Odd. We’re pretty much the only beneficiaries listed in her will. A few thank-you gifts – mainly tools and stuff – to a few farm-lads who’d given her a hand in the last few years, since Uncle George died. But that’s about it.

There’s no money. They didn’t even have a bank-account. Or pensions, or anything. That’s odd, too.

And there’s another twist. She’s assigned to us the whole of the contents, because, she said in the will, she believed we’d be “the only ones who would understand”. But there’s no beneficiary for the property – the house, the barns, the land. Maybe they were leased or rented, but if so, no-one knows who they belong to. The lawyer says he’ll look into it. But again, odd.

—

I’m the only one of our family that lives over this side of the country now, so it’s up to me to sort it out. That’s fine.

The lawyer gave me a phone-number for the farm-lads. I got through to them okay, all seems good, I’ll probably meet them there somewhen soon.

The only problem is that they don’t know how to get into the house. The last time they know it was open was when the ambulance came for Aunt Kat. But since then it’s been locked up tight, and no-one seems to know where the keys are.

I hope I don’t have to break in – especially as we don’t really know who owns the place now.

Awkward.