When Grandma discovered her grandson wanted to evict her from the flat, she sold it without a second thought.
Why take out a loan when you could just wait for Grandma to die and inherit her property? That was the mindset of my husbands cousin, Richard. He had a wife, Emily, and three children, and the whole family lived in anticipation of their inheritance. They refused to deal with mortgages, preferring to dream of the day Grandmas flat would be theirs. For now, they crammed into Emilys mothers tiny two-bedroom house in Brighton, by the seaside, and it was obvious their cramped life was wearing them down. Richard and Emily whispered more and more about how to “resolve” Grandmas situation.
But Grandma, Mrs. Evelyn, was a gem. At seventy-five, she brimmed with energy, lived joyfully, and never complained about her health. Her home in central Brighton was always filled with friends. She mastered her smartphone, visited art exhibitions, attended the theatre, and even enjoyed innocent flirtations at senior dances. She radiated light, and her life was a testament to savouring every moment. But for Richard and Emily, this wasnt a point of prideit was pure frustration. They were tired of waiting.
Their patience ran out. They decided Mrs. Evelyn should transfer the flat to Richards name and move into a care home. They didnt even hide their intentions, claiming it would be “better for her.” But Mrs. Evelyn wasnt one to surrender. She refused firmly, sparking outrage. Richard flew into a rage, shouting that she was “selfish” and “should think of her grandchildren.” Emily fanned the flames, insinuating Grandma had “lived long enough.”
When my husband, Thomas, and I found out, we were horrified. Mrs. Evelyn had always dreamed of travelling to Indiaseeing the Taj Mahal, breathing in the spice markets, losing herself in Goas streets. We suggested she move in with us, rent out her flat, and save for the trip. She agreed, and soon her spacious three-bedroom flat in town turned a tidy profit. When Richard and Emily discovered this, they threw a fit. They believed the flat was rightfully theirs and demanded Grandma let them live there. They even accused Thomas of “manipulating” her for money. Richard went so far as to demand the rental income, calling it his “rightful share.” We shut it down.
Emily started showing up at our house almost dailysometimes alone, sometimes with the kids, always bearing ridiculous gifts. Shed ask after Grandma, but we saw through it: she and Richard still hoped Mrs. Evelyn would “pass on” and leave them the inheritance. Their greed was staggering.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Evelyn saved enough and set off for India. She returned glowing, her suitcase bursting with stories and photos. We suggested she go further: sell the flat, keep travelling, and live with us in her later years, in peace and comfort. After some thought, she took the leap. The flat sold for a handsome sum, and with the money, she bought a cosy studio on Brightons outskirts. The rest funded new adventures.
Mrs. Evelyn toured Spain, Austria, and Switzerland. In Switzerland, during a stroll by Lake Geneva, she met a Frenchman named Pierre. Their romance felt like something from a filmat seventy-five, she married him! Thomas and I flew to France for the wedding, and it was magical to see her glowing in a white dress, surrounded by flowers and smiles. Mrs. Evelyn deserved this happiness. Shed worked her whole life, raised children, helped grandchildrennow, at last, she lived for herself.
When Richard learned about the sale, he lost his mind. He demanded Grandma hand over the studio, insisting she “had enough already.” How he planned to fit five people inside was a mystery. But it didnt matter to us. We were just glad Mrs. Evelyn had found her place in the sun. As for Richard and Emily? Their story is a reminder that when moneys involved, even family can show their true colours.
