You know, one time I found out about Mrs. Rose being moved out of her flat from her neighbour, not even from the family. She always loved a visit on her birthdayI’d bring a cake and a bag of plums because she just adored plums. I was fiddling with my phone by the entrance, and Mrs. Jenkins from the ground floor shouted over, Emma, is that you? Mrs. Rose has moved!
Funny thing, she wasnt actually my own grandma; she was the grandmother of my ex-husband, Tom. We met during our university days, back when Tom was living with her. I remember being absolutely terrified when he brought me round to meet Mrs. Rose, like I was on display. Tom had no parents, just his grandma, whod raised him since he was five. But it turned out I worried for nothing, because Mrs. Rose welcomed me straightaway, like I was her own.
We got married in our final year at uni, and Mrs. Rose gave us the most incredible wedding gifta one-bedroom flat. Sure, it was way out in the suburbs, on the fifth floor with no balcony, but it was ours. Shed saved money all her life, never wanted to disrupt the younger ones.
Id never had anything of my own. My stepdad was all about fairness, meaning he watched to make sure I didnt eat more than his own kids, used no more water than necessary, always scolded me for wasting electricity. At seventeen, I started working as a waitress and rented a tiny room that was basically a storage cupboard. No student halls for me thanks to having London residency. So, that flat felt like a palace.
Didnt last long, though. About a year after the wedding, I finished my shift early to make breakfast for Tom, and walked in to find a blonde, button-nosed girl smoking in my bed, blowing smoke toward the ceiling. Tom was in the bathroom, the shower blaring. She barely bothered to cover herself, and she used the blanket Mrs. Rose had given us for Christmas.
That was the end of us, after five years together. I didnt throw a fit; we divorced quietly. The flat stayed with Tomperfectly fair, though the blonde muttered nastily, Get a written agreement from her! Shell get pregnant by some taxi driver and sue for the flat!
So, whered Mrs. Rose move? I asked, ignoring my phone.
Shes in your old flat! Tom and his wife are expecting a baby soon, so they swapped.
I was worried. Mrs. Rose wasnt steady on her feet since she broke her hip, and that place was a fifth-floor walk-up with no lift. How was she meant to cope? When I had found the blonde in the flat, Tom and I had been planning to move in with Mrs. Rose to look after her. Now she would be alone, in an unfamiliar, inconvenient place. Here, everyone knew her, there was always someone about to lend a hand.
Oh, and hearing about Toms baby stung, toohed never wanted kids with me, kept saying he needed space to live for himself.
Thanks, Mrs. Jenkins.
I had to head off to the bus stop, wait around forty minutes, clutching the cake and trying not to squash it.
Going back to the flat where for a year Id thought I was the happiest woman in England felt sad. I took my usual route and spotted all sorts of little changesa new sign on the corner shop, a fenced-in empty lot. In the courtyard, there was a new childrens playground, and a six-year-old lad sat barefoot with his feet in a puddle.
Im on the beach! he called cheerfully.
I couldnt help but smile and offered him a chocolate bar from my pocket.
Here you go, Robinson Crusoe!
Mrs. Rose acted like everything was just fine, claiming the move was her own idea.
Tom comes round, she said, buys groceries if needed, and will run me to hospital if I ask.
Whens the last time he came? I asked.
Yesterday, actually.
I knew she wasnt being totally honest because her bin overflowed and was beginning to smell, and the bread on her counter was hard enough to hammer in a nail.
Ill pop to the shop for you, I said, need to grab some cheese anywaytotally forgot.
Pretended about the cheese. Mrs. Rose protested, but I insisted. And when I left, I purposely forgot my umbrella so Id have to come back soon for it and make another grocery run. Mrs. Rose complained that it wasnt necessary and that Tom would visit, but when I caught a cold that autumn and didnt turn up for a week, she phoned herself and timidly asked when I might come round.
It was tough trekking across town all the time, so I sorted things my own way: I made a deal with that boy who played at the beach, offering him £5 a week to take out Mrs. Roses rubbish daily. I started ordering groceries online for her and even bought her a smartphone, taught her how to use apps. Tom always said she couldnt manage, but she absolutely could. I visited every week, sometimes more, sometimes less. Mrs. Rose seemed to forget Tom was ever my husband, proud as punch about his son, marveling at the videos Tom sent her via her new smartphone.
Have you brought little Freddie over yet? I asked.
No, still too young!
But they brought Freddie on his first birthdayMrs. Rose asked me to withdraw £100 as a gift, so thats how I always knew Tom was coming round: for his birthday, Freddies birthday, Christmas, and once more in Aprilprobably for the blondes birthday. Every holiday, Mrs. Rose had me withdraw a lump sum for gifts.
She tried to slip me money, too, but I refused.
Ill be truly offended, Id say.
Then one day she told me, Alright. But promise me youll fulfil just one request, and then Ill stop bothering you about money.
What request?
Ill tell you later.
Later, as it turned out, and I agreed.
When Paul came into my life, Mrs. Rose was the first to know. I barely spoke to my mum anymoreshe drank with my stepdad and spent her days calling me a failure.
You lost a man with a flatcant believe you could be so dim! Youll live in little boxes your whole life!
Paul didnt have a flat. But he promised to earn one. He was five years younger than me, and at first, I turned him down when he tried to court me. But I ended up saying yes. He was kind and funny, and his family took me in right away. They lived in a house on the edge of town, and besides eldest Paul, there were five brothers.
I couldnt bring myself to try for a seventh, especially a girl, his mum said with a wry smile. Now, Im waiting on granddaughters. Are you planning kids, or are you all about a career?
I want kids, I admitted.
Right, then, Im expecting a granddaughter from youPauls our most reliable, the rest are still a bunch of troublemakers!
We had the simplest wedding, spent our savings on a trip instead. I worried about Mrs. Rose, but there was nothing I could do.
Turns out my worries werent for nothing. No one truly knows what happenedmaybe she felt rough and tried to get help, maybe she decided to take out the bins herself They found her on the stairs, already passed away.
I knew I shouldnt cry or get too upsetId just taken a pregnancy test, and was so thrilled to share the news with Mrs. Rose. But how not to cry? If only I hadnt gone away, maybe nothing would have happened! I didnt even make it to the funeral, Tom never told me, though he knew I was close with her. Still, I didnt call to shout at him.
Instead, Toms wife called me a few days later.
You think youre clever, but well take you to court and prove she wasnt in her right mind when she wrote it!
I had no idea what was happening. The blonde ranted and called me names, and only at the end did I realise she was talking about a flat.
Then the solicitor rang, inviting me to read the will. Turns out Mrs. Rose had left me a letter.
I read it with tears in my eyes. She talked about me so kindly, thanked me so much it felt almost embarrassingI hadnt done it for thanks, but because I genuinely loved her like family. And I had no one else to care about. Heres my request: please accept this flat as a giftits all I can offer you.
I thought she was talking about her own flat, but the solicitor explained the two-bedroom flat where Tom lived was the one she meant. The one-bedroom was Toms; Mrs. Rose had gifted it to him herself.
I asked for a bit of time to think and talked over everything with Paul. I didnt want the flatnot with people calling me, threatening me, risking my own pregnancy. But ignoring Mrs. Roses request felt wrong. We agonised, and finally came to a decision.
We invited Tom and his wife to meet at the solicitors office first, after consulting with him. He said I was a bit naïve, but didnt argue.
Toms wife lunged at me, would have got physical if not for Paul standing beside me, hurled insults and threats.
Enough! Tom shouted at last. She earned itshe looked after my gran for three years.
I was so stunnedhad a whole speech prepared for Tom.
Theres nothing more to discuss. Well pack up and clear the flat, he said, not meeting my eyes.
Then I shared my plan: I didnt want to wreck their home, that Id be fine with the one-bedroom in the suburbs, and the solicitor had worked out how to do it properly if Tom agreed.
That was the first time Tom looked at mehis eyes apologetic.
His wife calmed right down and started demanding coffee and biscuits, moaning about the journey and saying I could have just told them upfront.
I had a girl. I named her Sophie, after Mrs. Rose. And honestly, Pauls mum was absolutely thrilledshe got her granddaughter at last. Therell be more granddaughters someday, but Sophie will always be the most cherished.
