The Will of Brutus

The sun streamed through the huge windows, lighting up the ornate Victorian-style room. An unlit fireplace dominated the far wall. A large sofa sat opposite it, occupied by three figures. In the middle was a blonde woman, plain and unremarkable, wearing jeans and a T-shirt. To her right sat a greying man with a frown cutting across his face; he wore casual clothes that seemed old and outdated. To the woman’s left sat another man, also in jeans and a red chequered shirt.

On the other side of the room were two armchairs — one empty, and in the other sat a younger man in a smart business suit. They all shared a family resemblance, though this younger man had clearly been far more prosperous than the others.

The young man ran his fingers through his short brown hair, then, with an air of confidence, he addressed the others. “Well, we really shouldn’t wait until someone dies to meet up in future. It would be lovely to see more of you.”

“Look, let’s not make this a big family reunion,” said the woman. “I, for one, am just here to see what Dad left me in his will. Dying was the first generous thing he did.”

“He was a great man, Claire,” the young man returned, his voice growing stern. “He taught me everything I know about business, and without him I’d be half the man I am today. I miss him; he was funny. You just didn’t put in the effort to see it after Mum died.”

The greying man yawned. “Yes, yes. We were all too lazy to start a business other than you, but don’t dress him up as some sort of saint. He wanted nothing to do with us because we didn’t want to run a business. Why are you even here, Jack? You don’t need his money.”

Jack’s eyes grew sad. “I told you. I miss him. I hope he’s left me something to remember him by. That’s all I want. Not like you vultures. I’m not here for money like you, Andrew — and you two. I hope he’s left it all to charity. And when I say charity, I don’t mean you, Fred.”

Fred looked up at the sound of his name. “What’s that?”

“He says you’re just here for Dad’s money,” Claire informed him.

“Too right I am. I’ve got debts coming out of my arse,” said Fred without a shred of emotion. “I need this money.”

“Charming.” Jack dismissed Fred’s problems with a flick of his hand, just as the door at the back of the room crashed open. A man in a smart suit entered, carrying a briefcase in one hand and a chihuahua in the other. All eyes were immediately drawn to his waist, where he wore a frilly pink tutu.

He walked to the empty chair and set down the chihuahua before making his way to stand in front of the fireplace. He opened the briefcase and rummaged through it for a moment before withdrawing a few sheets of paper.

“Brutus!” Jack exclaimed, spotting the chihuahua in the chair next to him. “Who’s a good boy?”

“Erm, mister? Why are you wearing a pink tutu?” asked Claire, a puzzled look on her face.

The man straightened up and tried to look as professional as possible. “It was one of the conditions in your father’s will.”

Jack smiled and let out a short laugh. “I told you he had a sense of humour.”

The others, however, looked on with stony faces.

The solicitor shuffled through his papers for a moment. “I am Mr Clemmy, your father’s solicitor. It is with great sadness that I stand before you after the passing of such a great man.”

“What? Are you kidding?” Fred spat.

“I am just reading what your father told me to say,” said Mr Clemmy calmly. “Please let me continue. If you interrupt every sentence, we could be here a while.”

“Yeah, shut up, Fred,” Claire jibed.

Mr Clemmy shuffled the papers again. “Right, where was I? Ah yes — the passing of such a great man. My wealth and estate will be left till last, as first I have something small for each of you. To Jack, of whom I am so proud, I leave my pocket watch for you to remember me by. Let it be a symbol of the times we shared. Also, I leave to you my beautiful boy Brutus, as I know you will take the best care of him.”

Jack smiled as Mr Clemmy retrieved a pocket watch from the briefcase and handed it to him.

“All right, enough of him. What about us?” cried Fred.

“To my firstborn son, Andrew, I leave my tool set,” Mr Clemmy continued, “as it’s about time you learnt to do some DIY yourself.”

“To my youngest boy, Fred, I have left dishes in the sink to be washed. You’ve never lifted a finger to help before, so now’s your chance.”

Both Fred and Andrew’s mouths dropped open, while a grin spread across Jack’s face and Claire outright burst into laughter.

Mr Clemmy continued in his monotone voice, “And to my darling Claire, I remember you looking at this in admiration and delight. I leave you my grandfather's cock.” He stared at the page for a moment, then looked up. “I think that might have been a typo.”

“Well, of course it is,” Claire snapped. “He means the grandfather clock in the hall.”

The other three now sniggered at Claire’s expense, causing her to grow angry. “Can we just get to the money part, please?”

Now with a slight smile, Mr Clemmy continued. “I hope you are all happy with what I have given you, but now on to the bit I know you’ve all been waiting for. My fortune and estate will be split between the two of you I am most proud of.”

“The two he’s most proud of? Well, no guesses who the first one is — but who’s the other?” Claire shouted in excitement.

“Why only two?” Andrew asked.

“I don’t know your father’s mind, but please just let me finish,” Mr Clemmy pleaded. “Firstly, to Jack, I leave half my fortune and estate to the charity of your choosing, as you do not need the money.”

Claire laughed openly. “Well, unlucky Jack — looks like you’re not getting anything after all.”

“I got what I wanted in the pocket watch. Me and Dad discussed this, and I told him to donate it,” Jack smiled.

“Well, who gets the other half?” Fred shouted in desperation.

Mr Clemmy cleared his throat. “And the other half, I leave to Brutus, my beautiful boy. He has given me more joy and loyalty than the rest of my children.”

Jack laughed openly as Claire stared at Mr Clemmy. Fred fell to his knees with his head in his hands.

“You must have missed something!” Andrew shouted. “Here, give it to me so I can read it.”

Mr Clemmy calmly removed the tutu and threw it to Andrew.

“What’s this for?” Andrew snapped.

“Well, the will quite clearly states that anyone who wishes to read it must wear a pink tutu.”

“What? Are you kidding?”

Mr Clemmy stared at Andrew unmoving. Andrew stared at him for a moment before he stood up and stormed out of the room.

“Well, at least I got the grandfather clock. That must be worth something,” Claire said with a sigh.

“Err, well, actually…” Mr Clemmy cleared his throat and looked at Claire. “Typo or not, I am legally obliged to present the item as written. If you want the clock, you’ll have to wait for Brutus to pass away and buy it at auction.”

Brutus tilted his head as if wondering what all the fuss was about.

Claire stared, open-mouthed, at Brutus before turning and storming out of the room after Andrew.

"Same time next death," Jack said behind her with a smile.

Brutus yawned and curled up on his armchair.