Conditional Love Read Online Free Page A

aiming for a recently bereaved tone.
    Still nothing.
    I placed the scorching hot liquid on the desk in front of her.
    ‘There’s been a death in the, er…’ Where was the death exactly? Family? Family friend? Friend’s family? I wished I’d rehearsed this properly, I sounded like a contestant in front of Ann Robinson: ‘You are the weakest link, goodbye.’
    I tried again.
    ‘Someone close to me has died and I’ll need some time off this week to sort out the will and everything.’
    Not strictly the truth, but I could hardly say I needed time off to see to the affairs of a complete stranger, could I?
    ‘Oh no!’ muttered Donna, pinching her lips together like a duck-billed platypus. The perfume was even more cloying in this confined space. I could feel my eyes starting to water, which wasn’t altogether a bad thing given the circumstances.
    ‘Thank you, it has come as a complete shock,’ I began. That bit was certainly true.
    ‘The restaurant supplement is due to go to print on Friday and we’ve still got five slots to fill, plus the main sponsor is quibbling about his space allocation. This is terrible timing, terrible… If it’s absolutely unavoidable,’ she added sourly, ‘keep it brief and you’ll have to make the time up.’
    She fixed me with her beady eyes and flicked her head, indicating that the meeting was over. Sometimes that woman really did herself no favours at all. I dropped back into my chair, clenching my teeth, and reached for the solicitor’s letter.
    Five minutes later I had booked an appointment with Mr Whelan for Thursday afternoon.

four
    A smiley female receptionist ushered me through to a small office with an exceptionally high ceiling.
    ‘Mr Whelan will be with you shortly,’ she whispered in hallowed tones, as if I’d been granted an audience with the Pope. She pointed to a chair, swivelled round on her court shoes and left.
    I smiled in thanks at the back of the woman’s head.
    My nerves were jangling. I pressed my lips together to prevent myself from whistling the theme tune to Suits .
    I was a solicitor virgin. The experience so far fell somewhere between being summoned to the head teacher’s office and being interviewed by the police. Not that I had ever caused either of those particular institutions any trouble. Even so, I was finding the whole thing extremely nerve-racking.
    I wished I’d brought someone with me for moral support. I had toyed with the idea of asking Marc. A good excuse to ring him, I thought. Mind you, he more than likely would have had experience of the inside of both head teachers’ offices and police stations, so may well have run a mile.
    I dropped my handbag on the floor and clasped my hands together. The desk in front of me was large and old-fashioned with an inset leather blotter and one of those brass reading lamps with a green glass shade. Haphazard piles of manila folders obscured most its surface. Behind the desk was a run of bookcases stuffed to the gunnels with lever arch files. Whoever Mrs Jane Kennedy was, she had certainly picked a very untidy solicitor.
    In the centre of the desk lay an open file. I shuffled forward to the edge of my seat and managed to read my own name at the top of the page. I inched closer still, squinting to read more.
    ‘And you are?’
    The deep voice made me jump so much that I panicked, slid off the chair and down onto one knee. Thus greeting the tall, thin man with dark hair, glasses and a bushy beard in some sort of weird marriage proposal stance.
    I scrambled up off the floor, mortified, and sat back down. ‘Nothing! Just waiting for Mr Whelan.’
    His lips twitched and he gave his beard a scratch.
    ‘I’m Thomas Whelan.’ He extended a hand towards me. ‘And you are?’
    ‘Oh! Sophie Stone.’ I took his hand and pulled up the collar of my coat to hide my glowing cheeks.
    ‘Ah yes,’ he said, settling himself at his desk. He glanced at the file that I’d had been trying to read. ‘You’ve