The Will

The Will

The street lights shone on the treetops. The trees swayed in the wind, settled to still, then shook and shivered, and then the treetops trembled when the breeze blew softly and the wind wound up again to a wild, lashing power. Darkness hid the rest of the trees, and the light lit only the treetops and the power lines, the round shape of the light fractured by the shapes of the windblown leaves and smaller branches.

Ebony sat in her car, in the dark, waiting for the wind and rain to abate. She had an appointment with her lawyer at 6.30 p.m. Fortunately, he had waited for her after work.

Ebony worked in a jeweller’s shop and had not been able to take time off. She was a cleaner and worked from 4.30 to 6 p.m. every day. She loved her work there as she delighted in seeing the cabinets of diamond, zircon, gold, silver, and platinum necklaces and bracelets and brooches. The more-expensive items were locked away after business hours.

Ebony was an old-age pensioner and widowed. It had been very difficult rebuilding a single life, and tonight she was going to write a new will. She worked only the required hours for her to receive the maximum wage she was allowed to get before she lost any of her Centrelink payment. She had little actual money to leave, but her husband’s death had made her aware that a will is necessary for everybody.

Snatching a break in the rain, she locked her car and raced up to the lawyer’s front door. What a lovely setting, she sighed. She loved the trees and also this little old cottage where Mr Silberstein worked. The porch light shone pale in the night, and the inside light shone brightly through the stained-glass window above the front door, matched by the two panels on the door itself. The windows had large red roses with green winding stems and leaves. She pressed the old-fashioned doorbell, and the door was opened by Mr Silberstein himself.

He was a gracious grey-haired gentleman, and she a demure lady in green and grey. They shook hands, and Mr Silberstein ushered her into his office. She glanced around and saw the modern candle-shaped fluorescent light bulbs in an ancient chandelier hanging down from a night ceiling with raised patterns of apricots, figs, and vines. The office walls were a soft cream, and there were a jarrah bookcase and jarrah chairs, a large roll-top desk, a maroon lounge suite to the side, and a patterned Persian carpet to match.

‘Good evening, Mrs Corbett,’ said the solicitor. ‘My name is Frank Silberstein.’

‘Good evening, Mr Silberstein. Thank you for waiting for me. Isn’t the weather foul!’

‘Come and sit down. Here, take a chair.’ And they sat on the jarrah chairs alongside the desk. ‘Coffee?’ he asked. ‘Or tea?’

‘White coffee, please. One sugar, if it’s no bother.’

He pressed an intercom button, ordered the coffees, and they arrived two minutes later.

‘Well, Mrs Corbett, I understand you wish to write your will.’

‘Yes, please, and power of attorney and guardianship.’

‘Let’s take those first. Whom will you nominate? I believe you have three children. Would it be one or all of them?’

‘Oh no, thank you. My nephew William Johnson.’

‘All right. His address please?’

‘It’s 6/33 Alba St, Lewisham East.’

‘Certainly. And how old is Mr Johnson please?’

‘He is thirty-three and in good health. I am sure he will outlive me, and he is an accountant and very sensible. And he lives in a suburb not too far from Marrickville.’

‘Certainly. That’s all very simple. I can email the paperwork to you, and you can print it out and have it signed or bring it back here. We have a gentleman who can witness it. He charges $50. It is, of course, cheaper if you do it yourself. These two pieces of paperwork cost $130 and $140, a total of $270.

‘And now, your will. I believe Jordan is the eldest of your children, and he is married with two children—boys, I believe. Now what is the name of your second son? I only remember Jordan and Carol.’

‘My second child is Ian, and he is not married. He lives with his partner, and they are both career people and have no intention of having a family.

‘Carol, on the other hand, has six children—four boys and two girls. Her husband died last year, and the children are in their late teens and twenties. Carol is well provided for by her husband’s life insurance.’

‘And I suppose your children—’

‘No, Mr Silberstein. I give my children any help I can while I am alive. I have made sure that they are all settled in their own homes, and I told them their homes are their inheritance from me.’

‘Certainly, Mrs Corbett, let me take a list of your remaining assets. And could you please outline the distribution?’

‘Well, that’s easy. Everything goes to my young neighbour Terry.’

‘Certainly, I see Terry is very important to you.’

‘Yes. Now let me list the assets. My house is worth $1.5 million, plus all the antiques inside. The Mercedes is old now and worth only $45,000, and the BMW about the same value.’

Mr Silberstein must have looked surprised, but Mrs Corbett did not notice and ploughed on.

‘I have jewellery worth about $20,000 and some investments with Brewers and, last of all, my two chihuahuas. Everything is in a trust, so it doesn’t affect my pension.’

‘Certainly, Mrs Corbett. And all this to your neighbour Terry?’

‘Yes, please.’

Mr Silberstein wrote hurriedly until he had listed everything, then sat back, somewhat mystified.

‘Ah, I can see the question in your eyes, Mr Silberstein. Let me tell you a story.

‘Jordan was born in the sixties, Ian was born two years later, and then Carol two years after that. They all went to private schools, and I’ve given each of them a house and a car and enough money to get established.

‘Their father died seven years ago and left each of them a decent amount. Jordan has travelled the world, more so than the other two. Ian is homosexual—not that I hold that against him—and Carol married an orthopaedic surgeon. They all live very comfortably.

‘Now, Terry, mind you, is a hard-working lad and very honest. He works very long hours and is completely trustworthy. He also breeds chihuahuas and gave me Sterling and Rhea. He will take good care of them.

‘And Terry is the most wonderful lover and a splendid manager of my big chain of brothels. He deserves everything.’