Ziggy
Ziggy
Ziggy was in the middle of his A-level exams, which were going OK. More than OK, maybe. Hopefully well enough to get him the grades he needed to take up his place at Bath university in September.
The only thing taking the edge off his excitement about his potential new life was his ongoing concern about leaving his mother behind, despite all her assurances that she’d be absolutely fine, and that it was her job to worry about him, not vice versa.
Alicia, who Ziggy fell more and more in love with every day, was going to Bristol, which was only fifteen minutes away from Bath by train. She was still adamant that she and Ziggy were no more than friends, despite him trying to persuade her otherwise. However, after Ziggy’s last “relationship,” which had gone from a quickie in a cupboard to dysfunctional parenting at warp speed, maybe it was good to take things at a glacial pace.
A letter dropped through the door of Ziggy’s flat, landing with a whisper on the mat below. The only letters they ever got were bills or junk mail. But this looked different. He picked it up. It was addressed to him .
He opened it and pulled out the two sheets of paper inside. One was an official typed letter from a solicitor’s office. The second was a handwritten note. He read the handwritten one first.
Dear Ziggy,
A while ago you did me the great honor of asking me to be Kylie’s godmother. I do hope it’s not too late to accept?
I have a gift for her, and for you and your mother. Before I left, I transferred the deeds to my apartment into your name. I hope it’ll provide a safe and comfortable place for you all to live. Or you could sell it and move elsewhere. The keys are with my solicitor, an old friend who doesn’t ask too many questions. He can also tell you where to find me, should you wish to visit, which I very much hope you will.
With all my love, Daphne x
PS. If you still have that stone that Kylie swallowed, take it to Christopher Thomson at Hatton Garden. He’ll give you a good price for it. It should buy you quite a few plane tickets, and pay for your first year’s tuition fees.
PPS. Don’t trust the yucca plant.