Free Lane's End by Jill Paterson

the folded sheet of soft vellum writing paper. His eyes scanned the letter. ‘What the heck!’
    ‘Is it bad news or good?’
    ‘I’m not sure. Listen to this.’
    Dear Mr Carmichael
    I wish to advise that you are named as a beneficiary in the last will and testament of my client, Peter Van Goren.
    Please contact my office at your earliest convenience to arrange an appointment so that we can discuss this matter.
    Yours sincerely
    Raymond West
    Senior Partner
    West Longmire & Associates
    Barristers & Solicitors
    Ben handed the letter to Joanna.
    ‘Are you sure you didn’t recognise Peter Van Goren when you saw him at the morgue?’ she asked, taking the letter in her hand.
    ‘Of course I’m sure. I’ve never seen the man in my life before.’ Ben shook as the image of Van Goren’s wax-like face flashed through his mind.
    ‘Well, it seems he knew you,’ she replied as she read the letter for herself. ‘You don’t make complete strangers beneficiaries in your will. And he did ask me about you at the cocktail party on Friday night, remember?’
    As Joanna spoke, the doorbell rang. ‘That might be the police with news.’ Ben jumped up from his chair. Moments later he returned followed by a dark haired young woman in her late thirties.
    ‘Joanna, this is Audrey McIntyre, Emma’s research assistant. Audrey, my sister.’
    Audrey extended her hand to Joanna. ‘Pleased to meet you, Joanna. I was hoping you’d heard from Emma, but Ben says not.’ Audrey adjusted her dark-rimmed glasses and sat down at the kitchen table before placing her handbag on her lap. ‘I wish I could be of more help,’ she continued. ‘But as I told Ben yesterday, the last time I spoke to Emma was Thursday night.’ Audrey adjusted her glasses again. ‘I’m also sorry to hear about your Dad. I saw it on the news last night.’ She looked to Ben. ‘I had no idea what had happened to him when we spoke on the phone. I’m so sorry.’
    ‘You weren’t to know,’ said Ben joining them at the table. ‘I take it the police contacted you about Emma?’
    ‘Yes. They came to see me yesterday afternoon. I tried to remember as much as I could about the last time I saw her. I told you Emma and I spent Thursday afternoon at the Mitchell Library, didn’t I?’
    ‘Yes, you did. You’re helping her with research for her book on Australian artists, aren’t you?’ said Ben.
    ‘That’s right. I’ve been researching two South Australian painters for her. Did you know that Emma had decided to also include your mother’s work in the book?’
    ‘She did mention it,’ replied Ben. ‘But I told her I didn’t think it was a good idea.’
    ‘Oh.’ Audrey’s brow wrinkled. ‘Then I guess I’ve let the cat out of the bag.’
    ‘Why do you say that?’ asked Ben.
    ‘Because as far as I know, Emma’s going ahead with it. She’s already done quite a lot of research into your mother’s work and her life as an artist. The only thing she hasn’t been able to do yet is to visit her studio at Lane’s End. She wanted to go there and take photographs, but for that she told me she needed your father’s permission.’
    ‘That’s right, and I doubt he’d have given it. None of the family has been back to Lane’s End since our mother died.’ Ben glanced at Joanna. ‘The property’s been closed up since that time. Thirty years.’
    ‘Mmm. That’s what Emma said, and that’s why she approached your step-mother Laura, rather than your Dad.’ A look of surprise crossed Ben’s face as he recalled telling Emma that her request to visit Lane’s End would, undoubtedly, be refused by his father and that to pursue the matter would only cause her more disappointment. At the time, he had sensed her dismay in his lack of support, but how could he explain his father’s sensitivities about Lane’s End. After all, what had happened there, years ago, was only a memory that lurked in the darkest recesses of his mind and had done so for as long as he