Petulant Rainbow

By Herbert Howard Jones

When beautiful Geraldine Ryans' engagement to an air force pilot is called off, her feelings of self-worth are completely shattered. The situation is made all the more painful when her mother dies shortly afterwards leaving her completely on her own. And it doesn’t help when the family lawyer rubs salt into her wounds by informing Geraldine that she might lose the family home she has inherited due to a lack of finances. If Geraldine doesn’t play ball with the lawyer and put the property into a Trust, she could end up homeless and in debt.

Such is Geraldine’s anxiety that the local young doctor puts her on some sedatives to help her cope with her problems, and to get over her bereavement. Geraldine has become a bag of nerves but is determined to fight for the one thing she had always loved – her beloved Larkford, her home of over twenty years. This is the beautiful house she has grown up in and it is full of happy memories. To lose it would have definitely driven her over the edge.

But when a close friend invites her to a party, the future becomes more hopeful. There she meets the handsome Stefan Lafonte, a wealthy businessman in his forties who wants to whisk her away. But because of her failed former engagement, Geraldine feels strongly distrustful of this man whom she sees talking to other women at the party. Women are clearly attracted to him, which in Geraldine’s eyes is not a good sign. She decides to abandon the party and forget about the handsome Mr Lafonte, who is determined to get to know her.

He persists and it is then that Geraldine has an epiphany and wonders whether this man’s ardour could be utilised to her advantage. If she marries him, it will solve all her legal and financial problems. In one blow, she could retain her beloved home and get the lawyer off her back. The only thing is, she would then also need to get rid of Mr Lafonte as well, especially as she does not see him as long-term marriage prospect. But how difficult would this be?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Herbert Howard Jones
• Release date: May 31, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463681497

Herbert Howard Jones

HERBERT HOWARD JONES grew up in Notting Hill, London in the sixties. He went to a boarding school in Norfolk and then local schools including Sloane School where crime writer John Creasy attended near the King's Road. When he left school he got numerous jobs, including as a porter at the BBC London, working as a jewellery assembler in a factory in Hatton Garden and also in a number of roles at a showbiz solicitor's office where he was a trainee legal executive and ran errands for a few of the British movie and music names of the time.He is a creative spirit who also likes dabbling in music and art himself. When he was in the jewellery business he personally made over ten thousand 14 carat gold gate bracelets which was a great learning experience for him. However, he was more interested in media and always wanted to write suspense books with a melodramatic element and so spent years reading them and working on various projects. He is also interested in romantic and fantasy fiction.But meeting people has always inspired him the most and he has had the good fortune to meet quite a few interesting people. He was personally friends with horror writer, Denis Wheatley's housekeeper when she lived in Blackheath, and knew poet John Pudney who lived nearby before he passed. One of the most interesting people that he met was the daughter of the Captain of the Titanic with whom he had tea in her cottage up in Suffolk. Miss Smith was a lady with a big personality and a very interesting home. She was surrounded with Titanic memorabilia wherever you looked. Jones was only a boy at the time and didn't appreciate the significance of all this stuff, but regrets not quizzing her on the catastrophic event which has forever featured large in shipping folklore!PERSONAL MESSAGE:I WANT TO EXPRESS my gratitude to readers who have bothered to download my books. I put a lot of effort into them and also design my own covers, and so it is a wonderful reward to get a download. Every author on this platform will be grateful for them because writing can be a lonely and thankless task. It is only the reader who makes it all worth while, and so thanks very much again.HHJ

Book preview

Petulant Rainbow

Herbert Howard Jones

Copyright © Herbert Howard Jones 2020

The right of Herbert Howard Jones to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

This is a work of fiction. Opinions expressed in this book do not necessarily reflect the author’s own views.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Book cover design by H.H. Jones

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

About the author

Other books by Herbert Howard Jones

Chapter One

By the time summer had appeared, it was practically autumn. Geraldine Ryans stood in the middle of the garden smoking a cigarette and enjoying the late arriving clement weather. She really needed to get going or she would miss her train. But she was reluctant to move from her almost rooted position. She felt relaxed like a horse sleeping on its feet. She would rather just sunbathe in the garden than go traipsing up to town. It would be such a waste of a nice afternoon. She didn’t want to leave the comfort of Larkford, her family home for years. But the clock was ticking away.

She was grateful that she had Larkford and had held onto it with all her might. Unlike everything else that she had loved and lost. Her attachment to her home blinded her to what was wrong with it. A local builder had given her a list of the problems. It was a horrific itemisation and it mainly had to do with damp damage. The roof, thank goodness was fine, but the walls needed doing and the floors had subsided slightly. This fact scared her a little.

She and her mother had discussed how to get some repairs done without spending a fortune. But that had been just before her mother became seriously unwell. The hospital diagnosed her as having abdominal aortic aneurysm. Fortunately, the survival rates of patients with this condition had improved considerably, but her health had disintegrated, nonetheless. Her father had died two years previously and so her mother’s illness was a major worry. After the diagnosis, Geraldine was too concerned for her mother to bother with house repairs.

However, she couldn't think to live anywhere else and would probably stay put, even if the house did fall down around her. Geraldine also liked the seclusion of Larkford too. It was hidden away down country lanes as an isolated property. The nearest village was Welton.

She gazed at the colourful flower beds that ran along the wall of the building, almost in a kind of a trance as she finished her cigarette. Checking her watch for the umpteenth time, she frowned. It was time to get a move on, or she would miss her solicitor’s appointment in the neighbouring town of Rodean. But the garden always had a powerful emotional hold over her as she had enjoyed many happy hours in it as a child. It was also where Flight Lieutenant Johnny Leonard had proposed to her.

That day had been a magical day. He had sworn always to be true to her, and she had been swept up in his vision of their future together. It was an emotionally charged afternoon, and she couldn’t wait to tell her parents that she had agreed to an engagement. They unhesitatingly shared her joy and approved of her choice of husband. She had felt like the happiest girl in the world.

As her thoughts came back to her parents, she had to fight back the tears. Crying had been something she’d been doing a lot of lately. However, now was not the time to dissolve into a puddle of emotion. Both parents were gone, and she needed to be strong and learn to accept the fact. Who said that life was going to be a bed of roses?

However, her mother had died just three months earlier, and she was only beginning to come to terms with it. It helped that Geraldine had been working with the executor of her mother’s Will and there was quite a lot of paperwork to be done. Money was also due to be released from her mother’s life policy but there had been a hold-up.

Geraldine shook her blonde head. The last thing she wanted to do was smudge her mascara, so she took three deep breaths and managed to get control of herself. She had better get going. Charles Malverne, her father's former solicitor, had left a message for her to go and see him at his office. She was annoyed that he wasn’t more specific. What was the urgency? A letter might have been helpful. Instead, he was almost demanding that she go to the office as soon as possible, which she felt was disrespectful. Clearly something had come up, but what? Perhaps it was something to do with her mother’s life policy. Her parents had been paying into it for donkey’s years, so surely it wasn’t that?

From her knowledge of probate, she knew that Larkford, the beloved house that she had been born in, loved and cherished, was now hers. Her mother had been determined to make sure of that. It was like the last arbour of security and a reminder of the happy family life Geraldine once knew. But perhaps there were still some minor formalities which needed to be attended to before the house could be put in Geraldine’s name. Or possibly the solicitor wanted to give her some advice, as there had not been much spendable cash left over in the Will. But Geraldine already knew this. Frankly, the suspense was killing her.

****

Four hours later Geraldine was back at Larkford after seeing the solicitor, and was sitting in the study, a glass of vodka in her hand, staring at the carpet. Her face was still burning from her heated conversation with the solicitor and she was quite stunned. What the solicitor had to say was a shock to her system because it undermined everything she had been comfortably expecting.

`I’m sorry to have to tell you that there’s been a complication and it can’t easily be resolved,’ the solicitor, Charles Malverne had said, his face sombre. ‘Also, there is very little actual money to speak of in the estate…’

‘I realise that,’ Geraldine had replied. ‘But what about the life policy? I understand there was fifty thousand pounds in it. My parents paid into it for ages.’

The solicitor nodded his head as he stared at the documents on the desk in front of him. ‘No longer,’ he said.

‘No longer?’ Geraldine repeated confused.

‘The insurance company went into liquidation eighteen months ago and the accounts were transferred to a company in Gibraltar. There’s been a freeze on all their cash and assets.’

‘So what are you saying?’ Geraldine asked as she started to grow concerned.

There was hesitation in the solicitor’s voice when he said, ‘I’m saying that getting the title to your home will be subject to certain provisos that your mother introduced into her Will!’

‘Provisos? She never said anything about provisos to me,’ Geraldine replied anxiously.

‘These conditions, I assure you, were made in your best interests,’ the solicitor said. ‘Your mother knew that the life insurance policy had nose-dived but didn’t want to tell you. But basically, she has stipulated that, as there is a fair bit outstanding on the mortgage, the property should be placed into a Trust. We would be your landlords until such time as you can raise the capital or cash to pay off the mortgage. The mortgage provider has agreed to this and awaits your signature. They will accept a third of the monthly premium for now and half the current monthly repayments. However, you will also have to pay our management fees as well as the ground rent.’

Geraldine blinked. ‘How much is owed on the mortgage?’

‘One hundred and twenty thousand pounds,’ the solicitor replied.

‘Okay, so I’ll get a bank loan,’ she said.

‘You can’t! You couldn’t re-mortgage your house because you are in negative equity,’ the solicitor replied. ‘Your property has structural problems, subsidence etc and it is now worth less than the original valuation. Also, prices have dropped significantly in your area. Such is the market. We are your only hope, otherwise the property will be repossessed!’

With the solicitor’s ominous words echoing in her head, Geraldine returned home to her beloved Larkford and fixed herself a drink. In one foul swoop, her whole life had been handed over to a firm of crabby solicitors on a plate. She now felt owned. She also didn’t really understand all the implications of the red tape.

At that moment her mobile phone rang, and she immediately took the call. The number displayed on her phone’s screen was Franny Henson’s, a family friend who was also a neighbour. ‘Hey, how’s it going?’ Franny asked cheerfully. She knew that Geraldine was still in mourning over her mother’s passing.

‘Don’t ask!’ Geraldine replied. 'How are you and William?'

‘We are very much looking forward to our holiday in the Bahamas, thank you very much, coming up soon now!’ Franny said almost smugly.

‘Oh yes that’s right,’ Geraldine replied trying to be cheerful in her turn. ‘You lucky people. Haven’t got a care in the world!’

‘I wouldn’t say that!’ Franny said. ‘But we will be away for three whole months and so we are going to have a little see-you-later party. And also to ask if you’d watch our house for us while we’re away!’

Geraldine gasped. ‘What!’

‘I mean just drive by every so often and check the alarm.’

‘I suppose I could manage that,’ Geraldine said reluctantly.

‘So, you up for it?’ Franny asked. ‘The party, I mean?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Geraldine said. ‘I’ve got a few things on my mind at the moment.’ She also wasn’t too keen on Franny’s choice of friends who seemed a bit bohemian in her view. They’d all be there for the free wine and whatever. She had gone to one of Franny’s parties a while back with Johnny Leonard and didn’t really gel with the company.

'Oh do come!’ Franny pleaded. ‘It will get you away from that rambling old house for a couple of hours.’

‘I actually rather like being in my rambling old house!’ Geraldine replied.

‘Of course you do!’ Franny said quickly. 'You and Larkford are so…well suited. I couldn’t imagine anyone else living there. Apart from you and Johnny of course. Oh sorry!’

Geraldine gritted her teeth. Franny had just remembered that Johnny Leonard was a sore point with Geraldine. They had only been engaged for a brief time before Johnny called it off.

'Geri, I've got to rush but we would love you to come to the bash,’ Franny said. ‘The party is a week on Friday, and you don’t have to stay long. Just stop by and say hello!’

Geraldine put down her phone feeling slightly irritated. She liked Franny and William, and as a couple they were decent people. But they were sometimes a little too cheerful and tended to speak without thinking. However, Geraldine was content for the moment to be in her own company as she tried to deal with her recent bad news regarding the house.

Geraldine slapped the arm of the chair. Why didn’t her mother tell her about the defunct policy? Surely this was important information that she needed to know. Geraldine screwed up her fists. ‘God, God, God!’ she muttered. The thought that she would now be a tenant in her own home was too painful to think about. And if she didn’t keep up the mortgage payments, even if they had been sliced in half, then what? Would Charles Malverne, her less than charming solicitor, turf her out? Was the firm eager to acquire the house for their own corporate portfolio? It certainly had some sort of historical significance.

No, she thought, she couldn't bear to lose Larkford to them, the stuffy old sods. It was her home, her bit of paradise on earth when everything else had turned sour. Her mind flipped back to Johnny Leonard. What he had done was hurtful beyond words, but she knew perfectly well why he had opted out of their engagement, which was a year ago and still painful.

The turnaround from happy young woman to a hurt humiliated one had happened in a flash. One moment she had been so full of joy and expectations, so glad to be alive, and then a letter had arrived from Johnny, completely unexpectedly. It was such a contrast to the phone call of a few days before from him which was so brimming full of love and respect. They talked about the wedding. It would be the village’s highlight of the year.

By contrast the letter that arrived seventy-two hours later was an abomination, a betrayal, a violent shock to her delicate system. As she read the letter, her breath had got shorter and shorter, and she felt the blood drain from her face. It was full of the worst bad news. Johnny was an RAF Flight Lieutenant, two blue stripes on his shoulder board, or NATO code OF-2, as he had been fond of telling her. This meant he was always away, and this clearly posed a danger to their relationship. In fact, the letter was a realisation of her worst fears. He had found somebody else.

Her mother just happened to be standing next to her when she had opened Johnny’s letter. ‘Are you alright?’ she had asked.

With her hands trembling Geraldine had handed over his letter. Her mother quickly read the first paragraph and immediately got the jist of it. ‘So he’s found someone else? I can’t believe it!’

Geraldine stared at her. ‘It’s because he’s always on the move,’ she said by way of an explanation. ‘He went to Canada for a week and it must have happened there.’

‘Yes, but the decent thing would have been to come and see you and explain in person, not just to fob you off with a letter!’ her mother replied.

'He probably couldn't get away, you know what the RAF is like,’ Geraldine replied unable to fully take in the situation.

She could have phoned him at the base, and he could have phoned her. But Geraldine left the situation as it was, expecting him to come back with an apology, or make some gesture. But nothing happened. Before she knew it, two weeks had flown by and she had to abandon her part-time job in the local bookshop where she did the mail orders. She had become very deeply depressed and the bookshop manager told her to take some time off. Her state of mind deteriorated so much that her mother had to call the local GP. It was as if she had lost the will to live, and her appetite suffered, and she began to lose weight.

The local GP, Dr Carson, was of the old school and inclined to think depression was a bit of a new-fangled bad excuse for not wanting to do anything. He privately called it ‘a touch of pathetic apathy’, but still nonetheless prescribed the routine anti-depressants. Her mother had to remind Geraldine to take them in the belief that they would help her. Her mother was very supportive and understood what her daughter was going through. They would sit out in the garden and have long chats. Geraldine would declare that Johnny was the love of her life and that she would never find another man like him. ‘RAF officers do not grow on trees,’ she said.

‘Well, if that’s what they are like, you can keep them!’ her mother had replied.

Geraldine shook her head. Her heart and soul belonged to Johnny Leonard, and she knew she would never get over him. ‘I wonder what dad would say if he was still alive?’ she wondered out loud.

‘He’d want to box Johnny’s ears,’ her mother said cattily. ‘But you’ll get over this, darling, there are plenty of fish in the sea.’

‘Yes and all the best ones have been caught!’ Geraldine replied.

‘You’ll find someone else, I promise,’ her mother assured her.

‘But I don’t want anyone else,’ Geraldine said as tears came to her eyes. ‘And I know that I have been weak. Perhaps that’s why he’s fallen for someone else.’

By this she meant that she had behaved somewhat like a well-trained puppy, always being there for him. Living just for his needs, his requests, his wants. Always waiting for him to phone and then trying hard not to pester him when he didn’t, and then giving in to the impulse. Thinking back, it almost was as if the wedding had been a fantasy of hers that she had foisted onto him, and he had agreed out of politeness. But her attentiveness might have been too much. Perhaps she had frightened him off.

Geraldine went to the minibar and poured herself another drink. Since her mother’s passing, she had been drinking like a fish. Her thoughts went back to the solicitor’s ominous warning that the house that she loved could be repossessed if the mortgage payments were not kept up. Or at least. this is how she understood the situation. And despite all her mother’s support and encouragement, she had betrayed her at the last hurdle. The house was now in Trust to a firm of cold-hearted businessmen pretending to be a caring firm of family solicitors.

How could her mother have done that? Perhaps she had no other choice. Admittedly money was short, but then the solicitor did not know about the money her father had left in a suitcase, which Geraldine had found after her mother’s death. Even her mother didn’t appear to know about it. It was fifteen thousand pounds in rolls with elastic bands around them, and it was old denomination. The suitcase was in the attic, a place where her mother rarely went. Her father must have put it there and forgot about it. Or at least he had never mentioned it during his lifetime.

This was why Geraldine felt that she could get by until she could secure a better job and perhaps put a tenant in the house as well. She could use the money to pay off some of the mortgage and the blessed premium and wouldn’t be saddled with fees and ground rent. She was sure that her father would never agree to the idea of the house being put into a Trust. Her father would have been outraged. He had never really liked Charles Malverne, the solicitor. But the solicitor was the one now in control as he followed the dictates of her mother’s Will.

Geraldine sat down with her drink and remembered a conversation she had with her father a number of years ago after she had left that tough Catholic School. She had been a boarder and hated every minute but had to admit they were wonderful teachers and educators. The sisters of the Carmine College for Young Women were really saintly and loving but overly dedicated to their mission. It had been too much for a girl like Geraldine, who was slightly timid by nature.

When she left Carmine, somewhat prematurely, she opted not to further her education but to stay at home and help around the house. It was after all, a large property needing at least three pairs of hands to keep up with the cleaning and dusting. Her mother welcomed it and her father didn’t mind. It saved paying for a cleaner. However, one day at the corner shop, shop proprietor made a comment. He asked Geraldine, jokingly, if she minded being her dad’s live-in domestic!

Geraldine was quite taken back by this remark and didn’t know how to reply to it. She mentioned it to her father later. She remembered that he frowned and then he said, ‘You can go out and get a job whenever you like. I’m not forcing you to help your mother! But we don’t want her to have another episode like the one she had a few years back, do we?’

Geraldine had no recollection of the episode that her father was referring to because she had been at Carmine at the time. ‘What was that?’ she had enquired.

Her father had looked at her realising that she hadn’t been aware of anything out of the ordinary where her mother was concerned. With a sigh, he began to explain. It was a long rambling story. But in essence it revealed to a shocked Geraldine that her mother had had a drinking problem, compounded with bouts of depression and suicide attempts.

‘Your mother hates Larkford,’ her father told her. ‘It’s too dark and gloomy as far as she is concerned, and you being at home helps her to cope.’

‘That’s good then,’ Geraldine had replied.

‘But when you were in bed we used to quarrel, quite bitterly, and tried to hide it from you,’ her father explained.

‘What was it over?’

‘It’s a long story,’ her father said. ‘Your mother thought when she