Gran Gran Kicked Out Her Grandson and His Wife and Decided to Live Alone at 80: The Family’s Drama Over Her Three-Bed Flat and a Battle for Independence

Author Emily TaylorReading 5 minViews 4

Gran set his grandson and his wife out on their ear and decided, at the ripe old age of 80, to live on her own.

Our gran is eighty years old now. Just last week, she gave my older brother and his wife the boot and hasnt spoken much to anyone since. If I ring to say well pop round, she hangs up straight away. She wont even answer the door to a soul.

My brother wont tell me exactly why he moved into a rented flat, but I can hazard a guess. It didnt shock me that Gran showed him the doorhes always been a bit careless and more interested in spending than saving.

The moment Gran had the place to herself, and there was finally some space in her flat, the family called an emergency meeting at my aunts. Gran herself stayed away. The one burning question, of course, was how she could possibly cope, managing on her own at her age.

Dads sister decided that her thirty-year-old daughter, currently out of work, could look after Gran full-time. Everyone knew her daughter was more than a little scatter-brained and not exactly the nurturing type.

Dads other sister came up with her own cost-cutting schemeshe suggested moving Gran into a bedsit to save a few quid, The young ones have moved out, hows she supposed to pay for such a big flat?

Then my uncle piped up, offering to have Gran live with him, while his son would take over her flat. Made sense to him, he saidits not easy living alone at eighty. Time for the next generation to have their turn. All these proposals were dressed up as caring for Grans well-being.

I only want whats best for Mum. Shed be safe and cared-for! said my uncle, a bit too loudly.

Gran had already lived with one of his sons; now he wanted the other one in that flat. Dad was the only one who said Gran should actually have a say in her own life. The rest of them were scandalised.

The pushiest by far was Dads first sister, so everyone caved and agreed on her daughter moving in. The niece started packing her suitcase right away, and Gran was given a call, quite matter-of-factly, to inform her of the family decision. The old lady, clearly unimpressed, slammed the phone down.

The girl went over to Grans, already planning how shed redecorate. Things didnt go to plan. Gran bolted the door and wouldnt let her in. She did, however, leave a jar of pickled onions on the doorstep for her granddaughter.

How can she be left on her own like this? moaned the niece, annoyed as anything. Shes claiming shes never lived her own life in eighty yearsnow she suddenly decides she wants to start? Something could happen at any moment! If her health failed, or anything! Being alone is dangerous!

Grans not thinking straight! Theres no gratitude! She spent her life living with her parents, then Granddad, then her children and grandchildren, even their families. And now she wants peace and quiet, alone, in a three-bedroom flat! Its outrageous! Its high time to make space for youngsters!

Only Dad kept a level head. He didnt fancy the idea of forcing anyone to move. He had another plan. Gran couldnt just be left completely on her ownwith that, he and my aunts were right: anything could happen. None of us even have keys; she changed all the locks when she sent my brother packing. After all, at her age every day is unpredictable.

With Mums blessing, Dad had a camera fitted in Grans hallway. Now, whenever she walked through, you could see her on the screenproof for all the anxious relatives that she was safe and sound. Gran herself played up to it and pulled faces each time she glanced at the camera.

She was adamant about paying her own bills, which, living alone, didnt amount to much anyway. She flatly refused help, just wanted everyone to keep out of her hair. And so, oddly enough, everyones finally satisfied. Thanks to a bit of tech, Gran managed to be rid of the family busybodies.

Its all worked out for the best. The only trouble is, Gran still wont let anyone in for a cuppa. I popped round yesterday and had to collect a jar of raspberry jam from outside her door on the landing. Shes clearly still worried about losing her independence. I just wish shed finally relax a bit and be open to seeing us again.

We’re Moving Into Your Flat — “Oli’s got a lovely flat in the heart of town. The place is newly renovated—you just move in and enjoy!” — “It’s great for a single girl,” Rustam smiled condescendingly at Inna, as if she were a child. “But we’ve got big plans—two, maybe three children. One after the other, ideally. It’s noisy in town, the air’s awful, there’s nowhere to park. And most of all, it’s just two rooms. But here—you’ve got three. The area is quiet, there’s a nursery right outside.” — “It is a nice neighbourhood,” agreed Sergei, still not seeing where his future brother-in-law was going with this. “That’s why we settled here ourselves.” — “Exactly!” Rustam snapped his fingers. “I keep telling Olga—why should we squeeze into a shoebox when there’s a perfect solution?” It’s just you and your daughter—surely you don’t need all this space? Realistically, one of your rooms is just a dumping ground. For us, this place would be just right. Inna was wrestling a vacuum cleaner into the hallway cupboard. The vacuum was putting up a fight—its hose caught on hangers, completely refusing to slot into place. — “Serge, give me a hand!” she called out. “Either this cupboard’s shrunk, or I’ve forgotten how to organise things.” Sergei poked his head out of the bathroom—he’d just finished fiddling with the tap. Calm and always a bit slow-moving, he was the polar opposite of his wife. — “Let’s sort it,” he said, deftly manhandling the heavy cleaner into the corner of the cupboard. Inna sighed and collapsed against the doorframe. — “Explain to me how we always run out of space. It’s a big flat—three rooms—yet every time we tidy up, you’d think we were evacuating to the street.” — “That’s because you’re a bit of a hoarder,” Sergei chuckled, “Why do we need three dinner sets? We only use one, twice a year.” — “Sentimental value, that’s why—they’re from Grandma’s place.” After their wedding, Sergei’s family had split the inheritance fairly: he got this spacious three-bedroom in a quiet neighbourhood from his grandmother; his sister Olya got a two-bedroom right in the ‘golden square’ of the city centre. The money worked out much the same. For five years everyone got on, no one was envious. Inna naively thought it would always stay like that, but… *** They finished tidying, the chaos cleared, and just sat down when the doorbell rang. Sergei went to answer. — “It’s my sister and her fiancé,” he said to his wife after checking the peephole. Olya swooped in first, followed by Rustam, who trudged in heavily. Inna had only met him a couple of times—Olya had found him at a gym about six months ago. Rustam had rubbed her the wrong way instantly—arrogant, looking down on both her and Sergei. — “Hiya!” Olya kissed her brother’s cheek and hugged Inna. “We were just passing and thought we’d pop in. We’ve got news!” — “Come in, then. News is always good,” Sergei waved them into the kitchen. “Tea?” — “Just water, thanks,” Rustam lumbered behind their host, “We’ve got serious business to discuss, Sergei.” Not really ‘just passing.’ They wanted something. No need for tea. Take a seat. An uneasy feeling crept over Inna—she didn’t like Rustam’s tone one bit. What was he after? — “Go on then,” Sergei shrugged. Olya hovered in the background, glued to her phone, letting her fiancé do the talking. Rustam cleared his throat. — “So. We’ve filed for notice. Wedding’s in three months. I’m sure you can appreciate—I’ve got big plans. Family, joint life, happy ever after. We had a think about our housing situation… We’re moving in with you, and you can move to our place!” Inna was gobsmacked. She looked at her husband, then at her sister-in-law, who was still scrolling on her phone as if none of this concerned her. — “Rustam, I’m not following,” Sergei frowned. “Are you hinting at something?” — “Not hinting—making a constructive proposal. Let’s swap!” We move here, and you take Olya’s flat. Olya’s on board with me—she agrees it’s only fair. Inna was floored a second time. — “Fair?” she echoed. “Rustam, are you being serious? You come into our home and suggest we move out because you want kids?” — “No need to be dramatic, Inna,” Rustam grimaced. “Just being practical. You’ve got one child, and as far as I know, you’re not planning more. What’s the point of having all this space? That’s not efficient. We’ve got plans for a big family.” — “Wow, plans!” Inna stood up. “Sergei, are you hearing this?” Sergei raised a hand to silence his wife. — “Rustam, you do know this flat was left to me by my family? Just like Olya’s was left to her. We’ve spent five years working on this place—every skirting board, every detail. Our daughter’s growing up here, she’s got her own room and friends. Are you really asking us to up sticks and go to the centre just because it suits you better?” — “Sergei, calm down,” Rustam leaned back casually. “You’re family—Olya is your flesh and blood. Don’t you care about her future? I’m offering fair conditions. You’d be gaining prime property in a prestigious postcode. You’d be winning, I’ve checked the prices.” — “Interesting logic,” Sergei smirked. “You’re not even married to my sister yet, but you’re already eyeing up my flat!” Finally, Olya looked up from her phone. — “Oh, come on, don’t be like this!” she whined. “Rustam’s just trying to do what’s best. We’ll be so cramped in my place once there’s kids. You’ve got a hallway big enough for a five-a-side match. Mum always said, family comes first. Didn’t she, Sergei?” — “Mum said family helps each other, Olya—not that one should kick the other out!” snapped Inna. “Do you even hear what your Rustam’s saying?” — “What’s wrong with it?” Olya blinked in innocence. “He’s got a point. We need it more. You’re not even using that spare room!” — “It’s not spare!” Inna almost shouted. “It’s my study! I work there, in case you forgot.” — “Work?” Rustam scoffed. “Posting pictures online? Olya says it’s just a hobby. You can sit in the kitchen with a laptop, you’re not royalty.” Sergei slowly stood up. — “Right,” he said quietly. “That’s enough. Time for you both to go.” — “Hold on a second!” Rustam didn’t budge. “We just came to talk—like family.” — “Like family?” Sergei strode to the table. “You come in here wanting my flat, insulting my wife, deciding where my daughter should live? Are you actually serious?” — “Sergei, honestly!” Inna stood by her husband. “It’s pure greed. He’s not even put a ring on your finger, Olya, and already he’s dividing up the property. Do you realise who you’ve brought here? He’d kick you out of your own flat first chance he gets!” — “Don’t you dare speak about him that way!” Olya shot up. “Rustam cares about me—about our future! And you’re just greedy. Clinging onto your home like hermits. Some brother you are!” — “The greedy one’s your would-be husband,” Sergei pointed to the door. “For the hard of hearing—out. Both of you. And forget this flat swap—forever. If you bring it up again, we won’t be talking at all.” Rustam stood up, straightened his collar. Not a flicker of shame—just irritation. — “That’s a shame, Sergei. I thought we could come to an arrangement. But if you’re so stubborn…” “Olya, let’s go.” When the door slammed behind them, Inna collapsed on the sofa. She was shaking. — “Did you hear that? Did you see that? The cheek! Who does he think he is?” Sergei didn’t answer, staring out the window as Rustam bossily opened his car, berating Olya. — “You know the worst bit?” he said finally. “Olya really believes he’s right. She’s always been a bit… away with the fairies, but this?” — “He’s turned her head!” Inna jumped up. “Sergei, ring your mum. Your parents need to know what schemes their future son-in-law is cooking up.” — “Hang on,” Sergei took out his phone. “I’ll call my sister first. Just her, without that peacock around.” He dialed; it rang for a long time before Olya, audibly crying, picked up. — “Hello!” she sniffed. — “Olya, listen to me,” Sergei’s voice was firm. “Are you in the car with him?” — “What difference does it make?” — “If he’s there, put it on loudspeaker. I want him to hear this too.” — “I’m not with him,” Olya sobbed. “He dropped me off and drove away. Said he needs to cool off because my family are all selfish. Sergei, why are you lot like this? He just wanted things to be perfect…” — “Olya, wake up!” Sergei almost shouted. “Perfect? He came here to scam a flat out of us! Do you even get that your home is your inheritance? And he’s already passing it around like it’s his? Did he even talk to you about this ‘swap’ before we sat down together?” Silence. — “No,” Olya finally whispered. “He just said he had a surprise for everyone. That he’d thought out what was best for us all.” — “Some surprise. He’s decided both our futures for us, without asking. Olya, look who you’re marrying—he’s a user. He’ll take your flat today, demand your car tomorrow, and then get your parents to give him their cottage because he needs ‘fresh air’.” — “Don’t say that…” Olya’s voice wobbled. “He loves me.” — “If he loved you, would he start a row like that? He tried to turn us against each other! Inna’s still in shock. Don’t you see—he wanted to split us up?” — “I’ll talk to him,” Olya mumbled uncertainly. — “Do that. And think very carefully before you head down the aisle.” Sergei hung up and tossed the phone on the sofa. — “What did she say?” Inna asked softly. — “She said she didn’t know. Rustam was planning his ‘surprise.’” Inna gave a bitter laugh. — “I can picture it. He just waltzes in, decides where everyone and everything goes—shuffling rooms and people. Makes you sick.” — “Never mind,” Sergei hugged his wife. “We’re not giving up the flat, that’s for sure. But I do feel sorry for my sister. She’ll land herself in trouble with him.” *** The worst never happened—there was no wedding. Rustam dumped Olya that same night. Tearfully, Olya turned up at her brother’s flat, telling them everything. Rustam went straight to packing his stuff. Olya panicked and asked him what was going on. Rustam said he wasn’t interested in becoming family with such greedy people. — “He said he doesn’t need relatives like that,” Olya sobbed. “He reckons we can’t be relied on. He said you’d never look after the kids on weekends so we could have a break. And that you’d never lend us money if we ever needed it.” — “Honestly, Olya, don’t be upset!” Inna comforted her. “You don’t need someone like him. He can’t be relied on, he’ll never care about family—only what’s in it for himself. Forget him!” Olya was down for a while, but she got over it. She realised the truth in the end: if she’d married him, it would have been misery. She’d dodged a bullet—no doubt about it.

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