Page 13 - The Letter By Ann Newhouse

And now he’s gone. ‘Tony’s gone’, I sobbed. As my eyes grew heavy I spotted the box with Tony’s papers sitting on the floor by the other sealed boxes. I promised myself I would go through it soon. Maybe I would find some answers. I just wasn’t ready to go digging up the past yet.
I woke to a slither of winter sun peeping through the gap in the blind forming a shape like a sharp blade across my pillow stinging my eyes, tender from shedding tears. I rolled out of bed as I heard the phone ringing, throwing the switch on the coffee machine as I passed.
‘Hello, is that Miss Amber Shankey’, the voice on the other end enquired.
‘Yes, I’m Amber, who is asking?’
‘I’m calling on behalf of Mr. Henry, from Henry & Son solicitors on Liffey Street. ‘Oh! yes Tony’s solicitor’, I recalled.
‘Mr. Henry would like to see you at 2pm tomorrow, is that convenient?’ the voice on the other end of the phone asked.
‘Yes, yes that’s fine’, I hung up feeling sick. I looked around thinking I’ll have to make plans immediately. I’ll be homeless soon I thought.
I slept late through exhaustion. After showering I spent hours choosing a suitable outfit for my appointment with Mr. Henry. Feeling comfortable in my Regine black dress, it was the one Tony liked me wearing.
‘It shows off your sexy figure’, he would say with a wicked smile.
I squeezed my eyes to stop the tears from flowing at the memory, besides, I scolded myself, you haven’t time to redo your makeup.