Ebonezer shuffles across the room in his worn out shoes, vaguely noticing the floorboards splintering. Picking up the splinters he slings them into the fire grate. A few more and there'll be enough for a fire. The only time that open fire sees any action is when there is enough junk mail and bits of broken house to warrant using a match.
Passing the front door, he picks up another pile of mail. He finds one from the Inland Revenue, no doubt after more tax money, no doubt about to go on the fire without being opened more like! There is a letter from his niece which he only opens to read so he can moan about it. Apparently, she has taken mortgage advice and is buying her own home with her boyfriend. They are due to get married in the spring. That will never last!
She has suggested to Ebonezer that he also take mortgage advice for home renovations. What would she know, he thinks. He doesn't need mortgage advice. He's paid for his house outright after years of scrimping and scraping. Why would he need renovations - the house is still standing.
His niece is the only person to visit him these days and she always complains about the cold. Ebonezer has convinced himself that she only visits him because she wants to inherit his house. Well, she's mistaken because he's leaving it all to the local dog's home. At least, that's what he wrote on a piece of paper somewhere happy in the knowledge that the right people would find it when the time came.
Last time the silly mare came to visit she tried to encourage him to take out a mortgage to do the house up. Why would he need that? It was all for her benefit.
He didn't need new windows. He had windows already. He didn't need central heating. He had an open fire plentifully supplied in the deepest of winter with the junk mail and occasional bit of broken garden fencing or skirting board. He didn't need a new kitchen or bathroom. What was the point of having two rooms for water when the butler sink and table in the kitchen sufficed.
And even if Ebonezer did want these things he had a plentiful supply of money stashed under his mattress. Occasionally these wads of money would get impaled on springs but sticky tape soon fixed that.
The only vice Ebonezer had was occasional gambling. And so far he only did this when he was guaranteed a win. More money for padding out the mattress, he thought, but Ebonezer would not admit this stash was depleting.
He managed to fend off visits from his niece for another year. More letters arrived, more mortgage advice for 'his welfare', more fire fodder. More gambling, but then everyone was entitled to something of their own. He worked hard enough for it.
Another Christmas was coming up and his niece visited unannounced - how annoying! This time she was not alone. She bought along the most beautiful baby boy Ebonezer had ever seen - and he wasn't much of a one for babies. This event softened Ebonezers heart a little and he retrieved yesterdays teabag to make his niece a cuppa.
Sitting down on his threadbare armchair, the little boy stared at Ebonezer with the biggest, brightest eyes he had ever seen. Unlike most people, the baby took to Ebonezer straight away and before they knew it the whole afternoon had gone by in a flash.
Unable to sleep that night due to the mattress springs digging in him, Ebonezer decided to get up. For the first time, he actually felt the cold getting to him. His bones were aching and all of a sudden he felt old. And what was that nagging feeling?
It was his niece's baby. It had touched Ebonezer to a point where he felt the need to do something for him. His niece had no business sense and no head for money. So she had a mortgage - but she hadn't paid for a house outright like him. Ebonezer decided he wanted to leave an investment for this little boy and teach him something for the future.
Raking about under his mattress, he pulled out about 1000 pounds in worn notes. Where had it all gone and what was the use in giving him that? Slowly, he thought of how many times he had taken money out for the occasional flutter and how few times he had been able to replace it recently. Just as well he still had his work but how long would it take to build anything worthwhile leaving for the baby?
The very next day, conceding defeat now that there was more at stake than his money grabbing niece, he lowered himself to taking the mortgage advice. He was surprised at the deal he managed to get on a home improvement loan but still paid the workmen begrudgingly. The house was brought up to date, a will was set in place and the house was due to be left to the baby. Ebonezer slept better that night.
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