Inheritance 7

Based on a true story.

Only joking, weirdo.

My usual boring Thursday lunch was rudely interrupted by the ringing of the house phone.

"Y'ello"

"Mr Turner?"

"Yeah, who's this?"

"This is Mr Walker, Mark Walker, of Tailor, Tailor and Tailor solicitors. I've got to say, we've spent nine months finding you and probate ends at midnight."

"What?"

"Mr Turner, Steve, there's an inheritance outstanding which you're entitled to."

"Hang on a mo." I put Walker, Mark Walker on hold while I quickly use a well known search engine to look for Tailor, Tailor and Tailor. Nice website, lots of green. I like green.

"Ok, Mr Walker, Mark Walker, hit me with it."

"Now Steve, a Mrs Coates passed away very unexpectedly and due to a quirk in your family tree, it appears that after our extensive research that you, Mr Turner, are her only surviving relative."

"It's the adopted thing, isn't it?"

"Yes, she was your maternal grandmother twice removed."

"Hold on," this is getting odd. "Is that even a thing?"

"Apparently, Yes, it is. Enough of a thing to make this legal. It's all in the pack but there is a time limitation on this. Can I meet you today to discuss it further?"

"We, yeah, I suppose."

"Excellent!"

Click. The bugger hung up on me. Then the door bell went ding dong. I always like a good ding dong on my door. Ask anyone. I'm only thankful it's not naked Wednesday. I open the door to a 20 something child in a suit. A grey suit. With a briefcase. Ffs, I think, I bet he's even shined his shoes. Yep, shiny. I hate him already.

"Mr Turner, hello, I'm Mr Walker. Sorry to intrude but as I said there's a very limited window on those and Ha Ha time is literally money. For you, that is. Can I come in?"

I lead the way to the kitchen and we sit at the table. Mr Walker, Mark Walker, passes me a large envelope. I open it and start taking out the reams of paper.

"You'll find a lot of nonsense, a copy of the will, some more rubbish and at the back is the bit we want." I flick through the papers, look legit to me but hey, what do I know. I'm just a poor struggling author.

"So," I asked, "remind me of the big rush? Why tonight?"

"It's taken 9 months to find you. If it's not done and dusted by midnight tonight it all goes to the treasury. And that would be a travesty. "

"Well, what is it? What have I been left?"

"It's a large property, farm house, been empty for a few years now. It comes with approximately 45 acres of land including woodland, a lake and pasture. No cash, though. It could be very nice."

"Where is it?"

"About an hour east of here, just past the Langtons. It's pretty rural so a 4X4 in winter would help."

"Yeah, I know the area. Rural doesn't do it justice. Nice and quiet though."

"Yes," said Mr Walker, Mark Walker, "just the thing for an author like you."

"Oh, you've heard of me?" I ask, pleasantly surprised.

"Well, we did have to do quite a bit of research into you to make sure you are who we thought you were. But, alas, monster girl tentacle porn doesn't float my boat, as the youths would say."

Youths?!? You're 22, max! And ok, I write all kinds of things. From a user manual for a fridge to Japanese porn. Happy now? I gotta eat. So, back to the plot -

"Do I have to sign something before you give me the keys?" I enquired.

He leafed through the dossier looking for the relevant part.

"Ah, yes, here's my pen, please sign here, here, here and here. And here. Now, this is the address. I've been assured if entered correctly, all satnavs should get you there."

I'm soooo reassured by that.

"Your only issue is that it's in the will that you must visit the aforesaid property and phone us at the office before midnight for it to be finalized. Don't know why, some people's wills are very strange. Like, this one time, they'd specified ... ahem, that doesn't matter. What does is that you sign where indicated and visit and phone. Today. Before midnight. Today."

"So that's today?"

"Mr Turner, I don't think you're taking this seriously. The lot is worth £1,750,000. Of course, if you don't want that kind of money, I'll bid you good day."

"Just having some fun, I was led to believe you solicitors are a real crazy, fun loving bunch!"

"I think you've got entirely the wrong end of the stick, sir." Mark retorts.

"Then I apologize profusely" I say, you utter twat, I add in the privacy of my head.

I pulled the papers towards me and sign where he'd indicated.

"Right, Mr Turner, that seems to be in order. Here are the keys to the kingdom and my card for the obligatory phone call. I look forward to hearing from you."

I showed him out, shook his hand and said goodbye. Once back in the kitchen I had this urge to wash my hands. Solicitors just do that to me. Them and sewerage treatment workers. I fired up the old tablet and searched the address. 45 minute drive, piece of cake. I can be back in time for tea and crumpets. And speaking of crumpet, I'd better phone the wife and let her know. Olivia, my better (oh so much better) half of 10 years works in distribution. She tells lorries where to go and when. Me too. Frequently. I grab the house phone and call her. Fortunately it goes to voicemail. I leave a quick message saying I'm popping out but will be back later. I don't fancy trying to explain all of this over the phone, I'll do it later over a glass of something. As I put the phone back I spot the calendar. Something starts nagging me, but I've got my phone, tablet and laptop calendars all synced and up to send me the really important dates. It'd be the literal end of me off I got it wrong so I check, check and check again. No, I'm sure today's fine. Probably a library book needs returning. I walk round locking up and making sure I've got everything. Phone, wallet, keys, new keys, oh bollocks. I go back and get the new address.

Ok. Offski

I fire up the trusty land rover (14 years old, will go anywhere. Slowly) and set out. The sun's... up there, somewhere, birds are singing and I wish I'd brought sodding snacks. And coffee. To pass the time I sing a medley of Napalm Deaths greatest hits and watch soggy southern Leicestershire pass by. An hour later I almost miss the turning. It's a bit overgrown, passable though. Sod all traffic for at least a year or so. I turn off and slow right down. After 10 seconds I slow some more and wonder if the 'unsuitable for motor vehicles' sign has been knocked over. It'll need leveling and gravel at least. And any beer purchased will need to rest for a bit before opening. THUMP!! Ok, rest a lot. Pothole Central.

After a couple of miles of pain and spine jarring impacts, I round a wood and there it is.

3 story, Victorian (to my highly untrained eye anyway) at least. Roof looks ok. That's a good start. I pull up or front and get out. I look round. No signs of life, which is only to be expected. I pull out my phone, no bars. Also to be expected. If we move here we'll need to look into a signal booster or something. Smoke signals, probably. I walk up to the house, chuckling to myself (I'm so funny!!) and walk around it. Not much to see, a few out buildings to explore later and each window showed the same thing. Empty rooms. I head back to the front. Well, here goes. I pull out the keys and unlock the door. I give it a push. It opens easily, no creaks or groans. Gingerly, I step inside. Left and right are doors and infront are stairs going up.

BANG!!

I definitely don't scream but I do spin round.

My knees go weak and I sag like a puppet with the strings cut. Oh fuck me

Standing behind the door was... Well... It's huge! Orange eyes glare, massive fangs glisten, muscles ripple, hair shines, boobs heave,

Hang on, boobs? Oh crap, she's female. Definitely female. There's no way you could confuse it for a male, especially by touch. They're bigger than my head!

The beast, ok, werewolf. I'll say it, a fucking werewolf!! All massive and hairy and huge!! It seems to notice where I'm looking, tilts it's head and raises it's eyebrows. Then snarls and takes a step forward. The mighty spell of juggs is broken and I scramble up the stairs.

Shitshitshitshitshit!! I really don't want to die, not here, not now, there's shenanigans to partake in! I hear the pounding of paws the size of shields on the stairs behind me.

Oh fuck! 1st floor, turn left, 1st door. Bollocks it's locked! Quick, 2nd door. Locked!! I risk a look over my shoulder and it's gained the landing. It's watching me, flexing it's claws and snickering at my misfortune. The last door opens and I fling myself inside and slam the door. Almost instantly it disintegrates and I'm covered in splinters and chunks of door. I back up as it ducks into the room and the backs of my legs hit a bed. I gaze up into those orange eyes and gulp. (Yes, apparently people really do that) I'm not getting out of here in one piece. I'm still lost in those eyes as it pounces. And then...

I open my eyes to bright sunlight and pain. So much pain. I try to sit up but I ache everywhere. I try to speak but even that hurts! I take stock. I'm lying on my back in that room, the bed underneath me feels destroyed and a blanket covers my wrecked body.

I'm also very naked.

I'm trying to assess the damage I've sustained when a beautiful face appears above me, hair cascading towards me.

"Hey you!" She gushes "you're awake at last! Wow! Was last night good or what!?!!"

I try to respond but all I can manage is "aaaugwooghnuwm" Olivia helps me to sit up, causing new and exciting pain to tear me to pieces. My pelvis, especially, feels like its been replaced with shards of glass. Red hot glass. A straw slips between my lips and I suck the water down gratefully.

"What the fuck!?!" I croak.

"I KNOW RIGHT? I know our special date nights were getting stale so I thought this up. It took some planning and you fell for it!! And you screamed like a girl when I shut the front door!"

No, I certainly did not!! I want to say, I'm far too studdly and buff for that! I want to say but all my befuddled brain and damaged carcass can manage is "Blergmertinantal"

Olivia lifts a steaming bowl to my lips. "Drink this, it's granny's special brew. Passed down through generations to restore our men folk to prime condition. You'll be right as rain in an hour our so, all healed and ready for round two this evening. I'm thinking a 2 minute head start in the woods... I'll good get us some food, you'll need your strength! I love you my little pup!!" And with that she's gone.

I start getting flash backs from yesterday. I suppose there's no inheritance. Looks like I'll have to keep writing. Arse.

Well, yesterday was certainly new. Exciting (or terrifying. Or both together) it most definitely was.

I love my wife dearly, but our special monthly date nights really take it out of you. That's what you get for marrying a werewolf.