Read Online Blood Lines by Grace Monroe - Free Book Online

young man in the seventeenth century about to sit his Bar exams who had a vision that he was at the mouth of hell. It sounds pretty likely to me that he got to live his vision when he became a lawyer.
    ‘Sheriff Harrison will see you in chambers now,’ said Andy, the macer, interrupting my thoughts.
    Whenever I get anxious my bowels turn to water, and this, annoyingly, was one of those times. There was no way I could keep his Lordship waiting, so I breathed deeply and clenched my stomach muscles as the sweat formed on my brow. This was one situation where my nerves always made an appearance – too much was beyond my control.
    The doorway to the sheriff’s inner sanctum looked innocuous enough: an expensive, plain light-oak door. Gingerly I knocked on it, trying to wet my lips with my parched tongue.
    ‘Enter.’
    Sheriff Harrison wore his twilled silk gown but his wig lay on a pile of law reports. If this was his attempt at informality, he was failing. In spite of my best efforts – head up, shoulders back – he must have known I was afraid.
    ‘I suppose you’ve heard? I’ve missed my tee-off time at Muirfield.’
    ‘I’m very sorry to have inconvenienced you.’
    ‘Well, of course you are – your slip-up has led to you standing before me now, and even I recognise that’s not a nice experience.’
    ‘Yes, M’lord.’
    At this point there was no limit to the grovelling I thought I would have to do, or indeed, that I was prepared to do.
    ‘Actually, I’m quite intrigued to meet you, Miss McLennan. Your father was my devil master and we were in the same stable before he was elevated to the bench. Of course your actual existence was news to me – I don’t know how your father managed to keep it secret for so long.’
    I bit my tongue and said nothing. I was uncomfortable talking to anyone about my father – hardly surprising given not only the recent discovery of the fact but also what I had found out about his predilections.
    ‘I suppose everyone has told you that your resemblance to him is remarkable?’
    I was shocked. Most people did not even mention my father, and within my circle of friends and family no one would upset me with the knowledge that I looked like him. I had to stand there and take it, so I smiled blandly and nodded. At least he was viewing my absence as the oversight of a lawyer with the proper blood in her veins and not as contempt of court.
    ‘I’ve spoken to your grandfather, of course – marvellous man – and he has assured me that he’s taking you under his wing, putting you back on the straight and narrow and so forth. You will be showing some spark of intelligence if you listen to him.’
    I nodded dutifully, all the while thinking he looked like Owl out of Winnie the Pooh, filled with his own importance. I was so lost in this imagery that he had to repeat his question twice. Me – part of the establishment? It was surreal to even consider it fleetingly.
    ‘So what is it you want for your client?’
    ‘I respectfully submit …’
    ‘Yes, yes, of course you do. Just tell me exactly what is your desired outcome.’
    ‘Well, I’d like her probation to be continued and for her to be placed in a rehabilitation unit.’
    ‘My, my, Christmas has come early to Edinburgh. I suppose the taxpayers will be funding this little jaunt of hers?’
    What could I say? We both knew it was a pointless, expensive exercise, but that little white stone made me think maybe this time Tanya could do it. I knew that this would have to be dealt with in open court so I nodded and was about to leave when he extended his hand towards me. His fingers gripped my wrist, and, grasping my right hand, he interlaced his thumb with mine. I was thrown off guard, unsure what to do, so I fumbled, pressing his knuckles. He stared through me and smiled. I left the chambers unsure of what, if anything, had occurred. It then struck me that the whole interview between us had taken place without the presence of the