When the grandmother 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 pass and inherit her apartment? Thats what my husbands cousin, Robert, believed. He had a wife, Emily, and three children, and the entire family was counting on the inheritance. They refused to deal with mortgages, preferring to dream of the day Grandmas flat would be theirs. For now, they squeezed into Emilys mothers cramped two-bed in Brighton, right by the sea, and it was painfully obvious how much they resented it. Robert and Emily whispered more and more about “handling” the Grandma problem.
But Grandma, Mrs. Margaret, was a force of nature. At seventy-five, she brimmed with energy, lived joyfully, and never complained about her health. Her flat in central Brighton was always full of friends. She mastered her smartphone, attended art exhibitions, went to the theatre, and even indulged in harmless flirtations at senior dances. She radiated light, her life a masterclass in savouring every moment. Yet for Robert and Emily, this wasnt admirableit was downright irritating. They were tired of waiting.
Their patience ran out. They decided Mrs. Margaret should transfer the flat to Roberts name and move into a care home. They didnt even bother hiding their intentions, insisting it would be “better for her.” But Mrs. Margaret wasnt one to back down. She refused firmly, igniting a blazing row. Robert flew into a rage, shouting that she was “selfish” and “should think of her grandchildren.” Emily fanned the flames, implying Grandma had “lived long enough.”
When my husband, Thomas, and I found out, we were appalled. Mrs. Margaret had always dreamed of travelling to Indiaseeing the Taj Mahal, breathing in the spice markets, losing herself in the streets of Mumbai. We suggested she come live with us, rent out her flat, and save up for the trip. She agreed, and soon her spacious three-bed in the city centre turned a tidy profit. When Robert and Emily discovered this, they threw a fit. They insisted the flat was rightfully theirs and demanded Grandma let them move in. They even accused Thomas of “manipulating” her for money. Robert went as far as demanding the rent, calling it his “fair share.” We shut that down immediately.
Emily started dropping by our house nearly every daysometimes alone, sometimes with the kids, always bearing ridiculous gifts. Shed ask after Grandma, but we saw right through itshe and Robert were still waiting for Mrs. Margaret to “kick the bucket” and leave them the inheritance. Their greed was staggering.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Margaret saved enough and set off for India. She returned glowing, her suitcase stuffed with stories and photos. We suggested she keep goingsell the flat, travel more, and live out her days with us in peace and comfort. She thought it over and took the plunge. The flat sold for a handsome sum, and with the money, she bought a cosy studio on the outskirts of Brighton. The rest went toward new adventures.
Mrs. Margaret toured Spain, Austria, and Switzerland. In Switzerland, during a stroll by Lake Geneva, she met a Frenchman named Pierre. Their romance was like something from a filmat seventy-five, she married him! Thomas and I flew to France for the wedding, and it was magical seeing her glow in a white dress, surrounded by flowers and smiles. Mrs. Margaret deserved that happiness. Shed worked her whole life, raised children, helped grandchildrennow, at last, she was living for herself.
When Robert learned shed sold the flat, he lost his mind. He demanded she hand over the studio, claiming she “had enough already.” How he planned to fit five people in there was a mystery. But we didnt care. We were just glad Mrs. Margaret had found her place in the sun. As for Robert and Emily? Their storys a reminder that when moneys involved, even family can show their true colours.
