Gran wasnt long for this world, and the old house would have to be sold soon…
When twenty-four-year-old Emily decided to stay in her grandparents cottage, some thought shed lost the plot.
“Young, healthycouldve made something of herself in the city! But no, shes stuck with old folks, veg patches, and penny-pinching,” they muttered in the village shop.
Emily, however, just quietly paid for her groceries and trudged back along the country lane. Everyone knew her herethe granddaughter of George and Margaret, the university student whod come for the holidays and never left. George was frail now, forever misplacing his glasses or forgetting hed already fed the chickens. Margaret was tougher, but her dodgy knees and breathlessness were reminders that time wasnt on her side.
Emily cooked, cleaned, drove George to hospital appointments, and sat up with Margaret when her chest tightened in the night. The house was falling apartthe roof leaked, the fireplace crumbledbut with her remote side gig and Georges modest pension, she started patching things up. Locals pitched in sometimes. They fixed the roof. Someone rebuilt the fireplace. The next year, she put up a little shed in the back garden and moved in there. When it got too much, shed stroke Marmalade the cat, warm her hands by the fire, and think.
One evening, George peered out the window and said, “Em, youre like a light in the window. You wont leave us, will you?”
“Where would I go, Grandad?” she replied.
He rummaged in an old wooden chest and handed her a folder.
“Got this bit of paperwork sorted. The house, the land. So no one can take it from you.”
Emily opened ita will, properly registered at the council office. All above board: two witnesses, the village mayor officiating. She just nodded and tucked it away.
George passed in early March. The funeral was quiet, just villagers paying respects. Emilys mum, Linda, lived in the city and hardly visited. But her uncle David turned up out of the bluewith his wife, Sarah, and a hamper of fancy biscuits. Hed been living in a posh detached house in the next county, only remembering his parents on birthdays (sometimes).
Emily was digging up the veg patch when Davids car pulled in. He stepped out in designer trainers and a thin jacket. Sarah followed, perfectly manicured, shivering as she hugged herself.
“Mum!” David cried, rushing to Margaret, who was sweeping the front step. “Here we are! Couldnt stay away any longer!”
He hugged her, kissed her cheek. She smiled awkwardly.
“Come in, then. Lets have tea.”
Emily followed. David gave her a nod that somehow managed to be both dismissive and smug.
“Em, hello. Still here, then?”
The kitchen buzzed with forced cheer. Sarah sat without taking off her coat.
“Mum, its… charming here. But freezing. No radiators?”
“Fireplace. Always been that way,” Margaret said.
“Exactly what Ive been saying. How will you manage alone? Its too much.”
“Emily helps,” Margaret waved her off. “Keeps things going.”
David shot Emily a look.
“Good on you, butcome on. Youre young. Dont you want more than this? Its not really *yours*.”
Emily narrowed her eyes.
“Funny, that. Ive been putting money into it like it *is* mine. Never saw you lifting a finger.”
Sarah scoffed.
“Emily, you work remotely. Wheres the ‘investment’? Buying groceries doesnt count.”
“I fixed the roof. Rebuilt the fireplace. Put up the shed out back.”
“Thats not legal,” David cut in. “Who gave you permission?”
He set down his cup.
“Mum, Ill be straight. This isnt about Emily. But this place is a burden. And lets face itits the middle of nowhere. Sell it. Well find buyers. Youll have money to live on. You could even stay with us. Were family, after all.”
Emily slowly put her tea down.
“You havent visited in five years. Just the odd text. Suddenly youre all heart?”
David smirked.
“Not your place to judge, love. Youre just passing through. Grandad let you staybe grateful.”
“*Let me stay*?” Emily stood up. “I sat up with him when he couldnt breathe. Changed his sheets. You didnt even call!”
“That doesnt give you rights to the property, clear?”
Margaret snapped, “Enough. No arguing. Im still alive. Nothings being divided.”
But David was on a roll.
“Mum, you know… this is *yours*. You own it. Emilys… well, shes nice, but what happens next?”
Emily turned to her gran. Margaret hesitated.
“Hes my son. He wants to help. I… Im confused. Dont push me, Em.”
Sarah added sweetly, “Em, really. How long will you stay? Youre youngwasting it on IV drips and chickens. Its not *normal*.”
Emily walked out.
They stayed for tea.
A few days later…
“Whats this?” Emily asked.
“Papers. I 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 legal. Doesnt exist. And the lands mine.”
Emily stared.
“You signed because David whispered in your ear?”
“He cares. Hes my son. Youre…”
“Im *what*?”
Margaret turned away, as if shed forgotten every scrap of kindness Emily had shown.
“Im too tired for this. Go.”
“Gran, you *trusted* me! I looked after you, after Grandad”
“You *lived* here! Everything handed to you!”
She tried showing the will. Margaret brushed it off.
“Grandad wasnt in his right mind. Means nothing. The house is *mine*. What can you prove?”
“I *live* here! Its *my home* now!”
A local solicitor sighed.
“Tricky, but not hopeless. The wills legalwitnessed, registered. Prove youve maintained it, lived here, invested. Witnesses matter. Who saw you caring, building, spendingall counts!”
“Ive got witnesses. Receipts. The nurse who visited. The mayor who signed the will. Mrs. Thompson next door who helped haul bricks. Invoices for the roof, the fireplace, repairs.”
At the hearing, Davids lawyer argued,
“No deed. No legal claim. The will wasnt notarised. And the property belongs to Margaret.”
“But did the claimant live there? Invest?” the judge asked.
“Well… out of kindness. No obligation.”
“Clarify: who paid for repairs? Who lived there? Who provided care?”
Two months later, the court ruledEmily got the land specified in the will. The sale was void. David had to refund the buyers.
And Gran?
“Emily, love… forgive me. I didnt know hed deal with crooks. I meant well…” She never quite grasped the mess.
“You sold my *home*, Gran. If you meant well, youd have talked to *me*. Not people who forgot you for twenty years.”
“Lets make it right? Ill sign it over. Properly. Just… dont be cross.”
They went to the council office. Sorted it fast.
Emily started repairs again. Got the gas hooked up through a council scheme. Gran sat by the window, stroking Marmalade.
“Youre strong, Em. Not like my son. Thought he was clever. Turns out hes rotten. Raised him wrong, I suppose.” Tears welled up.
Two weeks later, David turned up with more papers.
“Im contesting it. She wasnt in her right mind. Im her sonIve got rights.”
The case was quick. Emily brought a doctors noteGran was sound of mind, signed willingly. Case dismissed.
Emily stepped onto the porch, looking at the house, the garden, the cherry tree. Shed always thought of it as home. Now, her heart was at peace.
She tied her scarf and smiled. So much left to do.
