“Keep the boxes coming. Speed up. Time is money”
Peter Doddy had heard this most days over the last twenty-four years. At first, with a couple of newborns and a high mortgage he was petrified of getting it wrong.
But now so close to paying off his mortgage he was more self-confident with a flippancy in his replies. He had a bit of savings and once the mortgage was paid off, was looking to scale back and enjoy life to the full.
He had, though suffered the occasional panic attack at the thought of his impending freedom, having been shackled to the factory for so long, but these had been quickly solved by a visit to a workplace counsellor.
The counsellor showed him a furniture catalogue and told him that entire living room sets were available on a payment plan for those homeowners wishing to freshen up their interiors. This seemed to do the trick.
He had a good network of friends and looked forward to buying a membership to his local golf course now that his money would become more fluent.
Peter had been married throughout the lifetime of his mortgage, having tied the knot the same month he had been accepted by the bank to buy his first property.
He assumed his wife still loved him unconditionally although had noticed a slight distancing from him but he put this down to her having an active social life. He knew he could spend more time with her soon.
She was a good wife and took control of all the household banking and without fail paid the mortgage each month once Peter received his wages. The early years had been a real slog for Peter.
He had spent many hours at work covering weekend overtime and putting all his money and physical resources into the house and family affairs. It was taking its toll now with ongoing health issues having spent his life working in the unnatural factory workplace.
There were many times he just wanted to walk away and accept that he wasn’t up to a long slog and all the trials and tribulations that a mortgage brought. It was a lot of pressure.
But Peter was a visionary and saw beyond this. He looked ahead to the day of being debt free which was almost upon him and how proud his wife and children would be of him. He would then be in control of his own destiny.
Peter visited a travel agent during one lunch break. The scope and girth of the globe overwhelmed him. Where would he and his wife travel to? The travel agent suggested they should start by eliminating any destination he didn’t want to travel to.
He may even settle on a choice of locations around the UK coast not more than one hundred miles from his home. He would want to keep an eye on his castle while living it up on holiday especially now that it would really and truly be his.
Peter’s mission could be a lesson to us all. Although it’s a lifetime of commitment to the bank and to your mental well-being, the day of Judgement arrives when that last penny is paid and then it all seems worth it.
Peter’s demeanour became notably friendlier the closer he came to the date of his final mortgage payment. He found himself smiling at people in the street, saying hello to more people at work, nodding at people on the bus.
Those who knew Peter would have noticed his change in decorum but no one confronted him about it, finding this a good thing. If they had mentioned it he would have simply explained his last mortgage payment was coming up and perhaps shown them photos of his house.
He hoped this would reinvigorate his marriage as he knew his wife hated to see him working so hard but appreciated why he was doing it. He was doing this for her and the children’s future security.
As the months became weeks and the milestone approached, her demeanour became so much happier. She had been by his side through all the years with its trials and tribulations. She had almost worked the hours in the factory with him and they could now spend more time together with the long hours gone.
Peter was also immensely pleased with the family home having spent time and money building it into his castle. The day of paying his final mortgage payment and the realisation that his place officially became his, seemed an eternity away in those early dark days but now it was here.
Just two payments away.
He felt smug telling his boss that he no longer wanted overtime and wanted to book time off for his holidays. He got so much pleasure telling his wife and they arranged a night out to celebrate. The penultimate payment came and went and Peter enjoyed a glass of wine. It was like winning the lottery.
Peter wondered if he should throw a party to celebrate the passing of his final mortgage payments. Would this make their friends and family still paying off their mortgages feel bad? Should this be considered as it was about his achievements?
He and his wife had invited single friends to their wedding after all. How about those friends who didn’t even have mortgages, those who stood at the foot of the property ladder, gazing up, unable to even secure funding on the investment rung. How would they feel? Peter recalled that guests tended to touch walls, leave finger marks and generally lower the value of property with wear and tear.
At his last house party over ten years prior, to celebrate Peter’s fiftieth birthday, Peter’s brother had stood for over an hour with a glass of wine in one hand, and with his other hand against the wall in a leaning fashion. It was only after his brother left, that Peter realised that his brother had been trying to hide that he had touched the wall, perhaps absentmindedly with bbq sauce on his fingers and had spent the rest of the party trying to hide the stain.
Peter decided to park the idea of a party and return to it at a later time once he’d adjusted to the freedom of thought and peace of mind that having made his last payment would bring.
Over the years he had seen many people come and go at the factory but none who had stayed long enough to pay off a mortgage from start to finish. Some had lost their houses and others had sold up, got their money back and then gone travelling.
Peter was made of sterner stuff and his marriage had galvanised all his energy into the task ahead.
He also got great pleasure in leaving the deeds to the house proudly displayed on the mantelpiece with his and his wife’s names boldly displayed. This made them both happy.
Peter approached his last month with a noose around his neck and a real spring in his step. He counted down the days. Now every day of the last 25 years was worth it. He looked far older than his years suggested but he hoped this would somewhat relieve the stress working life brings.
A mortgage is the biggest financial commitment anyone has to make and Peter had sacrificed so much for this. In fact his entire life. He often wanted to change careers but felt the insecurity of a new job would be too much. He could not afford to go a month without money and so he remained in the factory all his life.
But now was his time and the day of the final payment finally arrived.
He got up that morning with joy and happiness in his heart and a real sense of achievement as he sat down over breakfast and for the first time ever made that final payment himself before telling his wife how much he loved her and was so looking forward to his first day at work mortgage free. He was even considering calling time on work altogether.
The day went well but uneventful and he headed home planning which restaurant to take his family to. He sat in his car for a moment, taking in his achievements, the stresses behind him, before getting out of the car with a grin on his face.
Walking up to the front door, he put his key in the lock and as he began to turn it Peter Dobby slumped forward grabbing the letter box as he fell.
He died on his own doorstep of a heart attack. He had though successfully paid off his mortgage.
The End
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