The Watch

Arthur sat grumpily at the finely laid dinner table. He hated it here. Having his noserubbed in it like this. Colin was talking animated about something funny that had happenedat work while his wife, Polly, and son, Michael, listened attentively, gasping and laughing atall the appropriate points. Arthur managed a few weak smiles but he wasn’t really listening.After dinner he and Colin remained at the table while Polly and Michael went off to playboard games.“You all right?” asked Colin, sipping his expensive red wine.“You know me, all that rich food plays havoc with my digestive system,” heshrugged, forcing a smile.“Come on, I know it’s more that that. I’m your brother,” Colin smiled affectionately.“Nothing really,” Arthur reassured him. “Just tax time at the shop. All those sumsmake me a bit withdraw and unsociable I guess.”“How is the shop going?” Colin askedArthur hated this question and Colin always asked. The shop sold antiques down onUnion Street. It did crap, always had, but he was never going to admit this to his well-to-do, city slicking brother who was rolling in it with his perfect family and his perfectly bighouse. He was saved from answering, however, by a ringing sound.“Sorry Bro, gotta get that, it’s the work phone,” Colin apologised and disappearedinto another room, leaving Arthur stranded at the table with half an empty glass of wineheld loosely in his hand. He looked sadly through into the next room at the happy familyscene in their large sitting room, with it’s expensive decorations and fancy TV.“Come and join us, Arthur. We’re playing Trivial Pursuit,” Polly called out to him.“Yes, Uncle Arthur, you could be on my side,” added Michael. “I bet you know lots of stuff.”“Maybe, but it’s unlikely to be the sort of stuff they’d ask you in that,” Arthur remarked getting up from the table. “I might just have to pop upstairs for a bit first,” headded patting his large, round stomach.Michael giggled and Polly blushed slightly. “You know where it is,” she called.He grabbed hold of the banister and hauled himself up the highly polished staircaseto the bathroom upstairs. He wasn’t exactly the fittest bloke in the world and at forty-five it

should probably worry him, but to be honest he didn’t give a damn one way or the other. If death was stalking him a few decades early, the sooner the better as far as he wasconcerned.About ten minutes later he stumbled back out of the bathroom, leaving the glare of the golden taps and shiny ceramic perfection behind, and headed back towards the stairs.He could still hear Colin on the phone and Polly and Michael playing games downstairs.He paused. Maybe he’d have a little look around, see if they had anything new, then hecould really rub in how much money they had and he didn’t.He noted a nice new painting in the spare room but it was a knock off and hewondered if they knew. There was the most atrocious door stop in the shape of a dog thathe hadn’t seen before. Iron, late Victorian, not worth much. He wandered quietly into themain bedroom with it’s big windows and four poster bed draped in red pleasure. Hesnorted with distaste and looked around. A pretty, chinese-silk covered trinket box caughthis eye. Polly’s jewellery box. Normally something good in there to look at.Arthur lifted the lid slowly as he knew it squeaked and surveyed the contents. Sadlynothing knew, just the usual priceless gems that were normally there. He poked his finger in and swirled it around in the sea of wealth. Surprisingly his finger brushed velvet andcuriosity made him pull out a heavy, dark blue pouch. Haven’t seen you before, hethought. He settled his weight into a very nice Victorian reproduction chair and poured thecontents into his eager palm but his expectant face fell into deep despair as realisation hithim.It was a old pocket watch. Twenty-four carat gold and highly polished. It’s surfacereflected a sad and tired old man as he stared at it and his eyes began to sting with tearsbut instead of crying he glared at it with immense hatred. He clutched it to his chest and letout a few controlled breaths.“Bastard,” he moaned.He turned the watch over in his sweaty hands and studied it for the first time inyears. He flipped it back over and popped it open. A perfectly polished white enameledface shone back at him with matt black Arabic numbers running around the edge, close toa rare signature by the makers ‘Patek, Philippe Cie’. He wound it up methodically andwatched for a while as it kept time perfectly.It had belonged to his father. He had worn it all the time. He died a couple of yearsago. Losing his wife, Arthur’s mother, to cancer, watching her die slowly, had made him avery angry and bitter man. He had taken his anger out on everyone, but especially Arthur,the black sheep of the family. After his funeral the wake had reflected this in every way.

The atmosphere was so intense it was like his father was still there, mocking them all.The watch was relatively famous in the family. It had been given to his grandfather in thelate 19th century by a rich Lord. Grandfather had passed it down to father and father hadchosen to skip Arthur, the eldest son, and leave it to his other son, Colin. His brother hadalways been the favourite and now Colin even got what was rightfully his. He was theeldest son. He was supposed to have the watch.Now the precious watch just sat in a woman’s jewellery box where no one could seeit’s beauty. If Arthur had had the watch he’d wear it properly, all the time, showing it off. Hethrew it back into the velvet pouch and stood up to slam it back into the ornate box. Thenfor a split second everything froze, it went almost black and white and then fuzzy. Animmense feeling of desire came over him and he was struck by a thought.‘I could take it. Colin wouldn’t know. He obviously doesn’t care for it. I couldn’t wear it of course, not now, but I could sell it. Watch like this would be worth two thousandpounds easy. Clear some of my debts.’‘No, don’t be stupid,’ came a calmer, cooler voice from inside his head. ‘That’sstealing. Worse than stealing, they’re family.’‘Some family!’ the other voice snapped back. ‘With their stinking riches and twoshiny cars! Making you come around here every month, shoving your nose in it.’“Sod it,” Arthur said out loud and ran out of the room, hurling himself down thestairs. Grabbing his coat from the rack he plunged the watch deep into the musty pockets.“Thanks for dinner, Polly,” he called out quickly. “I feel quite tired now so I’m gonnahead off. No need to get up. Thanks again.” He’d just opened the front door to freedomwhen Colin appeared, still on the phone.“Where are you going?” he asked, putting his hand over the receiver.Arthur swung round, his fingers curling protectively around the golden lump in hispocket. “No where,” he answered guiltily, then added more calmly. “Well, I mean home of course.”“So early?” asked Colin, disappointment showing in his voice.“Yeah, well, I’m tired. Tax and stuff. See you next month,” he shrugged and thenbolted right out the front door into the wind and rain, fiddling madly with his car keys untilhe was suddenly home, sitting in his own front room, surrounded by musty books andempty Chinese take-away boxes looking intently at the watch his father had stolen fromhim which he had now stolen back again. “It’s mine,” he smiled. “All mine.”The next morning was the best morning Arthur had had in a long while. He openedup early and looked around his shop, smiling at his achievement. It may only be a small