Alls Fair in Love and Inheritance
The whole family had assembled, as they always did, under the pretence of a jolly family supper, though everyone knew the true motive was money. Lydia, daughter of Gran Agnes and mother to Emily and Arthur, was fiddling with her mums battered old cloths the ones Agnes had always used to squirrel away her pension. Gran Agnes had long since lost her wits; she couldnt remember anyones name, not even her own. Still, out of habit, Lydia kept folding Agness pension into those same little wraps.
There, you see? Lydia said to the assembled relatives, wringing her hands, Gone again! A hundred pounds, at the very least. Ive counted them myself, I cant have made a mistake! Where do they all go? Mum, do you remember how much there was?
Gran Agnes turned around not to her daughter, but to the faded photograph of her late husband on the mantelpiece.
Oh, Peter how lovely it was, she murmured. Then she eyed Emily with sudden suspicion, And you, love, youve not eaten my mints, have you? Theyre for the visitors, those are. Wheres Arthur? At school?
Lydia folded up the pounds once more. Of course, her mother didnt remember the sum but Lydia knew, with grim certainty, someone was pinching the money. A mad thought, really, as only family ever entered the house, but who else could it be? Someone was thieving from a dotty old woman, and that was that.
Arthur, the one Gran Agnes had just been reminiscing about, arrived next.
Whats all this, a wake? he quipped, tossing his car keys aside.
Lydia, his mother, sniffed.
Arthur, its terrible. The moneys gone again! Ive been putting Grans pension away for months, here in this cupboard but someone keeps taking it!
Arthur arched an eyebrow at the room. His mum, ever the trusting sort; Arthur, never so. He trusted nobody.
Moneys vanishing, you say? he narrowed his eyes, Well, I know where its going.
He popped out to the hallway and returned clutching Emilys stripy tote bag. Before Emily could protest, Arthur unzipped the bag, completely ignoring his mothers shocked gasp, and tipped everything straight out onto the worn tablecloth.
A tumble of lipstick, keys, a compact mirror and money.
A lot of money.
Hundred-pound notes, scrunched but undeniable. Nearly five hundred pounds in tens and fivers.
Look here! Arthur exclaimed, brandishing a note. Dropped the bag when I arrived, it split open, and out tumbled these. Dont those look familiar?
Aunt Gail, up to that point devouring salad, nearly choked on her forkful.
Squinting, one could just make out the fine blue line left by the biro on every note.
Remember? Arthur went on, Last month, Mum counted out the money while Uncle John doodled on it to keep track? Well, here it is all of it. Grans pension, clear as daylight.
All eyes swivelled to Emily.
Emily, stricken and statue-still, jerked in her chair.
Arthur, what are you doing?
Me? he replied in mock outrage. “Ive done nothing. I said your bag fell, the money spilled out. All there, plain as anything.
Emily could see there was no time to protest his heavy-handedness; she needed to defend herself, and fast.
It wasnt me! she cried, banging her knee on the table as she leapt up.
Even Gran Agnes turned at the commotion.
Whos making that racket? Where have my slippers got to? mumbled Gran.
A stunned hush settled over everyone.
Emily, darling began Lydia, anxious and defeated, How could you? Of all people I help you, youve work of your own Why would you steal from Gran?
Mum, I swear, I never took them!
Then who did? Arthur stabbed the air, Youre the only one always here, looking after Gran, as you remind us. The rest barely step foot in the place. Mum wouldnt do it. That just leaves you.
Emily stumbled backwards, as if fearing blows.
I promise you, I never touched a penny!
She glanced desperately at her mother, hoping for belief, but Lydias eyes were hard, almost frightened.
Youre lying, she murmured, shaking her head. How could you, Em
I love Gran! Emily sobbed, wretched, I only ever wanted to help her. I came because I cared, not for money! I swear its the truth!
But the weight of the evidence crushed her; the notes had spilled from her own bag. No one else had access.
Thats that, then, Arthur said, grimly satisfied. See, Emily? Shame, thats what this is. You couldve just asked, wed have helped you. But to rob a helpless old woman nobody thought that of you.
That evening, they showed Emily the door. Her life turned inside out. No one cared to hear her out or grant her the benefit of the doubt. Even her mother, after calming down, could only ask the family to avoid being too harsh.
Best you keep her away, Lydia, hissed Aunt Gail on the telephone when Lydia tried to reason with her. Imagine what people would say! If Gran could understand, shed be heartbroken.
So Lydia obeyed. She barely spoke to her daughter. Whenever Emily called, Lydias answers grew brief: busy, later, not now.
Emily tried to fight back. She phoned all the relatives from different numbers, but once recognised, theyd hang up. She attempted her own investigation; soon enough, it fizzled out when no one would let her near Grans old flat.
Only her mother agreed to a furtive meeting.
Mum, please? Emily was desperate, I know how this sounds, but I swear it wasnt me. Why wont you believe me?
It was harder for Lydia than it was for the rest. Emily was her child, after all.
Emily it hurts me too. But the facts, love. The money was found in your bag. If it was just me that saw it, perhaps we could let it go, but the whole family saw. Theyll never forget. Even I cant shake it. Gran did so much for you.
But Im innocent! Maybe the notes dropped in by mistake maybe someone else
Stop! Lydias voice was sharp. Youre my daughter, I want to believe you but the truth is, the evidence says youre a thief.
With that, Lydia turned and left, leaving her daughter shivering in the damp.
They hadnt even let her say goodbye to Gran Agnes.
She waited. Only when the fuss had died down and everyone drifted away did she dare return to Grans flat, clinging to the hope her mum might still be living there. Lydia, for all her sternness, would sometimes agree to talk.
But it was Arthur who answered the door.
He towered above her; Emily had to crane her neck to meet his gaze. Perhaps it was a blessing, that it was him standing there.
Arthur, please, she pleaded softly, Lets talk. Just once more.
Oh, Em. Clinging to your reputation, are you? Far too late for that, he sneered. “Better off confessing. Who knows, they might forgive you then.
But Emily had never apologised for what she hadnt done.
No. I have to know the truth. Maybe you were mistaken, maybe the money didnt fall from my bag. Think, please
But all of a sudden Arthurs face grew colder still.
Mistaken? Oh, Emily. Still so naïve. He leaned close, his voice a whisper. Of course, you never took the cash. I put it in your bag myself.
Her mind reeled, every drop of blood draining from her face.
What? was all she could muster.
Thats right.
But why? Why did you do it?
He only shrugged.
Had to get you out of the way. When it comes to inheritance, alls fair, isnt it? Gran had, what, half a year left at most? You knew shed already signed the flat over to Mum, to dodge the paperwork. And here was the snarl. Mum, soft-hearted as you like, wanted to leave the place to you.
Emily could hardly take it in.
But why?
Because you, darling Emily, popped round to Gran every evening reading to her, feeding her, tidying up. The perfect granddaughter. Mum saw it, melted each time. Thought you deserved it all. But what about me? Im her grandson too. Why shouldnt I have a shot? So I decided to tip the scales.
I never did it for the money! Emily was crying now, devastated his confession left no satisfaction, just hurt. I did it because I cared for her! I loved her!
He gave a cruel laugh.
Spare me, Em. We all have our motives. You played the doting granddaughter, hoping to walk off with everything. But I bested you. Final score: one all.
Her silence stretched, so he delivered the coup de grâce.
So now, youre the thief. Mum would never turn on her good son, but you youre the prodigal daughter. The flats as good as mine. You couldnt get a foot in this door without a scandal.
Youre heartless, Emily whispered.
Thats life, Em. So long. Arthur moved aside, gesturing to the door.
Emily didnt budge. Yes, she could have used a flat renting in London was extortionate, and buying was a pipe dream. But it had never been about bricks and mortar. She remembered the odd moments even in Grans confusion, the way Gran Agnes would stroke her cheek, and say softly: Thank you for coming, my dear. Just like my Peter.
And now, to clear her name, Emily would have to prove Arthur had lied. But how?
She couldnt.
She walked away from the house, shutting the door behind her. She knew that, in a years time, nobody would remember shed once been good and honest. All that would remain was the family tale: Emily stole from her dying grandmother.
Arthur had won. And he was revelling in it.
