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Chapter
50 4 August 2004
Our group was depleted even before the funerals. Angel went
back to LA on the first available flight, no doubt sensing the way that no one
was exactly comfortable with him. Willow,
while awake, has been spirited off to Devon by Gwynneth.
It's going to take a while for her to recover, and the strain of attending the
two funerals was generally agreed to be something she should avoid.
So, those of us whore left have been attending funerals. First,
we had the other Buffy's. That was an odd thing. I went to Buffy's funeral once
before, as did Giles and Dawn, and this one brought back bad memories of that
time. About the only thing that saved my sanity on that one was the way my
Buffy held onto me all the way through. Truth is, before the funeral, I was
more worried about her. Seeing what Angelus did to her other self's been hard
on her. She's been remote since she saw that - not herself at all. I'd been
waiting for that funeral, desperate to get it over with because I thought it'd help
her put it behind her. Not that you ever really forget something like that, but
she's seen enough horror in her lifetime, and while this is more personal than
most of it, she's managed to get over things before. My reaction I wasn't
expecting. Still, once it was over, she seemed better, and when I suggested we
do a patrol she agreed eagerly. We got some violence in, and then, well, we
made a mad rush back to my flat and spent the rest of the night not sleeping.
Of course, that meant that getting up this morning in time
for Moira's funeral was a little more difficult than it should have been. And
it was another occasion I wouldn't have got through without Buffy.
The contrast between the two services was huge. Buffy's was
small - just Buffy, Dawn, Giles, Gus, Fiona and me. It took place at a
crematorium, with a few words said by some bloke whose name I dont remember
who Giles brought up from London.
The coffin disappeared behind the shutters, and we left.
Moira's couldn't have been more different. The church was
full, a number of others from the Council mingling with locals. The service was
in a local church, the minister talking about Moira's place in the community.
There was nothing said about her involvement with the Council or witchcraft or
vampires. There was even some family - a niece and nephew with their families.
From what was said, they all travelled from other parts of the country.
I had to watch the burial from a distance, since it took
place during broad daylight. The whole thing was difficult, but seeing that
coffin, more child- than adult-sized, disappear beneath the ground was almost
more than I could cope with. The knowledge that her husband was already there
was the only positive thing about it - knowing that she believed she was going
to be reunited with him.
We didn't go to the church hall afterwards. The idea of
sharing cups of tea or sherry or whisky with people who didn't know the Moira I
knew
Instead, we went back to the flat, everyone except Gus and Fiona, and I
broke out a bottle of whisky and some beer, and Giles and I drank too much.
Buffy kept Dawn out of the way, and just kept an eye on us, finally calling a
cab for Giles and putting me to bed. And the most amazing part of that was the
fact that she climbed in beside me and held me until I finally slept.
And this morning, the postman brought a surprise. A letter,
addressed to me, all letterhead and crests. It's from a solicitor, asking me to
make an appointment with them 'at my earliest convenience'.
Dawn arranged to go shopping with Fiona this morning -
something about going to local markets - so by the time I'm awake and I've
cleared my head enough to take in the contents of the letter, it's lunchtime.
Still, I call the number, and I'm offered an appointment this evening - later
than normal office hours - and that, I'm quite certain, is, or was, Moira's
doing.
I make my way to the office at the appointed time, just a
few blocks away from the flat, and find that at this time of day, I can walk in
through the front door without smoking at all. Buffy's with me - it's almost as
if she doesn't trust me on my own, but I'm not complaining. We're called into
an office, wood-panelled and grand, with a huge, polished desk, and a small, balding,
bespectacled man. He introduces himself as Mr. Wilson, greets us warmly, and
asks us to sit down. We do, and he pulls a file to the centre of his desk.
"Mr. Sinclair, I must thank you for contacting the
office so promptly. The matters arising from the will of Moira McConnechie are
fairly simple, but it is always preferable to get things moving as soon as
possible."
"I'm not sure how this affects me," I start, but
he holds up a hand.
"Of course, so just let me explain. Moira McConnechie
had a sizeable estate. The bulk of that is to go to a trust fund, and I will
explain more of that in a moment. However, I should tell you that, with the
exception of that sum and a few, personal and family items, the rest of the
estate has been willed to you. That part of the estate includes the whole of
the building known as 111 Blythswood Terrace, where you are currently in
residence in one of the basement flats."
"What? You
"
Again, he holds up a hand. Buffy takes my hand in hers and
squeezes it.
"In addition to that property, there is a small
portfolio of investments, with an annual income of some fifteen thousand pounds
based on figures from the last financial year. It is a stipulation of the
bequest that you maintain current arrangements both as regards the property and
the portfolio for at least the next five years. After that, you will be
permitted to dispose of them as you wish."
"You're joking, Mate. No way would Mrs. M
"
"And yet she did. But that is not the whole of your
involvement in this matter. As I mentioned before, the bulk of Mrs.
McConnechie's estate is to go into a trust fund, that fund to be at the
disposal of the Council of Watchers. However, it is a requirement of this
bequest that you, Mr. Sinclair, as an employee of the Council, be given
responsibility for ensuring that this money is used to provide for the upkeep
of active and retired Slayers. Mrs. McConnechie felt quite strongly that this
was her best insurance that the money would be allocated as she would have
wished. Of course, you must decide whether or not you are willing to take on
this responsibility. Her previous Will, and the alternative if you should
choose not to be involoved, required simply that the trust be administered by
the Council, but she was concerned that some regimes within the Council have
not always had the best interests of Slayers at heart. You have time to come to
a decision, of course. I understand that this has been a surprise to you, so I
would simply ask that you think about what I have said over the next few days.
However, I have one more duty at this time, and that is to give you this."
He hands me a letter, pale yellow notepaper with my name in
blue ink in Moira's handwriting. It's sealed, and I look at it, mesmerised for
what if probably longer than is natural.
"Let's go," she says softly. "You can read it
later, in private." I find myself nodding and being led out of the room,
not really sure what has happened.
Once outside, we get into the car, and I put the envelope on
the steering wheel and look at it.
"Why, Buffy? Why would she do that? I'm not
I don't
deserve
"
"That's two questions. Why did she want you looking out
for the Slayers? Because she trusted you. You obviously convinced her that you
won't betray them, that you can be trusted to keep their needs in mind
regardless of who's actually running the Council. And you've got the whole
immortality thing going too - so it'll be a while before they can get rid of
you."
"Ok, maybe," I agree, not entirely convinced.
"But the rest of it? That money - with the building too
it's
"
"Let's go back, and then you can read the letter. Maybe
it'll make more sense then."
I put the unopened letter in my pocket and start the engine.
Once home, we find that Dawn's back, and to Buffy's unspoken question I gesture
that she doesn't tell her for now. I leave the girls in the living room with
Dawn showing off her purchases and go into the bedroom where I stare at the
envelope for several minutes before I finally tear it open. It's a single page
in the same handwriting as the envelope.
Dear William,
If you're reading
this, then you've met with Mr. Wilson, and he's told you how my Will affects
you.
First, I'd like to
apologise. I've given you a huge responsibility, and that's quite unfair of me.
However, it seemed to me that your arrival solved a problem I've had for some
time, namely, how to ensure that the money is spent for the benefit of the
girls who risk their lives daily for the rest of us. While I trust Rupert Giles
to do his best, he's human, and as such, will be replaced in time. The history
of the Council is filled with bequests which were intended for one purpose, but
later, that purpose has been disregarded due changing priorities. I need
someone who will continue to ensure my wishes are carried out for as long as
possible. In my defence, you can leave the actual investment of the Trust in
the hands of Mr. Wilson's firm, as their advisors have controlled my
investments for many years.
In order to sweeten
the pill, I have made a personal bequest to you, but that is given without
conditions. Between the building and the portfolio, you have a home, and the
income from both should provide a simple standard of living - indeed it is what
I've been living on for some years.
I wish you well,
William. You've surmounted hurdles which would have stopped most, fighting your
nature to become someone I can honestly say it's been a pleasure and an honour
to call a friend.
Moira McConnechie
I read the letter over and over, trying to come to terms
with what it says. I'm so involved in it, that I don't hear Buffy coming in
until she sits on the bed beside me. Wordlessly, I pass the letter to her and
she reads it in silence. When she's finished, she puts the letter down and
looks at me. There are tears shining in her eyes, and she holds out her arms to
me. I fall into them, and the tears I didn't shed earlier at the funeral find
their way now.
I know that Buffy believes in me. Somehow, I've accepted
that. But for someone like Moira to say things like that - to show such trust
in me - I honestly don't know if I'll ever be able to live up to her
expectations. One thing is certain, though. I'm bloody well going to do my
best.
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