**A Quiet Word for Grandad**
“Flat? What do you mean your flat?”
“Mum, the one Grandad left me. You even rented it out. Dont you remember?” Emily asked, baffled.
“Oh, that flat. Well, it was never really yours,” replied Irene, breezily. “Forget about it. I sold it.”
Emilys pulse spiked. Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest. Her legs gave way, forcing her to sit down.
“Sold it? How?”
“Well, the usual way. Listed it on Rightmove, found a buyer, done deal. Simons car broke down, and you know hes useless without it. Needed a new one.”
Emily couldnt even muster a reply. She hung up. A sharp ache twisted inside her, so fierce she wanted to scream.
She remembered Grandad, grinning proudly, showing off the new wallpaper in the bedroom, saying itd all be hers one day.
“Grow up a bit, love, and youll have your own little castle. Right from the start. Youll thank me later…” Hed ruffled her hair affectionately.
Grandad died when she was twelve. Back then, owning a flat didnt mean muchjust that it was nice, but she didnt grasp the weight of it. So when Mum said it was only ever hers in theory, Emily barely flinched.
“Legally, its in my name,” Irene declared as the sole heir. “Grandad wanted me to look after it, make sure you didnt fumble it away. Ill rent it out, cover the bills, maybe spruce it up. Youd rather not inherit a crumbling money pit, right?”
“Right,” Emily agreed easily.
“Good. Easier this wayIll handle the tenants, not you. When youre older, well transfer it properly. Dont worry, Mum wont trick you.”
And that was that. Emily forgot about the flatuntil sixth form, when she and her mate Lucy made plans.
“Mum, Lucy and I are applying to the same uni,” she ventured. “Thought we could share the flat? Split the bills. I want to be independent.”
She assumed it was a formalitythat Mum would agree, and student life would begin: late-night chats, takeaways, dodgy dates. Not a chance.
“Emily, love, independent at eighteen? On what wages?” Irene scoffed. “Youd burn out juggling work and lectures. What if Lucy moves in with some bloke? Then its Mum, bail me out?”
The sting lodged under her ribs, but Mums reasoning still sounded solid. She was the adult, after all.
Mortified, Emily apologised to Lucy and scrapped their plans.
Independence seemed hopelessuntil Mum offered an alternative.
“Why not look at unis outside London? They do cheap halls. Same freedom, just free. Ill send you some rent moneynot loads, but enough.”
Emily was overjoyed. She hugged Irene tightly.
For six months, it worked. Then Mum cut the payments.
“Dentist bill wiped me out,” she said. “Well both have to tighten our belts.”
Then the money came later and later. If rent came in on the 10th, Emily got her share a week after. Then two. Then…
Then she learned Mum had moved Simon in.
Simon had a wifesupposedly divorcing, but somehow never quite done. And that was the least of it.
Irene moaned to Emily about him, treating her like a free therapist. After each call, Emily felt drained. It was obvious Simon was using her, but Mum wouldnt hear it.
“Can you believe it? He asked to borrow money! Said he wanted to take his kids to the zoo. Since when do I feed his kids?”
“And you gave it to him?”
“Course I did! Decent men are like hens teeth these days…”
“Decent men dont mooch off their girlfriends!”
“Stop it! Im not some gold-digger. Were in love.”
Simon took plenty. Free rent, free meals. When his jacket tore, Irene bought him a new one.
What did she get? Zilch. He overcharged her for plumbing, “forgot” birthdays, and once bought her a lamp for Mothers Dayafter she begged. Even then, his card declined, so she paid most of it.
Then he started showing her land plots, hinting hed build them a houseif the deed was in his name. Irene gushed to Emily about dream conservatories.
“Mum, wake up! Hes a freeloader!”
“Oh, what do you know? I deserve happiness!”
After that, Irene stopped mentioning himsmall mercies.
By third year, the money stopped entirely.
“Lost my job. Youre on your own, love.”
Betrayed, Emily bit her tongue. She took odd jobstutoring, online moderatingscraped by, saved a bit, then called Mum.
Shed warn the tenants she was moving back.
Except there was no flat.
But Emily had a card to play. A small one: half of Mums house was legally hers.
It took weeks to sort a place, eating most of her savings. Once settled, she called.
“Mum, since were being fair… Im selling my share. Cold, but fair.”
“What?! Thats mine!”
“Lifes unfair. You sold my flatI need to live.”
“Your flat? Did you lift a finger for it? I managed the tenants, paid the bills”
Emily cut in, steady. “Either buy me out, or I sell to strangers.”
“I raised you! Youre worse than your father!”
Emily hung up. Next day, she sent a formal noticeno face-to-face drama.
A month later, the money landed in her account. Enough to start fresh.
“Sorry, Grandad,” she whispered. “But you taught me not to trust words.”
She felt rottenhed wanted them happy, each in their own home. But hers had turned into Simons tyres, so shed fought fire with fire.
