Emily Taylor

Turning Our Daughter Away: When Tough Love Is the Only Option — A British Family’s Struggle With an Addicted Elder Sister Returning Home, Tensions, Tears, and the Fear for the Future

They Didnt Let Their Daughter In “Why didnt you let her in this time?” Victoria finally dared

A Country Cottage Divided: The Daughter Who Finally Claimed What Was Hers

The Summerhouse of Disputes Daughter Reclaims Whats Hers Lizzie, youve got to understand this is a desperate

Grandson Not Wanted — “Mum thinks Irka’s the weak one,” my husband finally blurted out. “She needs more help, since she doesn’t have a husband. Supposedly, we’re the stable ones…” — “Stable?” Vera turned. “Slav, I put on fifteen kilos after giving birth. My back’s killing me, my knees are shot. Doctor says if I don’t start taking care of myself, in a year I won’t even be able to lift Pavlik. I need to go to the gym. Twice a week, for an hour and a half. You’re always at work, your shifts keep changing. Who am I supposed to ask to watch our son? Your mum couldn’t care less about her grandson – she’s got her precious granddaughter!” Slava said nothing. She was right—who could they ask? Vera pressed her forehead to the cool windowpane, watching the old Nissan as her mother-in-law backed out of their drive. The red brake lights flashed a farewell and then vanished around the bend. The kitchen clock read exactly seven. Nadezhda Petrovna had stayed for precisely forty-five minutes. In the living room, Slava tried to entertain their one-year-old son. Little Pavlik spun the wheel of a plastic dump truck, occasionally glancing at the door where his grandmother had just disappeared. — “She’s gone then?” Slava looked in, rubbing his aching neck. — “Flown away,” Vera corrected, not turning round. “Apparently, ‘Pashenka’ was overtired and she didn’t want to disrupt his schedule.” — “Well, he did squeal a bit when she picked him up,” Slava grimaced a smile. — “He squealed because he doesn’t recognise her. We haven’t seen her for three weeks. Three!” Vera turned sharply from the window and began stacking dirty mugs in the sink. — “Don’t, Ver,” Slava came up behind, tried to hug her, but she dodged, reaching for the sponge. “Mum just… she’s used to Lizzie. She’s four now, it’s easier with her.” — “No, Slava. She’s just more interesting to your mum. Lizzie’s Irina’s daughter. And Irina’s her favourite. And us? We’re just… there, just in the way.” Last Friday, it was déjà vu. Nadezhda Petrovna popped in ‘for a minute’, brought Pavlik a cheap plastic rattle and already eyed the door. Slava barely had time to mention he’d be out on site Saturday and could Mum watch Pavlik for a couple of hours while Vera went to the chemist and shop. — “Oh no, Slava, not possible!” Nadezhda Petrovna waved her arms. “We’re off to the puppet theatre with Lizzie, then Irina wants her all weekend. Poor girl works so hard, needs a break to sort out her personal life.” Slava’s sister raised her daughter ‘alone’—but only on paper. While Irina was ‘finding herself’ and changing boyfriends, Lizzie lived at Gran’s. Gran collected her from nursery, took her to dance class, bought painfully expensive clothes, knew all the dolls by name. — “Have you seen her status?” Vera nodded to the phone on the table. “Look what your mum posted.” Slava reluctantly picked it up and scrolled. Clips flashed by: Lizzie eating ice-cream, Gran pushing her on the swings, modelling clay together on a Saturday evening. Caption: “My greatest happiness, my joy.” — “She spent the whole weekend with them,” Vera bit her lip not to cry. “And she managed ten minutes here! Over there—it’s perfect happiness. Slava, Pavlik’s only a year old. He’s her grandson. Your son. Why is he treated like this?” Slava stayed quiet—he had no answer. He remembered last month, when Mum called in the night—her tap had burst, everything was flooding, so he dashed across town to fix it. Paid off her payday loan, so she could buy Irina a new phone for her birthday. Spent every weekend in May digging the allotment for her, while his sister and niece sunned themselves on loungers. — “Let’s ask her again,” Slava suggested. “I’ll explain, it’s about your health, not a whim.” Vera knew nothing good would come of it. *** The new conversation happened Tuesday evening. Slava put the phone on speaker so Vera could hear. — “Mum, hi. Listen, this is about Vera’s health — the doctor’s prescribed exercise for her back…” — “Oh, Slava, what gym?” Nadezhda Petrovna’s voice was bright, Lizzie giggling in the background. “She can just work out at home. She should eat fewer buns, then her back wouldn’t hurt!” — “It’s not up for debate. The doctor’s ordered it. Could you mind Pavlik on Tuesdays and Thursdays from six to eight? I’ll pick you up and bring you home.” Silence. — “Slava, you know my routine. I get Lizzie from nursery at five, we have activities, then a walk in the park. Irina’s working late, she depends on me. I can’t abandon a child just for your Vera to faff about at the gym!” — “Mum, Pasha is your grandson, too. He deserves your attention as well. You see him once a month!” — “Don’t start. Lizzie’s a little girl, she really loves me. Pasha’s just a baby, he doesn’t understand. When he’s older, we’ll bond. I’m busy now, we’re about to do some drawing. Bye.” Slava set the phone on the table, stunned. — “Did you hear that? So my son has to *earn* her attention? Reach some threshold before Gran will notice him?” — “Slava, I always knew,” Vera snapped. “From the day we left maternity, when she was two hours late because Lizzie needed new tights! It’s not for me—I don’t care what she thinks of me. But it hurts for Pashka. He’ll grow up and ask, ‘Mum, why is Gran always with Lizzie and never with me?’ What do I say? Her favourite is your aunt, and your dad’s just a free handyman and wallet?” Slava began pacing the kitchen. After ten minutes, he stopped. — “Remember the kitchen renovation for her birthday?” Vera nodded. They’d spent half a year saving for a surprise for Nadezhda Petrovna’s big day. Slava had picked out the units, found a builder, arranged a discount. The cost matched a year’s membership at the city’s best gym with a pool and a personal trainer for Vera. — “No renovation,” Slava said firmly. “I’ll call the showroom tomorrow and cancel. — “Are you serious?” Vera’s eyes widened. — “Dead serious. If my mother only has time and energy for one granddaughter, she can solve her own problems, too. Irina can sort her plumbing, fetch her veg, and cover her debts. We’ll hire you a nanny when you need the gym.” *** The next morning, Nadezhda Petrovna called herself. — “Slava, you said you’d look at my extractor fan this week? It’s broken, the kitchen’s full of smoke. And Lizzie misses her uncle, keeps asking where you are!” Before, Slava’d have already be planning a trip to the DIY store. But not now. — “Mum, I won’t be coming,” he said calmly. — “What do you mean? But the extractor! I’ll suffocate in here!” — “Ask Irina. Or her new boyfriend. I’m busy—Vera’s health comes first, so I’ll be looking after Pasha. My free time is now all for my family.” — “Over this nonsense?” Mum scoffed. “You’re choosing your wife’s whims over your own mother?” — “I’m not abandoning anyone. Just prioritising—like you. Your priority is Lizzie and Irina, mine is Pasha and Vera. Seems fair.” — “How dare you! I did everything for you! Raised you! Made you a decent man! And this is how you treat me?” — “What’s ‘everything’, Mum?” said Slava, evenly. “Helping Irina—with my money? Giving her a break while I worked your garden? Oh, and that kitchen unit we were buying you? That’s cancelled. The funds go to our family. We need a nanny, since Pavlik’s own grandma is too busy for her grandson.” Within seconds, the phone erupted: — “How DARE you! I’m your MOTHER! I gave you everything! You’re bewitched by that Vera! Lizzie’s practically an orphan, she needs me! And your Pashka’s living in luxury, rolling in comfort! Why do you think I should love him? My heart belongs to Lizzie—she means everything to me! Ungrateful! Don’t call again! Don’t dare set foot in my house!” Slava hung up. His hands shook, but he felt strangely relieved. He knew the fallout was only beginning. Now Mum would call Irina, who’d start spewing angry texts, accusing them of greed and cruelty. There’d be tears, threats, guilt trips. And that’s what happened. That evening, when he got home, Vera met him at the door. She’d already heard—her mother-in-law had left a five-minute ranting voice message, calling her, among other things, a “venomous snake.” — “Are we doing the right thing?” she whispered as they sat down. “She’s still your mother…” — “A real mother loves all her children, all her grandchildren. Not just the favourite, using the rest as resources. I let it go for years, thinking it was just her way. But when she said she didn’t care about your health or Pasha, because it clashed with ‘her Lizzie schedule’… No. That’s enough.” ** The row dragged on. Irina and her mother, deprived of their regular handouts, clogged Slava and Vera’s phones—insulting, begging, threatening, trying every emotional lever. They held firm, ignored calls, deleted messages. Two weeks later, Irina turned up in person. She started shrieking on the doorstep, called her brother a “spineless ingrate” and demanded he pay Mum’s bills and fork out for her shopping and medicine. Slava simply closed the door in her face. He’d had enough of being the “dutiful son”.

Mum thinks that Emmas a bit weak, my wife finally got out of me. She reckons we have to help her more

Came Home Early: A Heavily Pregnant Wife’s Surprise Visit Turns Awkward When Her Husband Prefers a Spotless Flat to Welcoming Her at the Door

Came Home Early “Are you at the bus stop?” Simon’s voice shot up an octave. “

Don’t Bother Unpacking Your Suitcase—You’re Moving Out Tonight: A Modern British Tale of Marital Betrayal, Christmas Party Troubles, Cheating “Bunnies,” and Divorce with a Dash of Dark Holiday Humour

31 December Today, I realised life sometimes pulls the rug from under you in ways you can’

Even Good People Get Left Behind

A beautiful thirty-five-year-old woman with sad eyes gazed back at Anna from the mirror. She couldnt

The Long-Awaited Granddaughter Natalie Michaels couldn’t stop ringing her son, who was off at sea again. Still, there was no signal. “Oh, what a mess you’ve made, son!” she sighed anxiously, dialing his number once more. It was all in vain—no signal until he reached the next port, and that might not be soon. And now, of all times… Natalie Michaels hadn’t slept for two nights—this was what her son had done! * * * This story really began years before, back when Michael hadn’t even considered working long voyages. He was a grown man, but love just didn’t work out—nothing ever seemed right with the women he met! Natalie watched with an aching heart as her son’s relationships, with perfectly lovely and respectable girls (in her opinion), fell apart one after another. “You’re impossible!” she’d tell him, exasperated. “Nothing is ever good enough! What woman’s ever going to be able to meet all your standards?” “I don’t get your complaints, Mum. You’re just desperate for a daughter-in-law, and you don’t even care what kind of person she might be!” “That’s not true!” Natalie insisted. “I care very much that she loves you—and that she’s decent!” Her son’s meaningful silences only frustrated her more. How did the baby boy she’d raised, the one who once cried on her knees, suddenly seem to know so much more about life than she did? Who was the real grown-up here? “What was wrong with Natalie, then?” Natalie would demand, switching to another girlfriend’s name if her son stonewalled her. And so it went with Katya, Jenny, and Darina—each new girl, each new disappointment. “You’re impossible to please! You’re always chasing after someone new! Why can’t you just settle down, start a family—give me grandchildren, already?” Eventually, Michael changed professions entirely, joining a friend’s ship crew. Natalie tried in vain to talk him out of it. “Why, Mum? It’s a great opportunity! Do you know how much lads make at sea? I’ll look after us both.” “What good is the money if you’re never around and I don’t see you? I’d rather have a family than your paycheques!” “Families need providing for, too! Once I have kids, I won’t go out to sea anymore—I’ll have to raise them. So now’s the right time to work hard while I can. Everything else will follow!” Michael truly did earn a lot. After the first trip, he renovated the flat. After the second, he opened a savings account in her name. “This is so you never want for anything, Mum.” “I live just fine already! What I don’t have, are grandkids—and time’s passing by. I’m not getting younger, you know!” “Oh, stop it! You’re years off retirement! Don’t be daft!” her son teased. Natalie rarely touched his money, relying on her own modest pharmacy salary for her simple expenses. “Let it pile up on the card. When Michael finally looks, he’ll see how thrifty his mother is!” she thought. They lived this way for years. Back home between voyages, Michael met up with his mates, stayed out late, spent time with women he stopped introducing to his mother. When Natalie complained, he rebuffed her: “It’s so you won’t guilt me later about not marrying them. I just don’t plan on marrying girls like that, Mum!” That stung. Especially when he called her naïve. “You always think too well of people, Mum. You never really got to know any of those so-called fiancées. They always tried to impress you, but they weren’t as they seemed.” His words gnawed at Natalie, making her feel foolish for trusting strangers. But then, one night, she caught sight of him with a new girl and was filled yet again with the fierce urge to see her son settled. She brazenly approached them—Michael, a grown man, blushed scarlet. But a mother is a mother—he had to introduce them. Natalie took to Milly at once. Tall, slim, curly-haired, with an intelligent face and good manners. “Maybe he just needed time,” Natalie thought, elated. “Maybe there was a reason he never settled before. If he hadn’t waited, he wouldn’t have met such a lovely girl!” Michael and Milly saw each other all holiday long, and Natalie hosted the girl several times. She found her bright, lively, and delightful. But as Michael prepared for yet another voyage, Milly disappeared. “We’re not seeing each other anymore, Mum. Please, just leave it alone,” her son said. He left. Natalie fretted, but there was no one to ask about what might have happened. * * * A year went by. Michael was home several times, but always short when asked about Milly. “Good grief, what was wrong with her, then? What could possibly have gone wrong?” Natalie finally burst. “Mum, that’s between me and her. If I broke things off, I had my reasons. Stop prying into my life!” She nearly cried. “But I worry about you, Michael!” “Don’t!” he barked. “And don’t contact Milly, either. And stop nagging me!” Off he sailed again, leaving Natalie to her empty routine. Then, during a shift at the pharmacy, Milly walked in—shopping for baby formula, with a little girl in a buggy. “Oh, Milly, I’m thrilled to see you! Michael told me nothing, just upped and left for sea, and swore me off finding out about you!” Milly looked sad. “Let’s leave it at that, then.” Natalie’s heart raced. “Tell me, dear, did something happen between you? I know Michael—he can be difficult sometimes. Did he hurt you?” “It doesn’t matter,” Milly replied. “I’m not angry at him. We should be going, though—still need groceries.” “When you can, pop in—see me at work! I’m on different shifts.” Milly did come by, and bit by bit, Natalie drew out the story. Milly was pregnant by Michael, but he’d said a child didn’t fit into his life at sea and he wasn’t up for anything long-term. Then he vanished. “Off to sea again, I suppose,” Milly shrugged. “We’ll manage on our own.” Natalie practically dropped to her knees, gazing at the little girl. “So—this is my granddaughter?” “It would seem so,” Milly replied softly. “Her name’s Annie.” “Annie…” * Natalie was beside herself. She coaxed out of Milly that she was struggling—renting alone with a baby and no steady income, thinking of moving back to her own parents out of town. The thought of Annie leaving—her only granddaughter!—nearly broke Natalie’s heart. “You and Annie should come stay with me! I’ll help with everything, you’ll get a regular job, we have more than enough! Michael sends so much money, I can’t spend it all anyway. Annie deserves the best!” “What would Michael say?” “Who cares? If he can walk away from his own child and say nothing, it falls to me to put things right! When he comes home, he’s getting a piece of my mind, I can promise you!” So they moved in together. Natalie doted on Annie, rearranged shifts to spend more time with her. Milly found a job, working late, grateful to leave Annie in safe hands. At home, Natalie looked after her as if she were her own. Michael’s leave approached. Natalie imagined greeting him—grandchild in arms—demanding apologies to Milly. Milly grew nervous, dreading being thrown out once Michael returned. “He’ll never let us stay, I knew I shouldn’t have moved in!” Milly fretted. “He’ll say it’s all about the money. I’d rather go home to my parents than impose on your kindness.” “Nonsense! I own this flat—I decide who lives here! Let him try stopping me!” Milly protested, but Natalie insisted: “This is what I’m thinking—we should immediately transfer this flat to Annie. That way there’ll be no questions in future; it’ll be hers, even if Michael never marries. Especially since he’s not even listed on Annie’s birth certificate,” Natalie said gently, and Milly nodded, embarrassed. They went to the solicitor to arrange this, but were told Michael had to remove his name from the ownership first. Natalie was annoyed, but with Michael due back in days, she tried to be patient. Milly grew increasingly absent, working late, gathering her things into a hidden suitcase. Natalie confronted her. “You’re not moving out, are you?” “I’m sorry, Natalie—I have to go! Once Michael’s back, it’s better if we’re not in the way…” “You’re not going anywhere, not with my granddaughter!” Natalie replied firmly. “If you need anything, you’ve got the card, and the pin’s written down. Buy whatever Annie needs! And spend more time with her—you’re not a stranger here.” Milly was silent. Two days until Michael’s return. * On the morning of his arrival, Natalie went to Milly’s room to watch Annie sleep, but Milly was gone. Only Annie lay peacefully in her cot. “Where could she be? She’s never gone to work this early before…” Natalie went about preparing her son’s favourite foods. She pictured the reunion—her son apologising, Milly back any minute. Then the doorbell rang. Michael walked in, stunned to see his mother holding a toddler. “Hi, Mum. Who’s this? What on earth happened while I was gone?” “You should know better than anyone, shouldn’t you!” Natalie fixed him with a hard look. “Let me introduce your daughter, Annie! Now, what do you have to say for yourself?” “What? I don’t have any children! Mum, have you lost your mind? What’s all this about Milly?” Infuriated, Natalie filled him in on everything, scolding him fiercely. Michael clutched at his head. “Oh, Mum, you’re so— You never learn!” “Don’t you call me a fool again! I—” “She’s not my child, Mum! Milly lied to you, and you— You’re too trusting! That’s all she wanted—your money. What did she take?” “Nothing! I never—” “Check your accounts, Mum—I bet Milly’s already halfway across the country with them!” “She’s out at work!” Natalie protested. They argued until Michael finally agreed to wait and confront Milly together. Annie played unaware as Natalie continued defending Milly’s character. “When she comes back, you’ll see—she’s wonderful!” “So wonderful she’s conned you already!” Michael replied. “We’ll settle this with a DNA test!” Natalie insisted. Night came, then morning. Milly never returned. Neither the pharmacy nor any of the workplaces she’d mentioned had heard of her. Her things were gone—from the wardrobe, from the flat, but Annie’s remained. “My God. She’s just left her own daughter behind?” Natalie wept. “She seemed so trustworthy! Why didn’t you warn me what she was like?” “I didn’t want to worry you, Mum—you always see the good in people. I heard stories about her, but I didn’t want to break your heart.” They went to the police—no trace of Milly was ever found. She had disappeared, save for the bank card, later recovered at a train station. With Milly gone, Annie was allowed to stay with Natalie. The DNA test confirmed Michael wasn’t Annie’s father, but by then Natalie had fallen in love with the little girl and couldn’t part with her. She and Michael decided to raise Annie as their own. Milly was officially stripped of parental rights, and after endless forms, Natalie was granted guardianship of Annie—returning to work, finding a nursery, and providing a loving home. A year later, Michael returned from a voyage with news. “Mum, meet my wife—Sophie. We’re moving in together.” A nervous glance toward Annie’s room, but Sophie only smiled. “It’s a pleasure, Mrs. Michaels. Michael told me everything, and I admire you so much! I’d be honoured to help raise Annie with you.” Michael added, “I’m finishing up at sea, and Sophie and I will adopt Annie soon. It’ll finally be official.” Overjoyed, Natalie set the table, wiping a happy tear from her cheek. “My prayers have been answered! Come in, everyone—let’s celebrate our family!”

The Long-Awaited Granddaughter Margaret Brown was pressing redial on her sons phone for the hundredth time.

As Long As There’s Life, It’s Never Too Late: A Heartfelt Story of Family, Second Chances, and Finding Happiness at Any Age

As long as you’re alive, it’s never too late. A Story Well then, Mum, as we agreed, Ill pick

This Is Not Your Home Alena gazed sadly around the house where she’d grown up from childhood. At eighteen, she was already completely disillusioned with life. Why was fate so cruel to her? Her beloved Nan had died, she’d failed to get into university not because she didn’t know the answers, but because a girl at the next desk had cheated from her paper and whispered something to the examiner when she handed it in. He frowned, demanded to see Alena’s answers, and then announced she was disqualified for cheating. She couldn’t prove anything. And it turned out that girl was the daughter of a local bigwig. How could you fight people like that? Now, after so many misfortunes, her mother had resurfaced, together with two brothers and a new husband. Where had they been all these years? Alena had been raised by her grandmother, her mum leaving before she even turned four. She had no pleasant memories of her mum from those few years. While Dad was at work, Mum left her alone and went out for fun. Even married, she never stopped looking for a “real man” and made no secret of it, either then or later, when Alena’s father died suddenly. Her mum, Tamara, didn’t grieve long. She packed her things, dumped her four-year-old on Grandma’s doorstep, sold the flat left by her late husband and left for parts unknown. Grandma Raya’s appeals to her conscience were in vain. Tamara visited now and then, but Alena was of no interest. She showed up again when Alena was twelve, bringing along her son, seven-year-old Svyatoslav, and demanded the old lady sign the house over to her. “No, Toma! You’re getting nothing!” Grandma flatly refused. “Sooner or later you’ll die and then it’ll be mine anyway!” snapped Tamara, glancing irritably at her daughter, packing Svyatoslav and slamming the door on her way out. “Why do you always argue when she turns up?” Alena asked her gran. “Because your mother is a selfish woman! I raised her badly. Didn’t discipline her enough!” Grandma retorted angrily. Grandma Raya fell ill suddenly. She’d never complained of her health, but one day, when Alena came home from school, she found her usually busy grandmother pale, sitting idle on the balcony. Alena had never seen her like that. “What’s wrong?” she asked, worried. “I’m not feeling well… Call an ambulance, darling,” her gran said calmly. The next days were a blur—hospital, drips, and then… death. Grandma Raya spent her last days in intensive care, where visitors weren’t allowed. Desperate with fear for her only real family, Alena dialed her mother. At first Tamara refused to come, but when Alena said Grandma was in ICU, she finally agreed—arriving only in time for the funeral. Three days later, she thrust a will under Alena’s nose. “This house now belongs to me and my sons! Oleg will be arriving soon. I know you don’t get along with him—so why not stay with Auntie Gally for a while?” Not a trace of grief in her voice. She actually seemed glad that Grandma Raya was gone—she was now the heir! Crushed with grief, Alena didn’t resist. The will was clear. For a time, she really did live with Auntie Gally, her father’s sister—a scatterbrained woman, never giving up hope of finding a rich husband, always surrounded by noisy, tipsy guests. Alena couldn’t stand it, especially when some started paying her unwanted attention. Terrified, Alena told her boyfriend, Pasha. “Enough of those sleazy old men eyeing you up!” he said. Then, decisively—remarkable for his nineteen years—he added: “I’ll talk to my dad. We have a flat on the edge of town. He promised I could have it when I started university. I’ve kept my end, now it’s his turn.” “I don’t really see how that helps me…” Alena stammered. “It means you and I will live there. Together!” said Pasha. “Will your parents ever agree to that?” “They have no choice! Consider this a proposal—will you be my wife and live with me?” Alena nearly cried with happiness. “Of course—yes!” Auntie Gally was thrilled, but Alena’s mother nearly ground her teeth to powder—“Getting married, are you? Look at you! Couldn’t get into university, so you found another way! Don’t expect any money from me! And that house is mine. You’re getting nothing!” Her mother’s words hurt deeply. Pasha could barely make sense of her tears, but he took his weeping fiancée home, where his parents tried to comfort her. Andrei Semyonovich listened to all Alena had suffered—more in a few months than many get in a lifetime. “You poor girl! What sort of woman is your mother?” exclaimed Pasha’s mother. “But what puzzles me,” said Andrei, “is why your mum is so desperate for the house if she has a will and keeps using it to threaten you…” “I don’t know…” sniffled Alena. “She always argued with Grandma over that house. First wanted her to sell it and hand over the money, then pushed her to sign it over. Grandma wouldn’t, said then we’d end up out on the street.” “Strange,” Andrei said thoughtfully. “Did you go to the notary after your gran died?” “No, why would I?” Alena asked, confused. “To process inheritance rights.” “But my mother’s the heir—it says so in the will! I’m just the grandchild. And Mum showed me the will.” “It’s not that simple,” said Andrei. “We’ll go to the notary after the weekend. For now, rest up.” Later, her mother tried to make her sign some documents, but Pasha intervened. “She’s not signing anything!” “Who are you to say?” Tamara snapped. “She’s an adult, she decides!” “I’m her future husband, and I think it would harm her. She won’t sign a thing.” Tamara screeched but had to leave empty-handed. Andrei’s suspicions only deepened. A few days later, he accompanied Alena to the notary. “Listen carefully, but check everything before signing!” he advised. The notary was scrupulous. Alena lodged her claim, and the next day they were told that a case had been opened for Alena’s inheritance. There was a savings account, left by Grandma Raya to pay for her education—of which Alena had known nothing. “What about the house?” Andrei enquired. “A deed of gift for the house was signed in the girl’s favour some time ago. No other documents exist.” “A deed of gift?” Alena gasped. “Yes. Your grandmother signed it to you several years back. Now you’re eighteen, you have full rights to the house.” “What about the will?” “It was written long ago and later cancelled. Your mum probably doesn’t know. The house is yours—you can live there as you wish.” Andrei’s suspicions were confirmed. “So what do I do now?” Alena asked, lost. “Tell your mother the house is yours—and she’ll have to leave.” “She’ll never do that! She’s already packed my things to throw them out!” “That’s what the police are for.” When Alena broke the news, Tamara exploded: “You little cow! Chucking your own mother out, are you? You can clear off! Who told you this rubbish? That fiancé of yours? I have a will!” “Exactly! Now get lost, or I’ll break your legs for good measure!” Oleg joined in. Andrei Semyonovich stood firm. “You should know, threatening behaviour is a criminal offence,” he said, polite but firm. “And who are you to tell me what’s what? We’re selling this house. Buyers are coming today!” Oleg sneered. But instead of buyers, the police arrived. Seeing proof of Alena’s ownership, they ordered Tamara and company to vacate, warning of prosecution if they didn’t. Furious, Tamara, her husband and sons had no choice but to leave. Alena returned home, with Pasha moving in too, for her safety. He was right—Tamara and Oleg kept pestering Alena for weeks. When Tamara heard about the bank account, she went after it, managing to secure part of it by law. But she could not get the house, no matter what she tried. Only after consulting every solicitor she could did Tamara finally give up and move away with her family. Alena never saw her again. Alena and Pasha married. The next summer Alena got into her dream university course, and by her third year she gave birth to their first child. Surrounded by her loving husband and his family, who had supported her through the darkest times, she finally found happiness. By Odette

This is Not Your Home I glanced with sadness around the little house where Id grown up. At eighteen

The Convenient Grannies

Comfortable Grandmas Margaret Smith wakes up to laughter, and not just a quiet giggle or a stifled chuckle