Taking Advantage: — “I’ll take you to court!” shouted her mother. — “Go ahead! Do it!” replied Larisa, calm and unbothered. She had all the documents filled out properly. Once again, her mother turned up to rattle her nerves, pounding on the door, shouting threats from the landing, calling her daughter a thief who’d stolen what wasn’t hers. Larisa could’ve called the police, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. After all, it was her mother. The neighbours, meanwhile, preferred not to get involved. “Just family drama…” sighed the old woman next door, clutching her teacup as she listened to the commotion on the landing. “Oh, Mrs. Simmons…” murmured another gran from downstairs, shaking her head. Mrs. Simmons, whom the neighbours lamented over, was Larisa’s own grandmother, the one who had raised her since childhood. *** “She’s not coming, darling—don’t stand at the window, you’ll catch a chill,” Mrs. Simmons would say to five-year-old Larisa. “Go on, do some colouring—look, I’ve bought you new pencils and lovely, bright pictures!” Grandma always knew how to cheer her up. Larisa would sit at the kitchen table, perched on the cat-paw cushion her gran had crocheted especially, and lose herself in colouring while the house filled with the smells of soup, frying cutlets, and mashed potatoes. Tick-tock went the old pendulum clock; the kettle hissed, the fridge hummed, and outside a blizzard swept the empty street. Inside, everything was warm and safe. “Why? Why does Mum visit so rarely when it’s so lovely here?” Larisa wondered. Her mother, Marina, lived just a short train ride away but was busy living her own life, never making time for her daughter and mother. After losing her husband in a motorbike crash at just twenty, Marina moved on quickly, more interested in finding happiness for herself than raising her little girl. It was always Mrs. Simmons—never Marina—who was there for every milestone: the first steps, the first lost tooth, the first day of school. Larisa gave up hoping her mother might one day care. When Mrs. Simmons fell ill, Larisa—now grown—looked after her, putting off work to repay her grandmother’s boundless love. Meanwhile, Marina couldn’t be bothered. She had husbands to find, parties to attend, and when finally she learned she’d get no share of the flat or savings her mother left behind, she erupted in rage and threats. Larisa refused to back down or give in to guilt. She had done nothing wrong. The neighbours all knew the truth. And as life carried on, Larisa realised that true family is who cares for you, not just who shares your blood. Family Feuds and Broken Promises: How a Devoted Grandmother, an Absent Mother, and a Daughter’s Unwavering Loyalty Led to a Battle Over a London Flat, Bitter Accusations, and the Triumph of Love Over Greed

Ill see you in court! bellowed her mother.

Go on, then! Get started! Sarah shot back, undisturbed. Every bit of paperwork was sorted, filed and legal.

Her mother was back again, rattling her nerves. Sarah wouldnt let her in the flat, but her mother stood on the landing, banging the door with her fists, and yelled threats through the wood. She accused her daughter of being a thief, a criminal, a cheat whod stolen what wasnt hers.

Sarah couldve called the police, but how could she? This was her mum. The neighbours chose to keep well away.

Typical family squabble muttered the old woman next door, sighing as she listened to the racket from the corridor. Oh, Evelyn groaned the lady downstairs, shaking her head.

The Evelyn in questionthe one neighbourly sighs referred towas Sarahs true grandmother: Evelyn Harris. Shed raised Sarah from the moment she could toddle.

***

Shes not coming, sweetheart. Dont stand by the windowyoull catch a chill, Evelyn would say to five-year-old Sarah. Here now, have a lookyour grans brought you some new colouring books! Arent they just lovely?

Evelyn had a way of comforting her. Sarah, forgetting her worries, would shuffle over to the kitchen table. Under her, a stool with a special blue-cat cushioncrocheted by gran herself.

Evelyn bustled about, cooking up mince and mash, or warming soup on the hob. The old pendulum clock clicked on the wall, the kettle whistled, the fridge hummed, and outside, rain lashed the small terraced street. Inside it was warm and safe.

Why? Why doesnt Mum visit? Sarah wondered, her mind always returning to her mother.

Linda, Sarah’s mum, lived just a couple of rail stops away. But Linda never fancied visiting her mother or her daughter, obsessed with her own happiness.

Linda had Sarah young, nineteen, and just a year later, her husbandMichaelwas killed in a motorbike crash. The flat theyd lived in belonged to Michael’s grandmother, now left to him. His parents resided abroadhands-off, never involved. Michael was raised by that same grandmother.

Linda, Michael, and then little Sarah lived in that flat. When Michael died, Linda inherited it. Her grieving didn’t last long.

Im still young, Mum. I want to have a life! Linda declared. I’m only twenty. Ill find a new husband.

You’ve a daughter to raise. No time for such nonsense! You should study too, do both! Evelyn would argue. I managed uni, got married, had you in my final year, all with top marks!

Not everyone is like you! Besides, you told me yourselfvocational training first, then work, and only then you did university at thirty, part-time. Im only twenty. What am I, a plough horse? Linda retorted. You had a husbandIm a widow.

Here, Linda usually wept, leaving Evelyns heart torn. How awful, to be a widow at twenty.

Bring Sarah to me. Ill help, as much as you need

Thank you, Mummy! Linda instantly cheered up, kissing her mothers cheek.

As Sarah reached nursery age, Evelyn found her a place in a nearby preschool, on her own street. Shed already retiredno job to rush back to.

Meanwhile, Linda visited less and less. She landed a job, threw herself into meeting men. No intention of studying; she was content as she was.

Evelyn, disappointed, found her hands too full to dwell on it. All the day-to-day worry of raising Sarah had fallen to her shoulders. She kicked herself many times for offering so much help. She could never have imagined her own daughter would leave her child behind so completely.

Still, to Lindas credit, she sent money for Sarah, and rarely, like the sun breaking through clouds, as Evelyn put it, shed turn up.

Those were Sarahs special days. Mum might bring chocolates, a doll, or sparkly perfume. She always left in a hurry.

Sarah would stare at the window after, tears streaming, wishing her mum had stayed longer.

Linda always promised shed visit again soon, and each time, she broke that promise.

Years passed. Linda married twice more, then let the flat and moved to London, thinking it better hunting ground for romance.

Sarah eventually stopped waiting for her mum. When Linda did show uponce a yearSarah resented surrendering her own room, shuffling onto grans sofa.

There was nothing left between them. Sarahs first step, first word, every milestoneEvelyn saw them all. First day at school, first certificates, after-school clubs, her first school play, piano recitalsher mother missed everything, and barely seemed to care.

Her mother, in Sarahs mind, fluttered like a butterflya pretty thing, never to be caught, only admired briefly before she flitted away.

By the time Sarah started university, Linda was married againthe fourth time.

Evelyns health faltered. At seventy-five, she had kept sprightly as long as anyone could hope, but year by year, her strength faded.

If only I can keep going a little longer Evelyn would sigh. You need help, Sarah. Your mother never cared.

Dont say that, Gran, Sarah would reply. Everything will be alright. The doctors know what theyre doing.

Sarah, ever the optimist, lifted Evelyns spirits. She beamed with pride at her granddaughtergood university, good results, all by her own effort.

But then, after university, Evelyn fell gravely ill. Sarah, instead of job hunting, poured herself into nursing her grandmother.

Evelyn had put away some savings, working part-time as soon as Sarah was old enough. Now, those savings went to care. Sarah nursed her back to health.

Linda didnt visit, though she knew full well her mother was unwell. She had sent no money or gifts for years, and after marrying a fourth time, stopped calling altogether.

I cant. I really cant, Mum, she told Evelyn on the phone.

When Sarah asked for help, Linda claimed she too was ill.

You know, I probably feel worse than GranIve just kept quiet about it, Linda told Sarah, when asked to pop round. Im applying for disability. Youre asking the wrong person, love, I could do with help myself.

She ended the call swiftly. Evelyn gave a thin, wry smile when Sarah relayed the conversation.

Shes got nothing wrong with her, Evelyn said, waving a frail hand. Just making excuses so she doesnt have to help. I know my daughter! Why would she bother with a sick old woman when shes only just married again?

It broke Evelyns hearther only child, so selfish. But Sarah made her proud.

When Evelyn was on her feet again, the first thing she did was take Sarah to the solicitor.

Were putting my flat in your name, she announced, still a little shaky.

Gran, dont talk like that, Sarah scolded her gently.

I do this for you. Lifes unpredictable. Linda’s more like a stranger than a motherwouldnt lift a finger if you needed help. Shes obsessed with men, never spares you a thought. I wont have my home go to her. Well sort the savings toomoneys always welcome.

They did just that. Evelyn lived on two more years before another illness claimed her.

I never married, never gave you great-grandchildren, Sarah wept at her graveside, surrounded by fresh wreaths. You always wanted to see me wed, wanted to hold my babies

Linda didnt come for the funeral. She sent a brief messagesaid she felt truly, awfully unwell, barely able to move. She wired a little cash, apparently believing this cleared her conscience.

Sarah organised everything alone. There was little to arrangea handful of neighbours, a couple of old friends, Grans former colleagues. They all helped, remembering the kind soul Evelyn Harris had been.

As soon as Linda learned the inheritance had slipped through her fingers, her miraculous recovery began.

Its a blooming miracle, Sarah said, hearing her mothers renewed fury echoing through the corridor.

She only let her mother inside that flat once. It was a mistake.

Linda, in a rage, smashed Evelyns favourite vase against the wall upon seeing Sarahs deed of ownership. She tried to rip up the paperwork, stamped her feet, shouted, had to be shown the door.

This is MY flat! Mine! Linda screamed, fist trembling. Thief! You tricked a sick old woman into signing it over! Ill take you to court! Ill prove it!

Linda convinced herself Evelyn hadnt been in her right mind during the signing, determined to contest it. She returned several times, tormenting Sarah, now always barred from the flat.

She was ill! You called and told me yourself, she was bedridden! Means her mind was addled. This is a fraudulent transfer! Linda shrieked, pounding on Sarahs door. People! Look here! My daughter tricked her own gran out of her house! This has to be stoppedjustice must be done!

The neighbours only smirked. Theyd known Evelyn and Sarah too long to take any of that seriously.

It never went to court. Linda fell genuinely ill, or at least, she truly couldnt keep the fight up.

Sarah I need your help came Lindas weakened whisper one evening. My husbands useless at care You nursed your gran. Help me now, please

Sorry, Mum. I cant, Sarah replied without apology. Im pregnant. Doctor says I cant lift anything.

You got yourself knocked up?! Linda snappedher weak voice suddenly returned to full force.

No, Mum. Im married. Im happy. Im expecting a child, and blessed, Sarah replied with dignityand a sting: You were so set on court, werent you? Why havent you gone?

You cow! Linda shrieked, slamming the phone down.

Linda, love, please no need to shout, muttered her husband, Peter, watching her with worried eyes. Well take out a loan, hire a carer for you

Get lost! she spat.

He grated on her nerves. Peter had been a widower, ten years her senior. Hed pretended to be well off to win her, all smoke and mirrorsborrowing heavily for the appearance. Shed married, thinking a new life awaited, but the truth surfaced quickly. Peter figured her out before long, yet his feelings held him captive.

Linda hadnt left straightawayfree lodging was better than nothing. But just as she plotted her next move, her health failed.

***

You shouldnt have lied, Mum. Shouldnt have played at being ill, Sarah whispered one night, gazing at the city stars. Everything is seen from above.

Yet happiness filled her heart. She knew she was blessedwith a husband, David, who loved her beyond words. Perhaps it was fate. Or perhaps, it was Granfrom somewhere up there, still caring, still wishing her Sarah all the happiness in the world.

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Taking Advantage: — “I’ll take you to court!” shouted her mother. — “Go ahead! Do it!” replied Larisa, calm and unbothered. She had all the documents filled out properly. Once again, her mother turned up to rattle her nerves, pounding on the door, shouting threats from the landing, calling her daughter a thief who’d stolen what wasn’t hers. Larisa could’ve called the police, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. After all, it was her mother. The neighbours, meanwhile, preferred not to get involved. “Just family drama…” sighed the old woman next door, clutching her teacup as she listened to the commotion on the landing. “Oh, Mrs. Simmons…” murmured another gran from downstairs, shaking her head. Mrs. Simmons, whom the neighbours lamented over, was Larisa’s own grandmother, the one who had raised her since childhood. *** “She’s not coming, darling—don’t stand at the window, you’ll catch a chill,” Mrs. Simmons would say to five-year-old Larisa. “Go on, do some colouring—look, I’ve bought you new pencils and lovely, bright pictures!” Grandma always knew how to cheer her up. Larisa would sit at the kitchen table, perched on the cat-paw cushion her gran had crocheted especially, and lose herself in colouring while the house filled with the smells of soup, frying cutlets, and mashed potatoes. Tick-tock went the old pendulum clock; the kettle hissed, the fridge hummed, and outside a blizzard swept the empty street. Inside, everything was warm and safe. “Why? Why does Mum visit so rarely when it’s so lovely here?” Larisa wondered. Her mother, Marina, lived just a short train ride away but was busy living her own life, never making time for her daughter and mother. After losing her husband in a motorbike crash at just twenty, Marina moved on quickly, more interested in finding happiness for herself than raising her little girl. It was always Mrs. Simmons—never Marina—who was there for every milestone: the first steps, the first lost tooth, the first day of school. Larisa gave up hoping her mother might one day care. When Mrs. Simmons fell ill, Larisa—now grown—looked after her, putting off work to repay her grandmother’s boundless love. Meanwhile, Marina couldn’t be bothered. She had husbands to find, parties to attend, and when finally she learned she’d get no share of the flat or savings her mother left behind, she erupted in rage and threats. Larisa refused to back down or give in to guilt. She had done nothing wrong. The neighbours all knew the truth. And as life carried on, Larisa realised that true family is who cares for you, not just who shares your blood. Family Feuds and Broken Promises: How a Devoted Grandmother, an Absent Mother, and a Daughter’s Unwavering Loyalty Led to a Battle Over a London Flat, Bitter Accusations, and the Triumph of Love Over Greed
The Evening My Neighbour Brought Over a Freshly-Baked Pie That Still Carried the Scent of an Old Grudge