**Diary Entry**
It wont be long before Gran passes, and the house will need selling
When Emily, at twenty-four, decided to stay in her grandfathers cottage, some thought shed lost her mind.
«Young, healthyyou couldve made something of yourself in the city! Instead, youre stuck here with old folks, a vegetable patch, and barely two pennies to rub together,» they muttered at the village shop.
But Emily just quietly paid for her groceries and walked home down the country lane. Everyone knew her herethe granddaughter of Edward and Margaret Carter, the university girl whod come for the holidays and never left. Grandad had grown frail, often forgetting where hed put his glasses or whether hed fed the chickens. Gran held on stubbornly, but her high blood pressure and shortness of breath were constant reminders of time slipping away.
Emily cooked, cleaned, took Grandad to hospital appointments, and sat up with Gran when her breathing grew laboured at night. The cottage was falling apartthe roof leaked, the fireplace crumbled. But Emily, scraping by on freelance work and Grandads modest pension, began fixing things. The locals sometimes pitched in. They patched the roof. Someone rebuilt the fireplace. The next year, she put up a tiny outbuilding in the back garden and moved in there herself. On hard days, shed stroke Marmalade the cat, warm her hands by the fire, and think.
One evening, Grandad gazed out the window and said, «Youre like a light in the window, Em. You wont leave us, will you?»
«Where would I go?» she replied.
He pulled an old folder from a drawer and handed it to her. «Drew up some papers. The house, the land. So no one can take it from you.»
Inside was a will, properly registered at the council officewitnessed, signed, all above board. She just nodded and tucked it away.
Edward passed in early March. The funeral was quiet, the village turning up to pay respects. Emilys mother, Helen, lived in London and rarely visited. But then Uncle David arrived unexpectedlywith his wife, Sarah, and armfuls of gifts. Hed long since settled in a posh house in the suburbs, only remembering his parents on birthdays, if at all.
Emily was digging in the greenhouse when David stepped out of his shiny car, dressed in designer trainers and a thin jacket. Sarah followed, perfectly manicured, hugging herself against the chill.
«Mum!» David cried, rushing to Margaret, who stood on the doorstep with a broom. «Were here at last! Couldnt stay away any longer.»
He hugged her, kissed her cheek. She smiled awkwardly. «Come in, then. Lets have some tea.»
Emily followed. David nodded at her, a flicker of disdain in his eyes. «Still here, Em? Living the rural dream?»
In the kitchen, Sarah sat without removing her coat. «Its charming here, Mum. But so cold. No central heating?»
«Just the fireplace. Always managed before,» Margaret said.
David sighed. «How will you cope alone now? Its too much.»
«Emily helps,» Margaret said. «She keeps things going.»
David glanced at Emily. «Good on you. But youre young. Dont you get bored? Its not even yours.»
Emily met his gaze. «Funny. Ive put everything into it like it was. Never saw you lifting a finger.»
Sarah scoffed. «Oh, come on. You work remotely. Buying groceries isnt exactly an investment.»
«I fixed the roof. Rebuilt the fireplace. Put up that outbuilding myself.»
«An eyesore,» David snapped. «Who gave you permission?»
He set his cup down. «Mum, lets be honest. This place is a burden. Its the middle of nowhere. Sell it. Well find buyers. Youll have money to live comfortablywith us. Were family.»
Emily put her cup down slowly. «You havent visited in five years. Just the odd text. Suddenly youre full of concern?»
David smirked. «You dont get a say, love. Youre just squatting here. Grandad took pity on yoube grateful.»
«Pity?» Emily stood. «I sat up with him when he couldnt breathe. Changed his sheets when he couldnt move. You didnt even call!»
«That doesnt entitle you to a bloody inheritance.»
Margaret cut in sharply. «Enough. No fighting. Im still alive. Nothings being divided.»
But David wasnt done. «Mum, be reasonable. This is yours. Emilys well, whats her claim?»
Emily turned to Gran. Margaret hesitated. «Hes my son. He wants to help. Im Im confused. Dont pressure me, Em.»
Sarah added sweetly, «Really, how long will you stay? Wasting your youth on chickens and medicine runs? Its not normal.»
Emily walked out.
They stayed for tea.
A few days later, Margaret handed her a document.
«Its done. Ive sold the land.»
Emilys ears rang. «What? To who?»
«Buyers from the next county. David handled it.»
«Thats where my outbuilding is!»
«Not legally. The lands mine.»
Emily stared. «You signed because David whispered in your ear?»
«He cares. Hes my son. Youre just»
«Just what?»
Margaret looked away, as if shed forgotten every kindness. «Im too tired for this. Leave.»
«Gran, you trusted me! I cared for you, for Grandad»
«And you lived here rent-free!»
She tried reasoning, showed her the will. Margaret waved it off. «Grandad wasnt in his right mind. Its void. The house is mine. What can you prove?»
Emily went to a solicitor. «Its tricky, but not hopeless,» the woman said. «The wills legal if properly witnessed. Prove you maintained the propertywitnesses, receipts, everything.»
She had them: the district nurse, the village head, the neighbour whod helped carry bricks. Invoices for the roof, the fireplace, the repairs.
At the hearing, Davids lawyer argued, «No deed, no claim. The will wasnt notarised. The property belonged to Margaret Carter.»
«But did the claimant reside and invest in it?» the judge asked.
«Well out of kindness, perhaps. No legal obligation.»
«Who paid for repairs? Who provided care?»
Two months later, the court ruled in Emilys favour. The sale was void. David had to return the buyers money.
And Gran?
«Em forgive me. I didnt know hed deal with crooks. I meant well.» She never fully grasped the betrayal.
«You sold my home, Gran. If youd spoken to menot the ones who forgot you for twenty years.»
«Lets make it right. Ill sign it over to you. Properly.»
They went to the council office. It was done quickly.
Emily resumed repairs. The state gas scheme reached them. Gran sat by the window, stroking Marmalade.
«Youre strong, Em. Not like my son. I thought him clever. Turns out hes rotten. My fault, I suppose.» Tears welled in her eyes.
Two weeks later, David turned up with legal papers. «Im contesting the transfer. She wasnt of sound mind.»
The case was brief. Emily produced a doctors noteGran had been lucid, willing. The court dismissed Davids claim.
Emily stepped onto the porch, looking over the cottage, the garden, the cherry tree. Shed always felt it was hers. Now, her heart was at peace.
She smiled and tied her scarf.
So much left to do.
