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  “I see. The mortgage was solely in Mr Quinn’s name then?”

  “That’s right,” Karen answered quietly.

  “But you have contributed financially throughout the duration of the mortgage?”

  “Oh, absolutely – we each had separate accounts but we keep – I mean we kept – a joint account for electricity bills, heating and the mortgage repayments.”

  “Well, that’s a start certainly. I assume you have bank statements that verify your contributions to the account from which the mortgage payments were made? And Mr Quinn does not dispute the fact that you made these contributions, does he?”

  “Not as far as I know, he doesn’t. It’s just –’ Karen was nervous. “It was always Shane’s house, wasn’t it – legally I mean? What I paid means nothing?”

  “Mr Quinn’s name may have been on the mortgage but in truth the building society, hold the Title Deeds to the property until the mortgage is repaid in full. While you both contributed, and while the mortgage was solely in Mr Quinn’s name, no one has full Legal Title until the loan is repaid. However, Karen, I should warn you that the judge is likely to rule in favour of Mr Quinn.”

  God, he was so dispassionate about it all. Did he not realise how hard it was for her to come here and discuss all of this with a perfect stranger? Still, these things meant nothing at all to him, she supposed. He was just doing his job. Sympathy didn’t come into it. She had asked for his advice and here he was advising her. What did she expect? A big hug, soothing words and a box of Kleenex?

  “You see,” she told him, “I have nowhere else to live at present so I’m still living there. Mr Quinn has asked – ” Asked? That was an understatement. “that I move out so that it can be sold. But I don’t want to move out. That’s why I’m determined to bring this to court, to see if I have any right to stay there. It’s been my home for the last few years and I don’t want to go back to rented accommodation again, not now, after … everything.”

  She noticed that Donnelly was writing all of this down on a notepad as she spoke. At least she thought he was. Maybe he was just doodling; maybe he was bored by her predicament. He was probably used to more exciting cases, like people falling over pavement slabs and suing the Corporation for breaking an ankle and the like. Or divorce cases. There must be loads of those about, seeing as it was legal to get divorced in Ireland now. This must be dead boring for him.

  Donnelly said nothing for a long while then he asked, “I assume you have spoken at length about this with Mr Quinn?”

  “We’ve spoken a few times but only through our respective solicitors. My solicitor – the one I had before you I mean – hoped that we might be able to come to some arrangement between ourselves. But, Mr Quinn and I have quite a … an acrimonious relationship now. He won’t agree that I’m entitled to anything. Which is why I am here with you today.”

  Karen was amazed at how civil she made it sound. If only he knew.

  “I see,” Donnelly said. “Well, as things stand at the moment, you may have no option but to go to the courts. You are quite fortunate that Mr Quinn has let you stay on so far. However, I would imagine – if things are as you say – that he will be anxious to move on and bring matters to a satisfactory conclusion.”

  Karen was fuming. Why was he taking his side? Anxious to move on indeed. He made it sound like she was nothing – just a temporary inconvenience. What about her feelings? She wanted this sorted out so she could begin to move on too. But she’d be damned if she was going to just roll over and play dead with this one. There was no way he was going to throw her out on the streets. She had paid her dues too; hadn’t Donnelly himself admitted that earlier?

  The solicitor noticed her expression and smiled kindly. “Karen, please don’t take any of this the wrong way. I understand that you have been through a lot in the last year or so and for that I sympathise. I know nothing of your relationship with Mr Quinn and, in truth, that relationship has no bearing on this situation. I’m merely discussing your options with you, but one thing you have to remember is that the sooner this matter is sorted out the better, for both yourself and Mr Quinn. You have to consider that he may put some serious pressure on you to bring the matter to a close even before the case comes before a court.”

  Karen nodded. This was awful. At least, in a marriage, you knew your legal rights. But in situations like this, when you weren’t married, well, everything was a lot more muddled. How did it ever come to this? she wondered. Shane had loved that house so much and the two of them had such fun at the beginning, picking out different bits and pieces in DIY and furniture stores. Stop it, she told herself. Don’t start getting maudlin about it now; just concentrate on the task in hand.

  She brightened a little. “I understand that you need to look at it from every angle, Mr Donnelly, and I’m sorry if I seem a little –” she searched for the right word, “edgy. But I’ve never been through anything like this before and I find it all a little bit daunting to tell the truth.” Her head lowered and she looked up at him through dark eyelashes. “I suppose I never considered that something like this could possibly happen.”

  She felt a lump form in her throat.

  “Karen, I know all of this must be very difficult for you,” he said kindly “but now you must examine your options very carefully. Please think some more about an agreement with Mr Quinn before you go to court. Because you were never married, and the house was never in your name, then I’m afraid you don’t have much of a case.

  As for the contents of the property, well this is something that you will have to iron out between you. Unless you have retained receipts for every individual purchase for the house, it is very difficult to ascertain the legal ownership of fixtures, furniture etc.”

  Karen nodded.

  Donnelly leaned forward and regarded Karen thoughtfully.

  “Are you absolutely sure that you want to follow through on this, Karen? You know I have an obligation to tell you that I don’t think you can retain even part-ownership of the property. The law is against you on this one.”

  Karen wasn’t fazed. “You’re not the first person or indeed the first solicitor to have told me that, Mr Donnelly. But I owe it to myself to follow through and I’m determined that nobody will take the house from me – not without a fight.”

  Donnelly set down his pen. “All right then. Hopefully we can get it sorted out sooner rather than later. I’ll press ahead with Mr Quinn’s solicitor and I’ll be in touch in with you as soon as a court date is confirmed.”

  Karen stood up and went to shake his hand. “Thank you. And thanks also for taking the case. This means a lot to me. I haven’t had much luck with solicitors over the last while.”

  “You’re very welcome, Karen, and I promise that I’ll do my best for you.” He smiled and shook her hand warmly. “You have my card – if you need advice about anything else, please give me a call.”

  “I will, and thanks again.”

  As Karen left, Donnelly noticed the steely determination in her dark eyes.

  He shook his head as he sat back down behind his desk. It was becoming a common occurrence these days. So many couples were buying houses together before marriage without giving a second thought to their individual legal rights should anything happen. Poor girl, she was obviously determined to go as far as she could with this. And despite his intricate knowledge of the law and the hopelessness of such a case, the solicitor hoped that somehow Karen Cassidy might emerge victorious.

  Chapter 3

  Shane Quinn’s sister Barbara looked around the small kitchen and wrinkled her nose in disgust.

  “Not much of a housekeeper, is she?” she said, eyeing the used teabags on the table, the smear of butter and scattering of crumbs on the worktop, dried spaghetti on the wall above the cooker, and a pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

  “No, tidiness was never Karen’s forte,” her brother agreed, opening the fridge and stepping back quickly as a strong whiff of some unrecognisable mouldy foo
d filled his nostrils.

  “I wish the estate agent would hurry up. What if she comes back?” Barbara didn’t want to stay here any longer than was necessary. She was sorry she had come actually, sorry that her curiosity about this place had got the better of her. It was an absolute dive.

  “Relax, Babs, she won’t be back from work until at least after five. And her office is a good forty-minute walk or fifteen-minute bus ride from here.” He looked around the room and frowned. “It is an awful mess, isn’t it? I suppose I’d better go upstairs to the bedrooms and see if they look any better.”

  “Don’t be long, will you? It’s nearly lunch-time and I fancy going into town for a bite after we’re finished here.”

  Barbara went into the living-room and flopped onto the small two-seater couch between the brightly coloured scatter-cushions. This was a nice room, actually. The bay window was a lovely feature and seemed to make the place look a lot bigger than it actually was. Despite the mismatched furniture and that awful rug. If she had a house like this she would replace the cheap pine floorboards with solid oak and have the walls repainted a decent colour, anything but that vulgar terracotta it was at the moment. And purple cushions on a cornflower-yellow couch? That girl hadn’t an ounce of taste. Barbara picked up a magazine from the coffee table and began to flick idly through it. She was studying a page from the fashion section so intently that she didn’t hear the key turn in the front door. She did however hear the door bang shut and, startled, jumped up from the couch.

  “Hello,” Jenny said, surprised at seeing this blonde girl that she didn’t recognise. “I didn’t realise there was anyone else here.” She offered her hand. “I’m Jenny Hamilton – a friend of Karen’s. She’s on her way back – she just stopped off at the shop for a few things. I hope I didn’t surprise you too much? She gave me the keys.” Jenny held the keys up apologetically.

  “He’s just upstairs. I’ll get him,” Barbara mumbled, starting up the stairs quickly.

  But her brother was already on his way down.

  “Hello, Jenny, how are you? I haven’t seen you since –”

  “I’m fine, thanks,” Jenny interjected. “I didn’t realise that you would be here today.” Before adding pointedly, “I don’t think Karen did either.”

  “Well, we needed to check out a few things.” He nodded at his sister. “You remember Barbara, don’t you?”

  Jenny turned and studied the older woman with undisguised surprise. Barbara, Shane’s sister – she hadn’t recognised her at all. She was certain that the girl’s hair had been dark the last time she had seen her. Today she looked completely different.

  “Can we go now, please?” Barbara asked, ignoring Jenny. “I don’t think I can stand the smell in here any longer and my skirt’s ruined just from sitting on that couch. Those cushion-covers have obviously never been washed.”

  Jenny examined the other woman’s cream-coloured skirt for signs of spoilage but couldn’t see a thing. The cheek of it – Karen would be livid. She was sure that her friend had no idea he was here at the house. And bringing the sister along too. If Jenny had known who Barbara was she wouldn’t have been so pleasant when she came in and found her lazing on the couch. How dare they?

  He looked at his watch. “I suppose we’d better go. It was nice seeing you again, Jenny.”

  “I’m sure Karen would like to see you both before you go,” Jenny said, enjoying the sight of them squirming.

  “Ah no, sure we’ll head away – we have to be somewhere else anyway. Tell her I said – ”

  The door slammed and they heard a voice call out from the hallway. “You can tell me yourself, you ignorant pig.”

  Karen bustled past them, her arms laden down with shopping. She dropped the shopping bags in the centre of the room and, turning, put her hands on her hips.

  “What the hell is going on? And how did you get in here?” she demanded.

  “Now hang on just a minute, Karen,” he began. “It’s our house. We have as much right to be here as you do – more actually, as you well know.”

  “Well, I’ve got news for you, Quinn. According to my solicitor, you have nothing over me with regard to this house. I’ve paid my dues too. That means,” she added, eyes blazing, “that I have every right to tell you to get the hell out of here!”

  It was a lie but Karen was pleased to see his eyes widen at the mention of the solicitor.

  “Why did you have to go behind my back?” she continued. “Why didn’t you just tell me you were bringing her over for a nose around? But that’s not your style, is it? You can’t be straight up about anything; you never could. Sly and sneaky – that’s your way, isn’t it?”

  “I think you’d both better leave,” Jenny said quietly, feeling that she needed to say something to defuse the situation. She stole a glance at Barbara. She couldn’t be certain, but the girl looked as though she was really enjoying the confrontation.

  But just then she rounded on Karen. “How dare you speak to him like that? You’re lucky that he’s let you stay here for as long he has. If it was up to

  me ... ” she trailed off, glaring at Karen. “At least now that we’re going to court, it won’t be long before we’re all rid of you – finally.”

  She glared at Karen as though she was a piece of doggy-doo stuck to the bottom of her shoes.

  “Look, there’s no need to upset her – we’re going now,” her brother said, going into the hallway and taking his coat from where it hung on the coat-stand.

  Just then the doorbell rang and Jenny noticed Barbara look decidedly nervous as Karen opened the door.

  “Hello, I’m Patrick Ryan from Ryan Mitchell & Associates,” said the affable-looking man standing in the doorway. “I’m here to meet with Mr Quinn – for the valuation?”

  “Valuation…” Karen whirled around to face them. “You organised a valuation on my house without my permission? How dare you? How dare you try and sell this house from under me, you gutless bastard…”

  The estate agent looked as though he hoped a group of aliens would land, take him to their spaceship and carry him off to Mars – anywhere else but there.

  “Erm, maybe now is not the best time …” he began.

  “You’re damned right it’s not the best time,” Karen growled. “I’m very sorry but it seems that Mr Quinn has wasted your time. There will be no valuation of this property today and not for as long as I’m here.”

  “We’ll see how much longer that will be,” Barbara hissed, easing out the door past the white-faced estate agent, who now stood well back from the door, unsure what to do next. Eventually he retreated to the safety of his Volvo parked a little way down the road. When the others were safely out of the house, Jenny closed the door behind them and went back into the living-room.

  Karen was sitting on the couch and hugging one of the purple and gold Sari cushions she was so fond of, tears streaming down her face.

  “How dare he come in here behind my back? And I would never have known if I wasn’t off work today. You know, it mightn’t have been the first time either – he could have been here lots of times that I didn’t know about.” Enraged, Karen threw a cushion across the room. “Why did he have to go behind my back and why did he bring that anorexic, dyslexic, bleached-blonde bimbo with him?”

  In spite of her tears Karen grinned, seeing Jenny trying to hide a smile at her description of Barbara.

  “I don’t know why I’m crying him. I’ve done enough of that – it was just such a shock to see them standing there when I came in.” She sat up and wiped her eyes, determined to get rid of the tears. “And sure enough the place would have to be in an awful state. I was late for my appointment in town this morning so I didn’t get a chance to do the washing-up.” She snorted. “Typical. The one day he decided to pay a visit. God, I need a cigarette.”

  “He had a cheek coming in here without telling you, don’t forget,” Jenny told her.

  “I know that, Jen, it’s just that I don’t wan
t to give him any more excuses to get me out of here.” She sniffed. “But John Donnelly, the solicitor I met with this morning reckons that he’ll take the case to the courts with me.”

  Jenny nodded. “I had forgotten that you were seeing him today. What else did he say?”

  “I’ll tell you over a cup of tea and a chocolate-chip muffin.” Karen stood up from the couch, picked up her shopping and went into the kitchen. She emptied the bags, put the contents in the cupboards and then filled the kettle while at the same time absently removing a piece of dried spaghetti that had somehow ended up on the wall above the cooker.

  She called to Jenny. “But first, you tell me why you sounded so anxious on the phone earlier. And why you’re here now, instead of at home studying like you’re supposed to?”

  Jenny’s heart sank as she joined her friend in the kitchen. She had almost forgotten about her own concerns what with all the commotion a few minutes ago. Now that she was here, she didn’t know if she could bring herself to tell Karen. She tried to brush her off.

  “Look, it’s nothing really; you’ve enough on your plate. Tell me what the solicitor told you about the house.”

  Karen picked a chocolate chip from one of the muffins and popped it into her mouth. “Forget it Hamilton. I know there’s something up. Did you and Mike have a fight?”

  Jenny sat down at the untidy kitchen table and absently began playing with the sugar bowl. “The thing … the thing is I think Roan Williams is back.”

  Karen immediately stopped picking at her muffin.

  “Back? Back in Ireland – back in Dublin, you mean?”

  Jenny nodded, her eyes firmly fixed on the table in front of her.

  “But how do you know that?” her friend asked carefully. “Have you seen him, have you heard from him, what do you mean you think he’s back?”

  “He’s back in Dublin and he’s taken a job at InTech.”

  Seeing the look of utter disbelief on Karen’s face Jenny continued. “Mike told me his name this morning – you know the way they’ve been looking for someone new to take over the sales and marketing end of things? Well, apparently this guy named Roan Williams is the man of the moment.”