The old woman didnt have long leftit was time to sell her house…
When twenty-four-year-old Emily chose to stay in her grandfather’s house, some thought shed lost her mind.
«Young, healthyshe could make something of herself in the city! But here? Old folks, a vegetable patch, poverty,» they muttered in the village shop.
But Emily quietly bought her groceries and walked home along the dirt track. Everyone knew her here: the granddaughter of Arthur Thompson and Margaret Wilson, the university student whod come for the holidays and never left. Her grandfather had grown frail, often forgetting where hed left his glasses or whether hed fed the chickens. Her grandmother held on stubbornly, but her high blood pressure and breathlessness betrayed her age.
Emily cooked, cleaned, drove her grandfather to hospital appointments, and stayed up nights when her grandmother was in pain. The house was crumblingthe roof leaked, the fireplace cracked. But with the small income from her remote work and her grandfathers modest pension, she began repairs. The villagers helped sometimes. They fixed the roof. Someone rebuilt the fireplace. The next year, she put up a small cottage in the back garden and moved into it herself. When things got hard, she stroked her cat, Biscuit, warmed her hands by the fire, and thought. One evening, her grandfather looked out the window and said:
«Emily, youre like a light in the window. You wont leave us, will you?»
«Where would I go, Grandad?» she replied.
He pulled an old file from a drawer and handed it to her.
«Ive put this togetherthe house, the land. So no one can take it from you.»
Emily opened ita will, properly registered at the council office, witnessed by two villagers and the parish chairman. She nodded and tucked it away.
Arthur Thompson died in early March. The funeral was quiet, the villagers came, shed their tears. Emilys mother, Louise, lived in the city and rarely visited. But then her uncle, Edward, arrived unexpectedlywith his wife, with gifts. Hed long since moved into a big house in the county, remembering his parents only on holidays, if at all.
Emily was digging in the greenhouse when Edward stepped out of his car in designer trainers and a thin jacket. His wife, Victoria, followedmanicured, shivering, arms wrapped around herself.
«Mum!» Edward called, rushing to Margaret, who stood on the doorstep with a broom. «Were here at last! Couldnt stay away.»
He hugged her, kissed her cheek. She smiled awkwardly.
«Come in, have some tea.»
Emily followed. Edward gave her a dismissive nod.
«Emily. Still here, then?»
The kitchen filled with false cheer. Victoria sat without taking off her coat.
«Mum, its so *quaint* here. But freezing. No radiators?»
«Just the fireplace. Always been this way,» Margaret said.
«Exactly! How will you manage alone now?»
«Emily helps,» Margaret brushed her off. «She keeps things going.»
Edward glanced at Emily.
«Good of you. But youre young. Arent you bored? Its not even yours.»
Emily met his gaze.
«Funny, Ive put everything into it like it was. Never saw any help from you.»
Victoria scoffed.
«Emily, you work from home. Wheres this everything youve put in? Buying groceries doesnt count.»
«I fixed the roof. Rebuilt the fireplace. Put up the cottage.»
«Unauthorised building,» Edward cut in. «Who gave you permission?»
He set down his cup.
«Mum, Ill be honest. Its not about Emily. But this place is too much for you. And lets face itits the middle of nowhere. Sell it. Wed find buyers. Youd have money to live on. You could even stay with us. Were family.»
Emily put her cup down slowly.
«You didnt visit for five years. Just sent texts on birthdays. Now suddenly, youre full of concern?»
Edward smirked.
«Not your place to judge, love. Youre just passing through. Grandad let you staybe grateful.»
«*Let* me stay?» Emily stood. «I sat up nights when he was choking on his cough. I changed his sheets. You didnt even call!»
«That doesnt give you rights to the property, clear?»
Margaret snapped.
«Enough. No fighting. Im still alive. Nothings being divided.»
But Edward was wound up. He turned to his mother.
«Mum, you know This is *yours*. You own it. And Emily She might mean well, but what happens next?»
Emily looked at her grandmother. Margaret hesitated.
«Hes my son. He wants to help. I I dont know what to do. Dont pressure me, Emily.»
Victoria added sweetly,
«Emily, really. How long will you stay here? Youre youngstuck with IV drips and chickens. Its not normal. Do you want to grow old here?»
Emily walked out.
They stayed for tea.
A few days later
«Whats this?» Emily asked.
«Papers. Ive sold the land.»
Emilys ears rang.
«*What?* To who?»
«Buyers from the next county. Edward handled it.»
«Thats the land my cottage is on!»
«The cottage isnt registered. Legally, it doesnt exist. And the land is mine.»
Emily was silent a long moment.
«You signed because Edward whispered in your ear?»
«He cares. Hes my son. My blood. And you»
«And me *what*?»
Margaret turned away, as if Emilys years of care meant nothing.
«Im too tired for this. Just go.»
«Gran, you trusted me! I looked after you, after Grandad»
«And you lived here rent-free!»
She tried reasoning, showed her the will. Margaret waved it off.
«Your grandad wasnt in his right mind. Its worthless. The house is in *my* name. What can you prove?»
«I live here too! This is *my* home now!»
She went to a local solicitor. The woman said at once:
«Tough, but not hopeless. The wills legalwitnessed, filed properly. Youll need proof youve maintained the place, lived here, invested in it. Witnessesanyone who saw you caring, building, spending money. It all matters.»
«I have witnesses. Receipts. The nurse who visited. The parish chairman who signed the will. My neighbour, Mrs. Wilkins, who helped carry lumber. Invoices for the roof, the fireplace, repairs.»
At the first hearing, Edwards lawyer argued:
«My client holds no deed. Shes no legal heirthe will wasnt notarised. The property belonged to Margaret Wilson.»
«Did the claimant reside and invest in the property?» the judge asked.
«Well out of kindness, family duty. No legal obligation.»
«Clarify: who paid for repairs? Who lived there? Who provided care?»
The case unfolded.
Two months later, the court granted Emily rights to the portion left in the will. The sale was voided. Edward had to return the buyers money.
And Gran?
«Emily forgive me. I didnt know hed deal with crooks. I meant well» Margaret never grasped the full scheme.
«You sold my home, Gran. If you meant well, youd have talked to *me*. Not to people who forgot you for twenty years.»
«Lets make it right. Ill sign it overlegally, to you. Just dont be angry with an old woman.»
Emily went with her to the council office. It was done quickly.
She started repairs again. The government scheme brought in gas. Margaret sat by the window, stroking Biscuit.
«Youre strong, Emily. Not like my son. I thought he was clever. But hes rotten. I mustve raised him wrong.» Tears filled her eyes.
Two weeks later, Edward appeared with papers.
«Im contesting the transfer. She wasnt in her right mind. Im her sonI have rights.»
The case was brief. Emily brought a doctors note: Margaret had been lucid, willing. The court dismissed Edwards claim.
Emily stepped onto the porch, looked at the house, the garden, the cherry tree. Shed always thought of it as home. Now, her soul was at peace.
She smiled and tied her scarf.
There was still so much to do.
