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I talked endless rubbish, reminding him of the days when we were young and the silly things we did. Samira, fighting the tears would relate some of the amusing episodes of their court appearances. He was not talking anymore; he didn't have enough breath for that, except right at the last he gasped. "I can see her, she's smiling and waving." Then he collapsed like a punctured balloon, one last breath of anguish and he was gone.We knew what Clem's Will said, he had told us everything, although I was astonished when the solicitor filed the probate. He had amassed quite a goodly sum. The Trust was accepted by the Inland Revenue. According to the solicitor, they couldn't find any loophole to exploit. Well you would expect a barrister, a legal authority to dot every 'i' and cross every 't'. Samira asked me if I was going to move from my room over the garage to one of the proper bedrooms. There were four bedrooms plus the garage room I occupied and three bathrooms. One was ensuite to. He dumped the box on the table and moved to the counter to pour a mug of coffee. She looked into the box. “Is she your girlfriend?” she asked, fishing through the clothes.“Was might be more accurate.”“What happened?”“She had marriage in mind.”Rachael pulled out three shirts. A single black sock looked lost at the bottom of the box. “And you didn’t want to get married?”“I don’t know her well enough.” Grandpa sat at the table and sipped coffee.“You know her well enough for her to want to marry you. How long was she your girlfriend?”“Two weeks.”Rachael looked at him in surprise. “Only two weeks?”The corner of Grandpa’s mouth ticked up in amusement. “I know what you’re thinking. Two weeks and she wants to marry me. Either I’m exceptionally good or she’s exceptionally weird.”Rachael smiled. “Actually, I was wondering how you could have forgotten one sock at her place. I mean, didn’t you feel a missing sock? And how do you forget a shirt? Do you usually go around town shirtless?”Grandpa.
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