I knew my wry smile was out of place as we exited Kennedy & Co Solicitors. It was only two days after Noni’s funeral, after all. I figured the great aunt I loved wouldn't have cared if I cried with laughter on the main street of Ballymacken village itself. Hell, maybe that was part of her plan. But I'm guessing smiling is not part of the protocol when it comes to reading people’s last will and testament.
If my smile was a bit out of place next to the ache the knowledge I’d see Noni no more had lodged in my chest six days ago, when I’d found her body next to that day’s completed Times’ crossword, then the contrast it created next to the puzzled frowns on the faces of my various relatives was enormous.
There were twelve people in all at this morning’s reading headed up by old Mr Kennedy, all bar Noni’s friends Birdie and Faye - or ‘Noni’s Cronies’ as I’d affectionately christened them years ago - members of the extended O’Hara family.
I think everyone except me, Birdie, Faye and Mr Kennedy was knocked for six when they heard how Noni planned to distribute her considerable wealth.
She made her fortune in London, as far as I know. That was years ago though. For as long as I've known her she’s just been Noni - my eccentric great aunt who loved a laugh and who helped me out more times than I can remember.
She was a fan of simple pleasures - her garden, fancy tea cups and a mongrel called Charlie who I can tell misses her as much as I do. She was nobody’s fool though, and sharp as a tack despite her 96 years. I figure that’s why she did things a little differently when it came to writing a will.
I might be related to them, but I’d find it hard to write a reference for any of the O’Haras at today’s meeting. On paper of course they are the people who are closest to Noni. In reality they’ve only barely stayed in touch with her to get their grubby hands on their share of her bank balance. Noni’s been calling them the ‘Good Will Hunters’ for years. She confided in me a few months ago that she was going to give them her money, but was going to have fun doing it and teach them a lesson into the bargain.
A crossword fiend, Noni always said it was word games that let her keep her wits about her while friends and neighbours gradually lost theirs. It used to drive the 'Good Will Hunters' mad when they’d call by for obligatory visits every six months or so. She used to torment them trying to get them to join in, while they’d say things like: “I have more important things to be thinking about than a ten letter word that means ‘ominous’.”
I honestly thought hell would freeze over before Noni would get them to do a simple crossword for her. Trust her to have the last laugh though, because they’re going to have to if they want to get their hands on her money.
It was laughable really. There we were expecting Mr Kennedy to solemnly read out what would go to whom, and instead after all the legal preamble he simply said: “A treasured memory of a 1976 holiday in Killarney (8, 5)”, and explained that Noni wanted us to solve a crossword she’d personally set, which would allow us to find out what possessions were being passed on to each one of us. Only then, he said, would Noni's will be read out in full.
The baffled expressions around the table were hilarious. Having barely listened to Noni when they visited, of course the rest of them didn’t know about the holiday romance she’d had with an artist there. They’d never seen each other since, but he’d sent her home with an oil painting of Muckross House that she’d hung in her hallway and always referred to as a ‘treasure’. I fully expect another clue behind the canvas.
Any minute now they’ll come over to me, looking for my help. I’ll give it of course, but just as I’m sure Noni planned, by the time we’re finished with her crossword they’ll think twice about their future behaviour, and know a lot more about one cool lady.
