I Wouldn't Have the Walkers

That lonely future began in earnest when I was twenty years old; suddenly and quietly my father died. The day after his funeral I had a letter from a firm of solicitors, asking me to call on them. Vaguely I remembered their names; they’d been father’s solicitors in the old days, but I couldn’t imagine why they wanted to see me. There were only a few pounds in his bank, I’d saved more money out of my salary than he had. Anyway, I went, and to my utter stupefaction I was told there was 2,000 pounds to come to me.