One evening in our cozy home in Manchester was quiet and peaceful. Emma, that’s me, had just finished washing up after dinner while my husband, James, played chess with our son William, and our youngest daughter Sophie was tucking her dolls into bed. Then the doorbell rang—just an ordinary sound, but it turned into the start of a proper family drama. My mum, Margaret, stormed into our lives with accusations that turned everything upside down. Her words about fairness and inheritance still echo in my ears, and the sting of injustice is tearing me apart.
James and I exchanged glances—we weren’t expecting anyone at this hour.
“Maybe it’s the neighbours?” James guessed as he went to open the door.
But there stood my mother, Margaret, with a face like thunder.
“Mum?” I asked, surprised. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? Plenty!” she snapped, marching straight to the kitchen. “I thought you’d have figured it out by now, but clearly not!”
“Figured what out?” I asked, bewildered, feeling anxiety creeping in.
“Do you even have a conscience?” she blurted out. “You’re not planning to share, are you?”
“Share? Share what? Mum, just spell it out!” I stared at her, completely lost.
James, sensing this wouldn’t be an easy chat, quietly went back to William, leaving us to it.
“Fancy a cuppa?” I offered, trying to ease the tension.
“Just water,” she muttered, her sharp tone making it clear this wouldn’t be a friendly catch-up.
“Do you have any conscience?” she repeated, narrowing her eyes. “When are you going to share?”
“Mum, I honestly don’t know what you’re on about. Just say it!” My patience was wearing thin.
“You got Aunt Rose’s inheritance and haven’t bothered sharing with the family! Planning to keep it all for yourself?” she finally spat out.
I froze. Nine months ago, my Aunt Rose, Mum’s sister, left me her flat, a cottage, and her savings. It was her decision, and I thought it was fair—after all, I was the one who looked after her in her last years.
“Why should I share if Aunt Rose left it all to me?” I shot back.
“Well, I never!” Mum scoffed. “A flat, a cottage, a stack of money—all for you! And I’m her sister, the rightful heir! Sure, we didn’t always get on, but that doesn’t mean you should get it all. What about your sister Katie? Why’s she left with nothing?”
“Mum, by law, you could only claim if you were retired and dependent on Aunt Rose. But you’re still working! And Katie’s got no claim,” I replied calmly.
“So you’re keeping everything?” Her voice trembled with anger.
“Why shouldn’t I? When Katie won fifty grand in the lottery three years ago, she didn’t share a penny,” I reminded her.
“Don’t compare the two! Fifty grand and your inheritance—it’s night and day!” She stood up, slammed the door, and stormed out without another word.
I sat there, stunned. Katie and I have always been different. I’m five years older, trained as a nurse, and now work at a private clinic. Katie married right after school, had two boys, Oliver and Ethan, and never worked a day in her life. James and I moved into the house he built with his parents’ help after the wedding. When William was born, then Sophie, my mother-in-law, Barbara, took care of them so I could finish my training and start working. We’d never have managed without her.
Mum always acted like life’s been easy for me and hard for Katie. Katie still lives with Mum and Dad, and every bit of their help goes to her. Aunt Rose’s inheritance was like a thorn in Mum’s side—she genuinely believed I had to split it with Katie and wouldn’t let it go.
“Emma, you ought to do the right thing and give Katie half. It’s only fair,” she’d say.
“Alright, Mum, what about your house—the one you live in with Dad and Katie? Who gets that?” I asked.
“That’s Katie’s share, don’t even think about it,” she snapped.
“Why not split it?” I argued.
“Because you’ve already got a house!” she fired back.
“That’s James’s house, not mine! What do I get?” I was trying to get through to her.
“What more do you want? A house, kids, Barbara helping out. It’s not like you’re struggling!” Her words cut deep.
“None of that’s down to you! The house is James’s, Barbara helps with the kids. And you? Have you ever once looked after William or Sophie? Barbara even retired early to help us!” I couldn’t hold back.
“Your dad and I raised you,” Mum shot back.
“And Katie. And you’re still helping her. Now you want to take what’s rightfully mine. How many times did Katie visit Aunt Rose when she was ill? Who took her to the hospital? Me, not Katie!” My voice shook.
“So what are you planning to do?” Mum asked.
“James and Dad are fixing up the cottage. Barbara’s staying there with the kids this summer, and we’ll visit on weekends. The flat’s still up in the air,” I said.
“Then let Katie and her family move in! They’ll cover the bills,” Mum suggested.
“No, Mum. If we rent it out, it won’t be to Katie. They could get a mortgage if they wanted their own place,” I said.
“And how would they pay for it?” she scoffed.
“Katie could get a job—the boys are old enough now,” I replied.
“Where’s she going to work? She’s got no qualifications,” Mum snapped.
“So she’ll just sit around till she retires?” I asked.
“Not everyone’s as lucky as you, with your fancy job,” she sneered.
“Lucky? I worked my backside off for my qualifications! And Katie? I offered to help her get into college, but all she wanted was to get married. You encouraged her. Now you’re complaining? It’s not too late—she could do a course or something.”
“What course? She’s pregnant with her third!” Mum burst out. “You owe it to your sister!”
“You know what, Mum? If there’s no sense, there’s no making it. Let’s just drop it,” I said flatly.
I sat there in silence, the hurt and resentment crushing my chest. Why should I give up what I’ve earned through hard work and care? My family, my home, my life—they’re all down to mine and James’s efforts. But Mum expects me to sacrifice everything for Katie, who’s never even tried to change. That argument left a deep scar, and I don’t know how to heal it.
