When my Uncle George was killed in a mysterious road accident, I was devastated. It would seem that as he had been coming over to pick me up for a football match, his BMW failed to take a tight bend on the hilly road from their house and went over the cliff edge. The car had exploded on impact and his remains consumed by the ensuing holocaust, there was nothing left to recover and the verdict had been accidental death.
He was more like a father to me than my own Dad, his brother, was. It wasn’t Dad’s fault that he had to spend so much time away from home, it was his job and I had grown up with the fact that he couldn’t be there when I was playing football or learning to ride a bike, or doing any of the other things that Dads normally do with their sons. Uncle George did though and as he and Aunt Marjory never had kids, he spent all the time he could with me and over the years, she grew to resent this. It wasn’t until after his untimely death that I found out just how much she hated me.
BODY:
“Carol, how that useless son of yours could be a part of our family is beyond me, he does nothing but play sport and hang around in the gym with his equally obnoxious, lay about friends. I cannot, for the life of me, see why George took such a liking to him” She said one dinner time, during one of her frequent visits to our house. Mum looked a bit embarrassed at her sister-in-law’s venomous outburst and replied,
“Madge, you know George enjoyed his sport and loved Gordon’s involvement, if Bob had more time off work, he would be just the same, wouldn’t you love?” Dad managed to take his head out of the paper long enough to grunt a reply,
“Of course I would, but some of us don’t have the luck that George had with his wheeling and dealing, or I might have been able to only work three days a week like he did.” I actually think that Dad was jealous of his older brother’s success with the stock market and possibly even the rapport that Uncle George and I had had betwee... Læs hele novellen
