shut the front door and followed.
She noticed that apart from a tatty settee and bottles of spirits, John's living room was empty; the curtains closed so that only a wan light filtered through.
“Where is everything?” She opened the curtains.
John collapsed onto the settee and picked up a brandy bottle, swallowing a good mouthful before he answered. “What business is it of yours?”
“What's happened here?” Verity sat down next to him. “Where are Margaret and the kids?”
He shook his head and took another drink. “What do you care? When was the last time you saw them? What do you want?”
Ignoring John's sarcastic attitude, she pressed on. “So where's Margaret?”
John forced a sound halfway between a laugh and a snort. “She's gone.”
“Gone!” Verity frowned. “Gone where?”
“How the hell should I know?”
“John, this isn't like you.”
“And how would you know what I'm like? You left years ago.”
“You know I didn't have a choice. Father was trying to run my life for me.”
“Well, he seemed to make a better job of it than you have. Look at you. What's this?” He grabbed the sleeve of her blue and yellow hemp top. “Don't you realise how stupid you look? When are you going to grow up?”
“I haven't come here for an argument.”
“Then what are you here for?”
“My father's dead. Didn't you think I deserved to be told?”
“Why are you so bothered? I thought you'd be glad.”
Verity pursed her lips. “Of course I didn't want him to die.”
“Whatever, now if you don't mind.” He made to stand and Verity grabbed his arm.
“John, please. Tell me what's happened to the money.”
“It’s gone. All gone.”
“Gone! Gone where?”
“What does it matter?”
“I just need to know what's going on. How did father meet this Melantha woman? Where's she from? Where is she now?”
“None of this is her fault.”
“I never said it was.”
“I love her, and I'll not listen to you accuse her of anything.”
Verity frowned. “Love her. How can you love her?”
“Because I do. This is none of your business.”
“Are you seeing her?” She waited for an answer, but John took another swig from the bottle. “Well, are you seeing her ? Is that what this is all about? Is that why Margaret left?”
“Margaret didn't leave. I threw the bitch out.”
“For God’s sake, what's happened to you? Why would you throw her out?” She’d never heard her brother speak like this before. It scared her.
“What is this, twenty questions?”
“I'm worried about you.”
For a moment, she thought she had got through to him and he visibly relaxed his hostile stance. Then the barriers came back up.
“Just go, and shut the door on your way out.” He stood and walked out of the room. She heard him traipse up the stairs and a door slammed like a gunshot.
She took that as her cue to leave. It was futile trying to press her brother for answers when he was like this, so she grabbed her coat and walked out of the house and back into the rain. At the foot of the drive, she turned to look back, and saw her brother watching her from the upstairs window before he pulled the curtains across, making the house appear to be in mourning.
Verity walked away without looking back.
Peter lived on the outskirts of town, his dwelling smaller than John's, but no less impressive.
A crow regarded her with beady eyes from its chimney pot perch. The wind ruffled the bird’s feathers and it cawed before it took flight, rising on the wind to circle the house.
Verity walked up the path, braced herself, and then knocked on the wooden door.
After a moment, she heard her brother say, “Who is it?”
“Peter, it's me, Verity.”
Silence.
“Peter, open the door please.”
“Go away. There's nothing for you here.”
Verity couldn't understand what was going on. Why was everyone treating her this way? What had she done that was so bad? Her life had been ruined, not theirs. She wandered
She noticed that apart from a tatty settee and bottles of spirits, John's living room was empty; the curtains closed so that only a wan light filtered through.
“Where is everything?” She opened the curtains.
John collapsed onto the settee and picked up a brandy bottle, swallowing a good mouthful before he answered. “What business is it of yours?”
“What's happened here?” Verity sat down next to him. “Where are Margaret and the kids?”
He shook his head and took another drink. “What do you care? When was the last time you saw them? What do you want?”
Ignoring John's sarcastic attitude, she pressed on. “So where's Margaret?”
John forced a sound halfway between a laugh and a snort. “She's gone.”
“Gone!” Verity frowned. “Gone where?”
“How the hell should I know?”
“John, this isn't like you.”
“And how would you know what I'm like? You left years ago.”
“You know I didn't have a choice. Father was trying to run my life for me.”
“Well, he seemed to make a better job of it than you have. Look at you. What's this?” He grabbed the sleeve of her blue and yellow hemp top. “Don't you realise how stupid you look? When are you going to grow up?”
“I haven't come here for an argument.”
“Then what are you here for?”
“My father's dead. Didn't you think I deserved to be told?”
“Why are you so bothered? I thought you'd be glad.”
Verity pursed her lips. “Of course I didn't want him to die.”
“Whatever, now if you don't mind.” He made to stand and Verity grabbed his arm.
“John, please. Tell me what's happened to the money.”
“It’s gone. All gone.”
“Gone! Gone where?”
“What does it matter?”
“I just need to know what's going on. How did father meet this Melantha woman? Where's she from? Where is she now?”
“None of this is her fault.”
“I never said it was.”
“I love her, and I'll not listen to you accuse her of anything.”
Verity frowned. “Love her. How can you love her?”
“Because I do. This is none of your business.”
“Are you seeing her?” She waited for an answer, but John took another swig from the bottle. “Well, are you seeing her ? Is that what this is all about? Is that why Margaret left?”
“Margaret didn't leave. I threw the bitch out.”
“For God’s sake, what's happened to you? Why would you throw her out?” She’d never heard her brother speak like this before. It scared her.
“What is this, twenty questions?”
“I'm worried about you.”
For a moment, she thought she had got through to him and he visibly relaxed his hostile stance. Then the barriers came back up.
“Just go, and shut the door on your way out.” He stood and walked out of the room. She heard him traipse up the stairs and a door slammed like a gunshot.
She took that as her cue to leave. It was futile trying to press her brother for answers when he was like this, so she grabbed her coat and walked out of the house and back into the rain. At the foot of the drive, she turned to look back, and saw her brother watching her from the upstairs window before he pulled the curtains across, making the house appear to be in mourning.
Verity walked away without looking back.
Peter lived on the outskirts of town, his dwelling smaller than John's, but no less impressive.
A crow regarded her with beady eyes from its chimney pot perch. The wind ruffled the bird’s feathers and it cawed before it took flight, rising on the wind to circle the house.
Verity walked up the path, braced herself, and then knocked on the wooden door.
After a moment, she heard her brother say, “Who is it?”
“Peter, it's me, Verity.”
Silence.
“Peter, open the door please.”
“Go away. There's nothing for you here.”
Verity couldn't understand what was going on. Why was everyone treating her this way? What had she done that was so bad? Her life had been ruined, not theirs. She wandered
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