Deed of Gift for the Grandson “Lucy, quit fussing. Sit down and sign. Pen’s on the table, the document’s in front of you—this’ll take five minutes, but you’ll turn it into an all-evening drama,” said Mr. Victor Barnes, adjusting his glasses as he leaned heavily on the old kitchen table, its plastic cover sliced up from years of use. His daughter Lucy perched on a stool, legs crossed, tapping perfect nails on her smartphone, not even glancing at Lydia. “I’m not signing this, Dad. Do you realise what you’re doing? You’re basically kicking me out onto the street,” Lucy’s voice broke, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. “Oh, what street, Lucy? Don’t make a scene,” said Olivia, her sister, not looking up. “You’ve got a room, haven’t you? Nobody’s chucking you out now. Live there until you get married. But the flat needs to go to Mark. It’s about family continuity.” “Mark already has two properties, Olivia! One from Oliver, another from his grandparents! Why does a two-year-old need a third one when his aunt is left with nothing?” Grandma Grace quietly placed a plate of biscuits on the table, avoiding her eldest daughter’s eyes. “Lucy dear, why are you being greedy? You’re smart, you’ve got a good job, and you’re making a name for yourself. Olivia’s struggling—she’s got a toddler and a lot on her plate. We talked it over and agreed: a grandson carries on the family line. And you… well, you’re a woman. Someday you’ll get married, and your husband will take care of everything. Why bother with all this property hassle?” “Property hassle? Mum, are you serious? It’s a basic right to a roof over my head! If something happened to you tomorrow, Olivia would throw me out in a heartbeat just to rent or sell the place. Don’t you get that?” Olivia finally put her phone away and looked at her sister with fake sympathy. “Lucy, you’re just jealous. My husband’s successful, I made it as a mother, and all you care about are numbers and forms. Family is different—everything should go to the kids. Mark deserves a head start. Your ‘head start’—that’s your looks and your attitude. Find a proper bloke and your problem’s solved.” “I’m not signing that waiver,” Lucy pronounced every word. “Tomorrow, you’re going to the solicitor—and I’m coming too. But not to sign, to challenge this nonsense.” Victor slammed a hand on the table. “Enough! I’m the head of this house, and we’ve decided. If you want to be part of this family—do as you’re told. Stop being selfish and think about your nephew.” Lucy retreated to her room and locked the door, heart burning as she took in her bookshelf, her scuffed plant pot, and the old chest of drawers she’d sanded and painted herself three years ago. This was the only place she truly felt at home. Now what? The moment her parents signed the flat over to her nephew, her little sister would see her out the door, Lucy was sure of it. Through the wall, she heard Olivia’s muffled voice: “Mum, tell her to wear beige tomorrow or she’ll look like a grey mouse in the solicitor’s photos. And after the transfer, we really should change the locks, just in case—so only we have keys. Lucy can knock, she won’t break.” Lucy closed her eyes. She knew her parents were utterly under Olivia’s thumb. Olivia always knew how to get her way—bringing Mark round whenever asked, lavishing her parents with gifts, endlessly boasting about her husband Oliver’s so-called greatness. Naturally, her parents melted. Olivia, persistent as ever, had been pushing for her son to get the flat for a year—and finally got what she wanted. *** The following morning, Lucy entered the kitchen to find everyone assembled. Olivia, in a silk set, sat smugly by the fridge while parents took turns feeding porridge to the grandson. “Morning, Miss Refusal,” Olivia sneered. “Documents are in the folder. Oliver’s car’ll be here in half an hour—travel in style.” “I’m not going in your car,” Lucy replied. “I’ll meet you at the solicitor.” “Suit yourself. Pride comes at a price, Lucy—hope you enjoy the Tube in your old age,” Olivia winked at the parents. Victor was silent. He clearly felt awkward, but siding with his eldest meant crossing his wife and youngest. If it were up to him, he’d do the right thing, but… his wife and Olivia had made up their minds. The solicitor’s office was in the city centre. Lucy arrived early and waited on the steps. When Oliver’s black SUV rolled up, Olivia hopped out, followed by the parents. Oliver, behind the wheel, nodded at Lucy through tinted glass. Inside, the air was stuffy. The solicitor laid out the papers. “Right, so: the property at… is already privatised… today we’re doing a deed of gift to a minor…” “Hang on,” Lucy interrupted. “I want to ask my parents something, in front of you. Mum, Dad, do you realise this signs my inheritance away?” “Oh, not this again…” Olivia drawled, checking her nails. “I’m asking Mum and Dad!” Grace fidgeted nervously. “Darling, we talked about this… Mark needs it more. Oliver’s business could go wrong. At least our grandson will have a stable base.” “And what about me?” Her parents were silent. The solicitor looked up. “Are you registered in the flat?” “Yes. And I have a right to a share on privatisation—they’re forcing me to give it up for my nephew.” “In that case,” the solicitor put down her pen, “with a conflict of interest, I’m required to speak with each of you individually. Everyone but Lucy, please leave.” Olivia bristled. “Why? We’ve already decided! We’re paying for this!” “Miss Barnes, out—otherwise I’ll halt proceedings!” Once the door had closed, the solicitor turned to Lucy. “Tell me what’s going on—quick, please.” Lucy told everything: the two flats for Mark, the family pressure, Oliver’s debts. The solicitor didn’t interrupt. “Listen, Lucy. I can’t stop your parents doing what they wish with their property. But you’re clearly under pressure. Do one thing: your sister mentioned her husband’s business. Ask her, in front of your parents, why they aren’t signing the place over to her directly. The answer will surprise you.” When the family filed back in, Lucy looked calmer. “Fine. I’ll sign. But on one condition,” she said, staring at Olivia. Olivia’s smile widened. “There we go, sense at last. What’s your condition?” “Let’s sign the flat over to you, Olivia—not Mark. If this is our family nest, it’s yours now. Why wait for him to turn eighteen?” For a moment, Olivia hesitated. “No, it’s better for Mark. Taxes and whatnot. And it’s what the parents want.” “I think,” Lucy turned to her parents, “Olivia doesn’t want it in her own name because Oliver’s in debt. She wants to be able to sell if things go south—who represents Mark legally? She does. Playing it safe, sis?” Victor frowned. “What debts?” “Ask him, Dad. Ask why he spent half last night phoning creditors for loan extensions.” “Just hedging her bets. That’s why Oliver’s other flat’s in Mark’s name—probably granny and grandad on that side are worried, too. But you, Dad! She’d sell the flat and toss you out!” “You’re lying!” Olivia leapt up. “There are no debts!” “Then sign in your name,” Lucy said calmly. “If there’s no debt, nothing to fear.” “I can’t… it wouldn’t be fair to Mark!” Victor slowly rose. “Olivia, look at me. Is Lucy telling the truth? Does Oliver have business problems?” “Dad, you know business is risky—some small hurdles…” “Temporary?” Lucy pulled a printout from her bag. “Here—direct from the debt registry. The amounts are so high, this flat won’t even cover the interest.” Grace gasped and covered her mouth. “So you…,” Victor took the printout, “you were going to set us up? Selling our only home to pay off your husband’s debt?” “What does it matter to you? We’re nearly bankrupt! Lucy’d survive—she’s on her own!” “So you came to us, using the grandson as cover, to fleece us of our home so you could bail out your husband?” Victor roared. “And throw your own sister out in the cold?” “She’d’ve been fine! I have a child!” The solicitor gathered the papers. “I take it today’s transaction is cancelled.” “There’ll be no transaction!” Victor barked, storming out. *** Lucy got home before her parents. They later told her Oliver had whisked Olivia and Mark away straight after learning that the deed wasn’t going through. Her parents had to get a taxi. Now her parents sat in the kitchen—lost, years older in an evening. “Forgive us, love,” whispered Grace. “We were blind. It was always, ‘Mark, Mark’… How could Olivia…?” “She’s just used to getting her own way,” replied Lucy. “You made her that way. I was always the ‘grown-up’ you thought would cope alone.” Victor looked away. “Tomorrow we’ll see a different solicitor. We’ll write a will—split it evenly, legally. No one left out.” “Dad, don’t divide it,” Lucy sat beside him. “Keep the flat. Just live and be happy.” A week later, Olivia called to demand a loan, threatening to keep Mark away if not paid. Victor hung up on her for the first time in his life. “You’ll get married someday, Lucy,” he said to her that evening, “and nothing would make us happier. But this home—it’s yours. Forgive us. We almost made the biggest mistake of our lives.” Lucy smiled. *** Olivia had to sell her husband’s flat and move in with her in-laws. The proceeds barely covered some of Oliver’s debts. The gifts and visits stopped—she was too busy, and besides, she couldn’t afford it anymore. Lucy met someone, and wedding plans were soon afoot. As she left her parents’ home to start her new life, she reminded them once more—never get mixed up in any more property schemes.

Deed for the Grandson

Lucy, stop fussing about. Sit down and sign. The pen’s on the table, the documents right in front of you.

Itll take you five minutes, but the racket will last all night said Victor Barnes, nudging his glasses up his nose and slumping his elbows onto the battered old kitchen table, covered with a faded, knife-scored wipe-clean cloth.

His younger daughter perched on a stool, leg crossed, tapping a perfectly manicured nail against her phone. She didn’t even glance at Lucy.

Im not signing this, Dad. Do you understand what youre doing?

Youre practically kicking me out onto the street Lucys voice trembled, but she forced herself to look her father in the eye.

Oh, dont be dramatic, Lucy Olivia didnt bother raising her head. Youve got a room, havent you? Youre not being thrown out this second? No. Stay as long as you like, until you find a husband.

And the flat should go to Mark. Thats family continuity.

Mark already has two properties, Olivia! One from Oliver, one from his other grandparents!

Why does a two-year-old need a third, while his own aunt ends up with nothing?

Gillian Barnes slid a plate of biscuits onto the table, not meeting her elder daughters gaze.

Lucy love, honestly, dont be greedy. Youve always been clever, building your own career.

Its Olivia who has it tough, with a toddler to look after.

We put our heads together and decided: our grandson is our legacy.

But you… youre a woman. One day youll get married and move in with your husband.

Why have the extra hassle of property?

Extra hassle? Mum, really? Its about having a roof over my head!

If something happened to you tomorrow, Olivia would chuck me out in a heartbeat, to let or sell the flat.

Cant you see that?

Olivia finally put down her phone and turned to her sister, her voice dripping with false sympathy.

Lucy, youre just jealous. Because my husbands successful, because Im raising a child youve always been this way…

Other than your facts and figures, what interests you? Nothing! Familys about putting children first.

Mum and Dad are right, Mark needs a proper start.

And as for your start youve got your looks and your character.

Find yourself a decent bloke, and it all sorts itself out.

I will not sign any waiver, Lucy spoke every word with intent. Youre going to the solicitor tomorrow, and so am I. Not to sign, but to contest this nonsense.

Victor Barnes slapped the table.

Enough! Im the head of this house. Weve made our decision. If you want to be part of this family, do as youre told.

Stop being selfish, think about your nephew.

Lucy fled to her room and locked the door. Her chest ached with heat. She stared at her shelves of books, the battered cactus in its chipped pot, the old chest of drawers shed sanded and painted herself three years ago.

This flat was the only place shed ever felt at home.

What now? Once her parents transferred the flat to their grandson, her little sister would throw her out, she was certain of it.

Through the wall, she could hear Olivias muffled voice.

Mum, make sure she wears beige tomorrow, or shell look like a grey mouse in the solicitors photo.

And after its sorted, we really should change the front door lock. Just in case. Only we should have the keys.

If Lucy knocks, shell live.

Lucy squeezed her eyes shut. She knew her parents had fallen completely under Olivias thumb.

Olivia always knew exactly how to play them: bringing Mark round at a moments notice, showering them with gifts, boasting endlessly about her husband, Oliver his business acumen, his generosity.

Her parents melted on the spot. Olivia, drip by drip, wore them down until she got her way.

The campaign for the family flat to go to her son had begun a year ago. And after twelve months, Olivia was about to get everything she wanted.

***

Next morning, Lucy stepped into the kitchen. Everyone was already there. Olivia, immaculate in her silk loungewear, sat by the fridge, while her parents took turns spoon-feeding porridge to Mark.

Morning, the rebel Olivia smirked. Papers are all in the folder. Olivers carll be here in thirty minutes. Nice and comfortable.

Im not riding with you said Lucy. Ill meet you at the solicitors.

Suit yourself. Prides an expensive habit, Lucy. Just be sure youre not taking the tube to work till youre sixty, Olivia winked at their parents.

Victor Barnes stayed silent. The awkwardness clung to him but to admit Lucys point meant defying his wife and his youngest.

Of course, if he could, hed do the right thing … but his wife and younger daughter had already made up their minds.

The solicitors office was right in the centre of town. Lucy arrived early, waiting for the rest on the steps.

When Olivers large black SUV pulled up, Olivia jumped out, followed by her parents, climbing out steadily.

Oliver remained behind the wheel, giving Lucy a nod through burnt-orange tinted glass.

Inside the office it was stifling. The solicitor arranged the papers neatly in front of them.

Right, property at this address… Deed of gift… Are we all agreed, then, that this flat is to be transferred to the minor…

Excuse me Lucy interrupted. I want to ask my parents something, in front of you. Mum, Dad, do you realise this means Ill have no inheritance rights?

Lucy, not again… Olivia groaned, examining her nails.

Im asking our parents!

Gillian Barnes shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

Darling, we talked about this… Mark needs it more. Olivers business is risky, anything could happen. At least the boy would have his own home.

And what about me?

Her parents said nothing. The solicitor looked up.

Are you registered at this address, Miss Barnes?

I am. Im entitled to a share in the original privatization, which Im now being compelled to give up for my nephew.

Hmm, the solicitor set aside her pen Since theres a conflict of interest, Ill need to speak with each of you separately. If youd all step outside except for Lucy, please.

Olivia flared up.

What do you mean, a private talk? Everythings settled! Were paying for your time!

Miss Olivia Barnes, please step out, or Ill have to halt the process.

When the door closed, the woman turned to Lucy.

Talk to me, quickly and to the point.

Lucy laid it all out: Marks two flats, the family pressure, Olivers debts. The solicitor listened in silence.

Look, Lucy. I cant stop your parents from managing their own affairs. But I see youre being pressured.

Heres what I suggest: your sister said Oliver runs a business. Ask her, in front of your parents, why the flat isnt being put in her name instead of Marks. Youll find her answer revealing.

When the others returned, Lucy looked composed.

Fine, Ill sign. But on one condition, she said, staring at Olivia.

Olivias smile widened in triumph.

Common sense at last. Whats the catch?

Lets have the deed put in your name, Olivia. Since you think of it as the family nest, let it be yours.

Why bother waiting for Mark to come of age?

Olivia paused.

No, its better on Mark. Tax, fees… Mum and Dad wanted it this way.

I think Lucy turned to their parents she doesnt want it in her name because Olivers up to his neck in business debt.

She wants to be able to sell the flat quickly if she needs to.

Who acts for Mark legally? Olivia, of course! Keeping your options open, sister?

Victor Barnes frowned.

What debts?

Ask him, Dad. Ask why he spent half of last night ringing people, begging for an extension on his loan.

Olivias making sure shes covered. The reason Marks other propertys now in his name too obvious.

I bet his grandparents dont want him selling their house, either, and signed up for this scheme.

But you, Dad! Shed sell it and toss you out in a second!

Youre lying! Olivia sprang up. There are no debts!

Then put the flat in your own name Lucy replied softly. If youve got nothing to hide.

I cant… That wouldnt be fair to Mark!

Victor Barnes slowly straightened up.

Olivia, look at me. Is Lucy telling the truth? Is Oliver in financial trouble?

Dad, you know how business is… there are a few problems…

Temporary? Lucy slid a printout across the table. Take a look. The sums are so high, the flat wouldnt begin to cover the interest.

Gillian Barnes gasped, hand to her mouth.

So you were… Victor Barnes stared at the paper. You tried to trick us? You were going to sell the only home we have to clear someone elses debts? Even throw your own sister out?

Shed be fine! But Ive got a child!

The solicitor packed away the papers in silence.

Ill take it the transaction wont be going ahead today, then.

Its not happening at all! barked Victor Barnes, and stormed out.

***

Lucy arrived home before her parents. Later she found out from them that Oliver had whisked Olivia and their son off as soon as hed heard what happened at the solicitors.

Lucys parents had to take a taxi home.

Now they sat at the kitchen table, left looking older and lost.

Im sorry, love Gillian whispered. We really couldn’t see it. It was always Mark this, Mark that… And Oliviahow could she?

She just got used to getting everything handed to her, said Lucy. You made her that way. I was always the grown-up who could cope on her own.

Victor Barnes averted his gaze.

Tomorrow well see a different solicitor. Make a will. Split everything in half clear and legal. So no one gets thrown out.

Dad, I dont need half Lucy sat beside him. Just keep the flat. Please. Live for years yet.

A week later, Olivia phoned demanding a loan, threatening never to bring Mark round again if they didnt cough up.

For the first time in his life, Victor hung up on her.

Lucy he said that evening. One day youll get married, and well be happy for you. But this flat its yours.

Forgive us old fools. We nearly made the biggest mistake of our lives.

Lucy smiled.

***

Olivia was eventually forced to sell her husbands flat and move in with Olivers parents. The money covered part of Olivers debts.

She no longer visited her parents with gifts she hadnt the time or resources anymore.

Lucy met someone, and their relationship led to marriage. When she moved out, she reminded her parents no more property schemes. And they agreed.