The Windfall
‘What’s he on about anyway, the stupid bugger. You can’t be a millionaire until you are a millionaire. What the heck does that mean? Just jealous, if you ask me,’ said Frank. ‘My twin brother Joe would bring down the mood of the best day.’ He shook his head and stood abruptly. ‘Well, he’s not getting the better of me. I’m going to enjoy my windfall and let him go to rot.’
Which is exactly what Frank did. He treated himself and was generous to his family. All except Joe, of course. His greatest extravagances were bestowed on his wife, Julie. She had everything she wanted and deserved it all, according to her doting husband. They feasted and travelled, bought new houses and cars. It was the happiest time of their lives.
The money disappeared like water down a drain. It was all gone by the end of the year. But it had been a blast, hadn’t it? Frank would say.
Joe fumed and seethed. He hated waste and irresponsibility. Frank’s frivolousness infuriated him. When it came to money, his tenant in life was to be prudent, shrewd and strategic. He had never received an unexpected sum of money, but had budgeted and invested all his life. He had a million too, not that anyone would know. It had been hard earned and painstakingly grown from the tiniest of savings.
Many years later, the twins died within a few months of each other. Their mutual friends and family attended both funerals, and commented on the differences, in death as in life. Frank’s was full of happy reminiscing and heartfelt loss. Joe’s was sombre and uncomfortably cheap, most obviously reflected in the cardboard coffin. Everyone agreed Joe had lived a sad life.
Ten thousand miles away, Fatima pumped clean water from a newly dug well. Her days of walking six and half kilometres to a muddy and diseased puddle were over. A walk that left her vulnerable to injury and assault. She sent thanks to the Gods for her safety and renewed health. She never knew from where her windfall had come.
And, on the other side of the world, a lonely and conscientious man had taken solace in the newsletters that arrived each month, containing reports of the progress of the charity. He had been criticised and spurned but Joe had had another mantra by which he had lived, ‘Look after the pennies and the pounds take care of themselves, with enough spare to help those in genuine need.’
THE END