When Grandma Discovered the Plot, She Sold the Flat Without a Second Thought
Why take out a loan when you could just wait for Grandma to die and inherit her flat? That was the logic of my husbands cousin, Edward. He had a wife, Margaret, and three children, and the entire family lived in anticipation of their windfall. They refused to deal with mortgages, preferring to dream of the day Grandmas London flat would be theirs. For now, they squeezed into Margarets mothers cramped two-bedroom flat in Brighton, seaside but suffocating. Edward and Margaret whispered more frequently about how to handle Grandmas situation.
But GrandmaEleanorwas a force of nature. At seventy-five, she brimmed with energy, laughed easily, and never complained about her health. Her central Brighton flat buzzed with friends. She mastered her smartphone, attended art exhibitions, went to the theatre, and even indulged in harmless flirtations at senior socials. She radiated joy, her life a masterclass in savouring every moment. But for Edward and Margaret, this wasnt admirableit was infuriating. Their patience wore thin.
They snapped. They decided Eleanor should transfer the flat to Edwards name and move into a care home. They didnt even hide their intentions, insisting it would be better for her. But Eleanor wasnt one to surrender. She refused, and the confrontation ignited. Edward raged, calling her selfish and demanding she think of the grandchildren. Margaret stoked the flames, muttering that Grandma had lived long enough.
When my husband, James, and I found out, we were horrified. Eleanor had always dreamed of travelling to Indiaseeing the Taj Mahal, breathing in the spice markets, wandering through 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 in the city centre turned a tidy profit. When Edward and Margaret discovered this, they erupted. They claimed the flat was rightfully theirs and demanded Eleanor let them live there. They even accused James of manipulating her for money. Edward went as far as demanding the rent, calling it his fair share. We shut it down.
Margaret started turning up at our house almost dailysometimes alone, sometimes with the kids, always bearing cheap gifts. Shed ask after Grandma, but we saw through it. She and Edward were still waiting for Eleanor to pass and leave them the inheritance. Their greed was staggering.
Meanwhile, Eleanor saved enough and set off for India. She returned glowing, her suitcase stuffed with stories and photos. We urged her not to stopsell the flat, keep travelling, then live out her days with us in comfort. She agreed. The flat sold for a handsome sum, and with the money, she bought a cosy studio on Brightons outskirts, investing the rest in new adventures.
Eleanor toured Spain, Austria, and Switzerland. In Geneva, strolling Lake Genevas shores, she met a Frenchman named Pierre. Their romance was like something from a filmat seventy-five, she married him! James and I flew to France for the wedding, watching her shine in white lace, surrounded by flowers and laughter. She deserved every bit of happiness. Shed worked her whole life, raised children, helped grandchildrennow, at last, she lived for herself.
When Edward learned shed sold the flat, he lost his mind. He demanded the studio, claiming she had enough. How he planned to fit five people in it was a mystery. But it no longer mattered. We were just glad Eleanor had found her place in the sun. As for Edward and Margaret? Their story serves as a reminder: when moneys involved, sometimes the closest people show their truest colours.
