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As one of the old crones at the table begins to drone on and on in monotone, I’m trying to understand as much as I can, but being in legalese, they pretty much lose me ten minutes in. If it had been written in Elizabethan iambic pentameter, it would have been much more comprehensible to me.
‘In a nutshell,’ concludes one of the solicitors, ‘your grandfather has left you the sum of two million pounds, plus a 50 per cent share in a river barge –The Miranda– a small cottage plus a general store – Bend or Bump – with one Mr Jago Moon.’
I start. Jago Moon? How is that even possible? If Mary reacted like that at his presence at the memorial service, she’s going to have an absolute blinder of a fit now!
I look around at all the impassive faces that haven’t so much as blinked once since I sat down. Utter silence reigns, as all of them are waiting for me to speak. Even my grandmother doesn’t look surprised in the least; nor does she say anything. In fact, if it wasn’t for a nervous twitch in her eye, she’d look like a wax figure. I open my mouth and close it again.
‘M-me?’
They all nod in unison.
‘But why me? I never knew him… Mum always used to say that Nano was the cause of the rift between you two.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Emily. He was a sentimental old sod. Just accept it gracefully, if you can.’
Gracefully? I’m nothing but confused. Why would someone who never took the time to meet me, not even once, actually leave me anything at all? It just doesn’t make sense. And what the hell has Jago Moon got to do with my grandfather? Judging by the scene at the graveyard, Jago was the last person Lady Mary wanted around her husband.
