A Man of Humble Age

By Kana Ugess

If you're willing to wait, for a man of humble age

to leave behind his staves, and pieces he has played

You ought to find a way, to forget your harboured

hate, and lend a chocolate lime, a moment without haste.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kana Ugess
• Release date: May 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9781805411215

Book preview

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2023 by Kana Ugess

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.

For more information, contact: [e-mail]

First paperback edition 2023

Lyrics by Haven Emrys

978-1-80541-120-8 (paperback)

978-1-80541-121-5 (ebook)

www.kanaugess.com

For Uncle Paul

Contents

1. Present Day

2. Aged 83

3. Aged 84

4. Aged 85

5. Aged 86

6. Aged 87

7. Aged 88

8. Aged 89

9. Aged 90

10. Aged 91

11. Present Day

Chapter 1

Present Day

The mimosa trees stood proudly in front of the white marble steps and columns, the sunlight reflecting around the open garden courtyard and upon the converted manor house. The golden gravel crunched under the wheels as the first of the day’s expected guests arrived.

Shutting the door of his Mercedes CLK, Martin stood looking up at the feigned grandeur before him. His white suit gleamed in the light as much as his blue silk shirt contrasted it. He slowly removed his sunglasses as he marched up the steps, opting to hang them from his open collar instead of on top of his thinning sandy hair.

A plump figure bustled out of the doorway, dressed in grey from her short-cropped hair to her patent leather court shoes. Mr Acton!

Ms Doherty. Martin took her outstretched hand in his and gave a solemn smile. I had hoped we’d meet on better terms.

Unfortunately, that’s not normally the case in my line of work. She motioned for him to proceed before her as they entered the main reception hall. Though this is actually a first for me in my many years of being here.

Well, you can thank Rob for that. Martin laughed heartily as he signed the visitor book and followed her through to a large room marked as the Sun Lounge by a wooden plaque on the door.

Inside sat two women chatting animatedly with each other as they tenderly held hands. They were as different as chalk and cheese, one being rather stout and fair whilst the other was slight and tanned. Both, Martin noted, had extraordinary hair colours.

Martin, this is Jess and Ashley Lewis, two of our staff members. Jess, Ashley, this is Mr Martin Acton, Rob’s executor.

One of his executors, he corrected as he held out a hand. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you both.

Ah, Mike! Ms Doherty called as she beckoned to the young man in the doorway. Good timing, this is-

We’ve met, Martin interrupted, thrusting out his hand again. How are you, chap?

Still going, Mike smiled as he took Martin’s hand warmly.

After all the pleasantries were exchanged and old faces were reacquainted, Martin sat down with a deep sigh. I don’t think there is much more we can do until others arrive.

Are there many more outside parties we are expecting? Ms Doherty asked, contemplating numbers on her fingers as she looked about the room.

Two or three outsiders plus the residents we spoke about, Martin replied smoothly.

Ms Doherty considered the room briefly, looking at her watch before issuing commands to her staff. The tables were carried away to the walls, and the chairs pushed into four neat columns split in half by a makeshift aisle, facing the solitary sofa at the end.

Mike and Ashley left briefly to assemble the summoned residents whilst Martin went to wait for the other guests in the fresh air. Something about being back at Mimosa Grange without seeing Rob was starting to gnaw away at him.

Outside, it didn’t take long before a Volvo estate pulled up, glinting dark green in the abundant sunlight. Martin watched as its driver twisted to its passenger seat and collated his belongings together before stepping out onto the gravel.

You never travel light, do you? Martin scoffed as he held open the front door of Mimosa Grange.

Not wherever you and Rob are involved!

Ah, you’ll miss us when we’re gone.

Not long to wait then, the balding gentleman replied in a monotone voice as he looked over the pile in his arms at his associate. I’ll be out of a job when you go.

I have no plans to leave work yet, Dave! Martin chuckled as he followed him through the building and back into the Sun Lounge.

Where once were empty chairs, there was now a bedraggled elderly group, muttering away to themselves as they watched wide-eyed and half-expectant. Martin motioned to the front of the group, where the lone sofa was still unoccupied. Dave soon claimed the area with his briefcase and the belongings he had brought in with him before turning to introduce himself as ‘Mr Wright’ to Ms Doherty.

Martin watched for a while, his heart tightening slightly at the active room as he realised he was searching for Rob. He sighed, checked his watch, and, with a flick of his suit jacket, left to go back outside and await the last remaining guest.

Checking his watch again, Martin pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one before taking a long drag. Leaning against the stone doorway, he stared past the cigarette in his fingers as he watched the bees hovering amongst the flowers.

I thought you gave up that habit? Mr Wright remarked as he approached sullenly.

You’d take up the habit if you knew who we were expecting, Martin sighed as he crushed the end of his butt in his fingertips.

I may not know her as personally as you, but I certainly know who I’m expecting.

And just that knowledge still hasn’t driven you to smoke in anticipation of her?

No. Though it has raised questions. Rob amending the will several times over recent years hasn’t helped answer any, either. Do I want to know where a retired man in a care home got that amount of money?

You’re his other executor. How do you not know?

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