“We only wanted to help our neighbour, and in return, we got reported to the authorities. Is that gratitude?!”
“Recently, a social worker showed up at our house,” says 35-year-old Alice. “He said they’d received an anonymous complaint claiming our children were neglected and that we weren’t providing proper living conditions. He inspected the flat, checked the fridge, talked to the kids… Everything was fine. He filled out paperwork, asked us to sign, and left. But I still don’t understand—who would do this, and why?”
Alice and James have been married for over ten years. They’re raising two children—an eight-year-old son and a five-year-old daughter. The household is well-kept, the children are polite, tidy, and doing well in school. Neither their teachers nor nursery staff have raised any concerns. When the kids were asked, they said everything was fine. So, the complaint must have come from outside. But who?
The answer came unexpectedly. A week later, Alice spotted Eve—the granddaughter of their elderly neighbour, Granny Nora. Alice remembered how, years ago, she and Eve had argued the first time they met. Their relationship never recovered, and they hadn’t spoken since. But now, things made sense.
Alice and James had always been kind to Granny Nora. The old woman was delighted when the young couple moved in next door. She often dropped by for tea, brought home-baked cakes, and even babysat little Reggie when Alice needed to step out. In return, Alice and James helped Nora with shopping, picked up her prescriptions, and even took her to their countryside cottage in the summer.
When Nora fell ill, Alice visited nearly every day—cleaning, cooking, and checking on her. Sure, a social worker stopped by occasionally, but he wasn’t much help. Nora seemed to have no family—no calls, no visits, no interest from anyone.
“In eight years, I’d never heard of a daughter or granddaughter,” Alice recalls. “James and I did what we could, but we had our own family. Eventually, it became too much. That’s when I suggested trying to track down her relatives—maybe they’d like to reconnect.”
Nora reluctantly gave her contact details. Alice found her daughter Julia and granddaughter Eve on social media. She messaged them, urging them to visit—explaining that Nora was in a bad way and needed support.
Nora was overjoyed. “Are they really coming? I haven’t seen them in fifteen years…” The last time Julia had visited was when Eve was just seven. They’d had a huge row—Julia wanted to sell Nora’s flat, but Nora refused. After that, Julia cut off all contact.
To Alice’s surprise, Julia arrived the very next day. With Eve in tow. And that’s when the nightmare began.
Julia stormed in, screaming that Alice and James were only helping Nora to steal her flat. She accused them of poisoning the old woman to speed things along. Alice stood there, stunned, unsure how to respond. James finally stepped in, demanding they leave. But the visitors didn’t go quietly.
“We’ll make sure you end up in prison!” Eve shrieked. “You’re getting off easy! We’ll have you evicted, we’ll file complaints everywhere—you’ll pay for this, scammers!”
That’s when Alice realised who had filed the false report to social services. It was clear now—this was their idea of revenge.
“I only wanted to help,” Alice says. “It never crossed my mind that looking after an elderly neighbour would backfire like this. James and I never had any claim on her flat. We just couldn’t leave Nora alone—she deserved kindness. If I’d known what her family was like, I’d never have reached out.”
Now, Alice avoids any mention of that family. She carries on with her life, focusing on her children, trying to forget the ordeal. But the bitterness lingers.
“I won’t interfere again. I won’t knock on doors or offer help. Not because I’m afraid—no. It just hurts. When you try to do good, and all you get in return is spite. It hurts, that’s all.”
