Friday Afternoon

Alone in my room, I reread the will in a cold sweat.

I stole it as soon as we got home - I shouldn't have. It's none of my business. I'm not the rightful beneficiary, or I didn't think I could be. Now I'm terrified.

The language is the kind of frustrating legalese only lawyers understand, but I think I get the gist of it.

There were more buried secrets than I ever guessed.

I thought Frances was being a little pushy insisting I marry Jaq before she dies. I thought it was just because she wants closure.

It's not.

It's because Jaq isn't guaranteed to inherit anything. He really doesn't have a chance at getting any of it unless he's married.

When she dies, everything goes into a trust to be managed on his behalf at the complete discretion of a third party.

The third party depends on Jaq's marital status.

If he's married, the trust manager becomes Jaq's wife. She thinks that'll be me, and that I'll manage everything and provide a comfortable life for him because I love him.

If he’s unmarried, and he was going to be legally unmarried, the third party would be Charles.

It says, very clearly, that the third party can use the money however he or she likes provided that Jaq is taken care of to a specified standard. The language there is too obtuse to follow properly, but it doesn't sound very good.

What kind of idiotic stipulation is that?

She doesn't trust him with her money at all. She'd rather give it to a snake, like Charles, than leave it to her own son.

Even making the fund manager Jaq's wife is extremely dangerous. I could have been a scam artist, trying to fleece him. With such complete freedom to do as I want with the money, I'm sure there would be infinite ways to legally siphon it all out into my personal accounts without him noticing. He wouldn't care enough to check, so he'd be broke and in the streets long before he knew what I'd done.

Charles must know what's in the will, and that must be why he wants me to stay with Jaq.

He's been after the money this whole time.

Why? He's so rich already. I've seen his house and his car. With the way he throws his weight around, hiring thugs to break into houses and lawyers to bully educators, he must be even richer than Frances.

Is that why she thinks she can trust him? Because he has so much already?

The will doesn't contain any solid figures; it references categories of property and percentages of ownership, everything is generalised, nothing is specific.

Even without solid figures, I know I couldn't hope to spend all of this in my lifetime - it's far too much for one person to own, but she does.

She wants it all to be used for the benefit of her son.

She could have left Isaac in charge of it - even if she doesn't trust him, he has to be a better option than Charles. He has a vested interest in Jaq - Jaq's his son! Charles is just a 'friend'. Not even a good friend.

Perhaps she thinks Isaac’d take offence to being put in charge of money he isn’t permitted to keep.

The will says something approximating; 'Isaac has his own money and shouldn't need any of the estate'.

Reading deeper; nothing goes to Lionel at all. An entire page is dedicated to explaining why he’s not legally entitled to anything. The page boils down to a very simple and singular reason;

Lionel isn't her son.

He's Isaac's, but not hers.

She never adopted him legally, so she's just a sort of unwilling step-parent. He has no claim.

I don't know what to do with this information. I'm not supposed to know it.

Does Lionel know he's a bastard? Is that why he's so content to do nothing?

I can't believe that being a 'bastard' is something relevant today. We've long passed the age of noble bloodlines, primogeniture and succession.

I hug the document to my chest. Everything about this is cruel.

These people have been hurt, badly, but rather than working through their problems or taking time to heal, they turn the hurt into weapons that they point outward to keep hurting each other.

They’re like some kind of horrible species of emotional echidna, crashing into each other as they desperately look for comfort, only to stab themselves on one another's spines.

I want to take the will to my lawyer and ask her what it means.

Surely I’m mistaken.

I have to be.

I don’t know anything about trusts. Maybe it’s harder to steal from them than I think… but if it were impossible, Charles wouldn’t be so enthusiastic about keeping Jaq single.

I can’t let him win.

No matter what, I can’t let him win.

Even if it means actually marrying Jaq.

I feel the floor drop out from under me.

I think I have to do it.

I'd rather marry a cockroach.

He's not a capable human. He’s about as far as you can get from competent.

I'm stuck. I can't not do it. I helped him dig himself into this. I can't abandon him to it.

I hide the will under my blanket so I don't have to look at it anymore.

I have to help him.

He has to be married.

He has to have someone to manage his stupid trust.

It doesn't have to be me...

But there's no way to know if the random person he marries is trustworthy enough to manage his trust.

Fuck.

I don't want to face it, but I can't turn away.

It's too late.

I want to climb into the wardrobe with the clothes and shut myself in with the blessed darkness.

If I found the entrance to Narnia while I was there, even better.

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There's no escape. There's no way to hide.

A fox caught in a trap will chew off its own foot to escape.

There's nothing here I can chew off to get out.

Maybe my conscience.

I don't think that's the sort of thing you can just throw away.

I have to do it.

Hands shaking, I locate my phone.

Almost as a declaration of intent, I text my sister;

> Hey, just letting you know that I'm probably getting married soon.

The message looks ridiculous.

We haven't spoken in years. This is the first thing I send?

I must be having a nightmare. It has to be a nightmare. This isn't real.

----------------------------------------

I wake up on top of my covers, a gentle knocking at the door.

'Jo? Joanne?'

'Yes?'

Jaq's voice sounds uncertain.

'Are you coming to dinner?'

I quickly run my fingers through my hair as I stand and walk to the door. I don't recall if there was a family dinner arranged for tonight.

'Sure. Do I need to change or is this fine?'

Jaq regards me in confusion. There's a sort of half-shrug. I take it as assent and step out into the hall.

I just woke up, but my brain is buzzing with questions and concerns about the will. I feel like I didn't sleep at all. I probably didn't even get half an hour, so perhaps there's a reason for that.

What I really feel like is a burlap sack full of gnawing rats. I can't ask these questions; I'm not supposed to know any of this. I don't want to even think about the implications of what I've read. How will the knowledge of Lionel's illegitimacy change their relationship? His understanding of himself and his identity? His place in this house? His relationship with Frances? Their relationship with Isaac?

I can't let any of it out. Not until I have a plan of attack. I've been operating on incomplete information for too long - now, if I'm careful, I might be able to put these lives back in order... but every moment of temptation to blurt something out puts it all into jeopardy. If I say the wrong thing now...

Those little rodents are gnawing at my already frayed seams.

Jaq can't know just how precarious his position is; he can't be told how much power Charles has over him. He wouldn't believe it. He can't be trusted not to say something stupid. He'd let the whole plan go to ruin because he doesn't want to think about the consequences of his actions.

Lionel can't know because he's already shown himself to be a little too hot-headed. I can't allow him to confront any of these people. It would be too easy for this situation to turn his current resentment into the kind of explosive, indignant rage he couldn't keep bottled up any more.

I can't let anything slip that might get back to Charles, and tip him off to the fact I know about his plan.

I need to take him by surprise if I'm hoping to take him for all he's worth.

I'm not just doing this to protect poor, naive Jaq, who would otherwise lose his family fortune to a traitorous 'friend'. I'm doing it for revenge. For spite. This vile man thought he could use me as a tool in his plot. I won't allow it. I won't kneel before a tyrant. I absolutely will not serve him.

I don't want to go eat dinner with these pawns. I have a king to topple.

I need my Executioner.

She'll know if any of the rubbish in the will is even enforceable. Perhaps I'm getting worked up over nothing. Perhaps the will can't stand up to legal scrutiny...

But it's Frances' will. She has the money for a legal team worth more than its weight in mere gold.

If only I'd studied law.

We reach the dining room. It's just the three of us. Isaac must still be at the hospital.

I sit, trying not to let my impatience and irritation rise too close to the surface. The staff members who serve us dinner seem just as professional as ever. I'm eternally wary of their gaze. Any one of them could be a double agent for Charles - making sure nothing goes awry with his stupid plot. I don't know what they know. I don't know what they hear; what they say; what they do when I'm not watching.

I can't leave the will hidden in my blankets. I need to take it to the Executioner first thing in the morning.

Tomorrow is the weekend.

Damn it.

I wait until there's nobody in the dining room with us and quietly say;

'I think we're going to have to plan a fake wedding.'

Lionel nods. Jaq looks conflicted.

'Frances wants it to happen soon. I don't know how comfortable you are lying this much. I can try to draw out the planning process as long as possible, and hope she's passed before it happens.'

Neither of them speak. Lionel looks at peace - I think he doesn't particularly care either way. Jaq's procession of expressions is too hard to interpret.

'I could also organise a very small, simple ceremony in the hospital room as soon as possible - something to give her a little closure. Then she'll stop being so worried. She might nag you a little less.'

Jaq nods.

'As soon as possible sounds good to me.'

'I'll get to work on it tomorrow morning.'

Saturday

I pace silently in the Executioner's waiting room while the woman at the desk copies the will. The Executioner isn't here, of course. I let her know I was dropping it off. I've left her a list of questions along with the will - things like 'Can the will be disputed? If Frances dies before the wedding, will Pitch be able to steal everything from Jaq before the will is disputed? Would Pitch be able to dispute my control over Jaq's trust? Can Lionel or Isaac demand part of the deceased estate despite being explicitly written out as beneficiaries? Could Pitch demand part of it? If any of them try, would it be better to simply hand them part of it? What would be fair?'

I tried to frame the questions as though I were genuinely Jaq's fiancèe - I pray she doesn't notice how many of the questions are related to Jaq's legal marital status. It makes me look suspicious.

I can't help it. I am suspicious.

Once the copy is complete, I race over to the accountant's office. I have a list with most of the same questions for her. She'll likely have mostly the same answers as well - but I suspect she'll have a different perspective that may be helpful for me. The copier at the accountant's office is faster. I'm back out in the fresh air much quicker than I expected.

I'd take the original copy of the will straight back to stash it in among the paperwork in the locked cabinet - but I have to make better use of my time. Instead, I'm meeting Casey and Sal. I need them for my plan. I have to bring them up to speed.

I spot them lurking outside the overpriced cafè I invited them to. They look far less uncomfortable than I felt waiting outside the Beanbow those few weeks ago. I suppose they know me - they'd be pretty sure I'm not about to murder them.

I grin and greet them both, bringing them in for a hug.

'Turns out that I'll be getting married a lot sooner than I expected. Jaq's mother is dying but she wants to be able to attend the wedding. I can't really deny her dying wish.'

They both look shocked.

'Casey - obviously I want you as my maid of honour. Sal - I need your brother to stand in as the celebrant.'

He looks confused, but before he can say anything, I continue quietly;

'You can't repeat any of what I'm about to say, okay?'

I wait for them to nod.

'There's likely to be some interference from someone who has a vested interest in this wedding not occurring.'

'What do you mean?'

'You recall the break-in? That was this person attempting to gather dirt on me so he could blackmail me and stop the wedding. He's also tried to kidnap me, and he roofied me. He bribed the staff at the hotel Jaq put me in after the break-in to rifle through my garbage. He's having me stalked - even now. He's even started to try to bribe me into abandoning Jaq.'

They look horrified. Casey already knows some of this, but I suppose it hadn't quite been framed like this before.

'I have a plan, but I need people who won't betray me for a little bit of money.'

They both immediately profess their loyalty. I hold up my hands to shush them into silence. I glance around the dim dining room, hoping whoever's watching me can't hear us.

'Come on - we need to change locations. I've got a booking with a florist.'

We arrive at the florist - the place is a riot of smells and colours. I explain that I'd like a classy and traditional sort of wedding - white and soft pink. I explain the dire restriction of the whole thing being held in a hospital room so my dying mother-in-law can attend. I explain how little time she has left. I probably emphasise it a little too much. I describe the depth of the budget, and wave Frances' credit card. The florist rushes out to start putting together designs to show me immediately. While she's gone and we're alone in the showroom, I pull my friends closer and continue to describe my plans.

'The reason this vested interest wants me gone is because of my dying mother-in-law's will. She's putting everything into a trust for Jaq that will be managed either by Jaq's lawful wife, or if he has no wife, by that vested interest. She knows Jaq is terrible with money and has no idea how to take care of himself. She trusts this guy because she thinks he's Jaq's devoted friend, but he's a monster and he just wants to steal her fortune. Nobody but he and Frances are supposed to know about this. I only found out by accident.'

'That's insane.' Sal says, aghast.

'So, I've accepted the bribe to have me abandon Jaq.'

Casey gasps.

'No - hear me out. I've accepted it because it means he'll leave me alone. No more intimidation. He thinks I'm his stooge. The wedding will be 100% real - but he needs to believe it's a fake. He needs to believe it's fake until it's too late for him to do anything about it. I want your brother as the celebrant because I want there to secretly be two legitimate copies of the certificate. One of you will take a copy and file it with the office of births deaths and marriages - but the other copy needs to be destroyed somewhere that the vested interest's goons can see. He might even want to destroy it himself. I don't know yet. But, I need him to think we're playing along. I need him to believe I don't know about the fortune he's about to steal. I can't let him rob Jaq blind. Jaq still thinks they're friends!'

Sal's expression is steely.

'He'll come after you when he realises what you've done.'

I nod.

'He'll probably come after both of you as well. And the rest of my friends and family. That's another reason I'm accepting the bribe. I want to be closer to him so I can gather solid evidence of what he's doing. I want to be able to completely destroy him if he tries anything. I want to be the one holding all the cards. The money he's giving me isn't anything to sneeze at either. It'll be enough to buy a nice, big house for the gang to live in.'

They look incredulous.

'I'd probably have enough left to bankroll the Euripedes Theatre as well.'

The weight of their disbelief could sink a cargo ship.

I hold up my phone and show them a photograph of the page of the job contract detailing my wages. Casey takes it and squints, reading it.

'He's bribing you with a job?'

I nod.

'Yet another reason I need you two in on it. I need assistants to build these sets. He wants theatrical stages for the entirety of Camelot.'

The florist reappears with an A3 printout of an elaborate wall of flowers - she hands it to me with a flourish.

'Nobody would guess it's a hospital room with a display like this behind you.'

She's right. It's perfect.