Previously:

In early 1995 my aunt advised me that my adoptive mother, who I hadn't seen for more than fifteen years, had passed away. The next morning I caught the first flight out of London to attend her funeral in Copenhagen.
I left the church after the funeral, when a voice rang out. A thin, mousy haired man shouted at me saying that he was my adoptive mother's lawyer and, as I was adopted before the end of 1954 I was not to inherit anything.
I had four hours before my flight back to London, and decided to spend the time checking on my inheritance. I arrived at the second office I'd been directed to and there I was given all the help I needed. It was confimed that I was indeed elegible for inheritance. I was now on the phone trying to get an appointment with a family lawyer who had helped me before.

Part Five

My deep intake of breath didn't do anything to alleviate the pace of my heart. It felt like a butterfly had been set loose. I had to play this right if I were to succeed in getting an appointment at such short notice.

"Can I speak to Mrs Faber please?" I asked after introducing myself, but, before the poor woman at the other end had a chance to utter a word, I continued. "I don't have an appointment, but I'm only in the country for a few more hours, and this is rather urgent if not short of an emergency."

Phew, I wondered whether she would swallow that one. I had no time to linger, so I hurried on.

"Mrs. Faber knows me well." At least that was the truth. "She's represented me before, and she will also know that she was recommended to me by High Court Judge Otto Hansen." I paused fearing the worst, when, to my delight, the gentle voice of the woman said.

"Hold on, I'll see what I can do," and the phone went dead.

My stomach somersaulted in a most unwelcome manner. A feeling I remembered from way back. It was always like this every time I had exams in school and later in college. I supposed this was some sort of an exam as well. A question of whether I succeeded or not.

I tapped my pen impatiently on the counter and threw the two women from the office a strained smile. To their credit they smiled back and nodded their heads in support as they watch me with what I perceived to be mild amusement.

I tried to look confident, and I must have succeeded because they both gave me the thumbs up. All I managed was a weak smile, but their encouraging gesture somehow helped to sooth my ragged nerves.

And then she was back, the woman on the phone.

"Hello, are you still there?"

"Oh, yes." I breathed into the phone.

"Well, in that case Mrs. Faber says that if you can be here within half an hour she'll be able to see you."

I smiled, hoping against hope she could see it, and in a breezy voice I confirmed it was no problem. I'd be there. I thanked her, and hung up turning towards my two ladies in crime. They beamed at me, giving me a thumbs up, both eager to call me a taxi.

I laughed, and for the first time that day I felt a little less tense. The young woman who had gone out of her way to help me turned towards me with the printout of the microfilm, a smile on her face. And it was then that I noticed how lovely she looked. Her unusual dark hair fell in soft curls around her heart shaped face, and a pair of dark blue eyes set slightly apart gazed into mine.

I squeezed her hand and thanked her for the kindness she'd shown me.

"Nothing to say thank you for. You've made our day and it has been a pleasure to be able to help. It's not everyday, we have somebody like you walking through the door. It's been great fun."

All I could do was to throw her a tearful smile, too choked up to say anything, and I was out of the door.

I ran down the steps and out onto the street. To my relief a cab soon pulled up.

Two hours and twenty-five minutes to go before I had to check in for my flight back to London.

I settled into the back seat, giving the driver the address. He smiled at me in acknowledgement, and I leaned back, grateful for the reprieve it offered to my hectic day. Once again, I thanked the gods that the city centre of Copenhagen was not that big.

I must have dozed off, because, before I knew it, the taxi stopped and a booming voice told me we had arrived. I pulled myself out of my reverie, paid the driver, and stepped out onto the pavement in front of the lawyer's office.

I calculated that I had a good hour for the meeting which would leave me plenty of time for my flight. I pushed the door open and entered the reception area. It was designed to make you feel at ease, but didn't seem to apply to me. No sooner had I entered than my stomach started to make funny movements again.

The blond, manicured receptionist looked up at me with a cool look bordering on the cold. "Can I help you?"

"I have an appointment with Mrs. Faber. I believe I spoke to you less than half an hour ago, about an urgent meeting?" I hoped she couldn't see how nervous I was.

To my surprise she broke out in a warm smile. "Oh yes, you are expected. Follow me, please and I'll take you to Mrs. Faber's office."

The receptionist knocked on the door, and opened it wide to let me in. And there was Mrs. Faber, standing in front of her oval desk, in the rather opulent office. Her gray hair was swept back in a bun, giving her a severe look that was somewhat softened by her friendly smile. She stretched her hand out in greeting.

"Hello, Ulla, what can I help you with this time?"

To Be Continued.