Chapter 1

I was one of those people who were considered to be born with the proverbial silver spoon in their mouth. I had all the hallmarks of an upper-class upbringing. My father was something to do with the Council in Swindon. He had been in charge of the Broome Manor Golf Club until the council leased it to a private company. That was in twenty fourteen. He was kept on for two years to train up the new administration and watch his beloved public course become a money-making concern. He had reached the age of fifty-five in twenty sixteen and took early retirement.

I was born in first year of the new millennium. My mother was a teacher, so, every weekday, my father would drop me off at the Busy Bees childcare on his way to the golf club. When I started primary, my mother would walk me from our house in Westlecot Road, along The Mall, to the Commonweal School, where she taught. It didn’t sink in with me until I was eight or nine, just how lucky I was. Up until then, I had played with my friends on our road, been to birthday parties, had parties of my own, and generally thought that this was how life should be.

As I moved into the secondary part of Commonweal, I began to realise that there was a wider world out there. I started to take more attention with news programs, I started to read things online, and grew up a lot. What it didn’t do, however, was to give me any impetus to learn how to live when I left school. I was in a secure family. I was well fed, well clothed, and well loved – at least by my mother. Any future was just that – in the future.

This all changed after I had taken the final exams. My parents had decided to take a holiday after my father retired. I was sixteen and was considered to be able to look after myself. My mother had taught me basic cooking and keeping my room clean, so I wasn’t too concerned when they drove away in the first week of the summer holidays.

I was in the house, alone, waiting for the notification of how I had done in the exams. I made sure that I was clean, tidy, and well fed. I spent some of the time in the Swindon Railway Museum, as I always had a love of trains, with a good layout at home. My results arrived, telling me that I had passed, but not well enough to apply for further education, unless I went for a trade-based course. I, of course, had no idea of what that entailed. I had expected to live with my parents until they died and then I could live on their savings until I died.

Two days later, I was playing a computer game when the front doorbell rang. I ignored it as I was close to moving up a level. When it rang again and there was a hammering on the door, I put the controller down and went to see who had interrupted me. It was a policeman, with a policewoman.

“Hedley Pearson?”

“That’s me. What’s the problem?”

“Can we come in, sir. I’m afraid we have some bad news.”

I let them in and took them through to the kitchen. I asked them if they wanted a drink, but they both declined and asked me to sit down.

“We’re sorry to tell you, Hedley, but your parents were in the eastern part of France, this morning. They were in a hilly area and were hit, head-on, by an out-of-control truck. I’m afraid they both died immediately.”

I found it hard to breath and the policewoman brought me some water and put her arm around my shoulders as I strived to take it all in. Thoughts raced through my mind. I was sad that my mother wasn’t coming home. Not so sad about my father, as he hadn’t been much more than a wallet to tap. I fleetingly thought that I might be taken away to be looked after, then decided that I had this house to live in, some food to cook, and I was sixteen. Surely, I could spend my life here, being able to live a quiet, and sedentary, life.

“What happens now?”

“I believe that you are sixteen, is that correct?”

“I am.”

“You are not going to be bothered by social services unless you apply for help. You know that you can ride a small scooter, but not get a car licence for a year. Do you have a job?”

I shook my head and he carried on.

“Do you have any relatives who we can contact for you?”

“I have a much older sister, who married a Canadian and went there to live. I have never heard from her. There is an uncle, a brother of my mother. I have only ever seen him at the odd funeral or wedding. My father considers him to be working class.”

He asked for the details, and I gave them as he wrote them down.

“I’ll make some calls. WPC Stevens will make you a cup of tea or coffee if you want. I won’t be long.”

He went out to their squad car, while WPC Stevens put the kettle on and found a couple of mugs and the coffee jar. I sat there, trying to get my thoughts in order. Did they have insurance? When can I access the bank accounts? Where can I sell the jewellery that Dad had bought for Mum?

I was handed the mug of coffee and sipped at it.

“It’s a bit sweet.”

“That’s what you need right now. It brings the body back to normal. Do you have a girlfriend that we can talk to?”

“Not at the moment. I’ve been out with a few from school, but nothing long term. I can look after myself. My mother trained me well and I can cook and clean up all right. A bit slow with laundry, though. We have a cleaning service in for the house, and a gardening service for the outside. I should be able to carry on. What happens about their bodies and stuff?”

“The car will be written off by the French. Their bodies will be put into the hands of an undertaker. You’ll have to talk to your Uncle about which one. They will ship the bodies by road, along with what personal items that can be salvaged from the wreck. You’re in for a tough time, Hedley.”

“What about funds? I have enough to last me until the time they were due home.”

“You can’t do anything about that until the death certificates are issued. There has to be a coronial investigation, and it depends on which one of your parents died first, as that may have an effect on the wills. It will all take some weeks, so you had better talk to your Uncle.”

They stayed with me until my Uncle Don arrived. I wasn’t sure what I should say to him, and he was a little cold. I knew why.

“So, Hedley. The lazy little layabout now has to start looking after himself. It’s about time you grew up. Your mother would never listen, no, she mollycoddled you all your life. I gather that you expect to live here like a grand homeowner. I can tell you that you will have to get a job in the next few weeks. I might be able to offer you one, but it will be a lowly one, you have no people skills whatsoever.”

“I can live here. There’ll be enough money.”

“Let me put you right, young Hedley. Your father had a good job, and your mother had a good job, true, but both of them added together do not add up to pay for this house and their lifestyle. I expect that when the dust settles, you’ll be left with very little.”

When he left me, confirming his contact details and telling me that he would arrange the undertaker and the funeral, I sat and thought about what he said. Surely there will be plenty of money.

That night, when I went to bed, it didn’t feel like an adventure to be alone in the house. It just felt like I was alone. I sleepwalked through the next few days, until Uncle Don rang to tell me that my parents remains had arrived in the local undertaker, and that there would be a double funeral in a week. He said that he had spoken to my sister, but she wouldn’t be coming over for the funeral.

I still had some food and money, hardly eating anything since the news, and not going anywhere. To be frank, I was in a funk and feeling abandoned. The undertaker sent a car for me on the day of the funeral. I had tried to dress properly and had even had a shower. The church was full of Mums’ colleagues from the school, and the council sent along a few representatives. Other than me and Uncle Don with his family, there were no other relatives, although I was certain that Dad had mentioned his family, many times.

Afterwards, I was taken home to find a couple of guys at the front door, waiting for me.

“Mister Pearson?”

“Yes. What do you want? I’ve just buried my parents.”

“That’s why we’re here. We’re from your parent’s bank. This house has a large mortgage on it and we’re here to ask you if you have any funds to continue to pay each month.”

“There must be a mistake. We own the house.”

“Sorry, sir. We have a copy of the papers for you to look at. If there are no payments inside thirty days, we will have to change the locks after we have evicted you.”

They put the papers in my hand and got into their car, driving back onto the road. I stood there with the papers in my hand. Inside the house, I rang Uncle Don. He told me that he would come over and look at the paperwork. I just sat there, my brain overloaded, until he rang the bell. When he looked at the papers, he snorted.

“That’s how he funded his lifestyle, Hedley. The house is worth over two million and it has an outstanding mortgage of nearly that on it. You will have to move out or be kicked out.”

When he left, I started thinking about what I could sell. I thought about it until the following Monday, then looked in my mothers’ things, finding her jewellery box. I put it in a bag and went to catch a bus into the city. When I showed it to a jeweller, expecting to have it valued at several thousand pounds, he snapped it shut and gave it back to me.

“Next time you steal a jewellery box, son, do some research first. Every item in there may look nice, but it’s all paste. If you want to sell it, I need identity and then I’ll give you a hundred for the lot.”

I hadn’t been home long, tears in my eyes, when the doorbell went. I was starting dread the sound. It was a couple of guys in overalls.

“Mister Pearson?”

“That’s me.”

“Are your parents at home?”

“I buried them a week ago. They were killed in a car accident in France.”

“Ah. That makes it awkward, lad. We are here to repossess the cars. They are on lease and the payment is now two months in arrears. Can you give us the keys, so we don’t have to damage them?”

I went into the kitchen and got the keys for Mums’ Audi, and Dad’s Jaguar. They had taken the Mercedes estate when they went on holiday. I went back to the men with the keys.

“What about the MGB?”

“But my father bought that for me for when I turn seventeen!”

“Sorry, son. He leased it. The keys, please.”

I went to my bedroom and took the keys out of my bedside drawer, taking them back to the door and giving them to him. They thanked me and I stood there, crying, while they loaded all three cars onto a transporter, only giving me a receipt so that I could cancel the insurances.

They drove away and I slid down the door frame and started bawling my eyes out. Over the next week, the people who had leased Dad the furniture arrived with a pantechnicon, taking every scrap of furniture in the house. I had to empty wardrobes, drawers, and cupboards before they carried them out. All I had to sleep in was my sleeping bag that had been bought for a school camp. My parent’s clothes were on the floor of their bedroom, and mine were scattered in my room. All I had left of mine was my train set.

That lasted another two days. The cleaning service came by to demand back payments. When I couldn’t give them what they wanted, they looked around to see what they could take in lieu. I had to sit on the floor and cry some more as it was dismantled, packed into boxes, and taken away, just leaving the base board. I hadn’t cried like this in my life.

They must have left the door open when they left, as I was still sitting there when I heard Uncle Don calling out, his voice echoing in the empty house. When he found me, he sat on the floor beside me.

“Ready to get a job now, Hedley?”

I snuffled and nodded.

“Pack what you need, you’re going to live with us for a while. The room isn’t big, but you will be fed. I’m going to give you some work at my shop. It won’t be in front of the public but will be something I think you can manage. I only live five minutes from the business, by push bike, and I have one that you can use. I do have one bit of good news for you. Your mother had taken out an insurance policy after you had been born, and it has been paid, automatically, from her salary. I was told about the payments by the school and have contacted the insurance company. There will be a payout when we submit the policy. She may have hidden it in the house. The bank will also release her money to you. It isn’t a lot, but it’s more than you have now.”

I found a case and packed what I needed, with him overseeing my packing. I left the sleeping bag there but had another bag with my toiletries and personal items. My computer had already been taken, along with my game unit, so I was certainly travelling light.

We pulled the door closed and he drove me to his house, where I was shown a small bedroom and put my things away. Uncle Don and Aunt Jean were going to go back to the house and search through my mothers’ things to see if they could find the insurance policy. The contents of my fathers’ study was on the floor in that empty room, so it may be there. I told them about the paste jewels before they left, and Uncle Don said a word I had last heard in the schoolyard.

I settled in the small house while they were away. It wasn’t a patch on where I had lived, but it was cosy and, I expect, paid for. They came back with the policy, found among my mothers’ things. They also gave me the cash that had returned in the belongings that had come back from France.

The next day, I was taken to where I would be working. He was the manager of a Krispy Kreme outlet in the Designer Outlet Village, in a development of part of the old railway works. My job, starting tomorrow, would be for me to go to the shop for eight in the morning, and put out the boxes of product for sale during the day when the doors opened at ten. I had an access card to get into the Village, and spent some time with him and his salesgirls, looking at what went where. I would also have to go into the Village before they closed to the public at eight in the evening, and clean the shop, putting away the unsold product so that it can be put out again the next morning. I had to make note of use-by dates so that nothing out of date was offered to the public.

It was, he said, easy work, but only four hours a day, seven days a week, with just the public holidays when the Village was shut. I expect that he didn’t think I would last. I vowed to show him what I was made of until any money from the insurance came through.

Starting the next morning, I rode the bike in and locked it in the bike rack outside the Village. The pass got me in, and I worked in the shop, putting things out as required. There was one group of boxes that had reached the use-by, so I set these aside and added new stock out of the last delivery. The advertising said that product was made new, every day, and I could see that we had yesterday’s things in the front, with anything more than two days old being given to the sales staff or binned. I could see, already, that it would take a keen mind to ensure that not too much was ordered, and not too little either.

When the girls came in, they told me that I had done a good job. When the doors of the Village opened to the public, I took a long walk around the site, making the vow that I would do that every day, to get me fit. I had spent too long sitting at the computer or gaming consol.

I had an early lunch at the food area and then walked next door to the Steam Museum. I had a yearly pass, so it didn’t cost me anything. I spent the afternoon there, then went back to the Village for tea. I wandered until just before eight, going to the shop to put things away and clean out the area. Several other shopkeepers said hello to me as I worked. At ten, I had finished and cycled back to the house, letting myself in with the key I had been given.

I slept well, waking with the alarm and having a light breakfast before doing it all over again. It took two days before I realised that I needed something to do with the middle of the day. I went to the employment exchange to see what I could see. I didn’t see anything but went back every few days to look at the boards.

It was a couple of weeks, and just before the start of the new school term, before there was a notice for a casual cleaner, with flexible hours, during school days at the Swindon and Wilts Technical College. I went to the counter and got a referral to go and see them, which I did, that afternoon. That evening, when I went back after cleaning the shop, I told Uncle Don that I would be cleaning in the Tech School during the day, from two to six, five days a week. I think he was surprised.

I did this as soon as the term started, eight to ten at the shop, exercise, and lunch in the Village, cycling to the College for work between two and six. Back to the Village for tea and work in the shop between eight and ten. As the year went towards Christmas, I got fitter and more able to do the work. I was only a casual but working forty- eight hours a week. I didn’t miss a day. When the school term ended, I was kept on, to help out with general maintenance up until Christmas, when I had two days off.

My Uncle was very impressed with my work ethic. I was given some small things for Christmas, and I bought some things for them from the shops as I wandered around. I was starting to be recognised by other shopkeepers and began to acquire some skills with my interaction with them. I was even able to talk normally to the shop girls. As our shop was open ten hours a day, the girls worked overlapping shifts, with there being double staff between twelve and six, so I got to meet all of them.

My mothers’ insurance policy was paid out directly to me in January, as stated in the policy, so didn’t get put into her estate. It was enough for me to move from living with my relatives. The payment was substantial, enough for me to buy a house outright, and that’s what I did. I bought a near-new house in the garden suburb of the Tadpole Garden Village. It was a very nice house on Rackham Street, on the southern edge, with three bedrooms and garaging for two cars. The garage only held my scooter, which I had bought in November, getting my licence, and passing the test on days I wasn’t needed in the college. It was an easy ride from the house to the Village, and I now had a parking pass.

I took my time with the furnishings, starting out with a kitchen suite and a bedroom suite from a reasonably priced store. There was one thing certain, and that was that I was never going to fall into the snob trap that my father had let destroy his family and all my feelings for him. Everything I bought, I bought with cash or by my debit card. There would be nothing superfluous, nothing for show, and nothing I can’t afford at the time. That’s why I kept the scooter as I passed seventeen and could have bought a car.

I was seeing my uncle regularly and was often at their house on the weekends for a roast lunch. We became friends, rather than relatives, and he told me that my mother had left me a gift, in a safe deposit, which he would give me on my eighteenth birthday, as she had intended to do, herself. That was what a key he had found among her things was. He wouldn’t tell me what it was, but he said that I would be happy with it.

So, I kept working at the two jobs through the first six months of the year, arriving at my birthday. I was invited to attend a small party at my Uncles home, and I rode there on the Saturday, after the two hours at the Village. We had lunch and they gave me birthday cards with shopping vouchers in. Finally, my Uncle pulled out a large and bulky envelope. On the outside was the words, in my mothers’ writing. ‘To my Darling son, Hedley, on the occasion of becoming an adult.’ It actually made me cry. My aunt comforted me as I allowed myself to let my pent-up sadness come out. I cried for my mother, and the loss I had kept at bay.

Inside the envelope was a letter and a jewellery box, the one I had tried to sell and put back. Uncle Don explained.

“When we went into the house before the locks were changed, we pulled out all of your fathers’ clothes to take to the op-shop. We made sure that we looked in all your mothers’ things. As I told you, I had found a key to a safe deposit box, and this envelope was in it.”

“But that’s the one I took to the jewellers. They told me it was all fake and I took it home again.”

“We found that one and it went to the op-shop with her clothes. No. This one is identical, and I’ve had a sneak look. Open it and see for yourself.”

I did so, and saw the identical jewels, but much brighter. I decided, there and then, that were not going to be sold, no matter how hard my life became. I read the letter, where she apologised for mothering me, but explained how I was her last chance at having another baby, and that I had been everything to her. She admitted that she knew of my fathers’ faults and had the jewels copied in case he tried to sell them to pay off debts. It ended with her telling me that she loved me and to make the best of my life. I expect that it had been put away, in case of her death. I know that Don had found an insurance policy on both of them that had been cancelled a few years before, due to no payment.

I hugged them both and silently thanked my mother. Her belief in me and her love was almost overwhelming.

Marianne Gregory © 2024