The mourners reached the lublic house in respectable time, Mum had left the logburner on a slow burn so the house was warm for them. Her eldest child Derek, had laid on a good spread and it was expected that the regulars would soon attend for the wake. It had been announced that the Barry’s funeral service would be a private affair for family and friends and the wake would be open. A few had moaned a little wanting to pay their respects in Church but they understood. The family sat at the long table and the few friends sat at the end. Derek took his place at the top of the table and produced the formal letter from the solicitor. “Thank you all for attending, I am sure my father would have been proud,” he began solemnly. “I suppose we better get the formalities over.” He opened the envelope. “I, Barry Bertrand Davidson, being of sound mind declare this to be my last will and testament. To my son Derek, I leave the sum of one thousand pounds… (Thanks dad), to my daughter Kristina, wherever you are, I leave you five hundred pounds. To Liz Radcliffe, the nurse who attended me after my first heart attack I leave £80 pounds and the Beefeater teddy bear she liked so much.”
Liz smiled, it had been nice to have been invited to the funeral, she didn’t expect to receive anything in the will.
“And finally to my wife, Susan I leave the sum of my estate which comes to a total of…” Derek stumbled a little and spoke in disbelief. “Four point nine Million pounds.”
Liz returned to the surgery about five where Dr Webster was dusting one of his shelves.
“How did it go?” He asked kindly.
“I got mentioned in the will,” Liz answered.
“Bravo, what it is to have a beside manner,” he grinned cheekily, “and a 38F bust.”
Liz didn’t chastise him for that, she was scratching her chin.
“Barry was a jobbing handyman who was one of the cheapest around. He earned about 16k a year on average over 55 years of work.”
“He left just under five million pounds in his will.”
In response to Fandango’s One Word Challenge: Property