Free Somebody Told Me by Stephen Puleston

someone? And if so who? I glanced at the various faces on the board. I had to know what Bevard was up to that afternoon. I tapped on the map.
    ‘Tomorrow we go to Pontypool and talk to the owner of the convenience store.’

Chapter 11
     
    As I drove up the valley towards Aberdare, skirting round Mountain Ash, Tracy wasn’t far from my thoughts. It had been late in the afternoon when I sent her a message that had gone unanswered. Now it occurred to me that I perhaps should have texted earlier and that maybe she was annoyed with me.
    An urgent edge had crept into my father’s voice when we’d spoken earlier that week. He had family business to discuss and made it clear I had to be punctual. A property in Pontypridd bequeathed by my grandfather – Nonno Marco – had a complicated legal provision that meant I was dragged into deciding the property’s future. Only Uncle Gino, my father’s older brother, had any interest and he had been pressurising my father into agreeing to sell. The third sibling, Uncle Franco, was an ageing hippy, still touring small venues with his rock band, who let my father and Uncle Gino make all the decisions.
    I pulled into the drive at my parents’ home, the final bars of ‘You Were Always On My Mind’ filling the cabin. My father opened the door before I pressed the bell.
    ‘How are you, John?’
    He had a mass of hair that always made him look younger than his age.
    ‘Busy.’
    ‘You’re always busy. Come in.’ He turned and I followed him into the house.
    My mother was preparing a meal in the kitchen, and she reached up with one hand and cupped my left cheek, drawing her hand along the stubble. ‘Not shaving now, John?’
    ‘What are you cooking?’
    ‘
Spezzatino di manzo
.’
    ‘That’s beef stew to you and me,’ my father said behind me.
    ‘You talk to Papa.’
    Upstairs in one of the bedrooms that he used as an office he settled into his chair by the paper-strewn desk and took a long slug from a bottle of Peroni. He gave me a businesslike look. ‘I need to talk to you about the property.’
    I sat in an office chair.
    ‘Nonno made a bloody complicated will with that idiot of a lawyer.’
    My father had complained about the will before, many times.
    ‘Nonno put the property in trust because he wanted everyone in the family to pull together once he’d died. It was old-fashioned but he hoped that somehow we could work together as a family.’
    ‘He hadn’t reckoned on Uncle Gino and Jez.’ I almost spat out my cousin’s name. He was lazy and if Nonno could see the way he had treated the family he’d be rewriting his will.
    My father nodded slowly.
    ‘While the property was producing a decent income then there wasn’t a problem. But now Gino needs the cash and he’s been talking to some property developer who’s interested in buying it.’
    ‘With the sitting tenant?’
    ‘Apparently. They’ve bought up some of the adjoining properties and they want to demolish and rebuild the place. The local council is supporting them.’
    ‘Uncle Gino must be salivating at the prospect of getting his money.’
    My father drank some more beer and let his gaze wander around the room. ‘I’ve got lots of memories from that place. Nonno was a good man but it’s like he’s trying to control events from the grave.’
    ‘What do you want to do?’
    He sighed. ‘We might think about getting rid of the old place. Too many memories and if the price is right … And we might avoid all the hassle of arguing with the tenant about the rent and negotiating a new tenancy.’
    ‘So the new owners would take on the problems with evicting the tenant?’
    ‘I suppose so.’
    ‘What’s happened so far?’
    The smell of oregano and tomato drifting from downstairs made me feel hungry.
    ‘Gino has sent me a pile of paperwork. We need to go through it before we meet the lawyers at their offices in Pontypridd. I’ll let you know when it’s been arranged.’
    He passed over a thick wad