Page 57 of Snow Falls Over Starry Cove
You’ve done your duty attending the funeral of your estranged grandfather. But as I’m not on my own deathbed yet, your presence is no longer required. So off you pop.
Lady Mary Heatherton-Smythe
Tomorrow I’m going to make some calls to see if I can find someone else to put up with the old bat. But for today, all she has is me and unfortunately for me, I still have a heart.
Sighing, I slip into my boots and prepare for the dreaded slog ahead, starting with Dr Martin Miller’s early morning visit.
‘So, how are you doing?’ he asks. ‘You look pale. Are you alright?’
‘Oh… yes. Thank you, Martin.’
‘And you’ve lost a bit of weight.’
‘I don’t wonder at it,’ I joke. ‘The lady’s got me flitting around the place like mad.’
‘You need to take more care of yourself, Emmie,’ he says gently. ‘Eat more, sleep more. And smile more. It’s all good for you, you know.’
‘I know,’ I concede. ‘But it’ll only be until I go back home.’
‘Your grandmother will miss you.’
‘Ha! Very funny.’
‘Of course she will. Don’t let the stony face and British stiff upper lip fool you.’
‘Well, I really don’t think she’ll miss me much. I’ll miss her, funnily enough. To have come so close to a family and then, poof! Gone. But I will miss my new friends. And you, Martin.’
‘Likewise, Emmie, likewise…’
*
‘Just in time, Emily, I’m glad to see,’LadyMary Heatherton-Smythe addresses me as she indicates a seat opposite at the dining table where a team of suits is sitting.
They’re armed with briefcases and gold pens, gaping at me, probably wondering what a pleb like me is even doing here in the first place. Which is exactly what I’m wondering. Because you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out that these are Lady Mary Heatherton-Smythe’s solicitors,Esq., and that they’ve lost no time in determining the estate of my poor Nano.
And it soon becomes clear, by the look on their faces, especially my grandmother’s, that they want to dot all their i’s and cross all their t’s – in other words, assure me that I’m not getting a penny. Funny, all this, because I don’t even want any of it – not from a family who refused to have anything to do with me or my parents my entire life. I mean really, if not come and visit from time to time, would it have hurt them to pick up the phone to speak to me – check how I was coming along? But no. They just couldn’t be bothered and now I’ve been summoned here this morning for the ultimate humiliation.
‘Actually, Mrs Heatherton… I refuse to call her Lady ‘…er, I’ve got to be somewhere,’ I lie.
Or is it a lie? I should be somewhere – anywhere – else rather than here.
The nitrogen turquoise eyes swivel to me, freezing me on the spot.
‘Sit down, Miss Weaver…’
‘Uhm, right,’ is all I can say.
My grandmother is certainly a force to be reckoned with. Judging by the way people scurry to her beckoning, she always gets what she wants, when she wants it. Especially with a squadron of solicitors behind her. And yet, somewhere in there is a trace of vulnerability that reminds me of my own. Despite her piercing cold eyes, there’s a chink in her armour, I just know it. There has to be. No one can be that cold.
Groaning inwardly, I square my shoulders, ready to counter with maximum dignity their fobbing me off.
‘These are my solicitors. They are here to read my husband’s will.’
‘Yes, I gathered as much, but, if you’ll pardon my question – what has any of this got to do with me?’
‘You are a family member, at least on paper,’ she replies as if she were sucking on a lemon. ‘Now sit, and do not delay us any longer.’
Delay? She just said I was on time. Something tells me that she’s worse than the MIL. Because for some unfathomable reason, I can’t quite talk back to this old harpy. Not that I’d be rude to anyone, but with her I can’t even seem to defend my own rights. There’s simply something about her that scares the bejesus out of me.
