Pictures on the Wall

By Sheila Newton

This is a true story about a young woman who arrived into the UK as an Asylum Seeker. She dreamt of the new beginning she and her family were going to enjoy, there were so many things that she had heard; her disabled husband would get the treatment he so badly needed for the injuries he had suffered from the war in their country. Her son would receive the education that would enable him to have the future that she had wanted for him.
Her dreams were soon to be shattered and her life was almost destroyed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Oct 28, 2019
• ISBN: 9781984591548

Sheila Newton

Sheila was born in the East End of London, grew up with her three brothers and one sister. She had a happy normal childhood with two loving parents. Married and pregnant at the age of 17; her life changed when her son died at the age of one week. She went on to have another son, her marriage ended shortly after and she struggled as a single parent for many years. Her life experiences made her more aware of the hardships that many face and she found writing her books a way putting into words what she was feeling inside and closure.

Book preview

Copyright © 2019 by Sheila Newton.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 08/29/2019

Xlibris

800-056-3182

www.Xlibrispublishing.co.uk

802116

CONTENTS

Prologue

Synopsis

Introduction

Chapter 1 Time To Reflect

Chapter 2 Helpless

Chapter 3 Loose Ends

Chapter 4 Mehry’s Story

Chapter 5 Baby Blues

Chapter 6 Medication Dulls The Pain

Chapter 7 More Lies

Chapter 8 Abandoned

Chapter 9 Forever Hopeful

Chapter 10 More Regrets

Chapter 11 On My Own

Chapter 12 Two Years Too Late

Chapter 13 No Way Back

Chapter 14 Forgotten

Chapter 15 A Ray Of Sunshine

Chapter 16 Freedom

Chapter 17 More Goodbyes

Chapter 18 Statements And Opinions

Chapter 19 Reaction To A Crisis

Chapter 20 Giving Up

Chapter 21 Vulnerable

Chapter 22 Adoption Plans

Chapter 23 More Opinions

Chapter 24 Management Plan

Chapter 25 A Little Too Late

Chapter 26 Here We Go Again

Chapter 27 Goodbye

Chapter 28 And So It Continues

Chapter 29 Expert Opinions

Chapter 30 Well Done

Chapter 31 Unintended Consequences

PROLOGUE

Mehry had lived in a war torn country for 30 years of her life, always fearful. I say lived, maybe survived would be a more appropriate description. When the chance came to seek asylum in England, she grasped the opportunity with both hands, a chance for her to live a normal life and for her son to have a future.

When she arrived with her son and husband, she was taken along with all the other asylum seekers to a camp, which was set up with interpreters and for the next year they would be educated on how to fit into their new surroundings, which meant that they would be given lessons on basic English, to enable them to communicate with their new neighbours and to know what behaviour is acceptable.

This was all completely new to Mehry, having spent her life being ordered about by firstly her parents and then her husbands, which were never her choice, she had received no schooling in her Country, all she knew was to do as she had been told, her role in life was to care for others, she wasn’t allowed to make decisions for herself and had never been in control of her own life.

She couldn’t believe how different it was in England. Here she would be equal to everyone else, she wasn’t expected to be a slave to others, for the first time in her life she had a voice, and she quickly settled into her new way of living. There were people that she could go to for advice and after living in the Refugee camp for one year, she was now able to read, write and understand basic English; She was ready to start her new life.

Mehry was found housing and her disabled husband received the medical help he required. The area in which they were housed had a drop-in centre, where there were people that could help with any problems they had, in respect of living a normal life. Her young son was found a place in the local nursery and she quickly found for the first time in her life she was accepted as the caring person she was.

Sounds too good to be true; unfortunately it is!!

SYNOPSIS

This story is completely true, yet unbelievable. Names have been changed; simply to protect the person concerned; who, I feel has been the victim throughout the story. I have had legal advice that by revealing the true identity of this person could cause her further problems, simply because she is still on license and for some unknown reason she is not allowed to share documents with a third party.

On reading several statements made by professional people I feel that for this to be allowed to be buried away and forgotten would be wrong. Nothing I write can change what has already happened and for this lady the damage has already been done and nothing can correct what she has suffered.

There will always be people that will judge and say there is no smoke without fire; but when you see how the actions of these people destroyed this young woman’s happiness, it makes you want to shout from the rooftops ‘injustice.’ I really feel that she is owed something, even if it is only the freedom to actually have a voice and be heard, rather than live the rest of her life being punished and judged by previous mistakes, rather than helped.

As you will see, I was rather judgemental at the beginning of this story, simply because what was unfolding before my eyes was totally unbelievable. I now know it was the truth, unfortunately, there are parts that I am unable to prove, without involving solicitors and going through the legal system, which financially I am not in the position to do and from what I have learned over the last few years, there are many people that have suffered at the hands of others that just wanted a quick result, rather than have to spend time trying to help the victim, which would have involved having to go against management.

INTRODUCTION

I have lived my life trying to be as honest as possible; I see no point in saying something that I don’t mean. I’ve lost count of the amount of times I have sat and listened to people talking badly about someone and then when they see the person that they had previously been talking about you would think they were best friends. I was brought up to believe that if you have nothing nice to say then you should say nothing. If however someone asks my opinion about something I attempt to be as honest as possible. Not everyone will agree with my opinion and there have been occasions that I have changed my opinion following discussions. However, I have found that many people find it easier to just agree with others, rather than stand up and face criticism from others, unfortunately there are times that by doing this they are causing a great injustice to someone. When in a position of authority where you can change the course of someone’s life, you should always be prepared to listen and ensure you have received correct information before making a judgement. I have worked with people in authority and sadly I have found on several occasions that they have been unprepared to listen to anyone that questions their actions or decisions.

CHAPTER ONE

Time To Reflect

Having spent a couple of months feeling totally isolated, due to my partner being seriously ill, I began to think about how lonely I was and how it hurt to think that no one was concerned. My thoughts went to when my Mum was alive, I rang her three times every day, I visited every week, sometimes a couple of times a week; I would spend the weekend with her. Not because I had to, but because I loved her, she was always on my mind. Fortunately, I had a partner that didn’t complain and made it possible for me to do this. Then I thought about my eldest brother, He had moved away, admittedly not a million miles away, but as I don’t drive, it would have been difficult to get to see him and return home in one day, yes; I know, that sounds like an excuse, but there were other things going on, my partner, my son and his partner, my grandchildren as well as my mother. As I sat there thinking of all the reasons for my failures, so many came to mind, work, health etc; However; there was always the phone, a quick call to let them know that you had thought of them, but I didn’t, I guess I did the same as so many, ‘I must ring this one or that one, it’s a bit late now, I’ll do it tomorrow, and as we all know, tomorrow never comes.

I was feeling very sorry for myself, having not seen or heard from anyone for over a month, other than a daily phone call from my son or his partner and a handful of friends, whilst nursing my partner, I cried so many times, feeling totally alone. Then rather than phone them, I began to resent them. I didn’t consider that maybe they had problems going on in their lives; my thoughts were purely about how I felt.

For many years I had often thought that I would like to write a book, but again with the pressure of everyday life, there never seemed to be the time. I realised that rather than sitting feeling sorry for myself; waiting for other people to ease my pain, this was the best time to begin. As I began writing, the pain began to ease; I recalled my childhood, which made me smile. I recalled the pain of losing my first child, the tears fell freely. I began to feel better. Putting these feelings into words eased the pain that I had held inside for many years.

I decided that I would phone the people that had mattered to me throughout my life. As Christmas approached, I contacted my eldest brother John; he lived alone and I began to wonder how he would be spending his Christmas, especially as our brother Joseph had moved and no longer lived close to him.

I had been annoyed with John several times whilst Mum had been with us; I would have to constantly phone him to remind him that Mum would love to hear from him, he very rarely visited, but then again like me, he didn’t drive and his health wasn’t so good. He had a way about him that could annoy, I suppose it had always been a little like this, but we all accepted that was the way he was. Although after Mum had passed away and her estate was settled, I had been both hurt and surprised when I was informed by the Solicitor dealing with Mum’s finances that he had been constantly phoning her to find out when he would receive his money. Once again, Money seemed to be the only thing that mattered. I had also been a little surprised, because I felt that he wasn’t hard up, he had no children, although he had been married twice, sadly both of his wives had died and shortly after the loss of his second wife he had sold his house and bought a mobile home and seemed quite comfortable, he was what we described as ‘tight with his money’. As a child he could actually open a sweet in his pocket and pop it in his mouth without anyone knowing he had sweets. On the other hand, he would always expect a share of anyone else’s sweets.

However it hurt to believe that he would do this, I was annoyed with him and rather than contact him to ask why he was so desperate to have the money, I purely put it down to greed and got on with my own life.

It was as I was sitting feeling very sorry for myself, that I began to think about how he may have felt over the years, he had experienced several very upsetting things during his life and although we all expressed sympathy for him at the time, we did very little to show him that we actually cared.

It was then that I decided to call him, mainly because I was feeling guilty; too much time had passed without contact.

I was taken aback when the phone was answered by a woman. I asked to speak to my brother and she asked who was calling. I told her that I was his sister and I was even more surprised when I heard her call to him; Dad, your sister is on the phone.

As he took the phone, I couldn’t hold back my surprise, Dad? What on earth is she talking about, who is she? Oh she is Mehry my step daughter. What on earth are you talking about, you have no children? Oh, I’ll put you back to Mehry, she will explain. There was a pause and suddenly she was back on the phone, I could hear that she was foreign and I was finding it difficult to understand what she was saying, but I managed to gather that she was telling me that my brother was looking after her and that she was looking after him. She said that he was like the father she had never had, but because of her age, they had decided that it was easier to say that she was his step daughter, as he was stopping at her in her flat in Birmingham.

My mind was running riot, how old was she? What on earth had he gotten himself involved in? Is she the reason he had been chasing Mum’s money, was she robbing him blind. The silly fool!

She had handed the phone back to him and I asked; Are you ok? his response was that Mehry was looking after him and he was happy. Did I have the right to tell him how to live his life? He was telling me that she was looking after him. Could I say I was looking after him? No I couldn’t, I hadn’t really spoken to him properly for over a year.

Before I ended the call, I wrote down Mehry’s address, I also asked about his Mobile Home and he said that he would be going back after Christmas. I said that I would call again soon and he thanked me for calling.

Although I still had misgivings about what he was getting himself involved in, I decided that I would make sure I kept in contact with him to ensure he was safe and to also give myself peace of mind.

I posted off a Christmas card and included Mehry in my good wishes. If I am honest, this was mainly because I thought it best to be friendly with her rather than make an enemy and lose contact with my brother. Mehry sent me a message thanking me for the card and good wishes, I felt a twinge of guilt, I didn’t want to judge her without really knowing her, but the doubt was still there.

I next rang him on New Year’s Evening to wish him a Happy New Year, I got no answer. Then in the early hours of the morning, my phone woke me. It was him. He sounded happy, and wished us a Happy New Year. As I got on with writing my book and looking after my partner, things began to get better, he was gradually improving and I was enjoying writing, I felt as though I was achieving something and to be honest, I was feeling quite proud of myself.

At the end of January, I again rang my brother, it was his birthday. I again got no answer and was expecting another late night call back, but it was a couple of hours later that he called me.

He explained that Mehry had been out with her boyfriend and he wasn’t sure how to use his mobile phone, so he had waited for her to come home to call me back. I again spoke to Mehry, who once again told me that she was looking after him and that she had given him a ‘nice bath.’ Part of me felt shocked, but it was said with such innocence that I did smile. We said goodnight and I promised to call again.

A few weeks later I called him again, he was still living with Mehry and didn’t know when he would be going back to his own home. He told me that although he had originally been sleeping in the bedroom at Mehry’s one bedroom flat, whilst she slept on the sofa, her boyfriend had now moved in and he was now sleeping on the sofa in the front room. I again felt concerned, but he reassured me that he was comfortable with the situation.

Over the next month or two I managed to self publish my books and although I knew that I was hardly going to become famous, I was flattered when friends congratulated me on my achievement.

Eventually my partner’s condition became stable and I was able to return to work, life pretty much returned to normal.

In the May, I telephoned my brother again and was upset to learn that he had been admitted into hospital two days prior to my call. Mehry told me that he had been having breathing difficulties and had gone to the hospital and they had immediately admitted him and placed him on Oxygen. This had been two days ago, I was upset that she hadn’t let me know. I telephoned the Hospital and was told that his condition was stable.

Mehry rang me later that day from the Hospital, she was with John and had taken a phone in for him to use, she gave me the number and we agreed to keep in touch.

I shared this information with my family and was pleased when my younger brother Stephen, offered to take both myself and my sister Susan to Birmingham to see him.

A few days later, when we set off on our journey, I felt that it would be better to not let Mehry know that we were visiting, I wanted a chance to see him without her being there; I suppose I felt that we would be able to get more information from him without her presence. He had also told me over the phone that Mehry usually visited in the afternoons, so I assumed that she would likely arrive before we left and we would then get a chance to sum up the situation better.

After travelling for a few hours we arrived at the Hospital, as we walked onto the ward, his face was a picture when he saw us, he looked at us in disbelieve, and it was obvious that he was pleased to see us standing there. He looked older and his breathing was obviously laboured, he was wearing an Oxygen mask, which he had to use constantly.

We sat talking with him for a few hours and I immediately felt relieved that I hadn’t let Mehry know that we were visiting. He spoke openly about the situation, which both worried and shocked us.

He told us that he had sold his home and had received only three thousand pounds for it, even though it had cost him twenty seven thousand pounds. His reason being that it was in need of a great deal of repair because he hadn’t been able to maintain it for the last few years. My younger brother asked him if he still had the money, he immediately said it was in his bank. Although he also told us that the forty five thousand pounds that he had received from the sale of Mum’s house two years ago was gone. He went on to tell us that he had his bank card with him in the hospital. He had told the Hospital he was homeless, as Mehry wasn’t really allowed to have him staying at her flat. He also said that he had bought himself a mobility scooter, but was now finding it difficult to get in and out of her flat because the stairs were too much for him to manage.

We questioned him about Mehry and were surprised at what he told us. When I asked how she had obtained a flat in Birmingham he explained that she was on Probation, I asked why and his response had us further concerned. She was a naughty girl and has been in prison for ten years for arson.

My thoughts immediately went into overdrive, Ten years for arson? She must have killed someone. Had she been supposedly looking after someone and when the money ran out, she killed them. My imagination was running riot. I went off to speak to the Sister in Charge and told her of our concerns.

As I told her what we knew I could see the shock in her face, she was also concerned with regards to his safety and reassured me that she would speak with the Social Services Department and get the Safe Guarding Team involved. They would hopefully be able to get him into a Care Home or Warden Controlled Apartment.

When I returned to his bedside, I asked him if he wanted to move back to London and he insisted that he wanted to remain in Birmingham near to Mehry. He informed us that Mehry was not visiting that day and so when we later made a move to leave, we were still none the wiser as to what she was really like. I think we all had our own suspicions and we all felt apprehensive about leaving him there. However, he was seventy one years old and had his own mind.

On the journey home my mobile phone rang and it was Mehry, she sounded genuinely hurt that I had not told her that we were visiting and I felt a sense of guilt. I had once again judged her without knowing the whole story. I know that money is an important factor in life, but not more important than your happiness and health; but to know that he only had three thousand pounds in his account, when only two years previously he would have had over forty thousand pounds was totally unbelievable. He also received a weekly pension, which totalled around five hundred pounds a month. How could he end up with so little? Again, how he spent his money was his choice. Even though I knew this to be true, I couldn’t help feeling that someone was taking advantage of him without his knowledge.

I continued calling him in the hospital each week and was pleased to hear that he seemed to be improving. I was taken aback when I received a telephone call from the Hospital inviting myself, my sister and my younger brother to a meeting with regards to his discharge from the Hospital and his continued care. I explained that we lived in London and that we were not his carers. My brother could make his own decisions and was more than capable of speaking up for himself; I then received a further phone call, informing me that it was not necessary for us to be there and that they would contact us with the result of the meeting.

When no call came, I phoned the Hospital and was surprised to be told that my sister had attended the meeting, so they were under the impression that she would have informed me of the outcome. In actual fact my sister was on holiday and I knew that she had not attended the meeting. I telephoned my brother and he explained that it had been Mehry that had attended with him, as he had told the nursing staff that she was also his Next of Kin. I was at a loss, what was the point, where were the Safe Guarding Team, what were they doing. I again phoned the hospital and spoke with the Sister in Charge, who apologised and said that she would speak with them again. My thoughts were that I wouldn’t hold my breath whilst waiting for the outcome.

I continued to call John each week and occasionally called Mehry, my sister Susan was also calling him regularly to see how he was getting on. We would speak to each other after and we both felt that he seemed fine.

CHAPTER TWO

Helpless

On the 25th July 2017, I received a telephone call at nine o’clock in the evening from the Hospital. My brother had taken a turn for the worse and doctors were currently ‘working’ on him. I was advised that we should make our way to the hospital as soon as possible as they didn’t feel he would survive. My head began to pound, what should I do, my younger brother had just undergone eye surgery, my sister was not confident enough to drive that distance at night.

My partner tried to comfort me and said to get ready and we would go by train, I was worried, he was not completely better and I was unsure if he would be ok to do such a journey, but he insisted and I got ready. By nine thirty we were on our way. I rang the Hospital to let them know and one of the doctors spoke with me, she told me that he may survive for a couple of hours and told us to take care, as we could only do our best. She also confirmed that they were trying to contact Mehry.

As we sat on the train, my thoughts returned to when my Mum was dying and I was travelling home from my son’s home, trying so hard to get there before she left me for good. I never made it and never got the chance to say that final goodbye. I prayed that this would not be the case. Although I had taken the opportunity to let him know that I loved him at the end of each telephone call, I still felt the need to put my arms around him and say goodbye. It was the 25th of July 2017, exactly three years and five days since we lost Mum.

We were one hour away from the hospital when we received a call to say that his heart had given up and that he had passed away. I sat on the train with tears pouring down my face. When I was able to get control of my emotions, I sent messages to my other two brothers and my sister to let them know. I then tried to contact Mehry, but the phone just continuously rang without answer.

A short time later my phone rang and when I answered a young man named Andrew explained that he was at the Hospital with Mehry; he said that he was a friend to both Mehry and my brother. I asked if Mehry was alright and he said that she was distraught and he wasn’t getting much sense out of her. When I asked if they would wait for us, he agreed to meet us at the front entrance of the Hospital.

We got a Taxi from outside the station and finally pulled up outside of the Hospital, it was one thirty in the morning. We looked around and as I went to call the number that Andrew had called from, we were aware of a couple walking towards us. Andrew introduced himself and Mehry immediately threw herself into my arms and held me. She was nothing like I had imagined, her face was full of pain and she was sobbing uncontrollably. We sat outside and had a cigarette, once I felt that Mehry was a little calmer, I suggested that we go together to say Goodbye to my brother. My partner and Andrew remained outside whilst we did this.

As we made our way to the Ward, Mehry explained that she had been up to see him in the afternoon as usual and he had said he was feeling a little unwell, but when she left he had been comfortable. It was difficult to follow what she was saying, it was clearly apparent that she had difficulty speaking in English, and was obviously having difficulty controlling her emotions. I was unsure of what Country she had originated from but she was very demonstrative, nothing like the typical English, who struggle to maintain control so as not to draw attention, it didn’t bother her.

Mehry was telling me that the Hospital had phoned her several times after contacting me, but she had not heard her phone. When they finally managed to let her know, Andrew had called a taxi and they had immediately returned to the hospital. She was still wearing her slippers, she was further upset that she also had arrived too late to say goodbye.

As we entered the Ward we were taken to my brother, the light was dimmed and curtains were pulled around the bed. We both gave him a kiss on the cheek and told him that we loved him, Mehry was becoming hysterical, she just kept repeating My Dad, My Dad and sobbing loudly; given that it was now the early hours of the morning and other patients were sleeping on the ward, I decided that we should leave the Ward.

As we began to leave a young man came up to us, he was a patient on the ward, and he was clearly upset about my brother. He said that Mehry had been my brother’s rock whilst he had been on the Ward, and that nothing was too much trouble for her, she made sure that he had everything that he needed and had also helped other patients on the ward.

The guilt was back, had I misjudged her; I needed to learn more about her. Once we were back outside the Hospital, Andrew called a Taxi and my partner and I were invited to go back to Mehry’s flat.

When arrived Andrew paid the driver and Mehry walked with us towards the entrance, the area appeared clean and tidy. Mehry walked ahead of us up the stairs and opened the front door, we followed her in, there was a small passage leading to the front room, as she opened the door the first thing that caught your eye was a very large television, which took up almost all of the wall, Andrew immediately stated that my brother had bought the television, then he followed up with the fact that my brother had bought most of the contents of the flat.

My thoughts were that my brother liked his comforts and I could actually picture him sitting on the sofa staring at the television. If my brother was living there, then it stood to reason that he should help with the furnishings.

My mind went to the time when my sister and I had visited him in his mobile home; we had spent the entire day cleaning his home, it had been disappointing to see the way he was living. Mehry’s home was clean and welcoming.

There was however a small niggle that crossed my mind at the way Andrew had said this, was he attempting to justify where my brother’s money had gone?

Mehry went into the kitchen to make us all a cup of tea whilst we made ourselves comfortable. I sat and looked around the room; there were pictures hanging on the wall of my brother with Mehry. There were also pictures of young children around the room. Mehry joined us with our drinks; she also offered food, which we all declined.

Conversation commenced and every now and then Mehry would begin to sob loudly, when talking about my brother. She showed us pictures and videos on her phone of him singing with a crowd of other people; he looked totally at ease and happy. I was reassured that he had enjoyed his time living with her.

I eventually broached the subject of the pictures of the children on the wall, through tears and loud crying she told me that they were her children, again it was difficult to understand what she was actually saying, as I previously said, her English was very poor. Andrew immediately explained that Mehry had come from Iraq as an asylum seeker with her husband and son. Whilst living in England she had a further two children, all of which had been taken from her and adopted. She became very distressed as the story was told. I put my arms around her and could feel her pain. I had lost a child and was aware of the pain this caused, however, she had her children taken away from her, knowing that they were calling someone else Mummy, was this more painful? She hadn’t seen them for years; her eldest son was now 17 years old and had been taken from her when he was four. All she had were the yearly photos and letters she received from the adoptive parents via the Social Services.

I asked her why she had been in prison, the thoughts that ran through my mind were; ‘did she commit arson whilst her children were in her care?’ In broken English she told us that when her children had been taken, she had became depressed and was admitted into a Mental Health Hospital, the story was hard to follow, Andrew explained parts that he knew, but still the story was very haphazard. She told us that one evening as she was sitting in her flat, she felt that she wanted to die, so she decided to burn her flat whist she was inside. No sooner had she started the fire by the front door, she realized that if she was dead, she would never get her children back, so she put out the fire, but due to the guilt she felt, she rang the police and fire brigade and told them what she had done. She was arrested and charged with Arson, due to the fact that she had not considered the other residents in the flats and she had put all of their lives at risk as well as her own. She had been sentenced to 18 months in prison.

My thoughts went to an incident that had happened several years ago, when we had a Mental Health Patient living next door to us; she had suffered with Bi-Polar and if she didn’t take her tablets, she would become violent and aggressive. There had been several incidents, when she had worried us, like the time she had stood outside our back door with a knife in her hand.

The last time we had seen her, was when she decided to set fire to her flat and we all had to leave our homes for fear of it causing an explosion. Her flat had been destroyed. She had been taken to the Mental Health Hospital, where she spent a couple of months being given medication to control her behaviour and then she was re-housed in a nearby flat. She was given all her benefits that had mounted up whilst she had been in Hospital, so she could have a fresh start. She was also given money to help her furnish her new flat.

The elderly lady that had lived in the flat below had suffered from the damage done to her flat, due to the fire and the water used to put out the flames. She was offered nothing, other than advised to have her windows open to dry out the dampness.

We had been talking for a couple of hours, when we finally discussed the subject of arranging my brother’s funeral. I commented that when we had visited him in the May he had told us that he had three thousand pounds in his account, and that as he had been in the Hospital for almost three months, there should also be his pension payments in there. Before I could actually finish what I was saying, Andrew gave a snort and said, that there was only about eighty pence in my brother’s account. He then shrugged his shoulders and made a comment about how no one knew what he did with his money.

Wow! The alarm bells started ringing again, I asked if the hospital had given them my brother’s cash card, Andrew’s response was to delve into his trouser’s pocket and pull out my brother’s card and hand it to me.

Andrew then told me that my brother had told him that he had paid into a Funeral Fund, with the company he had worked for in London, prior to his retirement and that he should have around three thousand pounds in it. I found this hard to believe, my brother was never that organised, but then on the other hand; his second wife had been very money orientated. I said I would ask my younger brother to look into this as he worked for the same company.

There were many thoughts buzzing around in my head and I knew I had to speak to my brothers and sister to discuss what should be done. However, I did feel that the funeral should be held in Birmingham, as he had chosen to live there with Mehry and she seemed genuinely upset at the thought of not being able to be involved in the arrangements. Andrew said that my brother had voiced a desire to have his ashes scattered at a large fishing lake in the area, this made sense; this had been one of his passions when he was younger. He had often gone night fishing with one of his friends.

It was getting on for six thirty in the morning and we decided to make a move to enable us to get home by mid day. Mehry gave me some papers relating to my brother’s bank details and his State Pension. I agreed that I would be in contact with her and Andrew and he agreed that he would go along with Mehry to register my brother’s death and collect the Death Certificates.

My thoughts were mixed as we left. I promised to ring her when we got home and tried to reassure her that she would be involved with the funeral.