“We just wanted to help our neighbour, and in return, we got reported to social services. Is that gratitude?!”
“Recently, a social worker showed up at our house,” says 35-year-old Emily. “They said there’d been an anonymous complaint—apparently, our kids were neglected, and we weren’t providing proper living conditions. They checked the flat, looked in the fridge, talked to the kids… Everything was fine. Filled out some paperwork, asked us to sign it, and left. But I still don’t understand—who would do this, and why?”
Emily and David have been married for over a decade. They’ve got two kids—eight-year-old Oliver and five-year-old Sophie. Their home is tidy, the kids are well looked-after, polite, and doing well at school. Neither the teachers nor the nursery have raised any concerns. And when the kids were asked, they said everything was fine too. So, the complaint had to come from outside. But who?
The answer came out of nowhere. A week later, Emily spotted Lily—the granddaughter of their elderly neighbour, Mrs. Evelyn. Emily remembered how, years ago, they’d clashed the first time they met. They never got on, and they hadn’t spoken since. But then it all clicked.
Emily and David had always been close with Mrs. Evelyn. The old woman loved having young neighbours nearby. She’d often pop round for tea, bring over cakes, and even babysit little Oliver when Emily had to rush out. In return, Emily and David helped with her shopping, picked up her prescriptions, and even took her to their countryside cottage in the summer.
When Mrs. Evelyn fell ill, Emily was practically there every day—cleaning, cooking, checking on her. Sure, a social worker visited too, but they weren’t much help. It seemed Mrs. Evelyn had no family: no calls, no visits, no one asking after her.
“In eight years, I’d never heard a word about her daughter or granddaughter,” Emily recalls. “David and I did what we could, but we had our own family to look after. At some point, it got too much. So, I suggested to Mrs. Evelyn that we try finding her relatives—maybe we could reconnect them.”
With a heavy heart, Mrs. Evelyn gave her the details. Emily found her daughter, Victoria, and granddaughter, Lily, on social media. She messaged them, asking them to come—explaining that their mum was in a bad way and needed them.
Mrs. Evelyn was over the moon: “You really think they’ll come? I haven’t seen them in fifteen years…” The last time her daughter had visited, Lily was just seven. They’d had a huge row—Victoria wanted to sell her mum’s flat, but Mrs. Evelyn refused. After that, the daughter cut off contact.
But to Emily’s shock, Victoria showed up the very next day—with Lily in tow. And then the nightmare began.
Victoria stormed in, yelling that Emily and David were only helping Mrs. Evelyn to steal the flat. She accused them of poisoning the old woman to speed things along. Emily was stunned, not knowing how to respond. David lost his temper—stood up for his wife and told the “guests” to leave. But they didn’t go quietly.
“We’ll make sure you end up in prison!” Lily screamed. “You’re getting off lightly! We’ll report you everywhere—get you evicted! You’ll pay for this, you con artists!”
That’s when Emily realised where that anonymous complaint had come from. It was their idea of payback.
“I only wanted to do something good,” Emily admits. “It never crossed my mind that helping an old woman would blow up like this. David and I never wanted the flat—we just couldn’t leave Evelyn alone. She deserved kindness. If I’d known what her family was like… I’d have never gone looking.”
Now, Emily avoids even talking about them. She’s moved on, focusing on her kids and trying to forget the whole mess. But the bitterness lingers.
“I won’t get involved in anyone else’s business again. No knocking on doors, no offering help. Not because I’m scared—just because it hurts. You do something good, and all you get in return is dirt. It stings.”
