Conditional Love by Cathy Bramley Page A

must have sent her some telepathic empathy.
    ‘Thanks. She’s entitled to her opinion I suppose.’ I shrugged. I had been hurt by her attitude, but didn’t really want to get into it now at volume, across the bus.
    Emma continued. ‘You know how she is about family. Family comes first , and all that. Unless it’s me, then I come second, of course.’
    I grinned and looked out of the window. Only two more stops until Emma got off. The skies were grey and menacing clouds looked ready to explode.
    ‘How did your mum take the news about the will?’
    ‘Worse than expected, she cut me off in the end.’
    Emma pulled a face. ‘Oh dear. Well done, for facing up to her. That’s the hard part over. What did she say about your dad?’
    I felt my face flush. I shifted from foot to foot and swallowed. Why was I so nervous? Emma was my best friend; she had stuck by me through all manner of disasters.
    ‘I didn’t tell her. I figured she doesn’t need to know. I’ll just make sure she never finds out, it’ll be less painful that way.’
    Emma gasped so dramatically that everyone on the bus turned to stare.
    ‘You lied! Sophie, you lied to your mum?’
    The teenagers pulled their earphones out to tune into the oldies having a row.
    ‘More of an omission, I’d say,’ I muttered, casting my eyes down.
    ‘You wimped out and lied? That’s despicable!’
    It was a toss-up whose face was redder: mine from mortification or hers from being cross.
    ‘I was so proud of you for taking action for once.’
    I cowered as she narrowed her eyes. ‘You’re making a whole heap of trouble for yourself. What if she finds out?’
    Curious faces peered at me, waiting for an answer.
    ‘I…I…’ I was speechless. I’d let everyone down, including the other passengers who were desperate for more gossip.
    The brakes hissed and the bus came to a standstill. Emma stared at me and hoisted her bag onto her shoulder.
    ‘Jess isn’t going to be impressed with this,’ she warned, sweeping past me.
    The bus decanted her and several other commuters out into the morning rain and I shuffled further up the bus into an empty seat and buried my face into my coat.
     
    The morning dragged by at work. Misery shrouded me like a hooded cloak. I couldn’t even be bothered to call Mr Whelan and let him know that I’d made my decision. I sighed and forced my eyes to focus on the computer screen. In theory, I was supposed to be creating promotional ideas for a travel agent’s May bank holiday advertising campaign. But all I could think of was Mayday, Mayday. Help. Abort mission.
    Somehow I had managed to alienate all my chief supporters. Until Valentine’s Day, my life had been tripping along quite nicely. Since then I’d been dumped for being boring, accused of being a selfish wimp and my mother wasn’t talking to me.
    My mum’s words had really stung. I hadn’t realised she had such a low opinion of me. There was an element of truth in what she’d said; I was ‘festering’ in the same old job. But it wasn’t as simple as that.
    I concentrated on my breathing for a few moments. I needed a friend. Someone to be unequivocally on my side. The only person who was being nice to me at the moment was Mr Whelan, the man paid by my great aunt to settle her affairs. How sad was that!
    The architect’s face materialised in my mind’s eye. Hmm, strange choice. To get him onside, I’d need a wet nose and a waggy tail. Besides which, he was another man paid by the hour for his services.
    Blimey! I fanned my cheeks. I didn’t mean it like that. Thank goodness I hadn’t said those words out loud! I peered over the top of my screen and checked that my colleagues weren’t watching. No. I was safe. Jason was watching YouTube and Maureen was on the phone to a client.
    OK. Forget friends. I could be independent and self-motivated when necessary.
    Maybe to regain the respect of my loved ones, I should attempt a Madonna-style reinvention? I glanced down at my