“We don’t need Granny,” the grandchildren declared during their family meeting.
“Are you mad? Thirty thousand for that old banger? It’s practically falling apart!” Edward Wilson slammed the bonnet of the rusting Rover with a thud and glared at the seller.
“That’s no bangerit’s a classic,” the man replied calmly, running his hand over the worn steering wheel. “They don’t make ’em like this anymore. A ’78 model, factory build. All the paperworks in order, and the engines been rebuilt. Runs like clockwork.”
“A clock thats stopped ticking, more like,” Edward scoffed, turning to his wife. “Margaret, let’s go. Im not wasting money on this scrap.”
Margaret sighed apologetically at the seller. “Im sorry, but my husbands right. We need something reliable for the cottageto carry things and get us there in one piece. This just isnt”
“Take it, you wont regret it,” the seller pressed. “Ill knock off two grand for you. Twenty-eight thousand, and shes yours.”
“No, thank you,” Margaret said firmly, linking arms with Edward. “Well keep looking.”
They walked in silence through the rows of garages. Edward was still fuming, while Margaret worried over how long it was taking to find the right car. Summer was near, and they needed to settle how theyd get to the countryside. Since their old Mini had been written off by a drunk driver (thank heavens theyd walked away unharmed), their options were either a bus with two changes or paying neighbours for lifts.
“Perhaps we should take out a loan for a new one?” Margaret suggested hesitantly as they left the lot.
“On our pensions?” Edward huffed. “No, well find something decent second-hand. We just have to keep searching.”
“But summers almost here, and the garden still needs digging,” Margaret said, adjusting her scarf against the brisk spring wind. “The children promised to help, but you know how it is. James has work, and Emilys got the little ones”
“Exactlythe children,” Edward suddenly brightened. “What if we ask Dorothy?”
“Gran Dorothy? My mother?” Margaret blinked. “Shes eighty-two, where would she go?”
“Whats age got to do with it? Your mothers fitter than I am. Still does her morning exercises, walks to the shops, meets her friends for tea. Besides, shes got savings, hasnt she? Always said she was putting aside for a rainy day. Well, its pouring now.”
“Edward!” Margaret scolded. “Have you no shame? Thats her moneyshe saved it all her life. And she meant it for the grandchildrens education.”
“Wed be using it for them!” Edward insisted. “Wed buy the car to take them to the cottagefresh air, nature, fruit from the garden. Good for their health, good for learning.”
Margaret shook her head but said nothing. The idea of asking her mother for money didnt sit right. They hardly saw her as it wasDorothy lived alone in her old terrace house on the outskirts of town, and visiting was always a hassle. Now theyd turn up with their hands out? No, it wasnt right.
At home, the family had gathered for Sunday luncha tradition Margaret had kept for years. James and his wife Charlotte were there with their son Thomas, fourteen, and Emily with her husband Robert and their twins, Sophie and William, just turned twelve.
“Any luck with the car?” James asked, helping set the table.
“None,” Margaret sighed. “Either too expensive or falling apart.”
“Dad thinks we should ask Gran Dorothy for the money,” Edward announced as he walked in.
“Gran Dorothy?” Emily paused mid-slice of bread. “Would she agree?”
“I dont know,” Margaret admitted. “I havent asked. And Im not sure we should.”
“Why not?” Edward sat down. “Who else is she leaving it to? Us, and the grandchildren.”
“She always said it was for their education,” Margaret reminded him.
“And wed be using the car for them,” Edward repeated. “Fresh air, naturebetter than textbooks.”
The table laughed, and the conversation moved on. But after lunch, when the children had scattered and the grandchildren were buried in their gadgets, Edward brought it up again.
“Margaret, Im serious,” he said, stacking plates. “We should talk to your mother. Its family moneyit ought to benefit the whole family.”
Margaret hesitated. “I dont know, Edward. Shes always been independent. She wont take kindly to us telling her how to spend her savings.”
“Who said anything about telling her?” Edward countered. “Well just explain the situation. Shell understand its not for some frivolityits for a proper need.”
That evening, as they all sat in the lounge, Edward suddenly declared, “What if we asked Gran Dorothy to move in with us?”
Everyone turned to him.
“Move in?” Margaret stared. “Edward, weve barely enough room as it is. Where would she sleep?”
“We could convert the storage room,” Edward suggested. “Or put a daybed in the study. She wouldnt be alone in that house, and wed know shes looked after. At her age”
“What about her house?” James asked carefully.
“We could let it,” Edward said eagerly. “Its a good little place, two bedrooms, even if its a bit out of the way. Could fetch eight hundred a month, easy. Thatd cover the car, the cottage, everything.”
Margaret frowned. “Edward, were talking about my mother, not an income stream. Shes lived there fifty yearsher whole lifes in that house. How do you imagine this working?”
“Oh, come off it,” Edward waved a hand. “What memories matter at her age? She needs care, company. And we can give her that.”
Margaret opened her mouth to argue, but Thomas, glancing up from his phone, cut in.
“Does Gran Dorothy know about this plan?”
“Not yet,” Edward admitted. “Were working out how to put it to her.”
“What if she says no?” Sophie asked.
“Well persuade her,” Edward said confidently. “Explain its for the best.”
“For her best or ours?” William, usually quiet, spoke sharply.
“William!” Emily chided.
“Im just asking,” William said evenly. “Who really wants thisGran Dorothy, or us?”
An awkward silence fell. Edward coughed. “Of course were thinking of her first. Its hard at her age, being alone. With us, shed have family, grandchildren around her.”
“Have you asked her if its hard?” William pressed. “We barely visit. Just birthdays and Christmas.”
“Everyones busy,” Margaret sighed. “Work, schoolits not easy.”
“Exactly,” Edward jumped in. “But if she lived here, wed see her every day.”
The grandchildren exchanged glances, and Margaret noticed their lack of enthusiasm. Gran Dorothy was strict, old-fashionedthe sort who disapproved of gadgets and social media, who thought children spent too much time “glued to screens.”
“I think we should ask Gran Dorothy first,” Emily said carefully. “She might not want to move. Shes got her routines, her friends”
“Of course well ask,” Margaret agreed. “Ill go tomorrow.”
“Ill come,” Edward said quickly. “Two of us will convince her faster.”
The next day, they found Dorothy baking Edwards favourite apple pie.
“How are you managing, Mum?” Margaret asked, helping in the kitchen.
“Perfectly well,” Dorothy said briskly. “I walk in the mornings, do my shopping, meet the girls for tea. Life goes on.”
“Thats what we wanted to talk about,” Edward began at the table. “Your life, Dorothy.”
“Whats wrong with it?” Dorothy eyed him.
“Nothing,” Margaret cut in. “We just thought perhaps youd like to move in with us? We could make space, look after you”
“Move in?” Dorothy set down her fork. “Whats brought this on?”
“Well,” Edward said, “at your age, its safer with family. And the grandchildren miss you.”
Dorothy gave him a long look, then turned to Margaret. “What happens to my house?”
“We could let it,” Edward said casually. “Extra income never hurts. Especially now we need a car for the cottage.”
“I see,” Dorothy nodded. “So you want the rent money?”
“Its not just that,” Margaret said quickly. “We do worry about you.”
“And thats why you havent visited in four months?” Dorothy smiled wryly.
“Everyones busy,” Edward said. “But if you lived with us”
“Right,” Dorothy stood. “And what do the grandchildren think?”
“Theyre thrilled,” Edward lied.
Dorothy snorted. “Teenagers? More likely Id be in their way.”
“She needs time to think,” Margaret said quickly. “A week, all right?”
At home, the grandchildren were waiting, solemn-faced.
“Weve had a meeting,” Thomas announced.
“A meeting?” Edward frowned.
“About Gran Dorothy,” Sophie said. “We dont want her to move in.”
Margaret stared. “Why ever not?”
“Because its not fair,” William said. “Her whole lifes in that house. You just want the rent money for the car.”
“Thats not true!” Edward protested.
“Isnt it?” Thomas asked. “You wouldnt even give her a proper roomjust a converted cupboard. Shes eighty-two. She deserves better.”
Margaret looked at them, astonished. When had they grown so wise?
“But the car” Edward started.
“Well help save,” Thomas said. “Ive got earnings from summer work.”
Edward shook his head. “No, lad. Well manage. Maybe share lifts with the neighbours.”
That night, Margaret lay awake, thinking of her mother alone in that house, of how rarely they visited, of how selfish their plan had been. The grandchildren had seen clearer than the adults.
In the morning, she called Dorothy.
“Mum, weve changed our minds. But wed like to visit more. Have you over, too.”
Dorothy chuckled. “I wasnt moving anyway. But more visits? Yes, please.”
“Saturday, then. All of us, with cake and news.”
“Lovely,” Dorothy said. Then, softly, “About the car Ive a bit put by. I could helpnot a loan, just a gift. Family should help family.”
Margarets throat tightened. “Thank you, Mum. But well manage. Keep your savings.”
“What for, at my age?” Dorothy laughed. “The rainy days are past. Now I just want sunshineand more visits.”
Margaret hung up, smiling. The children had been right. They didnt need Granny as a tenant or a dutythey needed her as she was: stubborn, loving, fiercely herself. Her place was where she was happiest.
And the car? Theyd find a way. After all, happiness wasnt in a motorit was in family, honesty, and knowing what truly mattered.
