The tale of the house and the daughter’s sorrow
— “And what now? You’re just going to hand it over to him? What about me? Shall I and the children end up on the streets?” Alice flung herself up from the armchair, her cheeks flushed red with fury.
“Come now, Alice, calm down, love,” Thomas murmured, trying to soften his tone. “Not the streets. I’ll help you with a deposit. I’ll cover the first payment.”
“First payment?” Alice snapped. “Do you have any idea how much housing costs? What the interest rates are?” Her voice quavered. “And William gets the whole cottage? For free? What, because of his pretty eyes?”
“He’s my son, Alice.”
“And what, I’m not your daughter?” Her voice broke. “I was your daughter for twenty years. But now—poof—I vanish?”
Thomas sighed and sank onto the couch. This was the third time in a week. Cries, weeping, accusations. Always the same.
“Love, try to understand. William and his wife are crammed into a one-bedroom flat with three children on the way. You and Kevin live in a two-bedroom. At least, you have a place.”
“Rented!” Alice interrupted.
“But it’s not a studio,” Thomas said, fading into a tired voice. “And I’m not neglecting you. I just…” He trailed off, staring out the window. The cottage he’d built when William was a boy, every brick laid by his own hands. Always meant for the son. That was how it was done in their family.
“But what about me? Don’t you remember when you were ill and I drove in from Hatherford every day?” Her voice sharpened. “I gave you injections, cooked for you. Where was William? Out in London, working!”
Thomas rubbed his temples. William had left Hatherford for London five years ago; he’d needed to support his family. Alice had taken care of him during his heart attack, yes—but she lived just two bus stops away, not across the country.
“The cottage was always for the son,” Thomas said quietly. “It’s how it was meant to be. Your mother and I agreed long before you were born. It’s the way we do things.”
“Oh, Mother!” Alice spat, bitterness in her voice. “Mother would never have done this injustice!”
“On the contrary,” Thomas said. “Your mother always knew the cottage was for William. For you, we planned to help buy a flat.”
“Mother died ten years ago!” Alice hissed, her eyes glistening. “All this time, you just wanted to buy your way out of it. With me as your charity case!”
Polly, her ten-year-old granddaughter, appeared in the doorway, eyes wide at the shouting.
“Mum, what’s wrong?”
Alice spun around sharply, softening her voice.
“Go to your room, Polly. Let the adults talk.”
The girl hesitated, then left. Alice slumped back into the chair.
“You know what, Dad? I get it now. William has always been more important to you. He always gets the best, and I get whatever’s left. Don’t want to share the inheritance the friendly way? Fine. I’ll take mine through the courts. Don’t think I won’t.”
Thomas went cold. She hadn’t threatened him with the law.
“Alice, love,” he pleaded. “I’m not dead yet. What inheritance?”
“Oh, don’t pretend!” Her voice trembled. “I know you and William already signed the deed. He told me. A gift deed, to skip me, right?”
He didn’t answer. A month ago he’d signed it at William’s urging. “Better to sort this now,” William had said. Thomas had avoided thinking about it.
“I did what I thought was right,” he said firmly. “I’ll help you with housing, I promise. But the cottage stays with William.”
Alice leapt up.
“Fine then!” She snatched her bag and dashed out. “Polly! Come on, we’re leaving!”
The girl appeared a moment later, giving Thomas a small, guilty smile.
“Don’t be sad, Grandad. Mummy’s just tired.”
He managed a weak smile, ruffling her hair.
“Go, sunshine. Don’t keep your mum waiting.”
When the door slammed, Thomas stood slowly and walked to the window. Alice and Polly hurried down the garden path, Alice’s face stiff as she sensed his gaze. She stiffened when she reached the gate, turned slightly, then walked away.
He watched them go, heart heavy. Had she been right? Had he been unfair to her? Children should be equal, but the house… it had always gone to the son. Tradition. The man carried the name, the family. The daughter moved on, married, had her own life. The son took care of the parents in their old age. That was the way.
A phone buzzed. William.
“Hi, Dad,” his son said, cheerful. “We’re leaving Friday, like we said. Sarah almost has the things packed, the kids are ready to move.”
“Yes, yes, love,” Thomas coughed. “All good. I’ll be here.”
“Did Alice stop by? Did you tell her?”
“Yes… she didn’t take the news well.”
“Knew it,” William said, frustration edging his voice. “She’s always been greedy. Doing the same old drama, probably?”
“William, don’t say that about your sister. It’s not easy for her. She and Kevin don’t get on, money’s always tight…”
“Who hasn’t got cash these days?” William cut in. “I struggle too, but at least I work hard. She moans about nothing!”
“Your sister works, too,” Thomas said gently.
“Three days a week at that library? That’s not a job, that’s a hobby!” William scoffed. “Dad, you sorted the cottage right? I know you did. You always make the right calls. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. Promise.”
Thomas managed a weak smile. William’s so-called care had meant rare calls and rarer visits. Though… William had been stretched between his wife, the kids, and the grueling work.
“Yes, love. I know.”
After the call, Thomas felt even worse. He shuffled to the kitchen, filled the kettle. The old house creaked around him, the autumn chill seeping in.
His phone rang again. Alice.
“Dad,” she said, her voice flat. “I’m sorry about today. I overreacted.”
“You’re worrying too much, love. I understand.”
“No,” she said softly. “I don’t think you do. I don’t even get it. I just… it hurts. I thought William and I were equally yours. But now I see it wasn’t real.”
“You are both my children. I love you just the same,” Thomas said, his voice cracking. “But the cottage… it was always meant for the son. It’s tradition.”
“Tradition,” Alice repeated, hollow. “What year is it? The twenty-first century! Since when did tradition mean cronyism? Equality is the law now.”
Thomas had nothing to say. After a pause, she continued, quieter.
“Alright, Dad. I’ve thought about it. I won’t go to court. It’s silly. We’re family. But I won’t come back. It’s just too hard.”
“What, love? Don’t be foolish—”
“No, Dad. I’ve made up my mind. If you want to see Polly, you’ll have to come to us. I won’t stop you. But I won’t come.”
Thomas felt a tear slip down his cheek.
“Alice, sweetheart, please—”
“No, Dad. Goodbye.”
The line went dead. Thomas sat motionless, the cold house embracing him.
The days that followed were a blur. William arrived with his family—Sarah, Liam, and Grace, the newborn. The cottage filled with the chaos of their lives. Sarah dominated the space, rearranging furniture, scrubbing walls. William hauled boxes, built a wardrobe for the nursery. The children ran wild, exploring their new world.
Thomas was given his old bedroom, now upgraded with a comfortable chair, fresh curtains, an orthopaedic mattress.
“Is there enough room for your things, Dad?” Sarah asked, her voice dripping with worry.
“Plenty, love,” he waved off. “I don’t have much.”
Evenings were spent on the kitchen table, Sarah cooking, William talking about plans for an extension, new roofs, a heating system.
“Good thing I work in construction, Dad,” William joked. “All the discounts for family.”
Thomas smiled, but his mind wandered to Alice. Where were they? No calls, only curt answers when he tried.
One night, after the children slept, Thomas found the courage to speak to William.
“Love, I’ve been thinking about Alice… Maybe we made the wrong call about the cottage?”
William frowned.
“Alice? She’s mad for money, isn’t she?”
“No, William. Just maybe… Perhaps we could have divided it?”
William set down his paper, eyes narrowing.
“Dad, we made the right call. The cottage always goes to the son. You said so yourself. Plus, we’ve got four mouths to feed. They’ve got a flat. What’s their story?”
“They’ve got a flat too,” Thomas muttered.
“Three days a week.” William snorted. “With Kevin. Let’s be honest, he’s not reliable. She should’ve married someone with a proper job.”
Thomas rubbed his temples. There was some truth there, but was that her fault? They had both raised them that way.
“Besides,” William continued, “let’s not pretend. It’s her husband’s job to help her. I’m the one looking after you in your old age. That’s just fair.”
Sarah entered, towel-drying her hair.
“Men, what are you arguing about?”
“Dad’s worrying about Alice,” William grumbled.
Sarah sat beside Thomas, taking his hand.
“Love, you made the right choice. She’ll see it in time. We’ll take care of you.”
Thomas smiled, grateful for her kindness.
Life settled. Thomas helped with the grandchildren, tended the garden. William and Sarah thrived, filling the cottage with their energy. But thoughts of Alice lingered.
One morning, as the family scattered—William to work, Sarah to the nursery—there came a knock. At the door stood Polly.
“Grandad!” she threw herself into his arms. “I missed you!”
“Oh, Polly,” he embraced her. “You’ve grown so much!”
“Two whole inches!” she beamed. “And I’m top of the class now. Want to see my notebook?”
“Of course.”
As they sipped tea and nibbled biscuits, Polly chattered about school and friends. But when she mentioned her parents, her tone shifted.
“Mum’s sad,” she said softly. “She cries a lot. Fights with Dad.”
“Does it get bad?”
“Sometimes. Dad says we’re a burden. Mum says he’s to blame. Then he leaves and she cries.” Polly paused. “Mum said we’re moving.”
“Leaving for?”
“I don’t know. They’re selling the flat. The library’s closing, and we don’t have enough money here.”
“And your father? Is he coming with you?”
Polly shook her head.
“He’s staying.”
A shock. Thomas had known Alice and Kevin had issues, but a divorce?
“Grandad, can I come visit you during the holidays even if we move far away?” Polly asked suddenly.
“Of course, love. Anytime.”
When Polly left, Thomas sat in silence, heart aching. Alice was leaving. A single mother with a child in an unfamiliar town. He had abandoned her when she needed him most.
At dinner, Thomas leaned on the table, listening to the chatter. At last, when the children were asleep, he spoke to William.
“Will, Alice is divorcing Kevin. She’s leaving for another city.”
“Takes one to know one,” William muttered. “Kevin’s always drunk. What did she expect?”
“It’s not about that,” Thomas cut in. “I want to help her.”
“Help? How?”
“I’ll sell the cottage.”
William stood up, stunned.
“What? You’re mad. The deed—!”
“I’ll cancel it,” Thomas said. “It can be done in court, I’ve checked.”
William grabbed his hair.
“Papa, are you serious? What about us? A second mortgage?”
“We’ll sell the cottage and buy two flats,” Thomas said. “One for you, one for Alice. I have the savings. It’s enough for the deposits.”
William’s face turned red.
“And who twisted your arm? Alice? Did she come here, weep about how poor she is?”
“No,” Thomas said quietly. “Polly came. My granddaughter. Yours. She told me about her mother’s tears, about leaving. Did you want her to leave, Will? To take Polly with her and never see me again?”
William slumped back.
“Fine,” he grumbled. “But don’t blame me if she wastes the money and ends up broke.”
Sarah entered, listening from the hall.
“Will,” she said softly, “Papa’s right. Alice needs this more than we do. At least we have each other. She’s alone.”
William’s shoulders slumped.
“Love, it’s not love,” he muttered. “We’ve worked for this place. All these years of planning. Now it’s gone.”
“She’s your sister, William,” Sarah said. “What would you want for your daughter if it was her?”
He didn’t answer.
The next day, Thomas called Alice.
“Can you come over at six? It’s important.”
“I’m busy,” she said. “We’ve got nothing to discuss.”
“It’s about the cottage,” he said. “Come at six.”
She arrived, pale and tired. William and Sarah were waiting, both tense.
“Sit, love,” Thomas said. “This will be a serious talk.”
Alice eyed them warily, settling into the chair.
“I’ve decided to sell the cottage,” he said. “We’ll buy two flats—one for you and Polly, one for William and his family.”
Alice froze.
“What? The cottage? But the deed…”
“It’s being cancelled,” Thomas said. “William agrees.”
Alice stared at her brother. He nodded.
“Why? Why all this?” she whispered.
“Because you’re both my children,” Thomas said. “I can’t choose. I won’t.”
Alice buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking. Sarah slid over, taking her hand.
“It’ll be alright, love,” she said. “We’ll sort it out.”
Thomas looked at them both and felt a weight lift from his chest. He had made the right choice.
By spring, the cottage was sold. Two flats took its place—one for William’s family, one for Alice and Polly. Thomas moved in with his daughter, where it was easier for everyone. Alice started work at a school library, where she flourished, even starting a book club.
That summer, the two families holidayed together. As Thomas sat on the beach, watching William and Sarah play volleyball with Alice, and the grandchildren—Liam, Grace, and Polly—dashing through the waves, he reflected. How close he’d come to ruining everything. To splitting apart the one thing that truly mattered: family.
A house is just walls. A family is the people who love you—and the ones you love in return.
