June 12
The old stone cottage in the Yorkshire village welcomed me with a stale draft and a heavy silence. I flung the sash windows open, letting in the warm May sunshine and the scent of lilacs that had been hidden for months. It has only been a month since Grandfather Michael passed away, and only now have I summoned the courage to travel here and sort through his belongings.
To me, Grandfather Michael was more than just a grandfather. After my parents died young, he became my whole family, raising me, teaching me, keeping me steady. In recent years our meetings were fewmy job in Leeds kept me busy, the days rushed by, and time was always scarce. Standing in the sitting room, surrounded by objects that whispered his presence, I chastised myself for every day we missed together.
The phone rang, breaking the hush.
Ethel, have you started? Aunt Barbaras voice sounded unusually caring. Victor and I will be here tomorrow to help with the furniture. Dont touch anything valuable until then, okay?
Of course, Aunt Barbara, I replied, eyeing my grandfathers sideboard lined with seashells. Im only going through his things and the papers.
Good. After the will was read, things got a bit awkward dont be upset that Grandfather left you only his books and the piano. He simply wanted everything divided fairly.
I pressed my lips together. At the funeral, the solicitor read the will: the house and main assets were to be split between his childrenAunt Barbara and Uncle Victor. I received only the books, an old piano, and a pocket watch engraved with his nameprecious to me, but not of great monetary worth.
Its fine, Aunt Barbara. I dont need anything else.
Exactly! You have your own flat, your own life. Victor and I could use the cottage for the summer holidaysgardening season is starting. See you tomorrow!
I hung up and exhaled heavily. Grandfather always said the house would be mine. Who else will it belong to but you, my dear? Only you understand what a family home means, hed said. Perhaps, at the last moment, he changed his mind. Thats his right.
The whole day I spent sifting through the books. Each volume held a memorya battered fairytale collection he once read to me at bedtime, textbooks where he, a former teacher, helped me with maths. Some pages concealed dried flowers, old photographs, marginal notes in his neat hand.
By evening I reached his study. The small room, with its massive desk and floortoceiling shelves, had always felt like a sanctuary. As a child, Grandfather never let me enter without knockinghe called it his creative laboratory. Here he wrote memoirs, kept journals, and sorted archives.
I turned over folders, yellowed notebooks, timestained envelopes. In the lower drawer I found a bundle of letters tied with twinecorrespondence from my grandmother, a woman I never met. Beside them lay a worn leather diary.
Opening it, a note dated last year caught my eye: Call S.P. about the new will. Destroy the old one.
My heart lurched. A new will? The solicitor, Stephen Parker, had only presented a single document at the hearing.
I continued the search, methodically checking every drawer. Behind a stack of old newspapers I discovered an envelope labelled Will. Copy. Original with solicitor S.P. The date on the envelope was a month before Grandfathers death.
With trembling hands I took the paper and began to read. In this second will, Michael left the entire cottage, the land, and all valuable items to me, Ethel. His children, Barbara and Victor, were to receive monetary compensation only.
This decision isnt about favouring one heir over another, he wrote, but about keeping the family nest intact. Ethel alone truly values this house as a repository of our history. I trust she will preserve it for future generations.
I sank into Grandfathers armchair, disbelief washing over me. Why hadnt this second will been shown? Did the solicitor know? What should I do now?
Sleep fled me that night. I tossed in my old bedrooms bed, weighing options. Presenting the will would spark a massive scandal. Barbara and Victor had already begun planning what to do with the property; theyd never been particularly close to Grandfather and only visited occasionally. Did that give them fewer rights?
Morning arrived with the whine of a car engine. Aunt Barbara was the first through the door, filling the hall with her loud voice and brisk movements.
Ethel, Marion and I have arrived, she said, gesturing to her daughter, who shuffled in looking disgruntled. Lets see what we can take right now. Victor will bring the movers later.
Hello, I forced a smile. I havent finished sorting yet
No worries, well help! Barbara swept into the rooms, eyeing the furniture. Ill take that sideboard and the bedroom chest. You okay with that, Marion?
Marion shrugged. Whatever, Mum. Im only here for Grandfathers coin collection, remember?
Thats right, Barbara replied. He collected those all his life. Marion, you can have the collection as a keepsake.
A wave of anger rose inside me. The numismatic collection had been Grandfathers pride; he showed each new coin to me, telling its story. And now it would go to Marion, who had arrived at the funeral looking bored?
Aunt Barbara, I began cautiously, did you speak with the solicitor after the will was read?
She paused, turning sharply. With Stephen Parker? No, why?
I just have a feeling somethings off with the will.
What do you mean? she asked, narrowing her eyes.
I found a reference in Grandfathers papers to another, later will.
A heavy silence fell. Marion set the sideboard aside and turned toward us.
What nonsense is that? Barbara finally said, her voice trembling. There was only one will, and thats what was read.
I think we should call Stephen Parker, I said firmly. I have a copy of another document.
Barbaras face went pale. Ethel, why stir this up? Father made his choice; everything was fairly divided. You got the things he loved mostbooks, pianohe knew you love music.
It isnt about the objects, Aunt Barbara. Its about Grandfathers final wishes. If he changed his mind, we must respect it.
Changed his mind? Barbara sneered. He spent his whole life thinking of you! Your parents diedtragic, of coursebut why did he always put you before his own children? Were we strangers to him?
I was taken aback by her sudden outburst. I never asked for special treatment
Of course you didnt! You were always there, always. We have our own lives, our own worries. We cant be with him all the time.
Mother, calm down, Marion intervened. Whats the point of this drama? If theres another will, let the lawyers sort it out.
The front door opened and Uncle Victor stepped in, a solid man with a face uncannily similar to Grandfathers.
What are you all arguing about? he asked, looking around at the tense faces.
Ethel says shes found another will, Barbara blurted. She claims Grandfather left everything to her.
Victor walked slowly to the sofa and sat down. Is that true?
His tone carried no surprise, just weariness. I stared at him. Did you know about it?
He sighed. Grandfather mentioned wanting to change the will. He said the house should stay whole, not be split, because only you truly love it.
And you kept quiet? Barbara shouted. Traitor!
Dont shout, Barbara, Victor replied tiredly. I didnt know if hed actually signed a new will or was just thinking about it. Either way, the cottage is old, needs constant upkeep. Wed only use it as an asset to sell. For Ethel its a memory.
So youre on her side? Barbara snapped, waving her hands. Great! Well give everything to the girl and be left with nothing!
Mother, enough, Marion rolled her eyes. Uncles right. We dont need the house. You said youd sell it and buy a flat in the city anyway.
I listened to the backandforth, feeling detached. To them the house was a piece of property, a financial item. To me it was a whole world of scents, sounds, and recollections.
I propose this, I said finally. We call Stephen Parker and clarify the situation. If Grandfathers last intention really was to leave the house to me, Ill pay you compensation for your shares, over time.
What compensation? Barbara scoffed. Your librarian salary?
I can take a loan, or sell my flat.
Enough, Mother, Marion interjected. Lets just call the solicitor.
Stephen Parker agreed to come immediately. Within the hour the elderly solicitor arrived, briefcase in hand, and took a seat in the living room, eyes scanning the assembled family.
So youve discovered a second will, he said after I explained. May I see the copy?
I handed him the document. He examined it, checking dates and signatures.
Indeed, this is an authentic copy, he concluded. Michael did draft a new will shortly before his death.
Why wasnt it presented? Barbara demanded.
Stephen removed his glasses and rubbed his nose wearily. A week before he died, Michael called me and said he wanted to revoke the earlier will. He arranged to meet, but he never made it.
So his final wish was to revert to the first version? Victor asked.
I cant say for certain, Stephen replied cautiously. He didnt give reasons over the phone, just that he didnt want to cause family discord.
Tears prickled my eyes. Even in his last days he thought of us, of keeping peace.
Legally, Stephen continued, the valid document is the most recent will that has not been formally revoked. That would be the one leaving the cottage to you, Ethel. However
What however? Barbara interrupted.
But if you contest it on the basis of his phone call, the case could drag on for years, and no one wins except the lawyers.
Silence settled. I looked out at the old apple tree Grandfather had planted before I was born, its blossoms filling the garden with a delicate perfume each spring. He used to say, As long as the apple tree blooms, the house lives.
I wont push the second will forward, I said suddenly, turning to my relatives. Let things stay as they are.
Youre giving up the house? Marion asked, surprised.
No, I shook my head. I propose another solution. The cottage remains in joint ownership. No one sells it. Ill continue living here, maintaining it. Youre all welcome any timesummer, weekends, holidaysjust like a true family home.
Why would you do that? Barbara asked, bewildered. Why share when the law could give it all to you?
Because Grandfather wanted us to be a family, I answered simply. He feared inheritance would split us, and he was ready to change his final wish to keep us together. I want to honour that.
Victor stared at me for a long moment, then nodded slowly. I agree. Thats the right thing.
Barbara hesitated, her face a battle between greed and the faint sense that Ethels offer held something more valuable than money.
But who will pay for the upkeep? Repairs? she finally asked.
Ill cover the main costs, I said. Youll have a tidy, ready home when you visit. The only condition is that no one demands a saleever.
What if I need money urgently? Barbara pressed.
Then Ill buy out your share, gradually if needed. The house will stay the house.
Marion laughed softly. Grandfather would have liked that. He always said Ethel was the wisest of us.
Stephen Parker watched us with interest. I can draft the appropriate agreement if you decide to proceed. It will be legally clean and respect Michaels intentions.
By evening, after the paperwork was signed and the initial tension eased, we gathered on the verandah with tea, unexpectedly recalling old stories. Victor spoke of building that very verandah with his father; Barbara recalled her mothers pies; Marion giggled at anecdotes from Grandfathers youth.
I watched them and realized I had found far more than I had lost. Not just a house or possessions, but a restored family. If compromise was necessary, so be it.
When the relatives finally left, I stepped into the garden. The apple tree was in full blossom, petals drifting to the ground. Birds sang overhead. The cottage seemed to breathe.
Thank you, Grandfather, I whispered to the sky. I understand now. True inheritance isnt in walls or objects. It lives in the people who remember and love each other.
I slipped a folded piece of paper from my pocketthe copy of the second will. Perhaps one day Ill show it to my own children and tell them this story. Not now. Right now, what matters is preserving what truly has value: the family home, the shared memories, and the peace between us.
