4 Subject to clause 5 below, the Trustees must not sell the Property.
5 In circumstances where (i) the Property Beneficiary dies without any surviving issue, or (ii) the Property is required to be demolished (whether due to fire, flood, subsidence, act of God, or a compulsory purchase order of a Local Authority or other public body in accordance with statute or otherwise), the Trustees shall sell the Property and distribute the proceeds to each of the Beneficiaries in equal parts.
6 The Trustees shall, after paying all debts, funeral and testamentary expenses and Inheritance Tax on all property that vests in them, distribute the Residual Property to my son Richard Zachary Esmond.
Testimonium and Attestation
Dated this 14th day of April, 1965.
Signed by the above named Horace Zachary Esmond as and for his last Will in our presence and by us in his.
В
В 
В Peter ClarenceNorman Dennis Partner, Rotherham Fleming CoPartner, Rotherham Fleming Co First Codicil
I, Horace Zachary Esmond, of Felix House, 23 Southey Road, Oxford, DECLARE this to be a first Codicil to my last Will, dated the 14th day of April 1965 (`my Will').
MY WILL shall be construed and take effect as if it contained the following clause: I give free of Inheritance tax to: Philip Zachary Esmond, my grandson, born 11th October 1975, the sum of One Hundred Thousand pounds (£100,000).
IN ALL other respects I confirm my Will dated 14th April 1965. IN WITNESS whereof I have hereunto set my hand on this 27th day of November 1975:
В
And for a first Codicil to his Will in our presence, and by us jointly attested and subscribed in his presence:
В 
В Norman DennisBenjamin Turner Partner, Rotherham Fleming CoPartner, Rotherham Fleming Co***
Long after most of the team have gone home I'm still at my desk, looking at the will and wondering about the man who drafted it. What sort of mind must you have to draw up something like this `“ to go to such lengths to ensure generations you'll never even see will conform to your own conception of the family, to your idea of its legacy and its position. And yes, clearly there was plenty of money in the sixties `“ a hundred grand would have been a fortune back then `“ and Horace Esmond probably couldn't even imagine a time when his descendants might actually need to sell that house, but that's no excuse. I sit back in my chair, feeling, for the first time, genuinely sorry for Michael Esmond. Then I reach forward and pick up the phone. Because suddenly I have an excuse to call. A reason to speak to my wife that's not about her or me or some impossible possible child, but about what she does. Because at times like this, in cases like this, I always talk to my wife. Not only for her lawyer's training, but because she has one of the most acute minds I've ever known. A quite staggering ability to home in on the key facts `“ both those we have, and those we don't. And if I'm hesitating to call her now, it's because I'm not sure I can face listening to her applying that relentless intellect to argue herself out of what remains of our marriage.
`Alex, it's me. Can you give me a call back? It's not about `“ it's about a case. I just need someone to tell me that a document means what I think it means. And yes, I know I could ask the legal people here, but I'd rather ask you. I'd always rather ask you.'
At the John Rad, the second autopsies are over. Zachary's was especially grim, but it was always going to be. Yet in the face of such horror, Ray Goodwin had an unexpectedly calming way with him. And for once it wasn't down to CDs of string quartets or amplified whale song. Just a quiet, measured manner that managed to be both gentle and professional at the same time. Nina had to admit, she was impressed.
Afterwards, as they're stripping off their scrubs, he asks how long she's been a forensics officer, and it turns out they have acquaintances in common, and somehow or other they end up having a drink in town. Nina doesn't notice, but Gislingham and Everett are on the far side of the same bar. He with a lager and she a glass of Chardonnay. But the drinks have been sitting there for over an hour. And unlike Nina, their day has not gone unexpectedly well.
`So what do you think is up?' says Gislingham.
Ev glances at him. `What do you mean `њup`ќ?'
`You know. With the boss. Don't tell me you haven't noticed.'
Everett sighs. `Of course I have. It just seems a bit shitty talking about it behind his back.'
`People are just concerned, Ev.'
`I know. And so am I. But we're not going to solve it, are we? Whatever it is.'
Gislingham picks up his glass. `Baxter thinks his wife has left him. Says he overheard Fawley leaving a message for her.'
`That doesn't necessarily mean anything. Whenever I've seen them together I've never thought they were having problems. Though, to be fair, I haven't seen her for a while.'
She thinks back. It must have been at Fawley's birthday drinks. Last October, a couple of dozen of them crammed under the low ceilings of the Turf Tavern, the air thick with the smoke from the braziers outside. Fawley's wife arrived half an hour before the end, saying she'd been held up at work. She'd looked amazing, as always. High heels, scarlet suit, long dark hair in one of those swept-up-and-falling-down things that Everett couldn't manage even if she had the hair for it. Or the time. Alex Fawley had drunk half a glass of warm Prosecco and teased Gislingham about his promotion and smiled at her husband when they did a toast and he'd looked at her in a way no one has ever looked at Everett, her whole life. And then they were gone. No one seeing the Fawleys together would have said there was anything wrong. But then again, anyone can keep up a facade if they only have to do it for half an hour.
`Look, it may still be nothing,' says Everett. But the look on her face says the opposite. The sound system is now playing `Saving All My Love For You'. She's always hated that song, and right now, the lyrics have become horribly apposite.
Gislingham makes a face. `Well, I never had Fawley pegged for a cheater. And after that car crash with Quinn, I'd have thought Somer would have had enough of shitting on her own doorstep.' He glances at Everett. `You two are mates `“ has she said anything to you?'
Everett shakes her head. `Not a squeak. But I wouldn't either, if I was shagging the boss.'
They're silent for a moment. Everett makes circles on the table with her glass.
`Look,' says Gislingham eventually, `I'm going to have to go. I told Janet I wouldn't be late.' He gets up and drags his coat off the back of the chair. `And, Ev? Not a word, right? There's enough bloody gossip at the station already.'
She gives him a `what sort of a person do you think I am' look, and drains her glass.
`I'll come with you.'
Sent:Thurs 11/01/2018, 21.35Importance: High From:Alexandra.Fawley@HHHlaw.co.uk To:DIAdamFawley@ThamesValley.police.uk Subject: Your email
I've had a look at it. It's not the sort of arrangement we would ever recommend these days `“ it's far too restrictive. But basically your assumptions are right:
A life interest in the house passes to the oldest son of each generation, and failing that, the oldest daughter.