So I can sit here, smile, nod, and pretend everything’s fine?
When it’s really not.
FIVE
A promise to live
Georgie
I’m sitting in whatmight be the poshest law firm in London.
Across from me, the lawyer, Mr. Ainsworth, clears his throat with ceremony. “As per the last will and testament of Mrs. Fitzgerald, the property at 47 Lavender Lane, Fulham, London, is bequeathed to Georgina Rose Fitzgerald.”
I exhale so hard my fringe flutters.
Thank God.
I’ve been having stress dreams about London flat-hunting. The kind where I end up in a moldy shared house with sixstrangers, one bathroom, and a mysterious smell no one will admit to.
“There is one condition, however.”
I sit up straighter. “Yes?”
“Mrs. Fitzgerald has left you a video recording with instructions.”
“Avideo?”
“She recorded it the day before she passed away.”
My heart flips. “I didn’t know she’d done that. Okay…” I wait for him to hand me a USB stick or whatever lawyers do when they’re handling digital posthumous messages.
“You have to watch it here.”
I blink. “Can’t you just email it? I’d rather watch it at home. No offense.”
“I’m afraid her instructions were quite explicit on this point.”
What the fuck, Riri? Is this some macabre posthumous prank? Is she about to confess to decades of tax evasion or something?
He connects his laptop to the wall-mounted screen. The image flickers.
Then she’s there.
“Oh,” I breathe, my hands instinctively flying to the necklace at my throat.
She’s propped up on pillows, face pale. “Hello, my darling girl.”
I blink, stealing a glance at Mr. Ainsworth.
He adjusts his tie, unbothered. This is probably his typical day. People find out they’ve inherited cats or debts or taxidermied aunts. He simply logs the billable hours and invoices them by the tear.
“Right then,” she says, “if you’re watching this, I’m dead.” She waves a dismissive hand, the IV line swaying with the movement. “But since I’m dead, you might actually listen to me for once.”
“Damn, Riri,” I whisper, half-laughing despite the tears forming in my eyes.
She leans toward the camera. “You’ve inherited the house, but as Mr. Ainsworth—lovely man, but bit of a stick up his ass—will have mentioned, there’s a condition attached.”
I throw the lawyer an apologetic look. He doesn’t twitch.
