Salt Sisters

say how sorry I am for your loss. This is a particularly sad case, but I believe that Mrs Sanders has made some provisions in her will that may help to ease the burden on you all at this time.’
His top lip glistened. Was I imagining it, or was he avoiding eye contact with me?
‘This is the last will and testament of Mrs Amy Helena Sanders, it revokes any earlier wills, and is dated November 14, 2018.’
‘What?’ Mike’s eyes were wide and spots of colour appeared on his cheeks. He shook his head. ‘No. Amy and I wrote our wills together. We did it eight years ago, right after Betsy was born.’
‘I regret that this is coming as a surprise to you, Mr Sanders, but I can confirm that Mrs Sanders wrote a new will in November last year. This voids any earlier versions.’ Charles adjusted his collar. ‘Is everyone clear on that?’
We all nodded. My throat scratched when I swallowed.
‘Mrs Sanders had a very generous life insurance policy. She requested that the entirety of any payment, estimated to be around £1.2 million…’
Auntie Sue gasped and we exchanged a wide-eyed glance – why the hell was Amy’s life insurance so high?
Charles cleared his throat.
‘Mrs Sanders’s policy directs the insurance be held in a trust and shared equally among her three children – the sole beneficiaries – when they reach the age of twenty-one.’
‘No!’ Mike slammed his palm against the table. ‘That was not what we agreed. She can’t change it without telling me, can she?’
Charles responded with silence. He pushed his glasses higher up his nose.
‘Mrs Sanders has also stipulated that her savings, approximately £65,000, be allocated to a hardship fund – hardships to be qualified and determined by Moore, Moore & Ridley as the executor of her estate – for her mother, aunt, spouse and children.’
The spots of colour had vanished, and Mike was pale. He shook his head and then smirked, like this was all a practical joke and the punchline was about to be revealed.
‘With regards to the care of her children, Mrs Sanders made a… somewhat unorthodox request.’
Charles stared down at the paper in front of him. I glanced at Auntie Sue, who gave a barely perceptible shrug in response.
‘Mrs Sanders requested that legal guardianship and care of her children be divided equally between her husband, Mr Michael Sanders, and her sister, Miss Isabelle Morton.’
Charles glanced up and met my eyes. I was still processing his words – something about legal and dividing… He spoke slowly, carefully enunciating every word.
‘Furthermore, Mrs Sanders requested that her sister, Miss Isabelle Morton, make a permanent residence in Seahouses to facilitate her sharing joint responsibility for the children until the youngest, Elizabeth Sanders, reaches eighteen years of age.’
There was a loud gasp, and it took a second before I realised it came from me.
Everyone stared, waiting for a response that I couldn’t give. The room started to spin, and I spread my palms on the table to steady myself. In the corner of my eye, I saw Mike bury his face in his hands.
‘That’s…’ I stuttered. ‘I mean, er, perhaps you can explain?’
‘Mrs Sanders predicted such a reaction from you, Miss Morton,’ Charles said, almost with a chuckle. ‘She left a letter for you by way of explanation. I advise you to read it carefully.’
Mike’s mouth was set in a tight, hard line and Auntie Sue looked like she needed a lie-down. I sensed the shocked stares of the children on me.
Mum’s eyes were glistening.
‘But that’s wonderful news, Izzy. Now you can come home.’
I flopped onto Lucas’s bed. When Mike and Amy had first bought their house, this had been the guest room. It was the room I had stayed in whenever I’d visited, until Lucas had arrived and the floral wallpaper was replaced with a spaceship decal and bunk beds.
I took the hip flask from my pocket and had a swig. Amy’s letter was in a sealed envelope and she had written my name on the front. I traced the lines of her handwriting. Why had Amy replaced her will behind Mike’s back? And shouldn’t she have asked me if I would mind babysitting her kids for the next ten years?
No way could I move back to Seahouses. My entire life – my career, my friends – everything was in Hong Kong. What had Amy been thinking? Surely, she must have known I could never come back here. I would make an appointment with another solicitor and check the legality of it. There must be some way to politely decline.
And I wouldn’t be any help anyway – I didn’t know the first thing about kids. Amy might have made it look easy, but the past few days had reminded me why I had chosen a child-free existence. Mike could manage on his own, especially with Rachel on hand and Mum and Auntie Sue living around the corner. Auntie Sue had been our rock after Dad had died and Mum left.
I couldn’t think about that right now. Too many upsetting thoughts in one afternoon. I fired off a text to Amy:
What have you done???
Amy had also made some provisions for the funeral, so there wasn’t much for us to do. Rachel seemed almost disappointed that the hard work of organizing had been done for her.
Adam brought fish and chips over for dinner, and having a fresh face broke some of the tension. After the meal, with Rachel busy washing up and Adam holding court in the living room, I slipped out into the back garden for some fresh air.
Mike was sitting on the step, smoking. He eyed my drink.
‘Is that whisky?’
‘Depends. Is that a cigarette?’
He shrugged. ‘I haven’t smoked in years. Amy made me quit when she was pregnant with Hannah.’
‘We all need something to take the edge off today.’
I handed him my glass and he took a sip.
‘I don’t understand, Izzy. Why would she do this? Did she say anything to you?’
‘Is this the face of someone