What Happens At Christmas... Read Online Free Page B

sale.’
    â€˜What sort of company, Mr Inglis?’ She gave him an apologetic look. ‘You see, I know next to nothing about him.’
    â€˜I can imagine. Certainly, when he spoke of you, he was similarly ignorant of where you were and what you were doing. As far as I can remember, I believe he told me he was involved with the wine trade.’
    â€˜Did you know him well?’
    â€˜I met him on a number of occasions so I had the opportunity to get to know him quite well.’ He caught Holly’s eye. ‘He was a fine man, your father.’
    â€˜Thank you, Mr Inglis.’ Holly was pleased to hear her voice sounding level. ‘Thank you very much. That’s good to hear.’ Inside, her mind was in turmoil. How could it be that the callous, selfish bastard who had abandoned his wife and child all those years ago could have left her such an amazing bequest and be described as a fine man? Somehow, she realised she was going to have to do a lot of rethinking about her father. ‘I’ve got so many questions for you. First and foremost, what did he die of? Presumably it was cancer?’
    The solicitor nodded his head. ‘I’m afraid so. A very aggressive form of pancreatic cancer. I remember he told me it was only diagnosed in May and he died on November fifth. I saw him in Brookford in October, when he drafted his will, and he was already bedridden.’
    â€˜And the lady mentioned in his will? Have you any idea who she is?’
    â€˜Yes, indeed. She lives in the village and it was she who looked after your father in his final months. I believe she’s a distant relative of some description.’ Holly nodded, glad that there had been somebody at his side at the end. That reminded her of something else.
    â€˜I was wondering if you knew anything about the burial. When did that take place? Was there a service? Was my father buried in the village?’ The solicitor nodded.
    â€˜Yes, he died in the hospice in Exeter and there was a service at Exeter’s crematorium. I’m sorry we weren’t able to contact you in time. And then, at your father’s request, his ashes were laid to rest in the churchyard at Brookford. Mr Trimble, the postmaster you met today, will be able to give you further information.’
    He ran through a list of other matters, obtaining her signature to various documents as he went along. Finally, he handed over a hefty envelope. ‘You should find all the documents you need in here, along with a copy of the will, and a sealed letter written by your father to you. If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to contact me.’
    â€˜Thank you, Mr Inglis, you’ve been very helpful. I think I’ll go off and digest everything you’ve told me.’ Holly walked back to the car, her mind in turmoil. It was as if the cork had blown out of the bottle and her emotions were spraying everywhere. She truly didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. On the one hand she had suddenly become a millionaire, while on the other, she had lost her dad. She retraced her steps to the car and climbed in beside Julia. Her face must have betrayed her inner conflict.
    â€˜What the bloody hell’s happened, Hol? You look like somebody’s just slapped you.’ She sounded concerned.
    â€˜No, Jules, nothing bad. It’s just that he’s left me a load of money and I don’t know what to think any more.’ She glanced down at the envelope clutched in her hand. ‘The man said there’s a letter in here from my dad.’
    Holly reached in for the letter. It was in a sealed white envelope and it contained two handwritten sheets of paper.
    My dearest Holly,
    If you are reading this, it will mean I am dead. I regret so many things in my life and this last regret is just one of many where you are concerned. I wish I had been able to see you again at least once before my death. I have often imagined you as a grown