Grandma hasnt got long left, and its time to sell the house
When Emily, at twenty-four, decided to stay in her grandfathers cottage, some thought shed lost her mind.
«Young, healthyshe couldve made something of herself in the city! But here? Just old folks, a vegetable patch, and poverty,» they muttered at the village shop.
But Emily quietly paid for her groceries and walked home along the country lane. Everyone knew her here: the granddaughter of Arthur and Margaret Thompson, the university student who first came for the holidays and then never left. Granddad had grown frail, often forgetting where hed left his glasses or whether hed fed the chickens. Grandma held on stubbornly, but her high blood pressure and shortness of breath betrayed her age.
Emily cooked, cleaned, took Granddad to hospital appointments, and sat up with Grandma when her breathing grew laboured at night. The house was falling apartthe roof leaked, the fireplace crumbled. But with a bit of remote freelance work and Arthurs modest pension, Emily started fixing things. Locals sometimes helped. They patched the roof. Someone rebuilt the fireplace. The next year, she put up a small outbuilding in the back garden and moved in there herself. On hard days, shed stroke her cat, Biscuit, warm her hands by the fire, and think.
One evening, Granddad 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. «Had this drawn up. The house, the land. So no one can take it from you.»
Emily opened ita will, properly registered with the council. Witnessed by two neighbours and the village head. She just nodded and tucked it away.
Arthur passed away in early March. The funeral was quiet, a few villagers paying their respects. Emilys mother, Helen, lived in Manchester and rarely visited. But Uncle David turned up unexpectedlywith his wife, Rebecca, bearing gifts. Hed lived comfortably in a suburban house for years, only remembering his parents at Christmas, if then.
Emily was digging in the vegetable patch when David stepped out of his polished car, dressed in designer trainers and a thin jacket. Rebecca followed, perfectly manicured, shivering as she hugged her arms.
«Mum!» David cried, rushing to Margaret, who stood on the porch with a broom. «Finally made it! Couldnt stay away any longer.»
He kissed her cheek. She smiled awkwardly.
«Come in, Ill put the kettle on.»
Emily followed. David gave her a dismissive nod.
«Still here, then?»
In the kitchen, Rebecca sat without removing her coat.
«Cosy, Mum. But freezing. No proper heating?»
«Fireplace. Always managed before,» Margaret said.
Rebecca sighed. «How will you cope alone now?»
«Emily helps,» Margaret brushed her off. «Keeps things running.»
David eyed Emily. «Good of you. But youre young. Dont you want more than this?»
Emily shot him a look. «Funny, Ive been investing as if it *is* mine. Havent seen you lift a finger.»
Rebecca scoffed. «Oh, please. Working from home doesnt count. Groceries arent an investment.»
«I fixed the roof. Rebuilt the fireplace. Put up that outbuilding.»
«Unauthorised,» David cut in. «Who gave you permission?»
He set his cup down. «Mum, be honest. This place is a burden. Middle of nowhere. Sell it. Wed find buyers. Youd have moneycould even live with us. Were family.»
Emily set her tea down slowly. «Five years without a visit. Just the odd text. Now suddenly youre full of concern?»
David smirked. «Not your place to judge, love. Youre just squatting here out of Granddads kindness.»
«Kindness?» Emily stood. «I sat up with him when he choked on his own breath. Changed his sheets. You didnt even *call*.»
«That doesnt entitle you to anything.»
Margaret snapped, «Enough! Im still alive. Nothings being divided.»
But David was riled. «Mum, be sensible. This is *your* property. Emilys temporary.»
Emily turned to her grandmother. Margaret faltered.
«Hes my son. He means well. I I dont know what to think. Dont pressure me, Em.»
Rebecca added sweetly, «Really, how long will you waste your youth here? With chickens and medicine? Its not normal.»
Emily walked out.
They stayed for tea.
Days later
«Whats this?» Emily asked.
«Papers. Ive sold the land.»
Emilys ears rang. «What? To who?»
«Buyers from the next county. David handled it.»
«Thats *my* outbuilding on that land!»
«Its not registered. Doesnt exist. And the lands mine.»
Emily stared. «You signed because David whispered in your ear?»
«He cares. Hes family. Youre just»
«Just what?»
Margaret turned away, as if all Emilys care meant nothing.
«Im too tired for this. Leave.»
«You *trusted* me! I looked after you both!»
«And you lived here rent-free!»
She tried reasoning, showed the will. Margaret waved it off.
«Arthur wasnt in his right mind. Means nothing. The house is *mine*. Prove otherwise.»
Emily went to a solicitor.
«Tricky, but not hopeless,» the woman said. «The wills legal if properly witnessed. Prove you maintained the propertywitnesses, receipts, anything.»
«Ive got receipts for the roof, the fireplace, the outbuilding. The nurse who visited. The neighbour who helped haul materials.»
In court, Davids lawyer argued, «No deed. The will wasnt notarised. The property belonged to Margaret.»
The judge asked, «Did the claimant live there and invest in it?»
«Out of kindness. No legal obligation.»
«Who paid for repairs? Who provided care?»
Two months later, the court upheld Emilys claim to the land in the will. The sale was void. David had to refund the buyers.
And Grandma?
«Emily forgive me. I didnt know hed deal with crooks. I meant well.»
«You sold my home. If youd *meant* well, youd have talked to *me*not the ones who forgot you for twenty years.»
«Lets make it right. Ill sign it over to you. Properly. Just dont be harsh.»
They went to the council. It was done quickly.
Emily started repairs again. The council ran a gas line. Margaret sat by the window, stroking Biscuit.
«Youre stronger than my son. I thought he was clever. Turns out hes rotten. Raised him wrong, I suppose.» Tears welled in her eyes.
Two weeks later, David turned up with papers.
«Im contesting the transfer. She wasnt in her right mind. Im her sonI have rights.»
The case was brief. Emily provided a doctors note: Margaret had been lucid. The transfer stood. The claim was dismissed.
Emily stepped onto the porch, gazing at the cottage, the garden, the cherry tree. Shed always felt it was home. Now, her heart was at peace.
She tied her scarf with a smile. So much work still to do.
