16
I had to wait a few days to see my great aunt’s doctor. Having registered at the practice myself soon after deciding to settle in the village, I knew where the surgery was. There were two GPs working part-time at the practice, and I was careful to book an appointment to see the particular doctor with whom my great aunt had been registered. Dr Bruton was a stout middle-aged woman with iron grey hair, a florid complexion, and a forthright air. She raised a quizzical eyebrow on hearing that I had not come to see her with a medical problem.
‘Lorna Lafferty was your great aunt, and you are her next of kin?’ she repeated, having listened to my enquiry.
‘Yes, that is to say, I’m her heir. She left me her house in her will.’
Strictly speaking, I suspected my mother might have been named
