Excerpt: The Paint Pot

The man was breathing heavily, but not too heavily, into the phone. Tilly wasn't sure whether he was being rude and disgusting and she should slam the phone down on him or if he was out of breath or scared and she should be kind and helpful. Not knowing what to do, she held on to the receiver and waited, making sure she didn't breathe back at him.
'So ... when they read out the will after the funeral ...' the man said, as if he was carefully considering every single word, 'he hadn't mentioned ...'
Tilly waited, her ears striving to catch the end of this sentence at first possible opportunity. Mentioned what? It was all very straight forward, she had thought, but now she was not so sure anymore.
'He didn't mention a paint pot, did he?' the man gushed.