Gran's House

by Kit

Chapter 1

As I sat down by Gran's bed, the nurse drew the privacy curtain and left us. My grandmother looked very pale and appeared to be asleep. It was difficult to believe that only a couple of weeks earlier, she'd been as healthy and active as she'd always been. An apparently mild bout of flu had turned into pneumonia in just a matter of a few days.

I sat on the bedside chair and gently squeezed her hand.

"Hi, Gran," I said quietly, "it's Paul."

Perhaps because the surgical mask I was wearing muffled my words, she didn't respond, so I repeated the greeting a little more loudly.

She slowly opened her eyes, which were a much duller version of the sparkling bright blue eyes that I knew so well. Earlier that day, during my morning visit, she had at least managed to show a smile through the clear plastic oxygen mask, and she'd exchanged a few muffled sentences with me. Now she was silent.

"Gran," I continued worriedly, "how are you feeling?"

Eventually, she responded, mumbling something that I couldn't distinguish, so I leaned closer and asked, "What did you say, Gran?"

She said something like, "You're grown up now." Then she seemed to smile a little before closing her eyes again. That is how she remained until the nurse returned to say that it was the end of visiting time.

The next morning, after a fitful sleep and during a desultory breakfast, I received a phone call saying that she'd passed away in the early hours of the morning. Eventually, after almost an hour of staring at the cold toast covered with congealed butter, I called Aunt Anne. She and her husband, Geoffrey Walker, were not related to me by blood, but they were Gran's closest friends and my godparents. I'd known them for my whole life and had always called them 'Aunt Anne' and 'Uncle Geoffrey'.

She took some time to answer, and looking at the kitchen clock, I guessed she might be in the middle of breakfast or maybe on her way to work. After I gave her the bad news, I heard a sharp intake of breath, then there were a few seconds of silence, presumably while she absorbed the information.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, sweetie," she said, her voice starting to crack a little. "We were going to see her later... and now..."

I could hear her take a deep breath before she continued, "Are you okay? Oh, of course you're not. Silly question. I'll come over straight away."

"You don't need to rush over," I said, though I suddenly wished that she would.

"I know you're not a little boy any more," she said as if that were something she regretted, "but even at nineteen, you shouldn't be alone at a time like this. Geoffrey went to work early, and I don't want to be alone either. I'll give him a call and be right over."

She arrived about twenty minutes later, and as soon as I opened the door, she hugged me tightly. Normally, I would have felt a little uncomfortable and too old to be hugged by her, but under the circumstances, I felt that we both needed comforting, so I returned the embrace .

By the time I was in my mid- teens , I was already taller than she was, and now, at almost six feet in height, I could look down on her auburn hair as she held me tightly. The hug didn't last long, and as she pulled away from me, I noticed there were just a few streaks of grey. At such a difficult time, the familiar scent of her perfume was soothing.

"Geoffrey needs to take care of some things at the office," she said as she took off her coat, "but he said not to worry and that he'll take care of everything."

"Everything?" I was still in shock and hadn't yet got around to worrying about anything.

"Yes. Arrangements, finances, that sort of thing. You know he's executor of your gran's will, don't you?"

Although it was something I hadn't known and hadn't even thought about, it would have been obvious if I'd given it any consideration. After all, he was not only one of Gran's best friends but also a partner in one of the city's best-known firms of solicitors.

"Anyway," she continued without waiting for any response from me, "all that sort of thing can be left until later. Now we need a cup of tea and some quiet time."

As the shock of getting the news of Gran's death began to fade a little, there was a feeling that all this couldn't be real. Then it occurred to me that Aunt Anne would be having similar thoughts and emotions and that her visit was not only to give me comfort but also to try and find some comfort for herself.

Having a senior position in a large accountancy firm, she was accustomed to taking charge and getting things done, and I realised that taking on the 'project' of looking after me now was her way of dealing with the situation. So I allowed myself to follow her lead, and for the next hour or so we sat and drank tea. Most of the time was spent in silence, with an occasional exchange of a few words about Gran and how quickly and suddenly she'd become so seriously ill.

Before the lengthening spells of silence could become uncomfortable, her phone rang.

"Yes, dear. Yes. I'm still with him," she said. After a brief pause, she looked up at me with teary green eyes. "Geoffrey suggests meeting up for lunch."

Although the thought of food was not particularly appealing, I knew that I'd appreciate the company, so I nodded my agreement, which she passed on to her husband. A couple of hours later, the three of us were sitting and picking at our plates of food in a bistro near Uncle Geoffrey's office. Although not particularly fond of salads, I'd chosen a salad because I had no appetite, and that seemed the least substantial thing on the menu.

Uncle Geoffrey was, as usual, looking very distinguished, dressed in his dark blue pinstriped business suit. His full head of formerly light brown hair was now mostly grey, and his grey eyes, which could occasionally look very cold and steely, now showed sadness and sympathy.

"I expect Anne told you not to be concerned about anything and that I'll take care of everything," he said in a tone that was both compassionate and businesslike.

"Yes," I said, "but what is 'everything'?"

"Well, there's the financial situation, and your gran told us what sort of funeral she wanted," he replied, with perhaps a hint of apprehensiveness at the mention of the funeral.

"Paul, we know that you don't go to church now," Aunt Anne said in a placatory tone that initially puzzled me.

"Of course, a funeral service in church is fine with me," I said as it occurred to me what she was thinking. "I know it's what Gran would want, and she has lots of friends in the church who'll want to say goodbye to her."

"Sorry, but I have to get back to the office," Uncle Geoffrey said, looking a t his watch. "I'll see if I can rearrange my schedule and spend some more time at home in the next few days ."

He stood up, leaned over to kiss his wife on the cheek, nodded at me, and then he left us. After a brief silence, Aunt Anne, realising that neither of us wanted any more food or drink, attracted the attention of our waiter and paid the bill.

"Do you want to come back with me?" she asked. "I've got a lot to do, but I don't like to think of you in that big old house all on your own."

"Don't worry," I replied with a wan smile, "it's where I feel most comfortable, and a little time alone might be helpful."

"Okay, I'll drop you off back at the house. But you'll come and have dinner with us tonight," she said in a tone that would have made it impossible for me to decline, even if I'd wanted to.

Back at the house, the reality of the situation hit me with greater force. With Gran gone, as far as I knew, I no longer had any living relatives. Although I knew I was alone, I didn't feel lonely. I still had my godparents, my friends, and, of course, Mai Li when she returned from Singapore after the holidays.

Restless and unable to settle down to do anything useful, I wandered around the house and felt soothed by the memories that were evoked. I stood for a long time in the kitchen because I remembered that as the happiest place. Gran had loved cooking and baking, and as a boy, I'd enjoyed helping her. Our family meals were eaten at the large kitchen table, the dining room being used only when we had guests.

There had been many happy times in the kitchen, but I also remembered a handful of difficult or unhappy times there. The first of those was when I was fourteen, and my best friend had to move hundreds of miles away because his father got a new job. For a long time after they moved, I was miserable. Of course Gran noticed my unhappiness and tried to get me to talk about it as she tempted me with some home-baked cake.

"You know, Paul," she said, "you don't need to suffer in silence. You can talk to me about anything."

"You wouldn't understand."

"You'd be surprised," she said and smiled sadly. "Philip wasn't like your other friends, was he?"

"Rule Two," I said, surprised and a little scared that she could apparently read me so easily.

Rule Two was basically that we didn't lie to our family. We could have our privacy, and we could choose not to share secrets, but if we did choose to say something, then we shouldn't lie. If asked a direct question, it would be rude to merely stay silent, so we responded with something like 'no comment' or 'I'd rather not say' or simply said 'Rule Two'. Obviously, such a response would lead the questioner to infer what the truth might be, but part of the rule was that any such inference could not be used, and especially it could not be used to assume some sort of guilt.

"You're young and will survive," she said and sighed. "And you can always keep in touch."

She was correct with the first part of what she said; I did survive and got over my sadness. However, although Philip and I did keep in touch by phone for a while, our lives diverged. Eventually, the amount of contact gradually tailed off until it became just a brief exchange on special occasions such as Christmas.

Philip was a boy in my year at school and had been my first real romantic relationship. To be accurate, it was only romantic for me, but as he was often keen to emphasise, for him, it was just a bit of fun. Although it lasted for a couple of years, our sexual interactions, though relatively frequent, did not go very far. He didn't allow any show of affection because that would be 'gay'.

He was extremely competitive in everything he did, from trying to be the best in academic subjects to turning every cycle ride into a race. For him, even wanking was competitive, trying to see who could reach orgasm first or who could last the longest without having an orgasm when wanked by the other. The only sexual activity we engaged in apart from wanking was humping our groins together, and on those relatively rare occasions, he always insisted on being on top.

Before my interactions with Philip, when I was twelve, I'd had a crush on an older boy, but that was really just hero worship and wasn't romantic or particularly sexual. In fact, as a teenager, I was confused about my sexuality. No doubt Gran had considered the possibility that I was gay, which would account for the fact that she was mildly surprised and obviously happy when I had a girlfriend during my last couple of years at school.

The most unhappy memory of events in the kitchen was when I was fifteen and arrived home from school one day to find Gran sitting at the kitchen table. She told me that Grandad had died of a heart attack in his office at the bank. We sat together and cried for a long time, and neither of us felt like eating that evening.

Another uncomfortable memory was of the day after Grandad's funeral when we were sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea.

"Gran," I said hesitantly, "I don't want to go to church anymore. I don't really believe in God or religions now."

She looked at me with her usual love and kindness, though on that day there was also much sadness in her eyes. Her look of sadness increased, but there was no sign of the displeasure that I'd been wary of. She sighed deeply before speaking .

"That's okay, Paul. You must follow your own beliefs and do what you feel is best. Just remember that a church isn't just about religion ; it's a community of people, many of whom are very kind and caring, just like Aunt Anne and Uncle Geoffrey."

I nodded, relieved that things had gone more smoothly than expected. When we'd finished our tea and cleared away the mugs, Gran gave me a hug. She was often physically affectionate and occasionally expressed herself using hugs instead of words. Although Grandad had shown affection in other ways, the only way that he showed it physically was by occasionally putting his hand on my shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

Putting aside those memories, I wandered listlessly across the hallway and into the living room. After the kitchen, this had been the place we spent most of our family time together. The more formal parlour was used only when we had guests. Gran and Grandad had played bridge in the parlour on Wednesday nights, mostly with Aunt Anne and Uncle Geoffrey.

In the living room were two plush and very comfortable armchairs, one for Gran and the other for Grandad. There was also an even more comfortable sofa, where I would lounge and on which I was even allowed to lie if I removed my slippers. Grandad, who'd given up smoking when I was still a baby, would sit in his chair and suck on his empty pipe like a baby sucking on a pacifier, occasionally waving it in the air to emphasise something he was saying. When he did that, Gran would often catch my attention and smile.

On Friday evenings, when my grandparents were out ballroom dancing, the living room was my domain, where I had total freedom to watch anything on TV and listen to any music that I liked. Of course, things changed after Grandad died. There was no more dancing on Fridays, and Wednesday bridge nights became less regular. However, at least Gran and I had each other, as well as having the friendship of Aunt Anne and Uncle Geoffrey.

Gran did still have a social life, though. She remained very active with church functions, and after her husband died, she started going to a book club on Sunday afternoons. That helped me to feel less guilty when I spent Sunday with friends, usually out cycling if the weather wasn't too bad.

Feeling a little tired due to my lack of sleep, I set aside those memories and decided to lie down in my room for a while. At the foot of the stairs, one of my earliest memories came into my mind. One night, when I was about six years old, I couldn't sleep and had come downstairs. Standing in the hallway, I could hear my grandparents' voices coming through the open door to the living room.

"... but couldn't we try to find her? Maybe if she knew what a lovely boy he is?" Gran was saying.

"We wouldn't know where to look," Grandad replied. "She knows where to find us if she wants to see him."

At the time, I didn't fully understand what they were talking about, but I understood enough to know that it would be better if I went back to bed without disturbing them.

During the days that immediately followed Gran's death, I spent a lot of time and all of my evenings at my godparents' house. Being with the two people who were like family to me helped me to deal with the shock and the subsequent grief. In fact, the companionship helped all three of us. Sometimes I cried, but usually only when I was alone and in my bed.

The day after the funeral, Uncle Geoffrey and Aunt Anne decided we should have a 'business talk' after dinner. Having finished the meal and cleared away the dishes, we retired to their living room and sat in our usual armchairs. Frankly, the last thing on my mind was any concern about 'business' and finances, but he seemed to want to get things dealt with, so I let him get on with it.

"As you may know," he began, "apart from a few small bequests, such as donations to the church and a few charities, you inherit everything. The bank accounts can be transferred to you reasonably quickly, but until then, do you have enough to live off? Immediate basic expenses, tuition fees, et cetera? If you need anything before the bank accounts transfer, Anne and I will advance any money you need."

For some reason, it hadn't occurred to me that, as a student, I was still totally financially dependent on Gran.

"No," I replied, "the fees have already been paid, and I have enough in my bank account to cover food and stuff like that for a few weeks."

"Good," Uncle Geoffrey said, "but remember, if you need anything, just ask."

"I'm sure you know that in many ways we think of you as the son we never had," Aunt Anne said, "so we'll always be there for you."

"I know," I said, blushing. I smiled and added, "After all, you've always been there for me, unlike my mother and the sperm donor."

"You've had so much love in your life, and you shouldn't let what happened so long ago affect your happiness now," she said, a little shocked but probably not very surprised by my tone.

"I suppose you're right, but it still hurts a little when I think that my mother disliked me so much that she ran away from me when I was just a few weeks old. And she never bothered to tell anyone who my father was."

"Remember, she was young, only just seventeen. That's younger than you are now," she replied. "She was always such a lovely, kind girl. But for some reason, she just didn't seem to be able to bond with you. That sometimes happens, and it's never the fault of the baby ."

"According to Grandad, it wasn't just lack of bonding. It was like she couldn't stand even being near me," I said sadly.

"He shouldn't have told you that," she said sadly.

"You mean what he said wasn't true?"

"I mean that we don't know your mother's state of mind, and we shouldn't judge her."

Uncle Geoffrey cleared his throat loudly, then said, "Maybe we should get back to the business of Lily's will and Paul's financial situation."

Grateful for the excuse to move the conversation away from my mother, both Aunt Anne and I nodded our agreement .

"As I said," he continued, "though it may take some months to clear probate, you should get access to the bank accounts and life insurance much sooner than that. There will be inheritance tax to pay, but even after that, with careful financial management, you will be secure for the rest of your life, provided you're reasonably frugal."

"The rest of my life?" I asked in surprise. "I can't believe Gran had that much."

"At present it's difficult to say exactly how much is in the estate," he said. "Most of the assets are in investments, bonds, stocks, and so on . Anne will have a better idea because her firm did Lily's accounts."

"As Geoffrey said , it will take some time to work out the exact value of all the assets," Aunt Anne said. "For example, we don't know what is in the bank accounts. Once everything is calculated, there will be inheritance tax to pay. There will be various allowances and exemptions, so it will be some time before we know the exact amount that you'll receive. However , I estimate that after taxes and other deductions, there should be at least three million left for you in the investment assets. Besides that, there will also be the payout from life insurance.

I was stunned speechless, and it hardly registered when Uncle Geoffrey spoke again.

"Of course, that doesn't include the value of the house, which is probably worth at least eight hundred thousand and probably significantly more if you take your time selling it."

At that point, I'd recovered enough to blurt out, "I'm not selling the house! It's my home!"

"There's no need to even think about that now," he soothed. "It could be several months before probate is complete."

"But how did Grandad and Gran get all that?" I asked, still trying to get my head around that huge sum of money.

"It built up over the years. Richard's family has been accumulating assets since Victorian times, when your great-great-grandfather had the house built."

"Wasn't that his great-great-great-grandfather?" Aunt Anne interrupted.

"Possibly, dear," Uncle Geoffrey said and sighed. "If you really think it's important, we can check it later."

His wife didn't reply, but instead she frowned in thought and seemed to be counting something slowly on her fingers.

"Richard had no siblings and inherited everything," he continued. "Lily also had no siblings, but she didn't inherit much from her parents. Both had well-paid jobs, and, as you could see for yourself, they lived frugally on their income. They rarely dipped into their savings and investments.

When Richard died, Lily got all of his assets, plus pension and life insurance, and as his spouse, she didn't pay tax on any of that ."

"After hearing all that, I definitely need another glass of wine," I said, trying to hide my astonishment behind a feeble attempt at humour.

When Uncle Geoffrey had returned with the wine bottle and topped up our glasses, he looked at his wife and said, "I suppose it's okay now to let him know about the other thing?"

She nodded and then addressed me directly.

"Lily and Richard wanted us to keep this secret until you were twenty-one, but under the circumstances, I think it can be part of our financial discussion. You see, when you were five years old, Lily and Richard set up a trust fund for you. But you won't have access to that until you're twenty- one."

"Why was that a secret?" I asked.

"Lily and Richard wanted you to be able to make your own way in life," she said. "They didn't want you to be dependent on the trust fund or, worse still, incur debts with the expectation of paying them off when you got access to it. Their idea was that you would have your own career and be independent so that the fund would be a bonus or maybe a safety net."

"That definitely sounds like my Gran and Grandad," I commented.

"The trust fund is no longer subject to inheritance tax," she continued, almost as if she were addressing one of her accountancy clients. "It's mostly invested in stocks and bonds, and based on the last audit, the value was just over five point two million. However, we can't say exactly what will be in the fund when you're twenty- one. "

Again, the amounts of money being discussed set my mind spinning. When my thoughts had eventually begun to settle, I expressed my amazement.

"I had no idea that Grandad and Gran were rich!"

"Perhaps 'wealthy' would be a more accurate description than 'rich'," Uncle Geoffrey said. "At least, I'm pretty sure that's how Richard and Lily would have described themselves."

"Surely you two should get something for everything you've done for me and for my grandparents," I said.

"Of course we get paid standard fees for the legal and accountancy work," Uncle Geoffrey said, "but on a personal level, your gran left Richard's watches to me, and she left her jewellery to Anne."

"That doesn't seem very much," I replied dismissively.

"The jewellery and watches are very high quality, and some are vintage," Aunt Anne said. "They're probably worth a few tens of thousands of pounds. In any case, the fact that they were beloved personal possessions of Lily and Richard is worth much more to us than any monetary value."

"Anyway," I said, "if there are any of Gran's or Grandad's other personal things that you'd like in the house, please take them."

We sipped our wine in silence for a few minutes while they gave me time to absorb all that information. Then Uncle Geoffrey spoke.

"Although we'll give all the help we can, there are some decisions that you will need to make yourself," he said. "For example, when Richard was alive, your grandparents handled the investments themselves. He enjoyed doing it, but after he died, Lily put it in the hands of professionals in Anne's firm."

"That's what I'll do," I said quickly, anticipating what he was going to say next.

"On a relatively trivial level," he continued with a smile of amusement, "you might want to decide what to do about the cars? I doubt that you'll need all three of them!"

"I suppose that's probably not the hardest decision I'll ever have to make," I said, mirroring his smile.

"One final thing that perhaps you should know before we finish up this topic," he said, looking considerably more serious. "Both Richard's and Lily's wills specifically stated that under no circumstances was your mother to inherit anything from their estates. Of course, once you receive the assets, it will be up to you what you do with them."

"That's not really relevant now, is it?" I asked.

"If she ever turns up, it may affect your decision whether or not to give her anything," he said.

"She's never going to turn up," I said. "She must be dead by now."

"What makes you think she's dead?" Aunt Anne asked. "She'd only be in her mid-thirties now."

"If she isn't dead, what excuse could she have for never coming back and never even getting in touch to see how her child is getting on?" I asked with a hint of bitterness.

Neither of them answered that question, and we finished off the bottle of wine while talking mostly about all the wonderful times we'd had with Gran and Grandad. By the end of the evening, it was decided that I should stay overnight and drive home the next morning.

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Gran's House

by Kit

Chapter 1