Grandma’s House (a tale)
“Youve been buying coffee at the café again, havent you!” The moment Emma stepped through the door, Michael pounced, his voice sharp.
“I did…,” Emma replied, making peace with a gentle tone. “But its just a cup of coffeecost me only a pound,” she began her explanation.
“A whole pound!” Michael cut her off, eyes wide.
“But I saved two pounds elsewhere, so your complaints are rather unfounded.”
“And how, pray, did you manage to save money this time?” Michael snapped, sarcasm trailing his words.
“Well,” Emma grinned slyly, “I snuck into the Tube with the crowd twice, didnt touch my Oyster card.”
“Didnt you buy a travel pass, as we agreed?”
“Not yet. Figured if the conductor caught me, Id just buy one then. But no one did!”
“Right, well,” Michael grumbled, “Get yourself a pass and behave like a proper Londoner, will you?”
Emma agreed and quietly wandered into the kitchen.
“Look, I got what I could,” Michael said, half apologising, gesturing at the shopping bag.
“Its fine,” Emma sighed, already starting on dinner.
“Dont forget about Gran, will you,” he reminded her, and Emma chewed back a bitter retort. Michaels grandmother, Ednashe knew exactly how strapped for cash they were, but still relied on them for everything, never giving a hand in return.
“I wont,” Emma forced out, keeping her voice even.
At dinner, old Edna was as prickly as ever, nothing up to her standardsgrumbling about the potatoes, the salt, even the weather. Emma fumed silently, knowing Michael wasnt happy either, but he held his tongue.
“When are you finally heading up to the village?” Gran asked abruptly, voice sharp.
“Whatever for?” Michael replied.
“What do you mean, whatever for?! To sell the house, of course! Its been sitting there, empty, goodness knows how long…”
“Gran, I’d wager its a ruin by now.”
Michael clearly had no desire to go.
Gran dropped her fork and threw up her hands, “It was a good, solid house! Still is. Youve never even seen it. You need to go and sell it. Ill sort the paperwork, give you power of attorney.”
“Even if its still standing, it’s out in the sticks. No ones paying heaps for a place in the middle of nowhere,” Michael muttered, eyes fixed on his tea.
“I think we ought to visit and see for ourselves,” Emma said, latching onto the idea.
“Emma!”
“Look, our holiday’s coming up, but we cant afford to go anywhere. We could use the time to check the property,” she reasoned.
Michael exhaled, long and slow. “We cant afford the solicitor, nor the train to Yorkshire.”
“Ill give you the money,” Edna cut in. Both Michael and Emma stared, stunned. Edna kept fussing at her peas as if nothing had happened.
…
Later, Michael tried to talk Emma out of the trip.
“Emma, believe me, its not a house any more. More like an accident.”
“Youve never even seen it. What if we get lucky and manage to flog it for a tidy sum? Lets just go!”
Michael dug his heels in. Tears sprang to Emmas eyes.
“Im tired, Michael. Dont you get it? Life wasnt supposed to turn out like this. Why cant we try? What have we got to lose?”
Michael softened, sat close, and patted her hand gently. “All right, love, all right. Ill dig around for train fare.”
“Lets just accept your grans help, if shes offering, hmm?”
Michael scoffed, “You dont know her. She offers, then forgets. Ill still end up sorting the mess.”
Emma wiped her cheeks, suddenly smiling. “My gran was much the same”
…
A month later, the train clickety-clacked its merry way through the English countryside as Michael and Emma stared out at battered fields and ghostly mist. Michael rambled on; Emmas thoughts wandered, miles and years away. She barely noticed his voice trailing off.
“How did we get here?” Emma wondered, gumminess suffocating her thoughts. “We both had decent jobs, prospects… Now we scrape by just to keep Michaels dads carer and pay for Mums surgery. Why did it all collide like this?”
A loan mightve solved things, but what if Michaels dad never recovered? Theyd just sink further into debt, deeper every month. What a nightmareEmma shuddered at the thought.
“Let the house be whole! Please, just let it be!”
A sudden jab in her ribs made her flinch.
“Youre not even listening,” Michael accused.
“Youre rightIm thinking about the house,” she admitted.
Michael managed a small laugh. “Honestly, I kind of hope it pays our way, too. Wish Id been better at saving”
…
They approached the house, expecting a tumble-down cottageyet it loomed up from the wild undergrowth, sturdy and tall, timbers unbowed.
“Not bad, really,” Michael breathed, rubbing his neck. “Doesnt look abandoned.”
“Shame to sell it, almost,” Emma said, awestruck.
Michael pushed open the rotten gate; tangled nettles and brambles threatened their ankles.
“And heres our project,” Michael grinned.
Peering over his shoulder, Emma jumpedsomeone nearby cleared their throat.
“Excuse me, who are you?” said a man, suit a little too big, eyes wary.
“Im Ednas grandson,” Michael answered. “And you are?”
“Neighbour from next door. Here for long?”
Michael glanced at Emma. “All depends.”
“Is Edna well?”
“Fit as ever. Just sent us to tidy up, is all,” Emma said quickly, sensing Michaels intent to say too much.
“Shame. Id buy it myself, if it were up for sale Though you wont get much. Lands overgrown, housell need work, and the roofs probably got holes”
Emma fixed him with a stare. “Wellits green belt land, isnt it? Goes for a premium round here.”
The man opened his mouth, thought better, shrugged, and vanished.
“How do you know about the land?” Michael whispered.
“I looked up sales in the area,” Emma replied smugly. “Not as cheap as you suppose.”
“Lets go in and see what weve got, then.”
…
Within days, several locals came sniffing around, offering real money for the old place. Emma and Michael played cageyinsisting Gran needed to see it first, to sign papers herself.
“I say, Emma,” Michael mused, “maybe we should chat to an estate agency about pricing.”
Emma only shrugged, though she longed to stop living penny to penny.
“Shall we tackle the upstairs?” Emma asked.
“Just one room stuffed with junk,” Michael replied. “We could leave it. Let the next owner deal with it.”
“Id like to check,” Emma insisted, voice low. “Sometimes you find treasures hidden in old clutter.”
Michael raised an eyebrow. “What are you getting at?”
She hesitated. “Strange, really. Ever since we set foot here, Ive dreamed of the second floor Always the samethe words whisper: Look upstairs. Yet we havent really checked.”
Michael shrugged. “Odd its you dreaming; Im Ednas blood. But if you want to poke through it, we will.”
…
A few days later, the house was in chaos, boxes and musty things scattered. Nothing truly valuable surfaced, just dusty heirlooms and broken odds and ends.
“See,” Michael said, spreading arms wide, “nothing here.”
“I suppose so,” Emma conceded. “All thats left is to knock on the walls and check under the carpets.”
Emma approached a paintingsomehow, the rug bunched beneath her, tripping her up. She sprawled, landing hard on her knees.
“Wait!” Michael knelt, sliding the rug aside. He stared at the floorboards.
“What is it?” Emma scrambled closer.
“These boards are differentlook!”
Emma squinted. “Im not sure”
Michael fetched tools, pried up a plank. Beneath: a secret hollow, filled with little boxes. Popping the first, they gaspedjewels and gold winked up at them.
“Good heavens!” Emma whispered, throat tight.
“Is the door locked?” Michael asked nervously, glancing about. “Watchsomeone will turn up any second just like in one of those dreams.”
“Its locked,” Emma replied, heart hammering.
They opened every box, disbelief mounting.
“Perhaps we wont need to sell the house at all,” Michael marvelled. “You were right, Emma, insisting we come!”
Emma smiled, sudden hope blooming. Perhapsjust perhapsthey might claw back a bit of the life they’d lost.
…
Time moved on. Emma and Michael returned to the city, having sold most of their treasures. Yet little truly changed: scrimping and saving became habit. Michael obsessed over electricity and water, sparking constant rows.
Emma vented to her friend Alice in a cosy café.
“Now I have to soap up every plate before rinsingIm not even allowed to keep the tap running! Theres always bits of food left over,” Emma complained.
“Ask Michael to show you how it’s doneor do it himself.”
“So you think its my fault, then? Everyone thinks Michaels perfect. I used to But since the money woes, since the arguments, its never been the same. Even now, with a nest egg, hes still tight as anything. Can you imagine? He wouldnt give me money for mums medicine. Said it was my problem.”
“Then dont give him every penny you earn,” Alice suggested.
“But were a family.”
Alice smirked, “Does he give you pocket money fornecessities?”
Emma blushed. “No. I get by.”
“You should have your own money, love.”
Emma tried, pleaded, explainedbut Michael never understood.
“Why do you need your own money?” hed ask, mystified. “Tell me what you want, Ill buy it for you.”
But even then, he never did.
…
One ordinary evening, Emma returned from work and started supper. Michael soon arrived. With dusk falling, Emma flicked on the kitchen light.
“I told you, only use the light above the hob, not the whole kitchen,” Michael snapped.
“Michael, its not enough. I cant see what Im cooking.”
“You dont need to see!” Michael grumbled, stalking about to switch off every light, annoying Gran Edna no end.
“You lot dont appreciate me! Im perfect, and you!” Michaels rant echoed.
Emma only sighed. He didnt understand how important proper light was for her eyes, and he never would.
“Oh hush, Michael,” Edna crowed. “Turn off that light then, leave me here with Emma.”
Edna settled herself at the table, mumbling.
“You alright, love?” Emma asked.
“Fine, fine,” Edna nodded, but fidgeted. “Meant to ask you for something Oh, its gone.”
Edna frowned, and Emma dished up dinner.
“Ah! Remembered! Could you water my plants please, pet?” Gran piped.
“Of course,” Emma picked up the watering can, calling to Michael as she left, “Suppers nearly ready!”
“Gimme five minutes,” Michael replied.
Emma shrugged and made for Ednas tiny room. The air was stale and heavy; she wrinkled her nose. She reached for the light, then thought of Michael’s fussing.
“Never mind, Ill do it in the dark,” she muttered.
She watered the first few pots, but leaned close to inspect anotherimmediately, a sharp stick hidden in the soil speared her eye. Emma screamed.
“What happened?” Michael burst in.
“My eye! Ive hurt my eye! Call a cab, we need A&E!” Emma was furious with herselfand with him. After all, shed put that stick there to prop up a sagging rose. Typical! Shed only managed this because of Michaels endless penny-pinching over the lights.
“What cab? We can get the bus” Michael fumbled.
“Just call a taxi! Im not risking my sight because youre stingy with a few quid for electricity!”
Edna shuffled in, shoving her walking stick at Michael. “Dont just stand there! Taxi!”
“Maybe an ambulance?”
“Ambulance’ll take an hour!”
At last, Michael relented.
…
Days later, Emma met Alice at a café, offering a brittle smile.
“You split up? I dont understandhow?”
“Simple. Nothing to divide, no children, no home. He agreed. Made the whole thing easy.”
“And youre alright?”
“More than alright,” Emma admitted, eyes shining. “It wasnt just the accident. He wouldnt give me my own moneyeven for medicine. He kept trying to spend our wages on his fathers carer, his dads medication, Ednas bits and bobs. He never sold the jewels; just hoarded them, as if saving could fix us all. I was frightened to come homehe always found fault. The love just vanished.”
Alice only whistled low.
“But Im happy now. Look after myself, take care of my own money. The best part? Edna gave me the housesaid she had faith in me rather than her grandson.”
Emma laughed, the strangeness of her new dream-life blooming bright and wild within her.
