Competition: Short story | 31 December 2011

In Competition No. 2727 you were asked for a short story entitled ‘An unwelcome bequest’.

The Guardian recently invited its readers to share their experiences of unwished-for bequeathals. The request elicited a crop of hugely funny and touching stories featuring, among other things, ‘a hideous pink pig in a hat and a pinny drinking a cup of tea’, which  was initially consigned to a cupboard but metamorphosed over time into a symbol of stoicism that provided its recipient with solace in dark times.

Animals popped up frequently in the entry: I especially liked Basil Ransome-Davies malign, windy polecat. Honourable mentions, too, to Mark Ambrose, G.M. Davis and Natalia Colthurst. Bill Greenwell’s vengeful parent gets him £30; the rest nab £25.

It is never pleasant to open an elaborately locked cabinet, having taken patient time to crack its combination, and having been assured that the contents, far from being meagre, will consist of everything from uncut gems to more accessible bundles of well-thumbed tenners — only to discover that there is nothing within it but cold ash, and the unpleasant scent of its having been confined there for a while, with a disdainful and hectoring letter (on the subject of greed) as accompaniment.

Rupert stared intently into the open box, as into a deep and troublesome mirror, and thought of his relative, and the pain he had caused for so long.

Eventually, he smiled.

Setting light to the ten-pound notes was easier than expected, and he warmed his dying hands by the blaze. He had disposed of the rest in the sea. What he enjoyed most was the letter to his son.
Bill Greenwell

My parents were but days dead, my exile to Colonel Thwackham’s Boys Academy yet uncommenced, when I, Daniel Chippenblock, found myself summoned to the offices of Mr Jancery, family lawyer.