Why take out a mortgage when you could simply wait for your grandmother to pass and inherit her flat? That was the reasoning of my husband’s cousin, Thomas. His wife, Eleanor, and their three children lived in quiet anticipation of the day the property would be theirs. They refused to deal with loans, preferring instead to dream of the moment when Grandmother’s home would fall into their hands. For now, they crammed into Eleanor’s mother’s modest two-bedroom house in Brighton, along the southern coast, and it was clear the arrangement wore on them. Thomas and Eleanor whispered more frequently about “settling matters” with the old woman sooner rather than later.
But Grandmother, Margaret Elizabeth, was a force of nature. At seventy-five, she brimmed with vitality, living joyfully without complaint. Her home in central Brighton welcomed friends with open arms; she mastered her smartphone, attended gallery openings and theatre performances, and even indulged in a bit of playful flirtation at the local seniors’ dance nights. She radiated warmth, her life a testament to savouring each day. Yet, for Thomas and Eleanor, this was no cause for admiration—only irritation. Their patience had run thin.
Finally, they snapped. They decided Margaret Elizabeth should sign the flat over to Thomas while she moved into a care home. They hardly bothered hiding their intentions, claiming it would be “better for her.” But Margaret Elizabeth was no pushover. She refused outright, igniting a blazing row. Thomas flew into a rage, shouting that she was “selfish” and “owed it to her grandchildren.” Eleanor stoked the flames, insinuating the old woman had “lived too long already.”
When my husband, William, and I heard of this, we were appalled. Margaret Elizabeth had long dreamed of visiting India—seeing the Taj Mahal, breathing in the spice-laden air, wandering the streets of Delhi. We suggested she move in with us, rent out her flat, and save for her adventure. She agreed, and soon her spacious three-bedroom in the city centre began turning a tidy profit. Thomas and Eleanor, upon finding out, threw a fit. They insisted the flat was rightfully theirs and demanded she let them move in. They even accused William of “scheming” to inherit her fortune. Thomas went as far as demanding the rental income, calling it his “rightful share.” We stood firm—it would not happen, end of discussion.
Eleanor started visiting almost daily—alone, then with the children, then bearing ridiculous gifts. She pried about Margaret Elizabeth’s affairs, but we saw through it—she and Thomas still clung to the hope that the old woman would soon “depart” and leave them her wealth. Their greed and shamelessness were staggering.
Meanwhile, Margaret Elizabeth saved enough and set off for India. She returned glowing, her suitcase stuffed with stories and photographs. We urged her not to stop there—to sell the flat, keep travelling, and live out her twilight years with us in comfort. After some thought, she agreed. Her spacious home fetched a handsome sum, and with the proceeds, she bought a cosy little studio on Brighton’s outskirts. The rest she poured into new adventures.
Margaret Elizabeth toured Spain, Austria, and Switzerland. In Switzerland, during a boat trip on Lake Geneva, she met a Frenchman named Jean. Their romance was straight out of a film—at seventy-five, she married him in a white lace gown! William and I flew to France for the wedding, and it was pure magic watching her beam, surrounded by flowers and laughter. Margaret Elizabeth had earned every bit of happiness. She’d spent her life working, raising children, helping grandchildren—now, at last, she lived for herself.
When Thomas learned of the flat’s sale, he exploded. He demanded the studio, insisting “she had more than enough.” How he planned to squeeze five people into it was anyone’s guess. But we no longer cared. We were just glad Margaret Elizabeth had found her place in the sun. As for Thomas and Eleanor… theirs was a cautionary tale—proof that kin sometimes reveal their true colours when money’s at stake.
