to Ireland.
    I notice a suspicious exchange of looks between Thomas and Frank which makes me worry.
    Something’s up. I don’t know what, but I can sense storm clouds on the horizon.
    â€˜I imagine you’re here about the will,’ Cameron starts again.
    â€˜Yes, I’m here to…’
    â€˜Miss Price is here to sign the statement we discussed on the phone,’ Frank cuts in. Before I have time to confirm the notary’s deduction, he continues, ‘I actually thought we’d take care of the matter via fax, I wasn’t expecting you to come here in person. Thomas…’ he scolds him,