This is Not Your Home
I glanced with sadness around the little house where Id grown up. At eighteen, it already felt as though life had dealt me more disappointment than most see in a lifetime. Why had fate been so cruel? My grandmother had passed away; I hadnt got into universityall because of the girl whod sat next to me during the exams. Shed copied all of my answers and then, when she handed in her paper first, whispered something to the examiner. He scowled, told me to show him my answers, and then announced I was being removed for cheating. I couldn’t prove my innocence. As it turned out, she was the daughter of a local bigwig. How could I have stood a chance?
After all these setbacks, my mother suddenly reappeared in my life, with my two half-brothers and a new husband in tow. Where had she been all these years? My nan had raised me, and my mother had only been around until I was about four. I couldnt remember any happy moments from that time. While my dad was working, shed leave me on my own to go out and have fun. Even when she was married, she never stopped hunting for a real man and never kept it a secretnot then, and not after Dad died suddenly.
When she became a widow, Mum didnt grieve for long. She packed her bags, left meher four-year-oldon Nans doorstep, sold the little flat Dad had left her, and disappeared. Nan, poor soul, had tried everything to get through to her.
Mum dropped by now and then, but showed no interest in me. I remember when I was twelveshe came over with my brother Simon, who was seven at the time, demanding Nan sign the house over to her.
No, Tammy, youll get nothing! Nan refused flat-out.
Youll snuff it one day, and itll be mine anyway! Mum shot back, giving me a nasty look as I watched from the doorway. She gathered Simon and stormed out, slamming the door.
Why do you and Mummy always argue? I asked Nan that evening.
Because your mothers selfish, thats why! Didnt raise her right, shouldve given her a firm hand! Nan huffed.
Nan fell ill so suddenly. Shed never been one to complain, always bustling about. One day I came back from college and found her pale and slumped in the old armchair on the balcony, doing nothinga shocking sight.
Nan, are you alright? I said, worried.
Im not feeling quite right, love. Ring for the ambulance, would you? she replied calmly.
After that, it was the hospital, drips, and then she was gone. Nan spent her last days in intensive careI wasnt even allowed to visit her. In a blind panic, terrified of losing my only family, I rang my mother. At first, she refused to come, but when I said Nan was in ICU, she finally agreed. Still, she only made it to the funeral. Three days later, she shoved a will under my nose.
This house now belongs to me and my boys! My husband Alan will be here soon. I know you dont get on with him, so youll stay with Auntie Gail for a while, alright?
There wasnt a hint of sadness in her voice. If anything, she seemed delighted Nan had died, since it made her the beneficiary.
Crushed by grief, I couldnt argue. Everything was clear in the will, so I moved in with Dads sister, Auntie Gail. But she was still chasing her own ambitionsher flat was always full of noisy, tipsy guests, and some blokes started making comments about me. That was more than I could take.
When I told my boyfriend, Peter, about it all, his reaction surprised and heartened me:
I wont have old blokes leering at you or getting handsy! he said fiercely, and added, Im talking to my dad today. Weve got a little flat on the edge of town. He promised I could live there when I got into uni. Ive kept up my side, now he can do his.
I dont see what thats got to do with me, I replied, not quite getting it.
How do you mean?! Were moving in together!
Do your parents really agree with that?
They havent much choice! Think of this as my official proposal: will you be my wife and move in with me?
I nearly cried from happiness.
Of courseyes!
Auntie Gail was delighted when she heard about the upcoming wedding, but Mum nearly ground her teeth to dust.
So youre getting married as well? Arent you efficient! Couldnt get into uni, so youre trying another way! Dont think youll get a penny from methe house is mine, and youll get nothing!
Mums words wounded me deeply. Peter, seeing my tears, bundled me up and drove me home. His parents were wonderfulhis mum brewed tea, fussed over me, and tried to cheer me up.
Oh, you poor thing, what sort of woman would say that to her own daughter! Peters mum exclaimed.
Im more curious about something else, Peters dad, Andrew, said thoughtfully. Why is she so obsessed with this house if shes got a will and keeps holding it over you?
I dont know, I sniffled. Its always been like this. Shed argue with Nan about selling it and splitting the money, or later telling Nan to sign it over to her. Nan refused, always said wed end up on the street if she did.
Its all very odd! Now, have you ever been to the solicitor since your Nan died?
No, why would I? I replied.
To confirm your inheritance rights.
But Mums the heir. Im only the granddaughter. Besides, shes got a willshe showed me.
Things are never that simple, Andrew replied. After the weekend, well see about it together. Until then, you try and get some rest.
While we waited, Mum brought round some papers and tried to make me sign them, but Peter put his foot down.
She wont sign anything!
And who are you? Mum snapped.
Im her fiancé and I think this could be a mistake. So Alannah wont sign anything for now.
Mum started hurling insults, but had to leave empty-handed, even angrier than before. Andrews suspicions only deepened.
After a few days, just as promised, Andrew took me to the solicitor.
Listen carefully to what he says, and check everything before you sign, he cautioned.
Thankfully, the solicitor was honest. He took my statement, and the very next day, told us that probate had been opened in my name. Nan had left some money in an account intended for my education, but Id never known.
What about the house? Andrew asked.
As it happens, Miss Lawson, your grandmother transferred the house to you by deed of gift some years ago. Now youre eighteen, you have full control. The previous will was cancelled.
What about Mums will?
Written seven years ago, then revoked. Your mother may not know. The house is yours. You have every right to live in it.
Andrew had been absolutely right.
What now? I asked, dazed, as we left the office.
Now you tell your mother the truthshe must leave.
Shell never agree! Shes already packed up my things as if to throw them out!
Thats what the police are for!
When I handed Mum her notice, she erupted.
Oh, you little cow! Throwing your mother out, are you? Get out of here yourself! Think Ill fall for your stories? Is this Peter and his fathers idea? Well, youre a fine match! I have a proper document that gives me the house! My mum left me the willI’m the inheritor!
Exactly! So clear off, before I break your legs! Oleg, her new husband, chimed in, glaring. But Andrew merely said, Careful, Mister. Making threats can get you into real trouble.
Who the hell are you to lecture me? Get out! The place goes on sale soonbuyers are coming!
Except, it was the police who turned up instead of buyers. After sorting out who owned what, they told Mum, her husband, and the boys to make themselves scarce or face criminal charges. Furious as they were, there was nothing they could do. At last, I moved back into my home. Peter stayed with me, just in case Mums husband tried anythingand he was right to be cautious.
Mum and Oleg kept pestering me for ages. When Mum heard from the solicitor that Nan had left some money, she tried to claim it and managed to get a portion, but the house was out of her reach. Eventually, after consulting every solicitor she could find, Mum gathered her family and left for good. I never spoke to her again.
Peter and I got married soon after. The following summer, I got into university to study my dream subject. By my third year, Id had my first child. I will always be grateful to Peter and his family for standing by me during the worst of times, and the rest of my life was filled with happiness.
By Alan
—
—
The Puzzle
The house was old, but well-kept. It hadnt stood empty for long, so it hadnt had a chance to fall into disrepair. Thank heavens for that, I thought. I hadnt got a man in my life these days, and probably never would. I was never one of those formidable English women who could do just about anything: fix a shelf, wrangle a horse, or drag burning logs from a fire!
I stepped up onto the porch, found the heavy key in my bag, and unlocked the big padlock.
***
For some unknown reason, I was left this house by Aunt Lucy. An elderly relative I barely knew, to be honest. It’s strange how the minds of the very old work. Aunt Lucy was, by my calculation, close to a hundred years old. I was something like her great-niece or cousinnever fully clear. Besides that, shed been the familys seamstress and cook.
I last visited Aunt Lucy back in my early youth. She was already ancient then, yet insisted on living alone, never relying on family, never asking for help. Then, she just passed away.
When I got a call informing me my granny had died in the village of Puzzle, I didnt immediately realise it was Aunt Lucy. I certainly never imagined shed leave her house and a dozen garden plots to me.
A little gift for your retirement! my husband, Michael, joked.
Fat chance, Mike, that’s ages away. Im only fifty-four! By the time I limp over the finish line, theyll have raised the retirement age again. So let’s just call it a gift. I cant think what I did to deserve it. I didnt even know Aunt Lucy was still alive! I thought shed popped off to meet her maker ages ago, as old as she was. Still, cant turn my nose upmay as well make good use of it.
Or sell it! Michael rubbed his hands together.
***
Funny, we never sold it. Just a couple of months after I became the proud owner, life threw me a less pleasant surprise. I found out dear Michael was seeing someone else. Thats life, I supposegrey hair, wild urges, and secrets under the rugBy the time I registered Michaels absence, the house at Puzzle had already started feeling like my own. It greeted me each time with light dappling across the kitchen floor and the scent of old rosebushes in the overgrown garden. At first, the silence was crushing, as if the walls held their breath, waiting to see whether I was just passing through like everyone else. But the quiet gradually softened, shifting from loneliness to possibility.
On my third night alone, I discovered an envelope taped beneath a loose floorboard in the hallway. In Aunt Lucy’s spidery script, it was addressed to me.
“For the day you come to stay,” it read.
Inside was a note, and a single, heavy brass puzzle piece.
“You always wondered why its called Puzzle,” Aunt Lucy had written. “Every woman in our family who stayed a while found her place hereherself, her courage, her worth. You are clever enough to find the rest.”
I laughed out loud for the first time in months. All through the summer, I wandered the rooms, searching for clues: a piece of wood that didnt match, a corner of faded wallpaper peeling back to reveal a sliver of something metallic, a chipped garden gnome holding a hollowed-out puzzle slot. Each time I found a piece, it fit together with a satisfying click, building a shape Id never seen beforea key.
When the last piece snapped into place, I tried the attic doorthe one that had always stuck. It swung open on well-oiled hinges. Inside, I found a dusty trunk packed with photos, recipes, a patchwork quilt, and journals penned in Lucy’s careful hand. She wrote of heartbreak, laughter-filled gatherings, days spent alone at the sewing table. She wrote about learning to live for herself, not for an absent husband or impatient family.
As golden evening sunlight spilled across the old boards, I realized the puzzle had never been about the house. It was about claiming a life, piece by precious piece, no matter how old or unexpected. I wasnt the formidable woman I always thought I lackedyet somewhere between fitting puzzles in hidden nooks and planting wildflowers in the garden, I discovered Id built something solid and warm. Something entirely my own.
Later that autumn, when I invited the neighbors around for tea, the house thrummed with bright voices and the sound of laughter, just as Aunt Lucy had described in her journal decades before. It no longer mattered why I’d been chosenonly that I stayed, and let Puzzle become my home.
As I settled in for another evening by the fire, I slid my finger over the brass key, now warm from my palm, and smiled. There would always be mysteries left in this world. But for once, I felt perfectly content not to solve them at all.
