Grandmother Sold the Flat: A Family Scandal
Why bother with a mortgage when you can just wait for your grandmother to die and inherit her flat? That’s what my husband’s brother, Paul, decided. He’s got a wife and three kids, but instead of taking out a loan, they’re counting the days until his grandmother passes so they can take over her home. Their greed sparked a family feud that shook the whole of Woodbridge.
Paul and his wife, Imogen, live with their kids in Grandma Dorothy’s flat. It’s cramped, to say the least—imagine squeezing five people into a three-bedroom place. But rather than finding their own place, they’re impatient for Dorothy to pass. It drives them mad that she’s still full of life at 75, with no signs of slowing down.
Dorothy is a gem. She’s sharp as a tack, never complains about her health, has mastered her smartphone, goes to concerts, meets her friends for tea, and even enjoys the occasional romantic dinner. She’s living her best life, and it infuriates Paul and Imogen. Tired of waiting, they hatched a plan: convince her to sign the flat over to Paul and move into a care home. Dorothy refused point-blank, sparking a row. Her defiance lit the fuse for a full-blown family fallout.
Dorothy had always dreamed of visiting Japan. When my husband and I caught wind of Paul’s scheme, we suggested she move in with us. We even proposed renting out her flat to save up for the trip. She agreed, and we helped her find tenants. When Paul and Imogen found out, they hit the roof. They were convinced the flat was rightfully theirs and demanded Dorothy hand over the rent money. Paul accused my husband, Andrew, of “putting ideas in her head” to steal the inheritance. Their nerve was unbelievable.
Imogen started dropping by our place—sometimes alone, sometimes with the kids—always fishing for updates on Dorothy, as if hoping to hear she was on her deathbed. Paul clung to the belief the flat would soon be his. But Dorothy wasn’t giving in. She saved up enough and jetted off to Japan. When she returned, she was glowing, telling us all about Kyoto’s temples and cherry blossoms. We suggested she sell the flat, buy a cosy studio, and keep travelling, then live out her days with us in peace. She thought it over and agreed.
She sold her spacious three-bed in central Woodbridge and bought a snug one-bed. With the leftover money, she set off again—this time to Spain, Austria, and Switzerland. In Switzerland, fate had a surprise in store: she met a Swiss man named Martin, and they fell in love. Andrew and I flew out for their wedding. Seeing a 75-year-old bride radiant with joy was something special. Dorothy deserved it—she’d spent her whole life working hard, supporting her kids and grandkids.
When Paul heard about the wedding, he kicked off again. He demanded Dorothy hand over the new flat—never mind how he planned to fit his family of five in a one-bed. But by then, we’d stopped caring. We were just happy for Dorothy, finally living for herself. Her story spread through Woodbridge, inspiring some and leaving others green with envy.
Now, Dorothy and Martin split their time between Switzerland and Woodbridge. She sends us postcards from her travels and we laugh at how Paul used to wait for her to die. This whole mess showed how greed can tear a family apart—but also proved that choosing happiness, no matter your age, is stronger than any scheming. Dorothy became an example to us all: it’s never too late to chase your dreams, even if the world seems against you.
