Our siblings have kept our mother's body in an undertaker's metal drawer for FOUR YEARS... now we've sued them for £60,000 but our nightmare goes on: JANE FRYER meets a family at war

Published: 01:01, 16 August 2026 | Updated: 01:01, 16 August 2026 Laura Collins was a much-loved mother and grandmother, a fabulous cook, a stylish dresser and brilliant dancer who loved music, parties and hosting huge Caribbean feasts for her family and many friends in her home in west London. She worked hard – for decades juggling three jobs to support her large family – and rarely took holidays, but was somehow always warm, kind and could find the good in anyone. ‘She was the most amazing woman. So strong and full of light – everywhere she’d go she’d make it bright and lighter. Life was tough for her, but she brought people joy,’ says her son Michael, 48, the fourth of her five offspring. ‘And she deserves better than this. Much, much better.’ Laura died on July 29, 2022, in London’s Charing Cross Hospital, six months after contracting Covid. She was 77 years old. And deeply sad though that was, as Michael says: ‘That was just the very beginning of the nightmare.’ Because ever since – and yes, still today – Laura’s body has been in a metal drawer in an undertaker’s mortuary in London – stored at a cost of £20 a day, and slowly deteriorating. Meanwhile, the eldest two of her five offspring, Joan, 59, and Godfrey, 57, have done everything possible to block any funeral arrangements, let alone the distribution of Laura’s estate, leaving the rest of the family in limbo. First, they refused to discuss when the service should be – or where. ‘They just kept saying, “We’re on it. Don’t worry, we’re organising it,” every time we offered help,’ says Michael. Then they suggested repatriating the body to Laura’s native Carriacou (an island in the Caribbean) and delayed everything further as they deliberated over whether they should sue the hospital for alleged negligence. Laura Collins died aged 77 in London in 2022, six months after contracting Covid. To this day, her body is in an undertaker's mortuary at the cost of £20 a day Michael, the fourth of her five children, and Laura. The eldest two children, Joan and Godfrey, are blocking funeral arrangements, the distribution of her estate – and even access to her body On and on it went, for weeks, months, years – through the death of our Queen and the demise of four prime ministers and an awful lot of threats, tears, insults and rows between the five siblings. Joan and Godfrey even blocked access to Laura’s body, moving it twice to other undertakers, without telling the younger siblings, Cheryl, 54, Michael and Clint, 46. Until, finally, driven half mad with frustration, Michael was forced to spend tens of thousands of pounds taking his elder siblings to the High Court in London in a desperate attempt to put his beloved mother to rest. The case caused shockwaves in the news last month and the judgment of Chief Master Karen Shuman blamed Joan and Godfrey for the appalling delay, ordered them to bear the £53,322 legal costs of the case, plus the £5,500 costs of storage and, unusually, awarded all control of the estate and funeral arrangements to Michael. ‘There must be one person in charge to allow the family to come together as far as possible,’ said Shuman. ‘The deceased can be laid to rest with dignity. That is what ordinary humanity now demands.’ But how could this happen in the UK today? And why? Was it all about the money? Laura had died intestate. Her estate included the £725,000 family house in West Kensington, London, where Joan had lived all her life, in latter years caring for her mother. Perhaps sibling rivalry and control? Or simply a grief so painful that it left Joan and Godfrey paralysed? Maybe a bit of everything. Last week I chatted with Michael at his bright, sunny house in Peterborough about how his family fell out so badly – and how his mother would have hated that. ‘She was such a dignified woman. Always beautifully presented with matching scarves and hats. She would have been appalled. Everyone knows about the case – that she’s been in a drawer for four years,’ he says. ‘I just want people to know how strong and wonderful she was.’ And all the things that made her Laura. Her soft, beautifully nuanced voice and huge collection of vinyl records. Her love for gardening and any music from reggae to jazz, classical to rap. Her strength and resilience in the face of terrible racism and prejudice when she first arrived in the UK aged 21 to an arranged marriage that would falter after a few years. But most of all, her deep and protective love for her children and grandchildren. ‘She worked so hard for us all for so long, and then this,’ says Michael. He says Laura’s decline started before she got Covid. By her early 70s, having retired from her cleaning jobs, she had become increasingly immobile with diabetes and high blood pressure. ‘She lost confidence and stopped going out so much,’ he says. ‘But she’d still cook up great feasts for our birthdays and Christmas when we’d all get together.’ And as she aged, Michael says, death was on her mind. ‘She’d talk about what she wanted after she went,’ he says. ‘Her biggest thing was to have a nice funeral with good music and people around her.’ When she got Covid in January 2022 and was rushed to intensive care at Charing Cross Hospital, her children feared the worst but due to social distancing rules, could not visit. ‘We talked to her on the phone and we’d message,’ he says. Then suddenly she went quiet, and so did Joan and Godfrey. Michael was eventually forced to spend tens of thousands of pounds taking his elder siblings to the High Court. He was awarded  When the family were finally allowed to visit, Laura was on a ventilator and was not responding. The doctors told them she had suffered irreversible brain damage – there was some question that the ventilator tube had come out of her mouth – and advised the family to let her die. And this is when the first real cracks began to show in the Collins family. Michael, Clint and Cheryl wanted to let her go. ‘It was very sad and maybe someone at the hospital was at fault, but it was her time. She’d been suffering for so long and it was time for peace,’ says Michael. But Joan and Godfrey were adamant she should live and refused until, months later, the case went to court, where a judge ruled the machine should be turned off – after a two-week tapering period, just in case a miracle took place. ‘She breathed on her own for 24 hours – I think that was her final gift to us.’ And then, finally, at seven in the morning on July 29, she died. ‘She looked at peace. She had gone.’ Again, Joan and Godfrey struggled to accept it. So Michael – along with Clint and Cheryl – gave them some space. ‘It was clearly too soon to talk funerals and churches,’ he says. So he left it for a few days before he got in touch and was told, ‘Yes, we’re dealing with it.’ Which felt normal: they were the two elder siblings, always in charge. While Joan lived with Laura in west London, Godfrey had lived with their father, Irvin, in south London, where he lived post-divorce in the 1980s until he died in 2015. But after a couple of weeks, nothing seemed to be happening. So Michael nudged again: ‘Can I do anything to help? Can I call Mum’s family in Grenada?’ ‘No, no, Godfrey’s doing all that,’ was the response. On it went. Weeks turned to months. Now the younger siblings were properly worried and Michael kept pushing. He visited, called, messaged, suggested bereavement counselling and soon the replies became less friendly. ‘You never did enough,’ said Joan. ‘I’ve got a lot on,’ said Godfrey. More alarmingly, at least a year after Laura’s death, Michael discovered that none of her family back in Carriacou had been told. ‘I had to call them all and explain she’d died a long time ago.’ About two-and-a-half years after her death, Hammersmith and Fulham local authority got in touch to ask why the body hadn’t been registered. Michael contacted them directly to ask them to move things along – but was told they had to sort it out between themselves. ‘Because Joan and Godfrey had signed the papers for the funeral directors, I couldn’t access her body,’ he says. At his wits’ end, he even tried the police – ‘I thought, surely it’s a crime not to bury a body. But no. I was told I’d have to instruct lawyers and go to court to enforce it.’ The final straw was not being able to locate Laura’s body. ‘They moved her to the other side of London – to Leyton! And didn’t tell us. I had to become a detective to track her down.’ The problem was, he says, they wanted different things. He, Clint and Cheryl wanted closure. ‘We wanted a funeral, the chance to honour our mother, to say goodbye and to grieve.’ But Joan and Godfrey wanted revenge. ‘Against the hospital, anyone. They were stuck in denial, had not moved on and were putting their emotions ahead of our mother’s wishes.’ Not surprisingly, the whole thing has taken its toll on Michael. ‘I tried and tried every way to lay her to rest. I felt I was going mad. It was so frustrating. They were lying to me and yes, of course, it made me quite depressed.’ And as the months and then years marched by and Laura’s body lay in a series of freezer drawers and the two sides of the family were at war, he listened to her favourite playlists, cooked her signature dishes and marvelled at how she’d held them all together for so long. (Michael and Clint didn’t leave home until they were 32 and 31 – ‘we loved living there’.) Michael is a gentle, spiritual man, and tells me he feels her presence with a warmth – like a hug – when he’s doubting himself. ‘This whole battle was for her,’ he says. As he talks, I notice that on the wall is a photograph, taken at his wedding, ten years ago. Michael the groom with Clint next to him, both in sharp Paul Smith suits. Then Godfrey, and Laura, immaculate in pale pink and pearls and a black hat and shoes. And at the end, Joan, looking stylish, and next to her, Cheryl. They are a strikingly attractive family. It looks a joyous occasion – but I can understand why Michael will not let us use the photo to illustrate this piece. It is just all too desperately sad. ‘Now it’s clear she was the plaster that kept us all together. Papering over a lot of issues and rivalries bubbling away between us, keeping everyone together.’ Without her, he says, it’s been an absolute nightmare and a terrible struggle. ‘But if I hadn’t done anything she’d still be there in the drawer for another ten years. Maybe forever.’ So finally, with the help of Sharon Macaulay of Taylor Rose solicitors in Peterborough, he issued proceedings against his two older siblings in February. There was no victory in the judgment and he isn’t expecting to get any part of his inheritance any time soon – not least because Joan would have to move out of the family home for the estate to be carved up. But at least now they can all lay their mother to rest. ‘It’s not about the money. It’s about doing the right thing by our mum and her wishes.’ In the next few days, Laura’s body will be removed from the undertakers in Leyton, her funeral will take place in west London, and afterwards she will be buried. Friends and family have been notified. Gaps have been left in the order of service for all five siblings to say something if they want to. ‘I hope they come. I am sure they will. This is a huge, sad story and unfortunately it is our story,’ says Michael. ‘But our mother is being buried, finally.’