Six months ago, our family suffered a terrible blow: my father passed away.
A little while after the funeral, my father’s brother, Uncle Phillip, came to visit us. He rarely paid us a visit, and had kept only the most minimal contact with my father. They never argued outright, but they simply didnt get along. Their relationship was always distant, with each living their own life.
How was your journey? I asked him. And why do you call me by my first name, not love or something warmer? Because Im your favourite uncle! replied Uncle Phillip with a sweet smile, as if he truly believed it himself.
He hadnt volunteered any warning about his visit, and we werent at all prepared for his arrival. In fact, we hadnt spoken to him since my fathers funeral. He hadnt called once. And then, all of a sudden, here he was at our door.
As we sat down for tea, Uncle Phillip asked, So, how are we going to divide the inheritance? The three of us, right? Nobody else involved? What inheritance? Mum blurted out, taken aback.
There was an inheritance, of course. We had a lovely flat, a large and beautiful house in the countryside, and two cars. Mum tried to persuade me to sell the house and buy a flat in the city where I was studying. But we werent ready to make such decisions yet. We decided not to rush things.
What inheritance? Mum asked again, rallying herself. Well, the estate my brother left, of course! Uncle Phillip replied. You know perfectly well, if Martha and I hadnt been here, youd have inherited everything. Therefore, you dont have a right to anything! But I am his brother! Surely I have a right to the inheritance! Not at all. The law supports us! And if its not fair?
Uncle Phillip is very smart: he knew very well that, according to English law, he wasnt entitled to anything. So he decided to pressure us out of guilt. But we found no sense in his words or actions. My father and Uncle Phillip had never been close, so he really had no grounds for claiming any part of my fathers estate.
When Dad fell ill, he made it clear everything we owned should go to me and Mum. He had no intention of sharing our property with anyone else.
With a clear conscience, Phillip, not even with you! And you know that perfectly well! You were never close to your brother! Mum insisted. Exactly! Its like a bad film a man marries, and his wife takes everything. Parents, brothers, sisters, nephews get nothing!
Uncle Phillip tried to make us feel guilty. He pushed us to agree to split the property among the three of us. Enough! We wont discuss this with you anymore, Mum said firmly.
When Uncle Phillip left, Mum and I locked the house up and went to our flat in London. We knew Uncle Phillip too well to think he would simply let this rest. After all, there was a lot at stake a third of a luxurious country house, a third of a lovely flat in central London, and a third of two decent cars. It amounts to a rather substantial amount of money.
Uncle Phillip took us to court. He hopes to win. But the law is clearly on our side. What does he think hell gain?
