Country Retreat - 57. Hunter's Inheritance

The Racecourse Bay property was being prepared for a long-term lease, and I have already planned for a business to take over the care of the gardens of the William Street property and the paddock at Racecourse Bay, so your services will no longer be required, but if anything changes, I will let you know,” I responded.

“I am sorry that we are losing you as a client but thank you for considering us in the future. Have a good day. Goodbye,” the caller said before ending the call. I took a few moments to calm down a little before following Hunter back to our suite, where we relaxed for 90 minutes before starting to get ready. When we arrived at the funeral home, there appeared to be a very large crowd gathered, and we presumed that they were there for another funeral. When we stepped into the chapel, it was full to the brim, with a lot more people there than had been invited to attend.

“It looks like your Mum was a very well-liked and respected member of the community,” I whispered to Hunter as we sat down in the front row of seats in the chapel. Hunter tapped my arm and I looked at him. “I think my hearing aid is playing up again, can you help me with translating for the service please?” Hunter asked in sign, and I said yes also in sign, before standing and walking to the back of the church, where the minister was waiting.

“Reverend, my name is Oscar Kingston, I am Hunter’s employer and housekeeper, he is having trouble with his hearing aid again, so I would like to sign for him and anyone else if you don’t mind,” I said. “That is fine Mr Kingston, but who is Hunter regarding this funeral?” the minister asked, which caught me by surprise. “Hunter Davidson is the only son of the deceased Mrs Margaret Davidson,” I replied.

“I am sorry, this is Mrs Margaret Porter we are having a service for today,” the minister said to me, and I turned towards the front of the church to find Hunter close by me, where he had a rather angry look on his face, glaring at someone just behind the minister. “It is Margaret Anne Davidson unless she has re-married recently,” I saw Hunter sign and I translated that to the minister.

“Reverend, I am a former counsellor for UNI SA here in Mount Gambier, and it is how I met Hunter, who had been kicked out of his home by his step-father when his mother went into full-time care, but until that moment, they had not ever married, and I am fairly certain that when she went into care, then marriage would not have been legally permitted,” I said to the minister.

“I believe you are correct with that statement, but why is the deceased listed as Margaret Porter?” the Minster asked me, “Because he probably changed it, but I have the official Death Certificate,” Hunter said in sign language which I repeated verbally, “I can verify that, as I was the one who met with the funeral people on Hunter’s behalf, on the day of her passing,” I added as I looked at the man that I presumed to be Mr Porter, who was also looking angry.

“I had to find out that my partner had passed away from a friend whose partner works at the care home. I should have been the one who should be taking care of my partner’s final journey,” Mr Porter growled. “I am sorry Mr Porter, but we have legal documents that state that all arrangements that were made by Mrs Margaret Davidson when Hunter was twelve years old are her final wishes. This was confirmed by an additional letter submitted to her lawyer stating that her entire estate is to go to her son Hunter, which was signed and dated earlier this year,” I added.

“This is total crap, I will be getting my lawyers onto this after the service is over,” Mr Porter stated, “Regarding that, Mrs Davidson had stated that there was only to be a small number of people attending her funeral service, and you were not on that list,” I said, “Yeah well I changed all that, and I have invited a lot of our joint friends to attend as well,” Mr Porter stated, and I could see that the Minister was now looking rather worried that this was going to get into a brawl and Hunter was standing very close to me now, and he was looking very worried.

“I am sorry, but I am putting a hold on this funeral service until a few issues are sorted out. Reverend, would you mind informing the funeral home people to return Mrs Davidson into their care please,” I asked, who nodded and went through a side door to another part of the building. Hunter continued to glare at his stepfather, who had a few others gathered around him, that I didn’t know.

A few moments later the minister entered the chapel from a different door at the front. “If I may have your attention… Due to some unusual circumstances, this funeral service has been postponed to another time. We are sorry for the inconvenience, have a good day,” the minister said to those in the chapel, who slowly began to exit the building, while Hunter and I walked up to the front to speak to the minister. “While I was with the Funeral Director, we checked the paperwork and you are correct, it has been altered, and he apologised for the error. Now Mr Davidson, would you and your counsellor like to come with me, as we have some issues to discuss,” the minister said to us.

We followed him through a side door at the front, that had “Staff & Clergy only beyond this point,” and we were led into a conference room, where the funeral director was waiting for us. “Mr Davidson, I do apologise for all the confusion, your stepfather is a man who is hard to say no to, I should have realised that this was going to cause some problems,” the director said to Hunter, and I signed to Hunter what was said.

“Once everyone is gone, can we have a private service, with just Oscar and me in attendance, and have a cremation afterwards?” Hunter signed which I translated verbally. “Yes, we can do that, if that is your wish,” the funeral director replied, and I translated that for him. An hour later, the Minister, his wife, and two others, along with Hunter and I gathered in a smaller room with Mrs Davidson’s coffin also there and a small fifteen-minute service was held.

There had been no wake organised for afterwards, so once we had thanked the minister and the few people who attended, who were some of Mrs Davison’s closest friends, Hunter and I returned to the hotel to relax, and we ordered lunch to have in our suite. “Who were those others that were with your stepfather?” I asked as we ate.

“That was his real children. Alistair, Helen and Jeffery. I have only met them a few times, as they live interstate. They have always been cruel and nasty to me, ever since my mother started the relationship with him when I was twelve years old,” Hunter signed. “Oh, I see. So that is why she had her will and funeral arrangements organised?” I asked Hunter in sign, who nodded his head yes.

There was a knock on the door, and I pointed to the door, to let Hunter know that someone was there, as I stood and went to answer it. “Hello, you must be Mr Oscar Kingston, I am Julius Everingham, family lawyer to the late Mrs Margaret Anne Davidson,” the gentleman at the door said, and I stepped to one side to let him in. Over the next hour with me signing for Hunter so he knew what was happening, we learnt that his mother had left him a small fortune to inherit.

This included items in a bank safety deposit box, that contains an opal ring and matching opal pendant, last valued at over $15,000 as well documentation for the education fund, which pays for all of Hunter’s University studies plus a living subsidy of $2,500 per month to cover food and clothing, books and transport costs, which I believe she was giving you every month in cash, plus a trust fund also documents for ownership of a 678-acre family property located just north of Victor Harbour in the Hindmarsh Valley, and 80-kilometres south of Adelaide that has been in the family for three generations, that is currently on a five-year lease agreement, that is extendable if the lessee wishes to extend.

Also, there is a 93.28-acre holiday property at Antechamber Bay, that has a fully restored 1880s cottage and 1 kilometre of beach-frontage. Hunter said that this was the first that he had heard of about all of this land owned by his family. We were informed that about eight years ago, after the death of Hunter’s Great-Uncle, the property was inherited by Hunter’s mother, who immediately arranged for the property to be leased on a long-term basis, and the two properties were transferred into Hunter’s name. The money in the trust fund is the lease money which is deposited into the account each quarter, plus the occasional holiday rental of the cottage at Antechamber Bay.

“I have been assisting Hunter with him getting to and from University and also accommodating and feeding him since the start of last semester, am I to believe that Hunter has not been given the money for his living costs, since he was kicked out of his home?” I asked the lawyer, who looked at some records and frowned. “According to these records, you are correct, since Mrs Davidson entered the care home that money has not been touched. Give me an invoice and I will make sure that you are reimbursed, also Hunter you need to give me your bank details so that you get the money directly from now on,” the lawyer replied.

Once the lawyer had explained everything and presented copies of information about the two properties and a copy of the will, he wished Hunter a bright and successful future before leaving. Having abandoned our half-eaten meal, we sat back down and let all the information sink in for a while. “I think we need to do a road trip south of Adelaide,” I signed to Hunter, who smiled and nodded.

The next day, we were on the afternoon flight back to Adelaide, and we caught a taxi back home, as we presumed that Giles would be at university studying or attending lectures. “What am I going to do with the farm, I know absolutely nothing about farming apart from a cow goes baa and a sheep goes moo, or is it the other way around?” Hunter said to me in sign as we prepared for landing at Adelaide, and I burst out laughing.

“Yeah, the other way around silly,” I replied in sign and Hunter blushed with embarrassment, which had me laugh some more. “I would love to see that one day… a cow going baa and a sheep going moo,” I said. “Alright, enough of the ribbing, I get it, I won't be a farmer,” Hunter signed, and I just smiled trying not to laugh anymore. “Just as well my family are farmers and I know what a cow and sheep sound like,” I commented.