Conditional Love Read Online Free PDF Page A

been getting tighter and tighter with lack of oxygen and now I was all panicky. Breathe, Sophie, in, out, in, out. I probably looked like I was in labour: face all red, and puffing like Ivor the engine.
    A house. My great aunt had given me a house. Of my own. And that meant a home. How long had I been dreaming of my own home? Only all my life, that was how long.
    Mr Whelan’s lips were moving. He was still speaking and I hadn’t been listening. Ninety-two… in her sleep… neighbour. He was telling me about Great Aunt Jane, who had seen fit to leave me all her stuff, and I wasn’t even paying attention.
    I flushed a deeper shade of scarlet and focussed on Mr Whelan’s words, my shoulders bowed with shame. There was so much to take in. I was full of questions, but my brain was like a tangled ball of wool and I couldn’t find the start.
    Mr Whelan was holding an envelope out to me. I took it automatically.
    ‘As I say, there is a condition to the inheritance, but I think it would be better if you read Mrs Kennedy’s letter yourself. I’ll leave you in private for a moment. Can I get you some coffee?’
    ‘Tea, please, two sugars.’
    Condition? I wasn’t sure I could take any more surprises. Life was so much gentler without them. My heart rate was already registering at least a seven on the Richter scale.
    ‘Actually, make it three!’ I called to the solicitor’s retreating lanky form.
    The envelope was cream with a flowery border. My name was written on the front in blue ink, the handwriting loopy and old-fashioned. I stared at it for what felt like hours. This was the first letter I had ever had from my father’s side of the family. The first thing ever.
    The magnitude of what I held in my hands made my body tremble. This was more complicated than a straightforward inheritance from a distant relative. Opening this envelope would mean discovering a whole chapter of my own history. I wasn’t at all sure I was prepared for that.
    And how was I going to tell my mother? Mum referred to Terry, her ex-husband, and his family as the dark side, and had done so since the day I was born.
    Mind you, finding her husband in the arms of a barmaid – what a cliché – on the day she went into labour was hardly conducive to playing happy families. Mum had chucked him out and vowed never to have anything to do with him ever again. As far as we knew, he lived in America, which was close enough as far as she was concerned.
    This would open old wounds for her and I knew from previous experience the lengths she would go to avoid confronting the past.
    OK. All I had to do was read the letter. That was it.
    I pinched my lips together, slid a finger along the flap to open the envelope and removed the single sheet of cream and flowery paper.
     
    Dear Sophie,
    The fact you are reading this means that I have finally shuffled off this mortal coil. I have had a long and mostly happy life. My only sadness is that I was not blessed with children and had very little family to speak of.
    The chances are you won’t remember the time we met. You were with your mother in Market Square. You would have been about five. You took my breath away with your dark curls and pretty green eyes. It was so terribly sad that your parents couldn’t forgive each other. I was very cross with my nephew, I can tell you. But it wasn’t my place to interfere back then. Now I’m gone, I can be called a meddling old fool without fear of reprisal.
    I want you to have my bungalow and what’s left of my savings. On the condition that you agree to meet your father. Just once, that’s all I ask. I hope you can forgive and indulge an old lady’s last wishes.
    Your Great Aunt Jane
     
    Meet my father. Just once. I shook my head vigorously. Impossible. No way. This Great Aunt Jane had no idea what she was asking.
    I let the letter fall to my lap.
    I remembered Mum and me bumping into an old lady in Nottingham once. She wouldn’t stop touching my hair for some reason