“We dont need Grandma,” the grandchildren decided at the family meeting.
“Are you out of your minds? Thirty grand for that rust bucket? Theres hardly a spot on it that isnt falling apart!” George Thompson slammed the bonnet of the old Rover shut and glared at the seller.
“Its not a rust bucket, its a classic,” the man replied calmly, running his hand over the worn steering wheel. “They dont make em like this anymore. A 78, factory-built. Ive got all the paperwork, and its been fully restored. Engine purrs like a kitten.”
“A kitten thats stopped breathing,” George scoffed before turning to his wife. “Margaret, lets go. Im not wasting money on this scrap.”
Margaret sighed and gave the seller an apologetic smile. “Sorry, but my husbands right. We need a car for the cottagesomething to haul things and get us there. This ones just not…”
“Take it, you wont regret it,” the seller urged, trying to catch her eye. “Ill knock it down for you. Twenty-eight grand, and its yours.”
“No, thank you,” Margaret said firmly, taking Georges arm. “Well keep looking.”
They walked in silence through the garage lot. George was still fuming, while Margaret worried about how long this search was taking. Summer was coming, and they needed to figure out how theyd get to the cottage. After their old Mini was written off by a drunk driverthankfully, theyd walked away unharmedtheyd had to rely on buses with two changes or pay neighbours for lifts.
“Maybe we should just take out a loan for a new one?” Margaret suggested hesitantly as they left the lot.
“On our pensions?” George snorted. “No, well find something decent second-hand. We just need to look harder.”
“But summers almost here, and we havent even dug the garden yet,” Margaret said, adjusting her scarf against the chilly spring breeze. “The kids promised to help, but you know how that goes. James is busy with work, and Emilys got the little ones…”
“Thats just itthe kids,” George said, suddenly animated. “What if we asked Mary?”
“Gran Mary? My mother?” Margaret stared at him. “Shes seventy-eight. Where would she go?”
“Whats age got to do with it?” George waved a hand dismissively. “Your mums fitter than I am. Morning walks, shopping, coffee with her friends. And shes got savings, hasnt she? Always said she was putting aside for a rainy day. Well, its pouring now.”
“George!” Margaret scolded. “Have you no shame? Thats her moneyshe worked her whole life for it. And she meant it for the grandchildrens education.”
“And wed be using it for them,” George insisted. “Buy a car, take them to the cottagefresh air, nature, berries straight from the bush. Good for their health and learning.”
Margaret shook her head but didnt argue. The idea of asking her mother for money didnt sit right. They hardly saw her as it wasMary lived alone in her old two-bed flat on the outskirts of town, and getting there was a hassle. Showing up now, cap in hand… It felt wrong.
At home, the children and grandchildren were waitingJames and his wife, Sarah, with their fourteen-year-old, Tom, and Emily with her husband, David, and their twelve-year-old twins, Lily and Oliver. Everyone had gathered for Sunday lunch, a tradition Margaret had kept for years.
“Any luck with the car?” James asked, helping his mother set the table.
“No,” Margaret sighed. “Everythings either too expensive or falling apart.”
“Dads suggesting we ask Gran Mary for money,” George announced, walking into the kitchen. “Shes got savings.”
“Gran Mary?” Emily looked up from slicing bread. “Would she agree?”
“I dont know,” Margaret admitted. “I havent asked. And Im not sure we should.”
“Why not?” George sat down. “Who else is she leaving it to? Us, the kids, the grandkids.”
“She always said she wanted it for their education,” Margaret reminded him.
“And wed be using it for them,” George repeated. “Driving them to the cottage, teaching them about nature. Better than textbooks.”
Everyone laughed, and the conversation moved on. But after lunch, when the adults lingered in the living room and the grandkids disappeared with their gadgets, George brought it up again.
“Margaret, Im serious,” he said, helping clear the table. “We should talk to your mum. Its family moneyit should benefit the whole family.”
Margaret hesitated. “I dont know, George. Shes always been independent. She wont take kindly to us telling her how to spend her savings.”
“Whos telling her? Well just explain the situation. Shell understand were not asking for frivolities.”
That evening, as they all sat watching TV, George suddenly announced, “What if we asked Gran Mary to move in with us?”
Everyone turned to stare.
“With us?” Margaret blinked. “George, weve barely got space. Where would she sleep?”
“We could convert the storage room,” George suggested. “Or put a sofa bed in the lounge. She wouldnt be alone in that flat anymore, and wed know shes safe. At her age…”
“What about her flat?” James asked cautiously.
“We could rent it out,” George said brightly. “Two-bed, decent areaeasily a grand a month. Thatd cover the car, the cottage, everything.”
Margaret frowned. “George, were talking about my mother, not an income stream. That flats her homeher memories, her things. How would that even work?”
“Come off it,” George scoffed. “What memories at her age? She needs care, company. We could give her that.”
Margaret opened her mouth to argue, but Tom, glancing up from his phone, cut in:
“Does Gran Mary know about this plan?”
“Not yet,” George said. “Were working out how to ask her.”
“What if she says no?” Lily asked.
“Well persuade her,” George said confidently. “Explain its for the best.”
“For her or for us?” Oliver said quietlyuncharacteristically sharp.
“Oliver!” Emily chided. “Dont be rude to your grandad.”
“Im not,” Oliver said evenly. “I just want to know who really benefitsGran Mary or us?”
An awkward silence fell. George cleared his throat.
“Of course its for her. Shes alonehere, shed have family.”
“Have you asked if shes lonely?” Oliver pressed. “We barely visit. Just birthdays and holidays.”
“Everyones busy,” Margaret sighed. “Work, schoolits not easy.”
“Exactly,” George said. “But if she lived here, wed see her every day.”
The grandkids exchanged glances, and Margaret noticed their lack of enthusiasm. Gran Mary was strict, old-fashionedthe kind of grandma who disapproved of gadgets and scolded them for spending too much time online.
“Maybe we should ask her first,” Emily said, eyeing her children. “She might not want to move. Shes got her friends, her routine…”
“Of course well ask,” Margaret agreed. “Ill go see her tomorrow.”
“Ill come too,” George said. “Two of usll convince her faster.”
The next day, they drove to Marys flat. She welcomed them warmlylaid out tea, jam, Georges favourite apple cake.
“How are you managing, Mum?” Margaret asked, helping in the kitchen.
“Just fine,” Mary said briskly. “Walks, shopping, coffee with the girls. Life goes on.”
“Thats what we wanted to talk about,” George began at the table. “Your life, Mary.”
“Whats wrong with it?” Mary eyed him warily.
“Nothing,” Margaret hurried to say. “We just thought… maybe youd like to move in with us? Wed make space, look after you…”
“Move in?” Mary stared. “Whats brought this on?”
“Your age,” George said. “Anything could happen. With us, youd have family around.”
Mary studied him, then turned to Margaret. “What about my flat?”
“We could rent it,” George said airily. “Extra income never hurts. Especially now, with the car needed for the cottage.”
“I see,” Mary said slowly. “So you want the rent money?”
“Its not just that,” Margaret said, shooting George a look. “We worry about you.”
“Is that why you havent visited in four months?” Mary asked dryly.
“Everyones busy,” George said. “But if you lived with us”
“Right.” Mary set down her fork. “What do the grandchildren think?”
“Theyre thrilled,” George lied. “Cant wait for you to move in.”
Mary snorted. “Doubt that. Teenagers have their own lives. And Im too strict for their liking.”
“No, theyre excited,” George insisted.
Mary stood. “Give me a week to think about it.”
“Of course,” Margaret said, relieved it hadnt turned into a row.
When they got home, the grandkids were waiting, solemn-faced.
“We had a family meeting,” Tom announced.
“What meeting?” George frowned.
“The grandchildrens council,” Lily explained. “About Gran Mary.”
Margaret tensed. “And?”
“We dont need Grandma living here,” Oliver said plainly. “Not like this.”
George gaped. “Why not?”
“Because its not fair,” Tom said. “Her flats her home. You just want the rent money.”
“Its not just money,” George argued, but Lily cut in:
“Were not stupid, Grandad. Youd stick her in a converted cupboard. Shes seventy-eight!”
“And you didnt even ask us,” Tom added. “We live here too.”
Margaret looked at themreally looked. When had they grown so wise?
“So what do you suggest?” George asked weakly.
“Visit her more,” Oliver said. “Take turns. Invite her for weekendsbut dont uproot her.”
That night, Margaret lay awake, thinking. The grandkids were right. They didnt need Gran Mary as a source of income or an inconvenience. They needed her as she wasstrict, old-fashioned, but loved. Her place was where she was happy.
In the morning, she called her mother.
“Mum, weve changed our minds about you moving in. But well visit more. Would that be all right?”
“More than all right,” Mary said, warmth in her voice. “I wasnt moving anyway. But seeing the kids? Thats lovely.”
“And, Mum… about the car. Ive been thinking. I could helpnot a loan, just a gift. Family should stick together.”
Margarets throat tightened. “Thank you, but well manage. Keep your savings.”
“What for at my age?” Mary laughed. “The rainy days are past. Now its all sunshineespecially if the grandkids visit.”
Margaret hung up, smiling. The children had been right. Happiness wasnt in a car or a cottageit was in family, honest and true. Theyd find a way. Together.
