“Remembering Grandad with Kind Words”
“Flat? What do you mean, ‘your flat’?…”
“Mum, it was Grandads. He left it to me. You even rented it out. Dont you remember?” Emily asked, confused.
“Oh… that flat. Well, it was never really yours,” Irene replied casually. “Forget about it. I sold it.”
Emilys pulse spiked. Her heart threatened to leap out of her chest. Her legs buckled, and she had to sit down.
“You sold it?”
“Well, yeah. Put it on Rightmove, found a buyer, done deal. Marks car broke down, and you know hes useless without it. Needed a new one.”
Emily couldnt even muster a reply. She slammed the phone down. A sharp ache twisted inside her, so fierce she wanted to scream.
She remembered Grandad proudly showing off the new bedroom wallpaper, telling her it would all be hers one day.
“Youll grow up, love, and have your own little castle. Right from the start. Youll thank me someday…” Hed smile and ruffle her hair.
He died when she was twelve. Back then, she barely understood what having her own flat meant. Sure, she knew it was good, but she couldnt grasp the full weight of it. So when she found out Grandad had only *said* it was hersnot legallyshe hadnt been too upset.
“The flatll stay in my name for now,” Irene announced as the sole heir. “Grandad wanted me to look after it so you wouldnt waste it. Ill rent it out to cover bills and slowly update the place. You dont want a dump full of debt, do you?”
“Course not,” Emily agreed easily.
“Sorted, then. Easier this way*Ill* deal with tenants, not you. When youre older, well transfer it. Dont worry, Mum wont trick you.”
And that was that. Emily forgot about the flat for years, busy with school. It only came up again when she was finishing sixth form.
“Mum, Ive been talking to my mate Lucy,” she started hesitantly. “Were applying to the same uni. Thought maybe… we could live in that flat together? Splitting bills would be easier. Id like to try being independent.”
She assumed it was just a formality. That her mum would hand it over. That soon, shed have the full uni experiencegiggling with Lucy over boys, late-night chats. But no such luck.
“Emily, love, independent at eighteen? Howd you afford it?” Irene arched a brow. “Youd have to juggle work *and* uniimpossible. And what if Lucy moves in with some bloke and bails? Then what? Mum, save me?”
The resentment simmered under her ribs, but her mums reasoning still sounded solid. Irene was the adult here, the one with life experience. Emily hadnt even lived alone yet.
Embarrassed, she apologised to Lucy and called off their plans.
Her dream of independence seemed shelved foreveruntil her mum suggested an alternative.
“Listen, why not look at unis outside London? They do student halls. Same freedom you want, just free. Ill send you some money from the rent. Not loads, but enough to scrape by.”
Emily couldnt believe her ears. She flung her arms around Irene, overjoyed.
For the first six months, it was perfect. Then Irene sent less money than usual.
“Had to see the dentist. Cost a fortune,” she said. “Well both have to tighten our belts.”
Then the payments came late. If rent was due on the 10th, shed transfer it a week after. Then later. And later…
Then Emily found out her mum had moved Mark in almost straight after shed left.
He was marriedtechnically “getting a divorce,” though that never seemed to happen. And that wasnt his only flaw.
Irene constantly complained to Emily about him, dumping every frustration into her ears. After each call, Emily felt hollow. It was obvious Mark was using her, but Irene refused to listen.
“Guess what? He *asked* me for money yesterday! Wanted to take his kids to the zoo,” Irene grumbled. “Since when am I funding *his* kids?”
“Mum… you didnt give it to him?”
“Course I did. What else could I do? Decent men are hard to find…”
“Decent men dont *take* money and give nothing back!”
“Stop it! Im not some gold-digger. Its *love*, not business,” Irene snapped, shutting down the conversation.
Mark *did* take. He lived rent-free, ate her food. If his jacket tore, shed rush to buy a new one.
What did she get in return? Nothing. He worked in construction, but when her sink needed fixing, he charged her triple.
No giftsexcept a lamp for Mothers Day. Irene had practically begged for it. And even then, at the till, his card declined. *She* paid most of it.
Then Mark started showing her land plots, hinting hed build them a house*if* the deed was in his name. Irene gushed to Emily, already picturing a garden gazebo.
“Mum, wake up! Hes a freeloader! Hes not even your *husband*!”
“Oh, what do *you* know?” Irene huffed. “Its *my* life! Dont I deserve happiness?”
After that, she didnt leave Markbut at least she stopped talking about him. Small blessings.
When Emily hit third year, the money stopped entirely.
“Got made redundant. Youll have to manage alone for a bit, love,” Irene said flatly.
Betrayed, Emily bit her tongue. The flats rent was *her* money. But she hustledforum moderating, tutoring, whatever paid.
Somehow, she scraped through graduation, even saved a bit. Thrilled, she called Irene, ready to give the tenants notice.
Thats when she learned the flat was gone.
But Emily had a card to play. Not as big, but somethinghalf her mums *current* flat.
It took her two weeks to sort new digs, most of her savings gone. Once settled, she called Irene.
“Mum, since its come to this… I want whats legally mine. Im selling my share,” she said, voice steady despite the shake in her hands.
“*What?!* Thats *mine*!” Irene spluttered.
“Lifes not fair. You sold *my* flat. Now I need to live.”
“*Your* flat? You never put a penny into it! *I* dealt with tenants, *I* paid the bills, *I* replaced everything! I *lived* there half my life!”
A lump rose in Emilys throat. She wanted to scream about Grandads promise, but she wouldnt turn this into a row. She had one goal.
“Mum, Im not arguing. You bought your boyfriend a car. Now its my turn”
“Mark drives me *everywhere* in that car!” Irene cut in.
“Listen carefully. I wont repeat myself,” Emily said, iron in her tone. “Either you buy me out, or I sell to a stranger.”
“I *raised* you! And this is how? Youre worse than your *father*!”
Emily hung up. Next day, she mailed a formal notice of sale. No face-to-face.
A month later, the money hit her account. Enough to start fresh.
“Sorry, Grandad,” she whispered, sighing. “But you taught me not to trust words.”
She felt rotten. Hed wanted them happy, each in their own home. But hers had turned into a set of wheelsso shed played dirty too.
