Granny hasnt got long left, and its time to sell the house…
When 24-year-old Emily chose to stay in her grandads cottage, some folks thought shed lost the plot.
“Young, healthyshe couldve made something of herself in the city! Instead, shes stuck with old folks, a veg patch, and barely two pennies to rub together,” theyd mutter at the village shop.
But Emily would just quietly pay for her groceries and walk home down the country lane. Everyone knew her hereNed and Margarets granddaughter, the uni girl who came for the summer holiday and never left. Grandad was frail now, always misplacing his glasses or forgetting hed fed the chickens. Granny held up better, but her high blood pressure and wheezy breaths betrayed her age.
Emily cooked, cleaned, took Grandad to hospital appointments, and sat up nights when Grannys chest tightened. The house was falling apartroof leaking, fireplace crumbling. But with her freelance gig and Grandads measly pension, she started fixing things up. Locals pitched in sometimes. They patched the roof. Someone rebuilt the fireplace. The next year, she put up a little shed in the back garden and moved in there. On rough days, shed stroke her tabby Marmalade, warm her hands by the hearth, and think.
One evening, Grandad gazed out the window and said, “Youre like a light in the window, love. You wont leave us, will you?”
“Where would I go, Grandad?” she replied.
He pulled a folder from an old drawer and handed it to her.
“Got this sorted. The house, the land. So no one can take it from you.”
Inside was a will, properly registered at the council officewitnessed by two neighbours and the village head. Emily just nodded and tucked it away.
Ned passed in early March. The funeral was quiet, just locals paying respects. Emilys mum, Claire, lived in Manchester and rarely visited. But then Uncle David turned up out of nowherewith his wife, Sophie, and armfuls of gifts. Hed been living in a posh Surrey estate, barely remembering his parents except for the odd Christmas card.
Emily was digging in the vegetable patch when David rolled up in his flash car, stepping out in designer trainers and a thin jacket. Sophie followed, perfectly manicured, shivering as she hugged herself.
“Mum!” David cried, rushing to Margaret, who was sweeping the front step. “Were here at last! Couldnt stay away any longer.”
He hugged her, kissed her cheek. She gave a flustered smile.
“Come in, then. Ill put the kettle on.”
Emily trailed inside. David gave her a nod that dripped with condescension.
“Still here, then, Em?”
In the kitchen, Sophie perched on a chair without taking off her coat.
“Cosy place, Mum. Bit chilly, though. No central heating?”
“Fireplace. Always managed before,” said Margaret.
“Exactly my point. Howll you cope alone now?”
“Emily helps,” Margaret brushed her off. “Keeps things running.”
David shot Emily a look.
“Good on you. But youre young. Dont you get sick of it? Its not even yours.”
Emily met his eye.
“Funny, that. Ive been putting money into it like it is. Never saw you lift a finger.”
Sophie scoffed.
“Oh please. Freelancing from a laptop isnt investment. Buying groceries doesnt count.”
“I fixed the roof. Rebuilt the fireplace. Put up the shed.”
“Squatters rights,” David sneered. “Who said you could?”
He set down his tea.
“Mum, lets be honest. This place is a millstone. Middle of nowhere. Sell it. Well find buyers. Youd have money to live comfortablywith us. Family should stick together.”
Emily set her cup down slowly.
“You didnt visit for five years. Just the odd text. Now suddenly youre all heart?”
David smirked.
“Not your place to judge, love. Youre just squatting here. Grandad let you staybe grateful.”
“Let me stay?” Emily stood. “I sat up with him when he couldnt breathe! Changed his sheets! You didnt even call!”
“That doesnt give you rights to the property, got it?”
Margaret cut in sharply.
“Enough. No fighting. Im still alive. Nothings being divided.”
But David was wound up now.
“Mum, be sensible. This is yours. And Emily shes a sweet girl, but what happens next?”
Emily turned to Granny. Margaret hesitated.
“Hes my son. He wants to help. I I dont know what to do. Dont pressure me, Em.”
Sophie added sweetly,
“Really, Em. How longll you squat here? Youth wasted on IV drips and chickens? Its not normal.”
Emily walked out.
They stayed for tea.
A few days later
“Whats this?” Emily asked.
“Papers. Ive sold the land.”
Emilys ears rang.
“What? To who?”
“Buyers from the next county. David sorted it.”
“Thats the land my sheds on!”
“The sheds not registered. Doesnt exist. And the lands mine.”
Emily was silent a long moment.
“You signed because David whispered in your ear?”
“He cares. Hes my son. And you”
“And me what?”
Margaret turned away, as if shed forgotten every kindness.
“Im too tired for this. Leave.”
“Granny, you trusted me! I cared for you, for Grandad”
“And you lived here rent-free!”
She tried showing the will. Granny waved it off.
“Grandad wasnt in his right mind. Means nothing. The house is mine. What can you prove?”
“I live here too! Its my home now!”
The village solicitor wasnt optimistic but said there was hope.
“The wills legal if properly witnessed. Prove you maintained the placereceipts, witnesses. Nurses, neighbours, the village head.”
Emily had all of it.
At the hearing, Davids lawyer argued:
“No deed. The wills invalid. The property was Margarets.”
“But did the claimant live there? Invest in it?” the judge asked.
“Well out of kindness. No legal obligation.”
“Who paid for repairs? Who lived there? Who provided care?”
Two months later, the court granted Emily her sharethe land in the will. The sale was void. David had to refund the buyers.
As for Granny
“Emily, love forgive me. I didnt know hed deal with crooks. I meant well”
She never grasped the full scam.
“You sold my home, Granny. If you meant well, youd have talked to me. Not themthe ones who forgot you for twenty years.”
“Lets start fresh. Ill sign it over to you. Properly. Just dont hold it against me.”
They went to the council office. It was done quickly.
Emily started repairs again. Got the place hooked up to gas. Granny sat by the window, stroking Marmalade.
“Youre strong, love. Not like my son. I thought he was clever. Turns out hes rotten. Mustve raised him wrong.” Tears welled up.
Two weeks later, David was back with papers.
“Im contesting the transfer. She wasnt in her right mind. Im her sonits my right.”
The case was short. Emily brought a doctors note: Granny was sound of mind. The transfer stood.
Stepping onto the porch, Emily looked at the cottage, the garden, the cherry tree. Shed always known this was home. Now, her heart was at peace.
She smiled, tied her scarf, and got back to work.
So much to do.
