Conditional Love Read Online Free Page B

come about your aunt’s will.’
    I processed this new information, hitherto unaware I had an aunt. Alive or dead.
    ‘My aunt?’
    Mr Whelan blinked furiously, referred back to the manila file and adjusted his glasses.
    ‘My apologies, Miss Stone, your great aunt.’
    Well, that was that then. She had to be one of my father’s relations. There were definitely no great aunts in Mum’s family. There was no one at all in her family. I sighed. I had been hoping… well, I wasn’t sure exactly what I’d been hoping. Maybe that she was an old lady I’d done a good deed for when I was in the Brownies, or something. Although I couldn’t think what I’d done to warrant a mention in anybody’s will.
    But any tenuous link would be better than being a relative of Terry Stone’s. Still, I’d better be absolutely sure.
    ‘Could you… would you mind just running me through the family tree?’
    ‘Of course,’ said Mr Whelan, pushing his chair back and standing up abruptly. ‘But first, have you brought your passport?’
    I jumped to my feet. ‘Why? Where are we going?’ I had been told on the phone to bring my passport when I arranged the appointment and the request had been troubling me ever since.
    ‘Only to the photocopier,’ he chuckled. ‘Need to verify you are who you say you are before we continue with the reading of the will.’
    Thank heavens for that! I had had visions of having to jump on a plane at a moment’s notice to take ownership of some mystery item.
    Identity checks complete, we resumed our positions either side of the desk. The solicitor took off his wristwatch, set it to one side and then, elbows on the desk, clasped his hands together and made a steeple with his forefingers, resting his long nose on the tip.
    ‘This office holds the last will and testament of Mrs Jane Kennedy. She was Terence Stone’s maternal aunt. Your great aunt.’
    I stared at him, mesmerised by the end of his nose which was protruding over his fingers.
    I should stop him from going any further. There was no point in hearing what he had to say. My father had been absent for all of my thirty-two years. Mum and I had managed perfectly well without his or his family’s help, thank you very much, and I knew instinctively that she would resent any intervention at this stage in the game. Besides, why would the old dear leave anything to me? It didn’t make sense, we’d never even met.
    ‘Long and tedious documents, wills.’
    My eyes must have glazed over for a moment. I shook myself and Mr Whelan’s eyes twinkled at me.
    ‘‘There’s been a misunderstanding,’ I said, scooping up my bag as I stood. ‘My mother is estranged from her ex-husband. I’ve never met Jane Kennedy; in fact, I’ve never met my father.’
    ‘I’m aware of all that,’ he said, not unkindly. ‘However, it falls to me to ensure that you are fully informed as to your inheritance. Please sit.’ He flapped a hand at the empty chair. ‘Would you like me to read the whole thing or cut to the chase?’
    I blinked my green eyes at him. Was he allowed to say things like that? I sat back down obediently.
    ‘The main bits, please.’
    ‘Righto.’ Mr Whelan extracted a document and a small sealed envelope from the file. He pushed his glasses up his nose and cleared his throat. I held my breath.
    ‘Your Great Aunt Jane has bequeathed the bulk of her estate to you. You, Miss Stone, are the main beneficiary of her will.’
    An estate! Visions of strolling through manicured gardens like someone out of Pride and Predjudice , against a backdrop of a Chatsworth-style mansion, on Marc’s arm, were somewhat dimmed with Mr Whelan’s next sentence.
    ‘There’s a bungalow in Woodby and several thousand pounds. We haven’t finalised the amount yet.’
    Woodby? That was a village in the sticks somewhere north of Nottingham. A bungalow and some money. I repeated the words in my head. That was a house and some actual money-in-the-bank type dosh.
    My chest had