The day he died, I didn’t understand why my mum was so upset. It’d been just mum and me since day one and I’d never seen her this fragile. He was just a friend so why did we need to speak with his solicitor.
I sat in the reception staring at the pot plants, plain furnishings and pretty secretary. Why was my mum so upset? He’d been on the scene all my life but just in the corner at birthday parties or occasionally popping by for a cuppa. I stayed out of his way. I said hello occasionally but I found him creepy. He just stared at me.
When my mum came out, she looked stronger. Still puffy eyed but with a slight smile. She came into the room, sat beside me and handed me a piece of paper. She said it was a gift, a gift from my dad.