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Tamara
2096
A woman in her mid-thirties strode about the grounds of Zoe's estate. She was wearing a smart suit of the kind only ever worn by female business executives. There was a rhythmic clicking of her high heeled stilettos on the paved stones as she walked along the path. Tamara cautiously opened the front door to the house. It would be foolish to pretend she wasn't in, even if it was to receive the eviction notice that she'd been anticipating for well over a year now.
The woman looked up from her tablet PC where she'd been making notes with her fingers and regarded Tamara who was standing in a tee-shirt and shorts at the top of the front door steps.
"You must be Tamara," she said.
"Yes."
"Zoe's lesbian lover?"
"Yes."
"You can't be more than a third her age. Was she really still interested in romance at her age?"
"I guess I must be proof of that."
"Well, indeed," said the woman who again consulted her tablet PC. She strode towards Tamara and outstretched her hand. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Theresa. I'm the executor for Miss St. John-Easton's estate."
Tamara shook hands with Theresa who scrutinised her rather more intently than she was comfortable with.
"I assume you must be wondering what will happen next," said Theresa. "You've been living here for quite a long time. Including the time when Zoe was still alive, it must be at least two years. I imagine you'd almost come to think that this was really your home."
Tamara nodded.
"Shall we go inside?" suggested Theresa. "We can discuss matters in more comfort there."
Tamara escorted Theresa to the living room where the television was burbling on about the outbreak of plague in Ireland and the suspicion expressed by Irish scientists had that it might be associated with a genetic engineering lab based in England. Tamara turned off the set and settled into the sofa while Theresa sat primly in the leather armchair opposite.
"As you probably know, Tamara," said Theresa, "there was no will left by the deceased. That's no surprise. The real surprise is that Zoe survived so long after all those years of sustained drug abuse. My mother was next in line to inherit the St. John-Easton estate and even that was hard to demonstrate in court. This was especially so since she died a few years ago. And that means the entire estate has been bequeathed to me."
"Was your mother related to Zoe?" wondered Tamara.
"Only through her grandfather. And she was hardly at all acknowledged as such. She was the lovechild of Eden St. John-Easton's father. The only reason that there is a verifiable trace to Zoe's father is that my grandmother was the wife of his valet. My grandfather man was also Zoe's grandfather. My mother was younger than Zoe when she died. It's ironic, isn't it? My mother who led a blameless life, bore a bastard and cared for by one of Eden St. John Easton's servants, died of cancer before Zoe whose lifestyle was so excessive that no one believed she could survive her twenties." Theresa bit her lip and raised her eyebrows. "My mother waited a long time for her inheritance and she missed her opportunity. Instead, it's been left to me."
"It must be a great deal of money."
"It most certainly is, Tamara," said Theresa. "But it's not as much as it once would have been. It's nothing like the fortune it was before Zoe's father died. Few of his prime investments had a long-term future: especially those in the news and media. And it's not as if Zoe had squandered it all. Her allowance was generous but she was never allowed full access to the St. John-Easton fortune. Her father knew that it would just end up in her veins."
"I'm sure she wouldn't have been that excessive."
"Are you really sure, Tamara? Or are you just saying that?"
"I don't know," Tamara admitted.
"The St. John-Easton business empire held a very wide portfolio. The investments weren't just in media, government contracts, arms and retail. There were many that were never declared to the English taxman and whose existence was known only to his private accountants. One such investment was Empire Cleaning Services. You may have heard of them."
Tamara didn't know what to say. She tried to look as nonchalant as she could.
"A cleaning company?"
"They were a private home cleaning agency once upon a time. When St. John-Easton acquired the business they were one of countless cleaning agencies that supplied employment to immigrants and asylum seekers, usually women, who were willing to make a living by cleaning the homes of the relatively prosperous. The business took advantage of the low wages such people were willing to accept and provided them with legitimate employment while legislation regarding immigrant workers became steadily tighter. After he acquired the company, it diversified into other areas where it soon became been quite a lucrative earner for the St. John-Easton estate. In short, Tamara, Zoe was your employer in a way that neither of you was aware of when you came to be her lesbian lover."
"She was?"
"You can't deny that you worked for Empire Cleaning Services. I've seen their employment records. Was it as an employee that you came to be resident at Miss St. John-Easton's estate? And if it was, I doubt very much that it was to actually keep the place clean. That was provided by Think Clean Ltd. They provide services at a quite reasonable rate, although their business actually is exclusively related to the aim of keeping their clients' property clean. Admittedly, like Empire Cleaning Services, they can be relied upon to be discreet, but not in quite the same way."
"I'm not sure what you're suggesting."
"Aren't you, Tamara?" said Theresa who looked directly at her with a not especially friendly smile. "Are you sure you can't guess what I'm suggesting?"
"No."
"Okay," said Theresa. "I'll spell it out to you. Zoe was not a woman with much of a history of committed relationships over her many years. It's obvious that she did have some relationships—her history of abortions is evidence of that—but at no stage did she ever maintain a stable relationship with anyone she was intimate with. In the last twenty or so years, the only sexual relations she'd had at all were ones she paid for and those were exclusively with men. There is a record of transactions with agencies whose principal business is to supply the services of what might charitably be called gigolos. There is no evidence to suggest that Zoe was likely to have a Sapphic relationship this late in her life."
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