Where There's a Will

“You’re always writing in that old thing” she chuckled. “That’s one hell of a shopping list for me, Mary”. Mary looked up from her bed of pillows, her half-moon spectacles glinting in the soft light of the mid-morning sun, which now carved a neat slice of warmth into the room. A wry grin gently parted her kindly, aged features. “Well Sam, I do have to work on my writing career, you know” Mary retorted exaggeratively. They shared a short laugh before Sam went back to folding fresh bedlinen, the fragrant wafts of aroma masking the slightly musty scent of the bedroom.

“Y’know, it’s a bit stuffy in here, would you mind if I cracked a window?” asked Sam.

“I would prefer if you didn’t destroy my property, to be quite honest.” Mary joked.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then” Sam replied between giggles.

As Sam turned towards the window, she briefly caught both hers and Mary’s reflection in the dusty mirror. Mary had always been something of a wisecrack, but it had made the past three years feel less like a job and more like spending quality time with an old friend. Now though, as Sam gripped the curtain, perhaps a little more tightly than usual, she dwelled on some recent changes. The room normally had a scent of fresh flowers and old books, but lately something else had permeated the air. Something – which Sam could not herself identify – that seemed to bring with it some anxious intuition.

As Sam lent through the now open curtains to unlatch the long-since cracked, flaking and rusty window, the immediate rush of cool air fluttering through her tightly curled locks offered a brief sense of calm respite.

“Strange weather lately, eh? Nice sun, no clouds, but it’s a still bit too nippy in’it” Sam gesticulated jovially. As she turned back towards the room, she cast her eyes over Mary, now fully bathed in sunlight. Sam could see more clearly now that Mary had indeed become much frailer as of late. Her usually rosy cheeks had faded, replaced with a haunting gaunt of pale, while the darkened veins on her arms similarly contrasted starkly with the chalky appearance of her thinning arms. Nonetheless, her smile still held a reassuring warmth. Some days, Sam couldn’t tell who needed the laughter more.

“Oh I wouldn’t know about the outdoors” Mary snickered, “I’m more of a homely gal”. Sam laughed softly, half-forced so as to mask the choking tightness in her throat.

“Nonsense” replied Sam, “I love hearing about your tales of travel from back in the day.”

“Well, I have to say, despite all those travels, my favourite outdoor space has always been our front garden.” said Mary.

“Really? All those adventures and beautiful scenes, but you’d have just stayed here?”

“Well, no” Mary chortled, “but it will forever have a special place in my heart. Did I ever tell you the story of how Pat and I first met?”

Patrick was Mary’s husband of fifty years, though he had died three years earlier. Apparently a spritely and generous man for his age, Mary had never quite got over his sudden passing. But Sam never tired of hearing about their time together.

“Yes, of course you have, how could I forget” Sam laughed, facetiously rolling her eyes.

“Ok, but you know the old oak tree in the story?” Mary quizzed.

“Erm… oh, yes!”

“Well, that oak tree is the very same one at the front of our house.”

Sam, for once, was genuinely surprised. This was a development to the many recounts of Mary’s romance.

“You mean…?”

“Yes” Mary predicted. “We chose this house specifically because of that tree.”

Sam’s heart swelled. “That might be the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard”, she sighed tenderly.

“How is the tree looking these days?” Mary asked. “Obviously it’s been a while since I’ve seen it”.

“Oh yeah, it’s uh… it’s looking healthy, really. I mean, considering the time of year and all.” Sam improvised.

“Bollocks” Mary chortled, then guffawed. Laughter, however, gave way to coughing, quite severe. Sam lightly dabbed a cloth around Mary’s lips as the wheezing rasps gradually subsided. Their eyes met with a mutual affection, as that of a mother and daughter. Mary had been the closest to a mother that Sam had ever had the opportunity to appreciate in her life.

Returning to her train of thought, Mary continued. “It’s alright, you don’t have to sweeten it for me. Death is just a natural conclusion to life, like closing the back cover to your favourite book”, she articulated whilst slowly shutting her own soft, black notebook. “Think about it, without death, there would be no life, and without life, there would be nothing. Life is everything we need, y’know what I mean?”. She could see Sam’s eyes start to well slightly, a small smile stiffly pinned to her cheeks. “Like, those doves, that lived in the oak tree? They may be gone now, but while they were here, they didn’t consider their own mortality for a moment. They just chirped merrily in chorus and flew freely, and peacefully. Although, I hope they appreciated our having fed them too” Mary grinned musingly.

Suddenly, both women were startled by a loud slam from downstairs. The noise was followed by a bellowing racket of muffled but mercurially rapid speech, accompanied by the careless staccato of heavy, lumbering footsteps.

“Ah…” Mary chimed “that’ll be Aiden, I suppose”.

Aiden was Mary’s son, and only child. He did not visit frequently on account of his high-flying city banker job, but it appeared that today he had made an exception. As the footsteps continued up the stairs, his sentences could be made out more easily. Sam initially strained to listen, but then realised there was no need as Aiden’s brash, booming voice punctured the thin walls.

“Yeah, nah, y’see… no, look, listen, it’s… if you’ll let me finish… for God’s sake man, I’m trying to help you, do you want this merger to go through or not?... Right, well, let’s touch base again once you’ve cooled off, I’ve got an appointment now anyway… yeah, ok, fifteen minutes… yep… bye… prick.”

The door creaked open and a freakishly well-groomed face lunged through the gap. Aiden was as pale as his mother, though the bags under his eyes were more noticeable even than hers.

“Hi mum” he yelled, louder than was necessary. “How you feelin’?”. Letting himself into the room, Sam noted how the tall, well-heeled visitor deliberately avoided scuffing his shoes where many previous black marks mottled the bottom of the door.

“Oh, y’know, another lazy day” Mary riposted.

“Good, good” Aiden said, a hint of dismissiveness in his voice. “Sam taking good care of you, yeah? She should be, for that kind of money” he laughed. He had still neglected to acknowledge Sam at all.

“She’s worth her weight in gold, as slim as she is” Mary retorted.

“Funny you should mention gold, mum” he diverged. “I came to ask about that twenty thousand pounds you said you were gonna give me.”

“I said it would be part of your inheritance”

“Oh, yeah, I know, it’s just, well… I was just wondering, y’see. As you’re gonna give it to me anyway… please could I just... have it now? I kinda need it to bolster some investments I’ve made which are kinda starting to… uh… diminish.”

After a short pause, Mary asked “Are those flowers for me?”

Aiden looked down at the colourful bouquet gripped tightly in his fist. “Oh, yes, of course, sorry mum, y’know what I’m like, bit of a scatterbrain.” He held them out awkwardly, his eyes uncomfortably darting around the room looking for somewhere to unload his burden. Sam stood up and offered her hand.

“Ah, thank you” he said, seemingly relieved, though his face betrayed little gratitude. As Sam walked around to the other side of the bed to retrieve the empty vase, Aiden digressed. “So uh, about the twenty grand…?”

“You’ll get your money, don’t worry love” Mary interrupted, a hint of bite unusually present in her weakened voice.

“Sweet as” Aiden smiled. “Right, well, I’d best be off. Busy day, you know how it is.”

“Oh, don’t you want to stay for tea or coffee?” Sam inquired.

“Nah, nah, thanks but I really gotta run today, I’ll pop round tomorrow though, see how mum’s getting on.”

“Alright, well, see you later.”

“Yep, love you, mum. Turrah for now.”

As the door closed and footsteps braced against the stairs, Aiden could already be heard back on the phone. Sam again turned her attention to the flowers Aiden had brought. He had left the price tag on, £5.

“That boy will be the death of me” Mary quipped with a smirk.

“Don’t say that” Sam said kindly, “I’m sure he means well, he’s just busy, you know?”

“Well, maybe. I think he gets his competitiveness from his father.”

Both paused for a moment, unsure of what to say next, but their silences were never uncomfortable. Mary broke the peace first.

“What would you do with twenty thousand pounds, Sam?” Mary asked inquisitively.

“Oh, I don’t know” replied Sam. “Alix and I have been trying to save for a house, but it’s hard to raise enough for a mortgage deposit these days. How anyone manages to start a family is beyond me. That or maybe we’d go travelling like you and Pat did, while we’re still relatively young. I don’t know, really, perhaps I’d give it all to charity, I’d feel a bit overwhelmed by that sort of money for sure.”

“You’ve given me 3 wonderful years of your effort and kindness” Mary smiled. “I don’t think you need to give any more, it’s about time you enjoyed life.”

“Oh, but I do, especially when I’m here with you. Money is just… it’s one of those weird things where I just need it so I can stop thinking about it, you know?”

“Yes, I do” Mary concluded. Both paused once again as the clock struck 8pm. Mary opened her black notebook once more, scribbling something ornately. She had always had beautiful handwriting.

Tentatively she stopped and looked up at Sam. “Feel free to clock off for the night if you like, I’ll be alright, I don’t need anything else. Thank you for all your help, Sam”.

“Well, ok, I’ll leave you be then” Sam nodded. “But I’m just a call away if you need anything.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll be ok.”

“Alright, see you tomorrow!”

Sam turned to leave, feeling a mix of emotions. Fatigue, satisfaction, endearment and… a yet lingering anxiousness. As she looked one last time towards the kindly old woman, she murmured a short prayer. Sam had never prayed before, but for some reason, tonight, she felt the need to ask someone for reassurance.

“Goodnight, Mary!” Sam cheerfully called from the bottom of the stairs. Although no reply came, Sam felt suddenly awash with a sense of peace.

“Ah, she must have fallen asleep already, bless” Sam thought to herself. She stepped out into the brisk, clear night, quietly closing the door behind her.

Mary passed away that night, two nights ago now. Sam felt uneasy and nauseous, already sitting in the solicitor’s office. It felt as though everything had already lurched so unbearably fast, although this was partly thanks to Aiden expediting the probate. The coroner had not yet even concluded a cause of death, though the attending paramedics had assured Sam that it appeared Mary had died peacefully in her sleep. Sam wanted to believe them, but how could they have known? Could they have told her that simply to ease her pain? It had been little comfort. As the heavy swelling of grief pooled behind her eyes, Sam turned to Aiden, who sat adjacently. His eyes, however, were fixed on the lawyer in front of them both, who was silently reading from the black notebook Sam had seen Mary write in barely two days previously. Aiden’s eyes seemed more… forlorn, but his body remained tense, taut with bated anticipation.

The light pouring in through the window behind the solicitor brightened only his desk and silhouette, while the silence in the room punctuated by the ticking of an ornate grandfather clock.

After what seemed like an eternity, the solicitor finally looked up, peering through - Sam sadly noted - half-moon spectacles, reminiscent of Mary’s.

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “despite the density of the text in this document, it can legally be considered her Last Will and Testament. Naturally, the freehold property will become yours after all duties are paid, however, I’m afraid there is no mention of any sum of twenty thousand pounds.”

“What?...What?!” Aiden quietly murmured, then exclaimed. “That can’t be right, what, did it just grow legs and walk off?”

“Mr Albright, I would ask that you please lower your voice. We are still awaiting the report from her accountant, but rest assured we will leave no stone unturned. May I remind you that the suddenness of this hearing was at your request.” Aiden quietened, but he did not appear to soften. He simply stood up, thanked the solicitor for his time and then left abruptly, pausing only to say that he would be in touch.

After Sam and the solicitor watched Aiden leave, they turned back towards one another. The solicitor offered noticed Sam’s tearfully glazed eyes and reached over to offer a tissue, which Sam politely accepted with quiet thanks.

“As for yourself, madam” the solicitor continued, “Mrs Albright left a specific message for you on the final page. It reads ‘I close my book hoping you will now have the opportunity to write your own story. Where mine began, so too, I hope, you will find the beginning of yours.’”

Sam now stood under Mary's old oak tree, gazing up at the light forming intricate patterns as its rays pass through the beautiful maze of dead branches. She had excused herself from the solicitor, not able to hold back tears any longer. He had understandingly assured her that they would be in touch as she left, but she felt no assurance. The whole situation was too overwhelming, too many pieces to pick up all at once. She had barely paused to consider the cryptic message Mary had left her, but Sam had made her way back to Mary's house to see if she could find any sense of comfort.

As she reflected, once more the tears pressed their way to her cheeks, rolling down her face silently, their presence reified by the cool breeze gently caressing her face. She lowered her head, reaching for her sleeve to blow her nose. As she did so, she noticed a small handkerchief snagged inside a knot. Stopping for a moment to consider this Divine coincidence, she graciously reached to pluck it out. However, as she did so, she noticed a glint of something metallic, the light shining through a crack in the dried bark illuminating the inside of the knot. Carefully reaching inside, her hands ventured towards something with firm, straight edges. Slowly retrieving the object, Sam realised that she was holding a sizeable, wooden box. Cautiously, she opened the weathered case, and gasped at what she found. Laden amongst several stacks of bank notes, a small, black notebook presented itself. Placing the box on the floor, Sam picked up the notebook and flicked through. It was blank, save for a single page, which read “thank you”.

As the shock subsided, Sam realised the sound of the wind had been joined by the musical chirping of a bird close by. Looking up once more, Sam peered through the sunlight, glimpsing a shape perched on one of the highest branches in the tree. As Sam strained harder, staring almost directly towards the sun, she realised that it was not one bird, but two, happily chirruping to one another. Almost as soon as Sam realised their presence, they took wing, swirling and dancing about each other into the breeze. As they waltzed away on the wind, the sunlight made their feathers scintillate with a shimmering white hue. Higher they flew, gentle in their joy, peaceful in their freedom, .