To Cut a Long Story Short (2000) Read Online Free PDF Page B

When he had finished he went through to the kitchen to make himself some lunch, and
found a salad had been laid out for him.
    After lunch, Cornelius took a bus into town - a novel experience. It was some time before he located a bus stop, and then he discovered that the conductor didn’t have change for a
twenty-pound note. His first call after he had been dropped off in the town centre was to the local estate agent, who didn’t seem that surprised to see him. Cornelius was delighted to find
how quickly the rumour of his financial demise must be spreading.
    ‘I’ll have someone call round to The Willows in the morning, Mr Barrington,’ said the young man, rising from behind his desk, ‘so we can measure up and take some
photographs. May we also have your permission to place a sign in the garden?’
    ‘Please do,’ said Cornelius without hesitation, and barely stopped himself from adding, the bigger the better.
    After he’d left the estate agent, Cornelius walked a few yards down the street and called into the local removal firm. He asked another young man if he could make an appointment for them
to take away the entire contents of the house.
    ‘Where’s it all to go, sir?’
    ‘To Botts’ Storeroom in the High Street,’ Cornelius informed him.
    ‘That will be no problem, sir,’ said the young assistant, picking up a pad from his desk. Once Cornelius had completed the forms in triplicate, the assistant said, ‘Sign there,
sir,’ pointing to the bottom of the form. Then, looking a little nervous, he added, ‘We’ll need a deposit of PS100.’
    ‘Of course,’ said Cornelius, taking out his chequebook.
    ‘I’m afraid it will have to be cash, sir,’ the young man said in a confidential tone.
    Cornelius smiled. No one had refused a cheque from him for over thirty years. ‘I’ll call back tomorrow,’ he said.
    On the way back to the bus stop Cornelius stared through the window of his brother’s hardware store, and noted that the staff didn’t seem all that busy. On arriving back at The
Willows, he returned to his study and made some more notes on what had taken place that afternoon.
    As he climbed the stairs to go to bed that night, he reflected that it must have been the first afternoon in years that no one had called him to ask how he was. He slept soundly that night.

    When Cornelius came downstairs the following morning, he picked up his post from the mat and made his way to the kitchen. Over a bowl of cornflakes he checked through the
letters. He had once been told that if it was known you were likely to go bankrupt, a stream of brown envelopes would begin to drop through the letterbox, as shopkeepers and small businessmen tried
to get in before anyone else could be declared a preferred creditor.
    There were no brown envelopes in the post that morning, because Cornelius had made certain every bill had been covered before he began his journey down this particular road.
    Other than circulars and free offers, there was just one white envelope with a London postmark. It turned out to be a handwritten letter from his nephew Timothy, saying how sorry he was to learn
of his uncle’s problems, and that although he didn’t get back to Chudley much nowadays, he would make every effort to travel up to Shropshire at the weekend and call in to see him.
    Although the message was brief, Cornelius silently noted that Timothy was the first member of the family to show any sympathy for his predicament.
    When he heard the doorbell ring, he placed the letter on the kitchen table and walked out into the hall. He opened the front door to be greeted by Elizabeth, his brother’s wife. Her face
was white, lined and drained, and Cornelius doubted if she had slept a great deal the previous night.
    The moment Elizabeth had stepped into the house she began to pace around from room to room, almost as though she were checking to see that everything was still in place, as if she couldn’t
accept the words she had