**Friday, 15th October 2023**
Sat by the window most of the morning, watching the buses grind to their usual halts below and folks hurry along the high street. Couldn’t shift my mind from that letter, sitting on the kitchen table since yesterday like a dare. Black envelope, gold trim. Still hadn’t opened it.
“Mum, you look miles away!” Daniel burst in like a whirlwind, school bag slung into the corner. “Not stewing again, are you? Lunch! I’m starving!”
“Help yourself,” I sighed, still gazing out. “Spaghetti bolognaise in the fridge. Microwave it.”
He stopped in the doorway, eyeing me closely. “Alright, what’s wrong? You look… off. Properly rattled.”
“Oh, nothing major,” I turned to face him. “Just… a letter arrived. Still deciding whether to open it.”
“What sort of letter? Who’s it from?”
“From a solicitor. London.”
Daniel frowned. Solicitors’ letters rarely bring cheer. Debt, court summons, botheration. “What sort of news from a London solicitor? Inheritance?”
“I don’t know! Perhaps Cousin Katherine left something? She lived near Islington last years, had a little place there. But we hadn’t spoken properly in a decade, if that.” I pushed myself up and went to the kitchen. The envelope lay precisely where I’d left it, silently mocking my indecision.
“Mum, just open it?” Daniel picked it up. “What’s worse? Knowing?”
“Lots can be worse!” I muttered. “Her debts, maybe? Obligations? I don’t need trouble landing here.”
“But what if it’s good news?” He looked ready to tear it there and then. I stopped him with a gesture.
“Hold on. Give me a minute.”
What was there to think about? Katherine was my cousin. Grew up next door in Manchester, thick as thieves once. But life drew us apart ages ago. She’d gone south after uni, married some City chap, worked at a research institute. No children, husband passed years back. I stayed put, raised Daniel alone after burying his dad too soon, spent my years working at Neely Street Primary. Last saw Katherine at Uncle Harry’s funeral, easily ten years past. She seemed a stranger then – London lady in a sharp coat, looking slightly down on us northern folk.
“Alright. Go on. Open it,” I finally relented. “But if it’s bad, I did warn you!”
Daniel carefully slit it open and pulled out several pages. He scanned the top lines and whistled sharply. “Mum… it says… Cousin Katherine bequeathed her London flat to you.”
“*What*?” I nearly dropped my tea mug. “What flat?”
“Two-bedder. Near Islington Green. And…” he flipped pages, eyes widening, “there’s a bank account mentioned… Mum, it looks like a proper sum. £120,000.”
I sank onto a chair, my legs suddenly boneless. “Can’t be. Why? We barely spoke. Why leave it to *me*?”
“There’s a note enclosed. Handwritten.” Daniel passed me a smaller sheet.
*‘Ellie, if you’re reading this, then I’m gone. Know we drifted apart, and much of it was my doing. Always thought there’d be more time to mend bridges with the good folk back home. Time runs out unexpectedly. I want the flat to be yours. You were always kind-hearted, living for others. Time you thought of yourself now. Your cousin, Katherine.’*
I read it over and over, blinking through the tears tracking down my face. “So… she’s gone. Passed. I didn’t know. Weren’t at her funeral, never said goodbye…”
“Mum, how could you know?” Daniel squeezed my shoulder. “Perhaps she didn’t want fuss. Some folk slip away quiet-like.”
“But why *me*? She had closer kin up north.”
“Guess they weren’t so close as she reckoned. Or she saw you clearer than you saw her.”
I touched Katherine’s words again. *‘Time you thought of yourself.’* When did I last do that? Decades? Caring for Mum and Dad first, then raising Daniel single-handed, working my fingers to the bone. Now here he was, twenty-eight, full-grown and independent, likely to start his own brood soon.
“So… what do I do with all this?” I felt utterly adrift.
“Get down to London first thing. See the place. Sort the legal bits.” My Daniel, always planning. “Mum, realise what this means? You can have a whole different life here.”
“Different how?”
“Move to London! Rent the flat out for income. Sell it, buy somewhere nicer near Chesterfield? Loads of options.”
As he talked, something shifted inside me. Rusty old cogs creaking into motion. For years it felt like coasting on habit, day following day without much ‘after’. Now… possibilities. Choices. A future.
“Don’t know, Daniel. Chesterfield’s home. The school… the house…” I gestured vaguely.
“Mum, you’re fifty-three! Not ancient! Could be a whole new chapter if you’d let it.”
“But you? Leave you here alone?”
He chuckled. “Mum, I’m a grown man! Twenty-eight! Time I stood on my own feet, stopped leaning on Mum.”
“You don’t lean!” I protested, ruffled.
“Poor choice of words, maybe. Point is, both of us deserve some happiness, eh?”
That night, sleep wouldn’t come. I lay awake picturing Katherine’s London flat. Big? Small? Balcony? She’d written ‘Islington’. Bet there’s pretty squares nearby, public gardens. I pictured Katherine near the end. Alone? Ill? Why hadn’t she written sooner? Asked for help? Stubborn pride? Shame, maybe, after years of silence?
Next day, took time off school. Went to the solicitor’s with Daniel. Pleasant chap, late forties. Patiently walked us through it all.
“Nice little flat,” he confirmed. “Saw it myself for Ms. Miller. Two double bedrooms. Third floor with lift. Recently refurbished. Decent neighbourhood near the Green. Tube’s handy, shops all close.”
“Why me?” I blurted. “Why choose me?”
“Katherine deliberated long over that,” he said gently. “Came in several times. She wanted the place to go to someone truly needing a fresh start, someone who’d find happiness there. Said you cared for her when you were lasses together. Remember chasing off those lads teasing her over her specs?”
I blinked. I did remember. We were ten. Big lads mocking her. I’d grabbed a stick and chased them off, shouting like a banshee. “Aye… I remember.”
“She said that meant the world. Never forgot you were her true friend.”
Quiet journey home. Daniel tried chatting, saw I was lost in thought. “Penny for them?” he asked as we pulled up home.
“Thinking about Katherine. How life weaves threads you can’t see. Who’d have thought chasing lads with a stick would matter so much decades on?”
“So… London trip next weekend? See the flat?”
“Yes,” I nodded firmly. “London next weekend.”
The city hit us – noise, bustle, endless red buses and black cabs. I felt tiny at first, lost among the tall buildings and rushing crowds. But slowly, it got under my skin. So much *life
I stared out at the children playing in the snow-dusted London square below, a profound gratitude washing over me – Aunt Claire’s final, unexpected gesture hadn’t merely granted property, but the priceless courage to redefine my story for its final, best chapters.
Honestly, Son, watching Mum bloom taught me the hardest leap is simply opening your arms when life hurls an unexpected, black-wrapped parcel your way.
