Harry was my grandpa and the head of the family, who was quite a character and gentleman. Harry had been a successful business owner. He always drove a Rolls-Royce, most of the time he had a chauffeur and my mum and Aunt Sal often spoke of the times they were driven and picked up from school in the Rolls-Royce. Aunt Sal had never married, and I was Harry's only grandchild.
Harry was now in his seventies and still dabbled in properties, but for the last ten years he was spending most of his time in a hotel he had bought thirty years ago and had transformed it into the best hotel in the area. Aunt Sal managed the day to day running of the hotel but Harry was there every day keeping his eye on things.
I lived with my mum and dad in the same town as Harry and Aunt Sal. On my bike, I was only three minutes away from the hotel and had worked there since I was eight, initially sorting bottles and keeping the cellars tidy, moving onto helping the housekeeping department, as there were over a hundred bedrooms in the hotel. As I got older, I was able to help in the bars, ballroom and restaurant. I was also very knowledgeable in the reception.
Growing up, those were the happiest days of my life, every day I was in the hotel, spending time with Harry. He taught me so many things about life and I treasured the time we spent together. Even with my school homework, Harry was excellent at maths, English, and Latin. Every year, my grades were high, and that was down to Harry.
I lived at home with mum and dad, dad had his own business, importing crockery, vases and many sorts of tableware. He was on the road a lot, buying and selling, so wasn't at home that often and if he was at home, the weekends were spent on the golf course. In my teens I got the feeling that Harry wasn't fond of dad, although he was polite when he saw him but no more.
Harry treated me like the son he didn't have. We would go to the football together and he taught me to swim in the Spa's pool at the hotel. The time we spent together was the best for me. Once, dad was busy and couldn't go on holiday with me and mum, Harry went with us and we had the best holiday imaginable. We were all so close, Harry, mum, Aunt Sal and me. There were times I felt dad wasn't part of the family and that was because he was never there.
It was coming up for the final exams of the year, the big ones, and my acceptance to university depended on how well I did in these exams. Harry was spending so much time with me, tutoring me and had even got access to the last three years' final exams on the Internet. I had done well in everyone. I had also passed my driving test and mum was letting me drive her VW Golf, which was great.
It was the middle of June, the house Harry and Aunt Sal shared was big and had a large garden. I had finished my first exam and felt confident. I went to the house but couldn't find Harry, which was strange, as Aunt Sal had told me he was in the house. I found him sitting on the hammock in the garden and got the biggest shock of my life, he was dead. My grandpa was gone. I immediately phoned Aunt Sal's mobile and asked her to come to the house as I got a blanket and covered Harry. I phoned mum next, who told me she'd be there in five minutes, I didn't tell her about Harry. Dr. Grant lived two houses away from Harry. I phoned him and explained everything; he told me he was on his way.
The doctor was the first to arrive; he confirmed Harry was dead and told me he'd been on medication for a weak heart. Aunt Sal arrived next, when she saw the doctor, she knew at once what had happened. Mum arrived a couple of minutes later, the doctor took all three of us into the garden to the hammock Harry was lying in. His words were so comforting. He asked, "May I suggest an undertaker?"
I replied, "The hotel has a lot of contact with all the undertakers in the town, Harry's favourite was Gibson and Co, we'll let them do it."
Dr. Grant then wrote the death certificate. I phoned Mr Gibson, and he was there personally ten minutes later. Everything then was so professionally done. I spoke with Mr Gibson, explaining that I was now sitting my final exams and could we look at my diary so I would be free when the service took place. They would bury Harry on Saturday morning at ten.
That night was tough, mum cooked for us all. We all stayed in Harry's house. The mood was sombre but realistic, mum and Aunt Sal were both so down. I had an exam the following morning; I was confident about it. Mum and Aunt Sal were both drinking wine. Mum had several times phoned dad to tell him about Harry, she had left several messages. I was in the kitchen and heard mum's phone ring.
I got the wine and stood outside the lounge, I heard mum say, "Does that mean you will not be at my father's funeral?"
I couldn't hear the reply but mum said, "You are a waste of space. I don't care if I never see you again."
She came off her phone, she sounded angry and said, "The bastard is in London at the weekend, probably with one of his bitches, I've been the most loyal wife to him but I can't take anymore. Dad had no time for him, he put up with him for my sake. Look how Jack has reacted today, he's done everything, and he's only eighteen."
"Jill, keep it quiet, Jack's in the kitchen, it's better he doesn't know about your problems with that asshole. I'm not surprised, he only thinks of himself."
They went quiet; I waited a minute, then went into the lounge with their wine. The anger on mum and Aunt Sal's faces was obvious, I had often heard dad and mum have arguments, but this was the first time I'd heard mum speak like this.
For the next few days, I was going for my exams and trying to help mum and Aunt Sal around Harry's house. We were all helping each other. I was happy with all the exam papers I had sat; I thought of the hours Harry had spent with me. I knew I would pass as Harry had drilled all the important things into me.
The funeral was a sad occasion, so many people from all walks of life came to pay their respects. There was a lunch served in the hotel with over four hundred people attending. Mum, Aunt Sal, and I were all kept busy. I overheard Aunt Sal say to mum, "I'm glad he's not here, he'd be prancing around here looking for fresh pussy."
I couldn't believe my ears when I heard Aunt Sal say this, it made me think about what was going on between mum and dad. Harry had said nothing directly to me about dad but for years I had sensed dad and Harry had a strained relationship. I also knew that Aunt Sal wasn't a fan of dad either. She would speak to him, but that was it. Mum had said to me a couple of days ago, "Jack, your dad is at a Congress in London, it's on over the weekend and sadly he can't make it to the funeral."
Mum was four years older than Aunt Sal; mum would be fifty on her next birthday. They were very close, when they were younger, they were both into horses and won many events and competitions. They competed against each other, which gave them both a very competitive spirit.
Both were very attractive women, tall and voluptuous and I often wondered why Aunt Sal had never married. Mum had said that she had lost a lung when she was in her twenties and was living on only one lung and she didn't want to marry, which was a waste as both of them were gorgeous looking women.