SHORT STORY                                THE HIDING PLACE

The dull clouds covered the sky like a shroud and the winter chill cut into the air with a biting coldness.

Fiona walked the street in search for  basement flat at no.72.

Uncle Tom had been a recluse since retiring from teaching. As a young man he had back-packed and hosteled the world. The poverty and depravity he witnessed  had never left him. He hated Beaurocrats. They creamed money from the country;  its people were starving.

He couldn’t abide the wastage of money. In fact he had become paranoid and over cautious albeit his salary as a teacher was modest enough to afford a reasonably comfortable lifestyle for himself.eH “Over indulgence” he would say. He had made a conscious decision never to marry. That would be a fruitless venture which would force him into buying property and would incur great financial loss should the marriage fail.

Fiona’s father had been his Next of Kin and sole Executor to his Will.  He had passed away two years previously leaving him only one choice. He nominated Fiona his Next of Kin and also Executor to his will  alongside her sister Jane.  They had never visited his flat before; no-one had. Upon his demise Fiona had been given his  keys to commence the necessary ‘clear out’ duties. She walked down the basement steps and looked at the keys. One for the security lock, one for the Yale and another for wherever it would be needed. She unlocked the door pushing it with force as her entry was obscured by a stack of post. The flat was dingy, dark and smelt musty. She remembered the rare occasions Uncle Tom had joined family gatherings. He never failed to enlighten those present that his only requirements were a small bed-sit, kitchen and shared upstairs bathroom. “More than adequate for my needs” he would say.   She gasped as she entered.. A couple of old blankets covered the windows, a dirty thread bear carpet was pieced together by gaffer tape and an old well worn electric fire was his only means of warmth.. It  was indeed cluttered and a single bed in the corner was covered in tatty “rag like” bedding.

Jane would be arriving soon. Fiona’s mobile rang. “Hi Fi, I’m here. Can you open the door?” Upon entering, Jane looked bewildered, “Oh my God, what a pigsty! We knew Uncle Tom was tight; not even a Birthday or Christmas card but this is ‘beyond the pale’ living like this”. Fiona guided her to the other door, “This must be the kitchen; I believe he said he shared the bathroom upstairs”. She opened it; it was sparse to say the least. A table top electric oven sat on the worktop alongside a two burner camping stove and calor gas bottle. On the wall was a slot electric meter. “No washing machine”, Jane quipped, “But then again I suspect he used the Launderette”. “There’s little to turn out for the Landlord”, Fiona said relieved. Jane pondered, “Um. Just the Estate to tie-up. He lived a very frugal lifestyle so he was obviously penniless although he must have brought in a reasonable salary whilst in the teaching profession. It must have gone somewhere” Jane looked up at the single hanging light bulb “I reckon some was used for traveling and the remainder given  to the poor.  He had an obsessive issue with poverty and how it came about. “The deed of greedy, evil Beaurocratcs,” he would say. Yes, it’s probably gone abroad and if that was his choice then fair play to him” she said. Fiona agreed, “A good thing to do with your life; help others but to live like this! ! I would make us some coffee but it would mean boiling water from a saucepan on the calor gas and I think he only drank tea”.  Jane picked up her handbag. “I wouldn’t want one here anyway, the place isn’t that clean.  I’m going to Starbucks. I’ll bring a couple of lattes and our favourite chocolate doughnuts back”.

Left by herself Fiona pulled up a chair at the shabby kitchen table. First things first she thought and scooped up the post. There was a heap of ‘junk mail; a final Council Tax demand, a few personal handwritten letters from friends and a white envelope.  As she turned it over she noticed the Harrods logo.                                                              

“Harrods!!!” intriguingly she opened it. It was a receipt for the first payment of  £30,000. She looked puzzled. “I’m back Fi; time for a break” Jane called out. Fiona didn’t flinch, “Err yes thanks Jane, hey take a look at this” “An invoice for a Chesterfield, TV Screen and entertainment system”.                              

“There must be a mistake Fi. Uncle Tom was practically penniless unless  there is something we don’t know.  Fiona looked at the delivery address. “ Hilary Davies, 202 Latchfield Road, South Kensington.

Oh what a silly old fool, that’s the woman friend he mentioned. I believe she had several admirers and our Uncle Tom must have gone in the running as the highest bidder for her attention.  She will have the goods by now He wouldn’t waste money on such luxuries for himself.”  The freshly brewed coffee and doughnuts were a welcome treat. They threw the cups and paper bags into the kitchen bin. Jane began to panic, “There won’t be enough in the estate to pay for this; what was he doing?” Fiona also looked concerned, “Oh Jane, as Executors it will be our responsibility to ensure this is payed off and the family can’t help out!. We’ll end up in Court.  Mark and I are  paying for Lucy to go to Uni in September so we can’t pay any of it off”. Jane looked agitated, “David and I are taking Clarissa and George to Disneyworld. We’ve promised them for years and have taken out a loan so don’t look at me”. Both tension and fear were beginning to rise.

Fiona picks up her handbag, “I'm going home to think about this. It’s left us with one hell of a problem”  She looks at the bunch of keys; and still hadn’t ascertained what the third was for but that could wait for another day. She passed a small door in the hallway which she assumed was a broom cupboard. It had a small lock. She tried the third key.  It opened , she turned on a switch and steps  led her downwards. . She beckoned her sister down. “It’s a cellar Jane!!.  

A large Beer barrel stood against the wall caught  Fiona’s gaze. “That’s an old one”, she goes over to it and tries to feel its heaviness. “It’s full; didn’t know Uncle Tom liked Beer”. Jane takes a look “Turn it around a bit; there seems to be a hole around the back” Fiona squeezes her hand through the hole and pulls out an envelope. She opens it to find it full of £50 notes. There is another envelope and another. In fact the entire barrel is full. This barrel was the hiding place for his stash.

“Looks like the problem’s solved” Fiona said excitedly. “We’ll have to pay Harrods in full and I’m sure Uncle Tom wouldn’t like the Taxman getting to this. There could be well over a quarter of a million here. He hated Bearocrats and no-one knows about this only us”.