Legacy of Greyladies by Anna Jacobs

Sons, Carters disgusted him and he wanted nothing more to do with it.
    Luckily he’d inherited a little money of his own from his grandmother, only two hundred pounds but he’d savedanother hundred from his wages. He moved away from Swindon and started up a market stall in London, selling any second-hand object or piece of furniture he could see a profit in. Not second-hand clothes, though. The smell of them turned his stomach.
    He’d been lucky, made friends with an elderly man who could no longer lift heavy pieces, but who knew and loved old furniture. Horry had taught Alex all he knew, including how to chat to people passing by and entice them to look at the goods.
    When Horry died three years later, Alex mourned him greatly. It was as if he’d lost a beloved grandfather. To his surprise, Horry had left him everything. Not a fortune, but enough money to make a difference.
    Alex had already proved to be able to spot something valuable beneath an item’s grime. He now made a name for himself clearing out the houses of middle-class people who’d died. He paid higher rates than usual for the valuable items he unearthed, too, because he didn’t want to cheat people.
    Gradually he moved on to sell better quality second-hand furniture in a shop. His first shop was small, but in it he learnt how to display his goods to the best advantage. Once he could afford more spacious premises in a better area, he opened Seaton Antiques .
    He also proved that you didn’t have to treat those who worked for you harshly. He found Tom Pascoe and trained him. Tom became his second in command, and by the time war broke out, he knew his antiques nearly as well as Alex did. Unfortunately he’d been called up and Alex worried about him, but Tom’s wife had taken over his job and was proving almost as good as her husband, lacking only experience to equal him.
    Oops! Alex realised he’d been standing outside the railway station, lost in thought while the other passengers took all the cabs. After a few minutes a horse-drawn cab turned up and took him to his mother’s house.
    He paid the driver, picked up his small suitcase and stood by the gate staring at Cumberland Villa . It hadn’t changed much, was still a solidly built house three storeys high, standing in the middle of a street of similar dwellings.
    But unlike the others, his family house was now in great need of repairs and maintenance, which would never have happened while his father was alive.
    Why was he standing here like a timid fool? Because he was dreading this meeting, absolutely dreading it. Indeed, his mother might have him shown straight out again, as she had done after his father’s death. But people usually said their goodbyes to the dying, so here he was. He had to live with his own conscience, after all.
    Picking up his suitcase, he walked up the footpath. Before he could use the knocker, the door opened and his cousin Mildred stood there. She hadn’t changed, was still plump with a kindly expression. He hadn’t seen her for a year, because she hadn’t been able to get up to London. Today she looked exhausted. Had she been coping with his damned mother on her own? Surely not?
    Mildred was a year younger than him. Her mother had kept an eye on him in his childhood, and he and his cousin had been more like brother and sister. The two of them had shown him the only love and kindness he’d ever known from his family.
    She didn’t move for a moment, then held the door open. ‘Come in, do. I’m glad you came, Alex, but I’m afraid you’retoo late. Your mother passed away just after midnight.’
    He was ashamed of the relief that surged through him and hoped it hadn’t shown on his face.
    ‘The undertakers have finished laying her out and have just brought her body back. Do you want to see her?’
    ‘Not really.’
    ‘You ought to, dear. It won’t look good if you don’t.’
    ‘Who’s to know?’
    ‘These things get out. Her maid will know, for a start, and