Lollipop Man by James McMillan , diet coke, no ice please

Sidney had been bored after just a few weeks of his retirement and the part time job he found as a Lollipop man gave him a new and much needed interest in his life. Early mornings and bad weather had never troubled him and he enjoyed meeting the little ones and their young mums who he also regarded as children. But he feared that a day would come when he would have to hand back his Stop Children sign and settle instead for allotment mornings and television afternoons. He thought that one of the children who do something which would tell him it was time to go.
The Primary School’s classes began at 9 so Sidney always made sure he was at the crossing by 8-30 at the latest. Some of the mothers of the young ones walked them all the way to the school gates and Sidney always found someone to talk to. The mums helped restrain the children until Sidney had marched into the road with the lollipop. But there was one young lad Sidney had his eye on. He walked to school on his own and returned alone. He was not dirty or scruffy but he had a wild look about him and Sidney had a feeling he would be the one.
And so, he proved to be. One day the church clock was chiming 9 when the boy appeared running up the road to the junction where Sidney was based. A huge lorry was coming at too fast a speed to be stopped. ‘Stop and wait’ shouted Sidney attempting to put his arm in front of the running youngster. But the boy was too quick. 'Shut up.' shouted the boy avoiding Sydney easily and running straight across the road. The lorry driver sounded the airhorns and braked but thankfully the boy made it across
.
And that was it. It was time to go. The possibility that more children would ignore him and just run across the road was not something he could bear. They might not all make it. So, Sidney decided to leave. It was typical of modern life he supposed. Nobody wanted to listen, to slow down, or to wait any more, and it all seemed to start at a younger and younger age.

Sidney worked on until the Summer break and left quietly without telling the mums, the teachers or the children. He spent a lot of his time on his allotment and gradually settled into a different routine. Underneath the stairs where he had kept his reflective waterproofs and the lollipop stick seemed very empty and without his lollipop money, he had to be more careful in the supermarket and his nightly glass of whisky had to be reduced in size.

In November he noticed a poster in the Garden Centre saying We are hiring! an American expression which Sidney disliked. But he read the poster and saw they were looking for a Christmas helper who was good with children. Alice, who was on the till that day, saw him looking at the poster, smiled and asked ‘Do you want to be our Santa.’  

He liked Alice. He knew her as she often brought orders to the allotments. Although she was roughly the same age as him, she could still carry two bags of compost at a time.

‘What would I have to do as Santa?’ he asked. ‘It’s dead easy,’ said Nicky. ‘The kid stands there with their parent and Santa asks what they want him to bring them at Christmas. The kid says something, and Santa looks at the parent who gives a nod or shakes their head. If it’s a nod, then no problems. Santa gives a Ho, ho, ho. If they indicate no bloody way, Santa tells the child he will do his very best but the lazy elves in the toy factory haven’t made enough this year and he might have to bring them something else’.

Sidney applied and got the job. Working with Alice who dressed up as a snowball and was Santa’s helper was the best thing about the job. The worst thing was the garden centre’s compost smell which always made Sidney think of horses.  He suspected the compost smell was one reason Santa’s Grotto was not very busy. But still some children and their parents did come and soon it was the last working day before Christmas when Alice came into the Grotto and announced there was just one more child waiting to meet Santa. ‘It’s my grandson Simon with my daughter Maisie,’ she said proudly. ‘Be nice Santa or else!’.  Simon, when he came in turned out to be a little older than most of the other children Sidney had seen but in response to the all-important question he muttered ‘A Playstation’ and there were quick nods from Nicky and Maisie, so the last customer went home happy.

When they had finished Alice asked Sidney if he fancied a quick drink. ‘I never say no,’ said Sidney, so they went from the Garden Centre to the nearby Bricklayers Arms and over pints of Guinness they discovered they had much in common and as they were getting on so well Sidney asked Alice how long she had been working at the Garden Centre. ‘Only since last summer was her surprising reply. I used to drive a 14-ton truck, and I loved that job. But one day I was doing a delivery quite near here and a little kid ran out in front of me, and I very nearly hit him. Some silly old fool of a lollipop man should have stopped him but didn’t. You’ve got to be quick on your feet in that job, not over the hill and past your best before date. I didn’t want to drive anymore after that. So that’s me. How about you Sid? What did you do before you came here?’.

‘Oh, my goodness! Is that the time?’ said Sidney. 

 

About the author

James has been writing short stories for a long time. He has been lucky enough to have had several stories published on Cafelit. Scroll down to see them.

Being Frank

by James McMillan

Jack Daniels with some ice

I seem to be standing behind huge dark red velvet curtains. I realise I smell wonderful and when I touch my face, discover that I have recently had a very good shave then splashed on something that smells great.

I become aware that I am wearing what looks like a black dinner jacket with satin lapels. I have a black silk bow tie comfortably round the neck of what feels like a very expensive shirt and looking down I see shiny black patent leather shoes so comfortable I wonder if they were specially made for me?

I don’t know who I am, where I am or what I am here for, but I do know I am not used to all this.

On the other side of the curtains, it sounds like there is a large crowd and they are making a lot of noise. I hear loud voices, the laughter of men and women, shouts, shrieks, squeals and there must be something happening here or about to happen very soon. There is definitely excitement in the air.

A young guy as smartly dressed as me appears. He carries a microphone on its stand and he bows to me then pushes his way through the curtains where he seems to be greeted with massive cheers, applause and loud whistles. The sound system comes to life and I hear the young guy say very clearly, ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, Pirate Bay Casino, Las Vegas, is proud to present for this one very special night only, the return of Mr – Frank – Sinatra!’

The huge red velvet curtains open and I am standing on stage in front of thousands of people in a massive theatre which has five tiers. The crowd seems to have come out of their seats and are standing and applauding like crazy. Cameras flash from all sides.

I hear another curtain opening behind me and I turn around and there is the maestro himself Mr Nelson Riddle and the boys in his band who are also standing and applauding wildly. 

I shout at Nelson ‘You are supposed to be dead!' 

He seems to find this funny and grins then blows me a kiss. Nelson died years ago. Frank died years ago. But I am looking at Nelson now and he seems to think I am Frank.

I turn to look in the wings of the stage and they are crowded.  There are the stage people who are running the show, the theatre’s technicians and security personnel but there a lot of others who all seem to be dressed for a big night out. They all seem happy and I see more cameras, more flashes. A blonde lady in a sparkling red gown catches my eye and seems to smile knowingly. They say Frank always enjoyed a lady’s company just before the show. Have I just been Frank with her?

I applaud all corners of the theatre then take the hand mike from the stand. The theatre looks impressive. The gambling business must still be going well. The bosses will be out front in the best seats in the house with their special guests. But they have sent some guys to keep an eye on things. I see them at the side of the stage. Well, let’s give them a show.
I nod to Nelson who waves his hands and the band starts to play the opening to ‘Come fly with me’. I know it but as soon as I start to sing Frank’s voice comes through the speakers! So, I now know this Frank is only supposed to move his lips. I see the monitor on the stage has come alive and is showing the lyrics so I can get my lips moving at the right times. This is great. I can do this. I can be Frank!

I steal a glance at the side of the stage and see that everyone looks happy. 

I look at Nelson Riddle who is having a ball. So am I. We were made for nights like this.
The band plays on and I am Frank.

Cheesy

by James McMillan

milky tea

 

Green, blue, lemon, pink, nearly every colour you can think of, the roofs of the market stalls had looked enticing on what had been a sunny day, but the sun had now gone, the customers had disappeared and the traders had taken their trolleys back to their vans and retreated. They would be back tomorrow. 

As the daylight began to fade and the orange streetlights slowly came on, a brown uniformed security guard and his German shepherd dog made their rounds. All the doors and shutters were securely locked, and the guard had seen nothing to concern him, but the dog was restless and seemed reluctant to leave.  The young guard decided to walk around again.

From his usual place on the roof tops the Cheeseman watched the dog. Should he give it a friendly pat? Not now, he decided, perhaps later. She would be here now; it was time to find her and he was late. She would be in her usual place. As soon as the market finished for the day and everyone had gone home, she came and the first stall she always went to was her friend Sally’s retro clothes stall.

He guessed she would be looking at Sally’s latest finds which would be at the back of the stall, so he swooped down from the roof and through the army surplus stall and the second-hand books stall. Yes, she was there, and he hovered behind her to try and see what she was looking at.

‘Get lost cheesy’. She said without turning around. ‘Sally has found some pretty dresses and I am having a real problem in deciding what would have been right for me’.

‘That blue one with the long sleeves, trust me, I know you so well’.

‘You had your chance and fluffed it mate.'

‘That is a lovely dress, it is so you.’

‘You don’t know which one I am looking at.'

‘Blue was always your colour. You always wore blue tops and jeans and dresses and skirts and shoes and…everything.'

‘Cheesy, that was pathetic, even by your standards. All those years our stalls were in the same row and really close to each other, but you never noticed what I was wearing.'

‘Well, excuse me, I couldn’t see around all those customers who wanted your bacon rolls, your sausage rolls and your fried egg rolls with a tea or coffee to go. You had the busiest stall on the market. And remember I was busy too! I was busy selling cheese. It’s not easy making a living selling cheese. Everybody wants a taste before they buy which is really a free sample and you can’t be too mean in what you cut off and give to them. Because you’re confident the cheese is wonderful, and they are going to love it. But you’ve no idea how much that cuts into the profits.'

‘How come you never gave me any samples of cheese?’

‘How come you never gave me a bacon roll?’

‘I never gave bacon rolls to Ed on the flower stall or George the fudge seller, but they were lovely to me. They used to come around at the end of the day with a little surprise.  I bet they both remember me and know what I used to look good in.'

‘I do remember what you were wearing, sometimes. When we all went to the pub on Christmas Eve; Ed, George and me, you, with your mates,  Yvonne and Sally.'

‘What did I wear then?’

‘You wore a Santa hat.'

‘Everyone on the market wears a Santa hat on Christmas Eve’.

‘But you looked good in yours’.

‘You are wasting your time Cheesy, you had your chance.'

‘When exactly did I have my chance? I must have forgotten.'

‘When we were both living. That would have been the best time really.'

‘Well this is the next chapter. I loved this place. The very best time of my life was spent here. That’s why I asked to come back. I chose it and you must have chosen it too. So, it makes sense to stick together. It really does Wendy.'

‘You can’t even know my name.'

‘Is it not Wendy?’.

‘No, it’s not! And that makes a thousand guesses you have had now.’

‘Oh, come on. Give a guy a break.  All those bacon roll eaters used to call you love or darlin’ or honey.'

‘Those I didn’t mind, petal or flower I never liked much, duck I hated! But I have seen enough now. Let’s have a look around and see if anybody else got any new stock in today.'

‘Is this a sort of date?’

‘Certainly not. Who wants to be Mrs Cheesy?’

‘Sally did.'
‘No, she most certainly did not! Well, are you coming?’
And she was away. He followed her as he always would. 

The German shepherd dog felt a strange coldness touch his head briefly and then allowed the security guard to gently pull him away.  They both liked working at the market. Everybody does. Nobody wants to leave.

About the author

 James loves outdoor markets and any stall selling bacon, sausage, or fried egg rolls.

Foolish Fool

by James McMillan 

large Pinot Grigio 

What is this that I see on our close circuit TV? Could it be? Yes, it could. It's a customer. Somebody is actually thinking of buying one of our cars. A fool is walking around our forecourt. Which one is he interested in? Not the BMW we can sell that to anybody. Please not the Astra. Now let him walk past the Nissan. Go to the Mini. No! I said not the Astra. Yes, yes, he is walking towards the Mini. There is a God, I always knew there was. Have a good look you lovely young man but not too good a look. He seems to be interested, so not just a fool but a foolish fool. Now come towards the office, I will pretend I am on the phone. Yes Madam, your car will be ready for you tomorrow. I look forward to seeing you then. Not at all, only too pleased to help, goodbye. Hello, can I help you? 

I am looking for another car.   

Well you have come to the right place at the right time my friend. We have some really nice ones at the moment. Have you had a walk around outside and seen one you like? 

The Mini might suit me and the girlfriend. 

(You foolish fool. It’s falling apart.) Oh really. That one might have been reserved. I will have to check with my boss. It's in very good nick and I know he was thinking of showing it to his nephew. If you have a seat, I will pop into his office and check. 

Got somebody who is interested in the Mini. No, don't laugh he might hear you. I told him I would have to check with you because you said you might take it for your nephew. I know you don't have a nephew. I know you said it was a rust bucket and we would have to send it to the auctions. But he is interested, and we can flog it to him just as long as it doesn’t fall apart on his test drive. I'm not sure it can make it round the block. Stop laughing! He will hear you! 

Good news my friend. The boss has now seen a Fiesta that he has lined up for his nephew. So, the Mini is available and it's a cracking little runner, shall we go and have a good look at it. When you sit inside there's an incredible amount of room. You can really stretch out and get comfortable in the driving seat. (And foolish fool the fact that you're a bit of a Tiny Tim helps.) Have you a trade in?  

No, my last car failed its MOT a few months ago and since then I have been working overtime to get enough money for a replacement. 

We can certainly help you with finance. We have an arrangement with a finance company who can lend you what you need at a good interest rate. (Actually, foolish fool, it's a hell of a lot more than the big banks charge but as long as we get our money we don’t care.)  

Now just take a good look, no scratches or dents, immaculate paintwork and just look at those nearly new tyres. Kick one of those tyres and it will kick you right back. All this for just one hundred and five thousand on the clock, that’s nothing for a Mini, it could do the same again easily and probably will do. Just two thousand two hundred pounds, can you believe it? I honestly don’t know what the boss was thinking of when he priced this one up. If you can show me your driving licence, I will let you take it for a short test drive. You are going to love this car. 

Here’s my licence. I would like to take it for a short spin. It looks pretty good. 

(So did the Titanic you fool.) Ok, your licence seems fine so here’s the keys, see you in twenty minutes or whatever. You look pretty comfortable in the driving seat I must say. (A foolish fool rather like little Noddy, all he needs is Big Ears sitting next to him. And off he goes.) 

He made it out of the yard.  Miracles, they do happen all the time.  Oh, my goodness, hello Katie, what’s my lovely daughter doing here?   

I said I would meet Ronnie here. He just drove away in that Mini.  He needs another car, so I sent him to see you. Do I get a commission? 

How fond are you of this Ronnie?

About the author

James recently bought a preloved Honda with formidable tyres.

Weightogo

By James McMillan

cabbage soup

Margaret: Good evening everybody and welcome to the Monday night meeting of your local group of Weightogo. An especially warm welcome to our two new members who joined tonight. Lucy and Ruth who are sitting down here at the front. (Steff: Are they bigger than me? No! I hate it when the new people who join are smaller than I am after being here for ages.) Please stand up ladies and give everybody a wave Yes, I know it’s embarrassing but everyone wants to see our new friends. (Louise: At least they’re not a size 14. Oh, hi there!)

Margaret: As always, we begin by giving the results of the weigh in that we have just held. Tonight, I can report that the twenty-three members who came last week and came back tonight have lost the fantastic total of forty-one pounds and six point five ounces. (Steff: How much did you lose? Louise: Mind your own business! Steff: Oops, like that, is it?)  Our total weight loss since September is now an amazing one hundred and seven pounds (Louise: That’s about half a ton. Steff: Or half a cow. Louise: Well you should know!) Wonderful progress everybody. I think we should give ourselves a big round of applause. Yes, yes, yes! And how do we do it? We count mouthfuls!  Some weight loss classes count calories, some count points, some count sins but we simply remember how many mouthfuls we have every day and keep it down to a reasonable number. What could be simpler? (Steff: So why are we still fat? Louise: It’s genetic, we had fat mums.)

Margaret: But always bear in mind the good news. You can have as many mouthfuls of green vegetables as you want. Dishes made with green vegetables like the Weightogo special recipe cabbage soup taste delicious, fill you up and help you lose weight! Louise: Delicious delicious?

Margaret: Yes Louise?

Louise: Delicious, delicious.

Margaret: It certainly is. I am so glad you agree. Make a huge batch of cabbage soup everybody and freeze it. It is so handy. I think your other halfs and your children will love it. (Louise: They are more likely to run away from home)

Margaret: Now if any of you have not seen the Weightogo recipe book yet, please have a good look at my sample copy at the end of the meeting. Remember on days when you eat lots of lovely healthy vegetables a glass of wine can be your special treat. (Louise: Who on earth can stop at one? Steff: I think she means a bottle. Should we ask her? Louise: No!).

Margaret: Finally, a few words about do’s and don’ts. I know there is so much temptation to eat every day. That last slice of cake, the last biscuit, and the remains of that great pudding you cooked for the kids which will not keep until tomorrow. The golden rule is.. (Steff: Wait for it, wait for it.) No picking. For little pickers need bigger knickers. (Louise: funny the first time we heard it, now it drives me mad. Steff: The new ladies are wetting themselves) What did you say Louise?

Louise: I don’t wear knickers. Shayne likes me in thongs. On cold days, I wear two.

Margaret: Oh, you are a character Louise, I hope the ladies who joined tonight will see what a happy bunch we are. Losing weight is not easy but it does not have to be a serious business. It leads to a healthier and happier life and should be encouraged. Which brings me nicely to our Winner of the Month award. Every month we present the member who has lost the most weight with the Weightogo 5-year diary to record your amazing achievements. I am pleased to tell you that the winner this month has lost an amazing 13 pounds 11 ounces and the winner is… Hazel White.  Well done Hazel. (Steff: She is still a size 22. Louise: Jealous, jealous.)

Margaret: That’s it folks. Next week, the doors will be open at 6-30. Please remember that although I love you all, I want to see less of you from now on!

Louise: OMG, she gets worse every week. I need a drink now. Sauvignon Blanc or Bacardi Breezer, decisions, decisions). What do you fancy?

Steff: In order to lose a tiny little bit, I haven’t eaten anything all day, well hardly anything, so I feel like a visit to Pizza Hut is called for.

Louise: Oh yes! That’s why you are my best friend. Yes, let’s live a little tonight and make cabbage soup tomorrow.

Steff: Remind me again, what does a cabbage look like?

About the Author:

James has every intention of rejoining the local weight loss group at an early date in 2020.

The River

By James McMillan

Ribena

I am ready. I have got all the things I need to take with me, and I am waiting for the young copper with his high visibility orange jacket to drive up in the Police Land Rover. He will tell me I need to get to a safe place, and he will take me there. 

You know all the experts say the weather is changing. They should really be saying the weather has changed. There are too many storms now. It never used to be this bad. Now it seems madness to live in a cottage so close to the river. It’s a lovely spot in the summer, I have lived here for years but I don’t know how much longer I can bear it.  

I know most of my neighbours except the ones who live in London and just turn up at weekends and bank holidays. The old guard as we call ourselves look out for each other and when we hear there is a storm coming, we all knock on doors to make sure everyone knows. Because you can’t always be listening to television or the radio and not everybody has that internet thing. 

This one is going to be really bad. From the first time they mentioned it on the forecast they said we had to prepare well because it has caused terrible damage on its way here.  

I have closed and locked all the windows. I had a good supply of sand and sandbags so I have got them ready as with a bit of luck they can divert the water or reduce the amount that comes in. I have placed them outside my door so that I can move them into position when I leave.  

I have taken photographs of the inside of every room to help with my insurance claim which I will have to make. You wouldn’t believe the premiums I have to pay.  

I will turn off the power because it is very dangerous to leave it on. Then the very last thing I do is to put a sandbag in the toilet bowl to prevent sewage backflow. I could tell you fantastic stories about sewage backflow but I have learned it is better to wait until people actually ask about it. 

The council has an arrangement with our local church who will let people shelter in the church hall in emergencies. I have heard a rumour that the church charges the council the same price as when it lets out the hall for a wedding reception.  

I usually prepare a few sandwiches to take with me. Some voluntary people usually turn up offer us something hot to eat but I always say no. You don’t know what you are eating unless you make it for yourself.   

I always take a book to read, my toothbrush and my own toilet roll, the aloe vera one.  I also have earplugs as some families have very noisy young children. Some even try to bring their dog but that’s not allowed. I have seen a budgie in a cage there once. The change in temperature killed it but maybe it was old.  

Soon the rain will be falling heavily, the wind will scream, and the river will burst its banks again. Here come the coppers. But it is not the young guy who came last time. It is a young woman in the police car. It’s not the Land Rover and she doesn’t even has an orange jacket on. Are they so short of money nowadays? 

‘Mr MacDonald’ she says, a little nervously I thought. ‘That’s me.’ I smile encouragingly at her. ‘It’s time to go I suppose. I am all ready’. She frowns. ‘We have had reports that you have been shouting at your neighbours’. ‘Well I had to tell them about this storm that’s coming. It’s going to be a really bad one. They have got to move to somewhere safe. I have been doing your job for you’. 

‘Mr MacDonald’ she says and puts her hand gently on my arm ‘There is no storm coming this way. Look at the sky’.  

About the Author

James started story writing at the age of seven when his schoolteacher asked for a 'composition' on a day in the life of a penny.

62 years later, James has decided to be a writer.

The List

By James McMillan

Twinings English breakfast tea, milk and two sugars.

Quentin seldom did anything that he considered to be important without making a list. So, when he decided he wanted to marry Miss Conway, he switched on his laptop, typed the heading MARRIAGE PROPOSAL then began the list.

Step 1. Ask Miss Conway to come to the meeting room 30 minutes early to discuss an important item for the agenda. 

Step 2. Before the meeting, try and find out what her first name is. 

Step 3. When she arrives, complement her on something. What? Her hair looks nice? No, you sexist pig. She has the most wonderful blue eyes? No, you sexist pig and anyway they might be coloured contact lenses. Her nice twinset? No! Forget the compliments, much safer to say something about the weather. 

Step 4. Tell her how much you appreciated her support when she canvassed for you during the by-election. To lose by 8 thousand was a better result than many had predicted in a constituency where the other lot can do no wrong. She played a blinder and people like her are the backbone of the party. 

Step 5. Give her the good news and the bad news. The good news is that Head Office said you put up a jolly good show and they are minded to support you as a candidate for that seat where our man, old what’s his name with his huge majority has now sadly got one foot in the grave and the other one on a roller skate. The bad news is that Head Office thought you were married and when they found out you were still single, they said that it might be a problem.

Step 6. Lie through your teeth. For goodness sake, you are a politician! You are not married because you have never got over Melanie your first love who broke your heart. Just hope Miss Conway never finds out Melanie said she would never leave her horses for a little oik like you.

Step 7. Come out with a bit of old waffle. Some of the party faithful still expect to see a candidate with a nice big photo in his election address of him standing next to a wife in her twinset with a small boy in short trousers on one side and a little gap-toothed girl in a pretty gingham frock on the other. The boy and girl are not essential really but there must be a dog in the picture. The dog I already have, he is an old English bulldog, and his name is Winston. He doesn’t like children. In fact, he hates just about everybody. But if he becomes a problem, I will shoot the bugger.

Step 8. Give her a load of old flannel. She has done so well as the Branch Secretary. The minutes are always ready on time. The guest speakers are always sent directions and hardly ever get lost now. She never forgets to bring a pint of milk to meetings and in line with party policy she recycles old meeting papers like a Womble.

Step 9. Be ready for questions!  You have never asked her out on a date. But now you’re suddenly proposing. Why? She smiles at me sometimes and I find myself smiling back at her. Actually, I really do like Miss Conway.  

Step 10. Try to hold her hand when things get critical. The success or failure of that manoeuvre might be a good indicator towards your fate.

Step 11. If proposal successful, have a quick snog before the meeting. If proposal unsuccessful, make a pot of tea and don’t offer her any.

Her Will

by James McMillan 

a shot of brandy 

I asked the children to allow me to spend some of the last few minutes of their mother’s life alone with her. They agreed but very reluctantly. 

I sat by her bed and held Kay’s hand and watched her children slowly leave her room.  ‘We will just be next door mum, call if you need anything,’ said Jen.  ‘She can’t hear you,’ said her brother William and pulled her arm. Jen shook off his hand and as the door closed a furious row began outside.

‘It’s started already,’ I said to Kay their mother but her eyes were closed and she made no response. Kay would never hear anything again. She had gone. I placed my hand on top of hers. To my surprise, I was angry. Why Kay of all people? And why now?  But there were no answers.  


I can’t remember much of the next twenty-four hours. I don’t really want to. Jen’s husband Tom came and comforted her before taking her home but William stuck around and just got in the way.  When he left he asked if we could meet on the following evening at seven.   

He was on time and Jen and Tom were with him.  I offered coffee or something stronger but there were no takers.  Jen seemed reluctant to look at me but I understood the situation. I guessed William was anxious to get something off his chest and she was embarrassed about it.

‘We have found Mother’s will’, William said. He held a crumpled envelope and showed it to me. I looked at him but said nothing.  ‘It was in an envelope addressed to Jen and me so I opened it. You should know what it says’.   

‘Do I get to read it?’ I asked and extended my hand. 

He ignored it and said simply ‘She left everything to Jen and myself’. 

He moved his hand that held the will as far away from me as he could. Did he think I would snatch it out of his hand and destroy it?  

 ‘I would imagine her solicitor has a copy William,’ I said gently. 

‘Perhaps,’ he said.  'I hope you will understand your situation is now very different?’ 

‘Yes, as your mother and I never married, I have no right to anything. I will move out tomorrow. You can call me when you have made the arrangements for the funeral. I would like to be there’. 
‘Of course,’ he said but he hadn’t expected that. He paused briefly then looked at his sister and said, ‘I don’t expect there will be all that much in her estate after taxes and the funeral costs and so on, and we won’t bother with a wake. She didn’t many friends left.  No, there won’t be much I expect.’

I couldn’t let that go. ‘Well, there’s this place,’ I looked around me. ‘A good-sized property in a nice area and this is London where even an old shed in the middle of a dung heap would be worth a million nowadays so my guess is that William and Jen you will do quite well.' 

‘Where are you going?’ Jen asked. 

‘My folks haven’t seen me for a while so I will visit them and then I might go travelling and see a bit more of the world.' 

‘Your mum and dad are lovely.’ Jen said with a big smile. ‘Mum got on famously with them’. 

‘Well, they were about the same age,’ said William. I was quick but Tom Jen’s husband was quicker and got between me and William. 

‘Watch what you say William,’ I told him. 

‘What? It’s true!’

‘I think we should go now,’ said Tom looking at his wife. 

‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘William and I will call you to let you know the funeral arrangements’.   

‘Shove the keys back through the letterbox when you go.’ said William. He looked as if he was going to add and just take away what you brought with you two years ago.  If he had Tom wouldn’t have been able to stop me again. But William didn’t say any more.  He was a young fool in a hurry. I wondered if he had already been in contact with an estate agent.  

After they had gone I needed a drink and poured myself a large brandy. It was time to finish what needed to be done.  I knelt in front of the fireplace and tore up the envelope I had carried since Kay gave it to me and found some matches.   

‘Do you mind if I watch? Jen said. 

'I thought you left with the others.' 

'I have a key, remember?  And there’s things that still need to be said’

‘You can watch,’ I said as I lit a small fire.

‘I presume you have just destroyed her last will, and I presume that one she made in your favour?  You didn’t have to. William would have got some nasty lawyers to grab a share, no matter what Mum said.'

‘But your mum and me was never about her money or this place.  And if I had taken anything your brother and all those people who said it was, would have been able to look at each other and say I told you so’.

‘Why didn’t you get married?’ 

 ‘There was no need. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to be on my own’. I pecked her on the cheek and this time Jen did leave.

I poured myself another large brandy and settled down in Kay’s favourite armchair.  The brandy was helping and I finished the bottle.  At some point I am convinced I heard Kay’s voice. ‘I still had lots of friends. If he had ever bothered to come around to see me, he would have known that. And I was a fair bit younger than your mother!  He will buy a very fast car and will crash it. My son. He is not in a good place and probably never will be.’