By Ulla
I looked at the stairs leading up to the church entrance, and counted. There were twelve in total, which was quite unusual, as the church was not built on a hill. A useless piece of information that had no relevance to me being there.
As I ascended the stairs there was no one in sight, but that didn't surprise me. I was very late, and all it meant was that everybody was already inside the church, waiting for the service to start. I just hoped that I was not too late for that as well.
It had been stressful from the minute I woke up. I'd overslept because the alarm didn't work, and as I jumped out of bed, I realised that I had to give the shower a miss. Once downstairs, there was barely time for a coffee.
The ride to the airport wasn't any better. The traffic snailed along the M4, jam-packed with cars, and the weather didn't do anything to aleviate the feeling either. It was a miserable morning, and a shitty day, engulfed in a heavy mist.
I arrived at the airport with just minutes to spare, only to be met with the announcement that my flight was delayed. Go figure!
Two hours later, and I was finally airborne, but by then, I wondered whether I would make it in time for the funeral.
When we arrived at Copenhagen Airport I was seriously late, and grateful that I didn't have any luggage. I sailed through customs, and ran to the taxi stand, where I threw myself into the backseat of the nearest one. The driver looked at me impassively. "Where to, Missus?"
"Christianshavns Kirke," I panted, "and can you make that in ten minutes, please?"
"Well, that is to cut it a bit fine, isn't it Miss? How are we going to manage that?" He didn't look impressed.
"Oh, just step on it will ya, you don't even have to cross the bridge to go into the City center."
I looked at him urging him on.
"Nah, I suppose you're right about that, all right, but the church is only a hundred metres from the bridge, Missus." He chuckled, looking at me in the rear mirror. A concerned look suddenly appeared on his friendly face. "OK, OK, here goes, I'll see what I can do. Anything for a pretty face." I gave him a weak smile.
That in itself was ok as long as I arrived in time. Only thing was that I would have liked to have had more time to prepare myself for what was to come.
We arrived, and I jumped out of the taxi and handed over a handsome tip which was greeted with a big smile.
I ran up the steps, and I could hear the church organ playing from inside. A haunting tune, fit for the occasion.
I shuddered as I still remembered how the mere sound of a church organ chilled me to the bone when I was a child. I always wanted to run away from it. For some reason the organ from this particular church frightened me more than most.
I wondered whether this was a morbid message from my adoptive mother. Why choose this church for her funeral service? A church she didn't like at all when alive. Was this a message to me from her? Or was it an act that she had especially requested, in the hope that I would be intimidated? But then again, I might read too much into it. On the other hand I might not. Ah, get off it, I was being paranoid. How could she even know I would be here?
Anyway, the mere thought brought a smile to my face. I hadn't seen her since I was pregnant with my daughter, fifteen years earlier, so the whole thing didn't mean that much to me. Not anymore. What was important though was that I was here. I had my aunt to thank for that. She'd come across the obituary only the day before, and was it not for her, my absence would have had catastrophic consequences. Well, at least for me.
Here goes, I thought, as I pushed the heavy door open, and entered the darkened room. Some fifty pairs of eyes turned towards me as one, and I sensed rather than heard the collective gasp.
I smiled, but nobody could see it, as I kept it to myself. I observed that everybody was seated to the right of the aisle, indicating that no family was present, but that didn't surprise me so much. I was the only family left after all.
I took a deep breath, and with my head held high, I walked up the aisle nodding slightly at the astonished expressions I passed on my way. I then proceeded to sit down on the empty front row of the left hand side.
The church organ was still playing its sad tune while I looked at the coffin ... and ... well, I felt nothing.
The prodigal daughter had returned for her adoptive mother's funeral.
To be continued.
| Author Notes |
Kirke = Church
This is taking place in 1995 eight years prior to The Quest, which is still an ongoing saga. Thank you to Angelheart for the use of the artwork. |
By Ulla
Previously.
In early spring 1995, my aunt advises me that my adoptive mother, who I haven't seen for more than fifteen years, has passed away,The next day I catch the first plane out of London for Copenhagen to attend her funeral. The service is just about to begin.
Part Two
As I sat down on the front row I felt the same fifty pairs of eyes bore into me. The hairs in the back of my neck stood on end, telling me what was happening. In truth I didn't much care what was going on behind me.
A few feet away from me was the coffin in its lone majesty, the lid covered in a beautiful arrangement of white and red roses. Somebody must have cared enough about my adoptive mother then.
Custom dictated that everybody who attended a funeral would bring flowers and lay them on the floor in front of the coffin as a tribute to the deceased. I noticed that a trail of fifty or so flower bouquets were disappearing in a path down the aisle.
I had brought none.
The organ still played its mournful, yet pompous piece of music. I shuddered and realised that the sound coming from it still held the ability to intimidate me. This particular church had not yet released its grip on me.
And there, all of a sudden, was the Vicar in her long black gown with the tell tale white collar that resembled that of a clown. All curly along the edges. It gave her quite the regal look, and for all I knew she may have been present all the time I had been there, but if so, I hadn't noticed.
It was then that I became aware that she looked straight at me, although her look was somewhat impassive. Of course, she must have recognised I was family from my position in the church, but she appeared to have chosen to ignore the fact. To give her credit, if I knew my adoptive mother at all, the poor woman would never have heard about me.
I had been denied a long time ago.
The organ faded away, and the vicar took up her position in front of the coffin facing the congregation. She looked out towards all of us, and once the initial biblical ceremony was over, she went on to talk about the life of the deceased.
When she continued to talk about the virtue of my adoptive mother's life, I faded out not able to listen to the nonsense and my thoughts began to wander. I looked up at the ornate ceiling of the church, beautiful as it was in its golden splendour, and wished I was somewhere else.
While the Vicar's voice droned on, my thoughts went back to a time of late nights when my adoptive mother had called me and repeatedly told me how she regretted that she had ever adopted me. I could hear her calm voice when she said, "listen, you never know what you get, and I see some traits in you that are all your own, but which defy everything I've ever believed in."
Yeah. Right!
Now, as I sat there in the church, I was struggling to suppress a giggle, but twenty years earlier it had been pretty ugly. I remembered the panic attacks I had suffered. They came on without warning, made me feel as if suffocating. I could barely breathe. It was then that I realised I had to stop seeing her. Put her out of my life all together. At least for a while. My adoptive father, who I loved very much had been dead for several years so no help could be had from him. I had to stand on my own two feet.
I sat up with a start as a blast from the organ brought me out of my reverie.
Everybody started to sing a hymn I recognised very well, and for a moment I was lost in the beauty of it. For once the organ was just a background tool to keep the hymn on its track.
Once it had finished, the vicar was back continuing the service, and from now on it was all biblical formality. She soon arrived to the part where she threw the earth on the coffin while reciting, "from earth have you come and to earth will you again return," and the service came to its natural conclusion.
I stood watching as six men from the congregation, who I didn't recognise, carried the coffin out to the waiting hearse parked outside the church. It must have been hiding at the side of the church when I had arrived earlier on.
A few people who I vaguely remembered from my youth came to give their condolences, which I greeted with grace but found rather odd. Surely they must have known what had come between my adoptive mother and me.
I slowly made my way to the exit, being stopped by some more who I remembered from a life so long ago, and finally I was outside breathing in the fresh air.
Almost five hours to kill before my return flight. As I started down the stairs, my thoughts were filled with the pleasant prospect of where to have lunch, when a voice rang out calling my name. All I saw was a thin man with mousy brown hair, not much older than me, gesturing as he shouted.
"I know who you are, Ulla. I was your adoptive mother's lawyer. If you think you are going to inherit, then I can tell you that since you were adopted in 1954 you are not eligible to get a single thing!"
Everything went quiet. I stopped in my tracks, and took a deep breath as I turned around and looked straight at him.
And in that instant I knew why I had come.
To be continued.
| Author Notes |
Note: In Denmark you cannot disinherit your children. However, as I was adopted before the end of 1954, in principle I would not inherit my adoptive parents unless they had made other legal arrangements with the State.
So there is no confusion: This is taking place in 1995, eight years prior to finding my birth mother. It's about my adoptive mother and what took place when she died. The flash backs are about her and what happenened between us. I hope this will clear up any confusion. Thank you to Angelheart for the use of the artwork. |
By Ulla
Previously:
In early 1995 my aunt advises me that my adoptive mother, who I haven't seen for more than fifteen years, has passed away. The next morning I catch the first flight out of London to attend her funeral in Copenhagen.
I'm leaving the church after the funeral, when a voice rings out. A thin, mousy haired man shouts at me saying that he is my adoptive mother's lawyer and, as I was adopted before the end of 1954, I'm not to inherit anything.
Everything goes quiet.
Part Three
I looked him up and down and wondered whether I'd heard him correctly. Had he really said that I was not to inherit anything? Which was fine in itself. I had no problem with that. However, to shout it out in front of everybody else, when we were all leaving the church from what was supposed to have been a religious service, was a whole different matter. I turned towards him doing my best to contain the anger that arose within me.
"Excuse me, what did you just say? I'm not sure I quite caught that, and how dare you shout at me!" All I got in response was an aggressive gaze.
What was he up to, and what was his game? Just because he'd said he was a lawyer didn't help my confidence at all.
He pumped up his narrow chest and challenged me with what could at best be called a defiant look.
"I knew your adoptive mother, and for my life I can't understand why you bothered to be here today. There's nothing here for you."
So, I'd understood alright. It amazed me what my adoptive mother could have seen in him, let alone the trust she'd apparently bestowed on him. When I thought about it though, knowing her as I did, it didn't surprise me all that much. I didn't bother to answer him, but when I asked for his name, he provided it with a readiness I hadn't quite expected.
I threw him an indifferent look, ignoring what he'd said, and proceeded down the stairs. To be honest he was not worth my time. I could feel his small eyes following me as I ran down the steps, and I only hoped that I sent out the right signals of not having a care in the world. I paused for a moment, and noticed that he looked straight at me.
It was obvious that I had to act and pretty fast. He was up to something that he thought was worth his while, and it came across that my adoptive mother was playing it with him from her grave. Was he doing it on his own, or had he manipulated her when she was still alive? My vote fell on the latter.
Whatever it was, he was out to hurt me, and he had an ulterior motive. Of that I was now convinced.
I turned away with what I hoped looked like a shrug and ran down the last steps.
With a pang of regret, I realised my dreams of a lovely lunch had just gone out of the window.
I hurried along towards the main street, and was lucky to hail a taxi right away. Leaning back in the seat I felt a sudden tiredness come over me, and in my dreamy state of mind, I heard a voice from way back come forward. The voice of my adoptive father rang out to me. "Ulla, your mother and I drew up legal papers to ensure that you'll inherit from us as if we'd given birth to you," and he looked at me with that special smile of his.
Ten minutes later I returned to reality, when the taxi pulled up at the address I'd provided.
Four and a half hours until I had to check in for my flight back to London.
I paid for the taxi, and ran up the stairs. I soon found the desk I wanted, and stated my reason for being there as briefly as I could. I was at the central office that had the registers of all deceased in Denmark. How far back they could go, I had no idea, but it was certainly way beyond the death of my adoptive father. What I hoped they could do, though, was to to tell me whether an annotation had been attached to his death certificate or his will. I explained my predicament and lack of time, and was immediately directed to another address at the other end of Copenhagen. I was assured that they would have a definite answer to my question.
I ran out of the building, and threw myself at the first taxi that came my way. This was starting to get interesting. Again, I leaned back in the seat of the cab and closed my eyes for a short time. I thanked the gods that Copenhagen was not that big.
Another ten minutes and we were there. I paid, jumped out, and ran up the stairs to yet another office.
Three hours and twenty minutes to go.
The lady behind the desk watched me with a bemused expression when she observed my, by now, somewhat dishevelled appearance. What's more was that I was out of breath from running up the stairs. She couldn't know my phobia of lifts.
"Can I help you at all?" she asked.
"I hope so." I looked at her with what I hoped was a pleasant smile.
To be continued.
| Author Notes |
Note: In Denmark you cannot disinherit your children. However, as I was adopted before the end of 1954, in principle, I wouldn't inherit from my adoptive parents unless they had made other legal arrangements with the state.
So there is no confusion. This is taking place in 1995, eight years prior to finding my birth mother, It's about my adoptive mother and what took place after she died. The flash backs are about her and what happened between us. I hope this will clear up any confusion. Thanks to Angelheart for the use of the artwork. |
By Ulla
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.
Everything around us went quiet.
I had almost four hours before I had to check in for my flight back to London, and I decided to pursue the matter immediately. I went to one office and was directed to another. I'd just arrived to that office and a friendly woman working there asked how she could help me.
Part Four
I told her as quickly as I could what had happened and the reason why I had been guided to this office. I also explained the urgency to find out whether my adopted parents had made an annotation to my adoption papers, which would be the deciding factor whether I was to inherit from them or not.
She moved her head in a sympathetic nod, her dark curls falling into her eyes. "What a story, and what an appalling behaviour from somebody who claims to be a lawyer! You have definitely come to the right place, and if there is a clause attached to your adoption papers then we'll have a record of it. Have a seat while I pop down to the basement where we keep all the microfilms. It'll take some twenty minutes."
"That is so kind of you," I said, and meant it.
I calculated that it left me two hours and forty-five minutes before I had to be in the airport. Maybe three hours, as I had no luggage, but it was a stretch though.
I eyed the telephone sitting on the counter, and it gave me an idea. In a flash I decided it was worth a try.
"Ahem, just before you leave, I wondered if it would be possible to use the phone to make a couple of calls while you are down there. I promise they won't be long and I will of course reimburse you."
I inclined my head towards the only other person in the office. "Your colleague will be able to judge how much it will be."
I wondered whether I had overstepped my hospitality, but on the other hand, 'he who doesn't dare, doesn't win', or something to that effect sprang to mind.
I needn't have worried. I was met with another friendly smile, and this time from both of them.
"Go ahead, and not to worry about paying. Our pleasure if we can be of help. But I better be going, so we'll have an answer sooner rather than later." And with that she disappeared through the door.
I recognised I was in good hands, and my day brightened up by several degrees.
My plan was to speak to my cousin's husband. Not only were we family, but more importantly, we had become very close friends over the years. Otto, my cousin's husband also happened to be a judge. He had helped me find the perfect lawyer when I needed legal representation with my divorce, and now I could do with another small favour. Otto could provide me with the phone number for the same lawyer. She would be just perfect for the job ahead. As I remembered my cousin's phone number by heart, I didn't hesitate to dial it.
And again I was in luck.
"Oh, hi, Otto, Ulla speaking. You're home?" I said, stating the obvious. "I hope I can ask you a favour, as I'm a bit strapped for time." I fiddled with an imaginary pen.
"Whoa, Ulla, slow down. What's up. And where are you?" I could visualise his puzzled expression, the thick brows raised high above his gentle eyes, and I discerned a gentle chuckle.
I apologised and explained it all in a few words.
"We didn't know that your mother died. Well, had we known we would have told you, but we certainly wouldn't have gone to the service ourselves."
I sighed. "I know Otto, she alienated herself from everybody who mattered, didn't she? I only came because Aunt Grethe told me, and now I'm glad that I did so.
"What I need is the phone number of Mrs Faber. Remember the lawyer you recommended and who helped me with my divorce? I haven't got her number with me, and if it turns out to be a positive answer with regards to my inheritance, I would like to get hold of her before I fly back to London."
Otto laughed. "Oh Ulla, you never live a boring life, do you? Wait a sec, and I'll go find the number for you."
I chuckled. He was right, because it never was boring, but a little less excitement would also do. Never mind, this could be important.
Otto returned as swiftly as promised, and gave me the number. "Phone us the moment you are home and tell us all about it. Can't wait for this little tidbit."
I thanked him and promised that I would, and as I was sending my love to my cousin, I saw the lady emerging from the basement, a broad smile on her friendly face.
I quickly hung up and turned toward her with an expectant look.
"You are OK, You are indeed eligible for inheritance purposes and I have made a copy of your entire adoptions file for you. I gather your next port of call will be a lawyer."
I almost hugged her there and then. To be met with so much help and efficiency was overwhelming.
I still had two and half hours. I grinned and asked whether I could make the second call, and was met with an affirmative nod.
I dialled the lawyer's office and reckoned that with a little luck she would be back from lunch. The question was whether she was in court or tied up with clients.
The phone kept on ringing.
Two hours and twenty-five minutes to go.
A bright voice rang out. "Mrs Faber's Legal office."
To be continued.
| Author Notes |
This is taking place in 1995 and mobiles were not yet as widespead as today.
Thanks to Angelheart for the use of the Artwork |
By Ulla
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.
| Author Notes |
Thanks to Angelheart for the use of the artwork.
All names have been changed bar my own. |
By Ulla
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 lucky to get an appointment with a family lawyer who had helped me before and last chapter ended when I entered her office.
Part Six
"Hello, Ulla. What can I help you with this time?"
Mrs Faber was an intimidating woman at the best of times. Her salt and pepper hair was tied back in a tight bun that, combined with the dark suit, emphasised the impression of severe authority. I gathered it was her power look, reserved for the court.
Although, when I gazed into her dark blue eyes lit up by her genuine smile, I realised that she was indeed inclined towards sincere friendliness. The beauty she must once have been was clear, and I acknowledged she was still quite the looker in her own way.
I held out my hand in greeting, thanking her for seeing me at such short notice. She held it in a firm handshake, while she motioned me to take a seat, and I lowered myself into the chair she'd indicated.
"So, tell me Ulla, what is this all about? I will admit that when I was told you only had a few hours until your flight departure and, that you needed to see me by way of urgency, if not short of an emergency, I thought it was one of the best excuses I've yet come across to coax a meeting out of me. You are, of course, lucky I didn't have to be in court this afternoon. It also helped that I've represented you before."
I saw mirth in her eyes and dared to relax a little.
"Mrs. Faber, first of all I would like to say that everything I told your secretary is the truth. Since we met last, I have moved to Great Britain and live just west of London. Well, to cut a long story short, it all started when an aunt of mine phoned me to say that my adoptive mother had died. That piece of information was only passed on to me yesterday, and I was informed that the funeral service was today. Something told me I had to attend, and now I'm glad that I did. I caught the first plane out of London earlier today."
Mrs Faber merely nodded her head indicating for me to continue.
So encouraged, I carried on telling her everything that had happened since this morning and when I'd finished she leaned back in her chair looking at me with another appreciative nod.
"Well, so that's where it stands. I now know that my adoptive parents made provisions to make sure that I would inherit under the law, but it appears that both my adoptive mother and the lawyer she seemed to have been in cahoots with would go to any length to make sure I didn't get anything.
"After everything that woman has done to me in living life, I would like to get the last word. Call me greedy if you wish."
I paused to catch my breath still not knowing whether she would take my case or not.
At this point, Mrs Faber didn't give me much to go on either. She leaned back in her chair and looked at me with an inscrutable expression, not giving anything away. Her pen tapped up and down on her legal pad on which she hadn't taken any notes. My heart sank.
"Anything else you would like to add, Ulla?"
"No ... no, I don't think there's much else I can add, even if I wished to. I've told you everything I can think of."
She smiled a wolfish smile and leaned forward in her chair.
"You've sold your case to me, and, if everything is what you're saying, we have a very strong case. I'm longing to get my hands on that lawyer of your mother's. From the sound of it he is definitely not up to any good."
For the first time, I smiled, and I mean, really smiled. I knew I was in good hands. If anybody could take care of this it would be her. I sent a silent prayer to Otto, the husband of my cousin, who had yet again come up trumps.
Mrs Faber's face softened as she watched me.
"You leave this with me. You have done all the leg work I could ask for. Now, the rest is up to me. Well done, Ulla, I'm impressed. I'll take copies of all the papers you've managed to get hold of and then you better get on and catch that plane of yours. I'll be in touch as soon as I know more, but be forewarned. You'll have to come back over to Denmark in due time."
I could have hugged her there and then and I felt the tears threatening to spill. Mrs Faber must have seen that as well, because as she stood she grabbed my hand in another firm grip and all she said was. "No need for that, Ulla."
I croaked a thank you, and I was on my way.
Another taxi, and half an hour later, I was in the airport.
My plane took off an hour later and when the flight attendant arrived at my seat asking what I would like to drink, I didn't hesitate.
"A gin and tonic, please, and could you make that a double?"
To be continued.
| Author Notes |
Thanks a lot to Angelheart for the use of the artwork.
All names have been changed bar my own, |
By Ulla
Previously:
In early 1995 my aunt learned that my adoptive mother, who I hadn't seen for more than fifteen years, had passed away. My aunt, who was away from home at the time, told my ex-husband, who then passed on the news to me. The next morning I caught the first flight out of London to attend my adoptive mother's funeral in Copenhagen.
I was leaving the church after the service, 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 lucky to get an appointment with a family lawyer who had helped me before. The meeting went well and she was interested in taking on the case. She warned me that I would have to return for a meeting some weeks later. I thanked her and rushed to the airport.
Part Seven
Before I knew it the flight touched down at Heathrow Airport, and an hour later I was back home. It was still early evening when I let myself into the quiet house. John, my partner at the time, was away for a few days and I was looking forward to the next few days on my own. Just what I needed.
Bone tired as I was, I decided on a bottle of red wine and poured myself a good measure, bringing my glass out to the kitchen. I opened the door to the fridge and to my relief saw that I was in luck. It was well equipped with food and, while I tossed up a hearty salad, I stuck a loaf of bread in the oven to be heated up.
I took a sip of my wine while I set the table, and a few minutes later I sat down tucking into my simple meal with a relish. It suddenly struck me how hungry I was, and no wonder, as I realised I hadn't eaten since early in the morning. I chuckled when I pondered the day; it had indeed been a bit outside the norm to say the least.
I wished I could phone my aunt and tell her what had happened, but I didn't have a number let alone any other detail of where she was. All I knew was that she was attending some art classes at a school somewhere in Denmark. I was happy for her and admired her zest to learn something new at her grand old age. I would have loved to speak to her though.
In that instant the phone's chilling ring brought me out my reverie. I sighed and thought it had to be John wanting to know how I was doing. I brought my glass over, thankful that I'd eaten my food, but to be honest, I was not in the mood to speak to him. Our relationship had cooled off as of late and, well, I don't know, I suppose I wanted out. We'd been together for six years, but things were not working out any more, and I had a feeling there was somebody else on the scene. Again, I sighed, and picked up the phone.
"Hello, John, how are you doing?" A deep silence was all that greeted me until a timid voice sounded. "Hello, Ulla, is that you?"
I almost spilled all the wine out of my glass.
"Oh, Grethe, I can't believe you're on the phone. The very person I wanted to speak to. How are you and where are you, still at the school? How did you manage to get hold of me? Did Tommy give you my number?"
My ex-husband, Tommy, had told me the night before how my aunt happened to have his number, but had not brought mine with her.
Well, I wasn't surprised really. He lived in Denmark and I had moved over here. I knew my aunt kept separate phone lists.
"Whoa, whoa, Ulla, calm down please. One thing at a time!" I could hear the laughter in her voice, but I was just so glad to hear from her and I had so much to tell.
"So, Ulla, how did it go today?"
"No, first of all, please do tell me how you managed to get my number as you hadn't brought it to the school?"
"Okay, Ulla, I am still at the school, and yes, Tommy gave it to me, so now tell me, will you please?"
I laughed.
"Grethe, you are incorrigible, but thanks to you I've achieved a lot." And I continued to tell her everything that had happened.
When I'd finished the phone was silent.
"Grethe, are you there?"
"Yes ... yes, sorry, I was digesting what you've just told me. A hectic day you've had and how glad I am that I spotted that paper with your adoptive mother's obituary."
"Yeah, you can say that again. That lawyer would have got away with it. Oh, I'm so glad that I could tell you all."
"You're absolutely right, he probably would have. Your adoptive mother was never up to much good; couldn't be trusted. Ulla, I will need to finish soon, as this call is going to cost me a small fortune, but, before I go, do you know when you are going back to Denmark?"
"No, all Mrs Faber said was that it would be some weeks, maybe six, or something like that. I'll just have to be patient."
"Okay, never been your strongest point, but listen, I'm here for another two weeks so we'll speak when I'm back home, and when you do come to Denmark, you'll stay with me so you don't have to rush back to England. Ulla, I'm off for now, so take care."
"Oh, Grethe, same to you. We'll speak soon. So glad we talked tonight. Bye for now, and enjoy the rest of your stay at the school." I hung up with a smile.
The next few weeks passed very quickly, and then one day, the phone call came in that I'd been waiting for. I was summoned to the lawyers' meeting in Copenhagen.
To be continued.
| Author Notes | Thanks to Angelheart for the use of the artwork. |
By Ulla
Sue was sipping her hot cappuccino at the outdoor cafe enjoying the warm spring sun on her face, when she spotted a familiar figure among the throng of pedestrians. She squinted against the bright light. Could it really be him?
Thomas, her Thomas that she hadn't seen for close to four years. She remembered how they'd met in the bookshop round the corner. He'd asked her what she was reading, and as she turned to see who was speaking, she almost fainted when she'd drowned in the dark pool of his laughing eyes.
From that very moment there had been no going back. They'd spent every free moment together, talked and laughed into the small hours and, best of all shared their mutual love for books. It had seemed like a dream that was never going to end. And then ... then one day, he just disappeared, and she never saw nor heard from him again.
At first, she'd been devastated, not knowing what to make of it. She'd cried a lot, and not a night went by when she didn't cry herself to sleep. She'd carried on like that for months, and she couldn't see a way out of the black pit that wanted to swallow her up. Then, things started to change and she gradually emerged from her stupor. Her life returned to normal and she'd learned to laugh again.
And now, here he was appearing from nowhere after all that time. There was no mistaking the wide set eyes, the square stubborn chin, and the dark hair; unruly as ever. How thin he'd become though. The sudden sadness that washed over her sent a sharp stab through her chest making her gasp for air.
Sue leapt from the chair and ran towards him. "Thomas! Thomas, is that really you? I can't believe this. What a lovely surprise! Where ... where on earth have you been all this time?"
Thomas stopped in his tracks, and gazed down at her lovely, innocent face, a face that hadn't changed during his four years behind bars. The lump in his throat threatened to choke him, and to his horror he felt his eyes going moist. Thomas looked at Sue through a mist of tears and all he could think of was what a fool he'd been.
"Yeah, Sue, it's really me, and what a great surprise, but, I don't have much time to chat. I hope ..." Thomas swallowed, "well, I hope you're okay. I really am in a bit of a hurry, so see you around sometime."
What met his eyes was a bewildered expression from those beautiful eyes, and it was very nearly his undoing. How he longed to take her in his arms, bury his face in the familiar smell of her hair, to reassure her that everything would be all right.
He managed to turn away with a shrug of his shoulders, and with a quick wave of his arm he walked away and disappeared into the crowd, hoping, against hope, she hadn't seen the deep hurt in his eyes.
| Author Notes | Thanks to Avmurray for the use of the artwork. |
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