Collette Bonnar's Short Stories: Miriam’s Folly

“Well, that’s poor Aunt Vera gone,” Cormac sighed as they left the local hospital.

“Once she slipped into the coma, it was only a matter of time,” Kay murmured sadly.

“We’ll call back to the house and see what needs doing for the wake,” Barbara suggested.

“There shouldn’t be that much to be done. Tilly keeps it spick and span.” Kay remarked, referring to their aunt’s cleaning lady.

The three siblings then drove to Aunt Vera’s large rambling house at the other side of the village. Arriving into the still, silent house, Cormac shivered. “This place is freezing, let’s get the fires going.”

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“Good idea. Meanwhile, I’ll put the central heating on,” Barbara bustled off to the kitchen. Cormac and his two sisters had been very close to their aunt and had visited her regularly. She indicated to them on more than one occasion that eventually, Barbara, Kay, and Cormac, would be her main beneficiaries. Their only other cousin, Miriam, lived down south and was married to a wealthy businessman.

“That’s about everything shipshape, let’s make some tea,” Barbara said after they’d prepared the house for the following day.

They’d just settled at the kitchen table when the incessant ringing of the doorbell startled them.

“Who could that be?” Barbara frowned as she went to answer it.

“Oh, Miriam it’s yourself,” Barbara briefly hugged her glamorous cousin and stood back to let her in. “You’ve travelled a long distance; I’m afraid, poor Aunt Vera…”

“I know.” Miriam replied curtly as she swept in. She was closely followed by her arrogant husband.

“We were going to phone you but it was getting late,” Kay stammered.

“There was no need, when you called five days ago, we travelled up and booked into the White Swan Hotel. You made it sound like she wouldn’t last the night. I didn’t actually visit her; it would have been too…” She took out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at what might have been a tear at the corner of her eye. “Well, I see you’ve all done and ready for the wake.” Glancing around, she continued snootily. “I don’t believe in such things myself, but I suppose it’s what the old dear would have wanted.”

Her eyes darted around as she inspected each room. “The sooner all this is out of the way, the sooner we can get on with our lives,” she declared callously. Her pompous husband nodded in agreement. “These should fetch quite a bit at the auction,” Miriam declared tactlessly, as she fingered the furniture and Aunt Vera’s treasured possessions.

Her cousins were flabbergasted. Her last known visit to Aunt Vera was three years ago. It was all very cloak and dagger but a friend of the family had spotted Miriam and their aunt in the bank, being ushered into the manager’s office.

The wake house was packed when Miriam and her husband, Ron, arrived the following evening. In the short time they stayed, Miriam managed to put on a great show of grief by the side of the coffin.

At the funeral the next day, Miriam turned up in a black designer suit which was set off with a large black hat. She was playing the part of the grief-stricken niece to a tee.

During the funeral lunch both Miriam and her husband kept glancing at their watches. They sighed in relief when the solicitor finally summonsed the family to a private room in the hotel to read the will. True to her word, Aunt Vera had left her house and contents to Kay and Barbara. Cormac inherited the farm.

“This is preposterous,” Miriam fumed, her face contorted with rage. “You both have homes. The whole lot should be going to auction.”

Mr Black, the solicitor, looked over his-half moon glasses and declared, “I have to reiterate, this is the last Will and Testament of Miss Vera O’Reilly and her wishes have to be adhered to.” He proceeded to read on. ‘After my just debts and funeral expenses are paid, I bequeath the sum of €50,000 to each of the following; Barbara Ryan, Kay Flynn, Miriam Prendergast, and my nephew Cormac O’Reilly. I bequeath the residue of my estate to the foreign missions.”’

Kay, Barbara, and Cormac looked at each other, unable to believe their aunt’s generosity.

“Ron, we’re leaving,” Miriam fumed as they stormed out and slammed the door. 

The solicitor watched her retreating back and muttered. “It’s regrettable she has chosen to leave, I hadn’t finished.” He cleared his throat. “There appears to be a problem. I telephoned the bank this morning to request the closing balances on your aunt’s accounts. They advise me that there’s just about enough money left to cover the funeral bill.”

There were gasps of shock from Cormac and his two sisters. They’d been aware that Aunt Vera was quite wealthy and they couldn’t understand where her money had gone. Observing their shocked faces, the solicitor folded his glasses and spoke slowly.

“There is something not right here. I’ll revert to you when I speak to the bank manager.” The following day, the solicitor contacted the three siblings and requested a meeting.

“It appears Miriam Prendergast visited the bank on the eve of your aunt’s funeral and withdrew almost all of the money.” Mr Black told them when they called to his office.

The three sat in stunned silence as the solicitor continued; “Apparently, she had authority to sign on behalf of your aunt. When I questioned that, they informed me that this was arranged three years ago on one of Miriam’s visits to her aunt. When she called to the bank on the day before the funeral, she informed them that her aunt was worried about the security of her savings, claiming that she was nervous ever since some of the banks went bust. Miriam was issued with a bank draft for €200,000. Unfortunately, the bank staff were not aware that their customer, Vera O’Reilly had been deceased for 24 hours when the transaction took place.”

“Why on earth would she have done that?” Barbara asked, horrified.

“I can only presume she was under the impression that she was due to inherit the entire fortune. She may have wanted to avoid inheritance tax,” the solicitor surmised.

“Does this mean Miriam has made off with our cash inheritance?” An astounded Cormac asked.

“Yes, it does. Technically it does… but,” the solicitor smiled. “You’ll be pleased to know the bank won’t be honouring the clearance of the bank draft. What Miriam Prendergast did, was a serious crime. Instead of withdrawing the money, she should have instructed the bank to freeze the funds. It’s up to yourselves to decide whether you want to prosecute. However, there may be a more prudent way to deal with this…”

As Cormac and the two women sat in Aunt Vera’s kitchen that evening they were still reeling with shock. They were stunned that their cousin could have been so devious and dishonest.

“Well, one thing is certain, Aunt Vera would not have wanted us to prosecute,” Cormac declared.

Barbara smiled as she said; “You’re right, but I rather like the solicitor’s suggestion as to how we could agree to let her off the hook.”

Cormac and Kay nodded in agreement. A few days later, Kay and Barbara were visiting their brother when the phone rang.

“That was the solicitor,” he told them when he returned to the kitchen. “He’s been in touch with Miriam. She knows she has no choice but to agree to our proposal.  In return for us not pressing charges, she will donate her share of the inheritance to the restoration fund for the graveyard where Aunt Vera is buried.”