Easy Way To A Cat's Heart.
by Bonzi translated by She (yes, the cat's mother!).
part: 290

"How are we going to be able to see what's in it? The account is closed isn't it?"

"Oh bum!" said Simon. "I thought you had power of attorney."

"I do, but that only lasts as long as he's alive and the account needs administering."

"Damn! Who's the executor?"

"His solicitor."

"Who is?"

"Hang on," I looked through another file, "Messers Thompson, Short and Button."

"What, TSB?" he laughed.

"I don't think they would call themselves that anyway. The Trustee Savings bank is part of the Lloyd's group as you jolly well know."

"Just caught me on the funny bone. So which one is he with, Button, Short and who?"

"No the doctor is nothing to do with this lot."

"Doctor? Doctor who?" he looked mystified not catching up with my joke. Sometimes he could be very thick.

"Just say that again," I offered, hoping he'd eventually get it.

"Doctor? Doctor who?" I could see him thinking about this for several moments before he said, "Oh yes very funny, not. Aren't you supposed to say, 'knock knock' first."

"The other partner was Thompson, and he doesn't see any of them, he deals with a Mr Lawrence."

"Is there a will?"

"I presume so, although it may relate to my previous name."

"So, you have your documents to prove who you are."

"Yes, but I get a bit embarrassed about all this, they see me as a girl, then I explain and they look at me as if I had two heads."

"You do, but don't worry, they are both beautiful."

"I suppose I need to tell the guy Daddy's dead anyway."

"Fraid so."

I picked up a letter from the solicitors and called. "Erm yes, my name is Cathy Watts, Derek Watts daughter. He was a client of Mr Lawrence. Yes that's right. I'm afraid he died a day or two ago, what do you need me to do?"

Apparently, I needed a death certificate and proof of my identity and I could see the man that afternoon at four.

"So are we going to get dressed today?" asked Simon.

"I am dressed."

"You have a nightie on under those, remember."

"Oops! I'd forgotten." I blushed and then ran upstairs and into the shower, Simon chased after me, but I locked the bathroom door before he got there.

"Spoilsport! It's eco friendly to shower with a friend, and I'll wash your back for you," he called through the door.

"Can't hear, I'm in the shower," I called back well aware of what he'd said.

He banged on the door and left. I sniggered in the shower and inhaled some water, which caused me to cough and splutter for a moment, 'Serves me right, I suppose,' I thought to myself.

Waltzing out wrapped in two towels, the second and smaller one around my hair, I went to the bedroom. "Hi," I said to Simon.

"My mummy told me never to speak to strange women," he replied sucking his thumb.

"You spoke to her," I said hoping I wasn't breaking any taboos.

"That's true," he said, "I suppose I could talk with you."

"Please yourself," I answered him and turned away, whereupon he grabbed the larger towel and pulled. I spun around and the towel fell to the ground, leaving me wearing little more than a smile.

"I did," he said and smiled broadly. "If I said you had a beautiful body would you hold it against me?"

"Simon, I know it was used as a song title, but that has got to be the corniest pick up line going?"

"Have you dilated today?"

"You know I haven't, and could I have my towel back?"

"No," he snatched up the towel.

"Oh okay," I walked still damp towards my chest of drawers and wardrobe and began pulling out my underwear.

"I fancy you, Missus," he said standing behind me and putting his arms around me, his fingers lightly brushing my breasts.

"We have things to do, we don't have time."

"There is always time for love," he said sexily.

I felt my nipples growing even though I was trying to ignore his efforts.

"I've just showered," I protested.

"That doesn't mean you can't talk dirty to me."

I began to wonder if he'd been sniffing something. "Yes it does, I also brushed my teeth."

"God, you bloody women are all so romantic. You complain if we poor men don't try to turn you on, then when we try, you complain about that too."

"Of course, it's all about the mystery," I teased back.

"Mystery, misery you mean. No wonder that bloke Allegri wrote his 'Miserere', he probably hadn't had it for weeks."

"I suspect he was celibate anyway," I said trying to sound intelligent.

"Yeah, that would figure, I know exactly how he felt."

"Yesterday, you were trying to keep me away from Mr Happy." I advanced on Simon my hands opening and closing in as menacing a manner as I could effect.

"Erm, yesterday was different," he swallowed hard, "Maybe I'll go and take a shower," he said, evading my grasp and locking the bathroom door. I sat on the bed and giggled.

I dressed and dried my hair, finally putting on some makeup. I wanted to look attractive and feminine without overdoing it. I wore the blue dress I'd bought and the new shoes. The dress showed off my figure, which wasn't bad at all. I added the fur jacket Stella had given me then took it off and donned my raincoat. Not as warm but more professional.

Simon wore a shirt and trousers, with a pullover of my dad's. With his car coat, he looked warm and comfortable. "You look nice," I offered.

"If I look nice, you look delicious, are you trying to get a discount on the fees you'll have to pay this guy?"

I batted my eyes at him, "No, just trying to convince someone to take me out to lunch."

"Think I'm that gullible do ya?"

"Yes," I purred, I walked up to him and standing on one leg rubbed the other up and down his leg.

"Damn," he said, "that's another secret gone."

I kissed him sexily, drawing his bottom lip back with my teeth. He suddenly hugged me very tight and kissed me passionately. It was lovely while it lasted, but smeared my lipstick all over my face and part of his. I did finally get some lunch.

After eating we had a couple of hours to kill, so I directed Simon up to the Clifton suspension bridge, which was built by Brunel. He hadn't seen it before and was well impressed.

I told him the story of some Victorian woman who jumped to her 'death' from it but apparently parachuted safely to the bottom of the gorge with her voluminous skirts and petticoats. I suspected it was something of an urban myth.

"Would you leap from here through unrequited love?" he asked peering down into the hole beneath us.

"No way, although I did consider it as one way of dealing with a problem I had some years ago."

"I'm rather glad you didn't," he put his arm around me and we walked back to the car.

We arrived at the solicitors at exactly four, the clock in the church across the road was striking the hour. We sat and waited.

Finally a young woman called us and led us through to an office, a youngish man of maybe forty stood and offered a hand to shake, I squeezed his fingers but Simon did the macho thing and nearly pumped his arm off.

"I'm Edward Lawrence, you must be Mr Watt's daughter?"

"Yes." I answered wondering when he'd broach the subject of gender.

"I altered the will fairly recently because your mother died. In it you father changed the main beneficiary to just C. Watts, which I presume is you?"

"I hope so, as an only child."

"Well as the current will supercedes any previous ones, we won't bother with them. Essentially, apart from some bequests to neighbours and his church, he left everything to you. He asks that you don't sell the house for at least two years, and that you will occasionally stay there. He also says something about a safety deposit box which he opened in your name at his bank."

"In my name?" I asked.

"Yes, apparently he did it literally days after your mother died. I assume if you want to continue to use it, you'll be liable for any charges."

"Erm yes, I suppose so."

"Do you have proof of identity?"

"A driving licence, will that do?"

"Oh yes that's fine, these new ones with the photo on are great for that. Oh I have a letter here for you too." He handed me an envelope written in my father's angular script.

"Thank you," I said and took the envelope from him.

"I have no idea how much we're talking about, but with the house probably enough to put you into the inheritance tax bracket."

"Two hundred and fifty thou," said Simon.

"I think the figure was relaxed recently, but until we get things assessed, I can't say how much, I was aware at one point of a savings account of fifty thousand, but I don't know if that is still the same and of course shares and so on will need to be evaluated. I will also need to prove probate, which may need birth certificates and so on."

"That could be awkward, I don't have one." I blushed furiously and avoided eye contact.

"Oh! That could be awkward."

"Well I do, but it isn't in this name."

"That's okay, as long as you have a deed poll or statutory declaration showing it is you, or was you."

"I erm, changed more than my name, Mr Lawrence."

"Sorry?" he looked puzzled.

"What Cathy is saying is she used to be his son," said Simon as I tried to shrivel up and squeeze out under the door.

"Never, you're joking aren't you?"

I shook my head and wanted the ground to swallow me up.

"No we're not." Simon continued.

"Good lord, I'd never have believed that, so is this recent?"

"Since before my mum died, I had surgery in January. Daddy wasn't terribly pleased at first but came round after Mummy died."

"Wow! Erm, well I'd have thought he'd be pleased to have such a beautiful daughter. Obviously he was in the end, at least his will seems to say so."

"Yes, I suppose so."

"I'll organise a copy of the will for you, and if you can give me a telephone number, I'll be in touch once I've sorted things out for you."

We shook hands again, he looked at me and shook his head, "Never have guessed it," he mumbled.

I put the letter he gave me in my bag and we left.