“Have You Got the Money Ready?” asked the woman of about 45, who opened the door with her own key.

My girlfriend and I have been renting a room in a flat owned by an elderly lady for the past eight months.
We share a fridge with her, although her shelves were always bare. The only thing she ever kept in there was a pot of porridge made with water. She used soap only for washing clothes, and the only cooking oil she had was the cheapest you could findstale-smelling and unpleasant. Her shoes in the hallway were mended several times over. The entire flat seemed to echo poverty.
Our landlady never meddled in our affairs. She was out from dawn to dusk, wandering about collecting bottles and handing out leaflets. Every Sunday, shed lay out a meal with bruised fruit scavenged from the market.
It would nearly bring me to tears seeing her day to day like this. Once, when she had a visitor, I wept at the unfairness of it all.
Have you got the money ready? asked a woman around forty-five, unlocking the door.
Yes, dear. Here you are, take it, our landlady replied.
Its not enough. Tomorrow Ill bring my daughter over.
Whose clothes are those? Do you have visitors?
Im renting out a room, I have to live off something. I give you my whole pension, our landlady explained, her voice quivering.
Well, Ill take a look then, see what sort of lodgers youve found. Ive heard theyre up to no good, the woman said as she pushed the door to our room open.
Lets see who weve got here, then?
Such a brash intrusion onto a properly paid-for space left me flabbergasted.
Woman, please close the door behind you! I called out, not believing her cheek.
And who are you to tell me what to do? Im the lady of the house! Youll pay me from now onheres my number and my bank details. She barged in with her shoes on and slapped down two slips of paper on the table. And dont be late with the rent, or Ill have you out! When did you last pay?
Please, love, dont upset her, pleaded our landlady. Ive paid off my electricity debt with this, otherwise theyd have cut me off. How am I supposed to live without lights? she broke off, almost in tears.
Dont take their rent anymorehave them send it to me. Thats that. Ill be back tomorrow with my daughter, as I said.
Once shed gone, our landlady slumped onto a chair in the corridor and burst into tears. I went to her, put an arm around her and tried to comfort her.
Come now, dont cry. Everything will be all right.
Would you make me a cup of tea, please?
Id never actually seen her with a proper cup of tea before. She would brew herself raspberry and blackcurrant leaves, hung in bundles in the kitchen.
Taking the cup, she started to tell me her story.
I raised my daughter alone. Her father walked out and never came back. I gave her my heart and soul. She grew up arrogant, always chasing after men. She found herself a husband at thirty-five and gave me a granddaughter. But her husband is stingy and always after more. I started helping themher and my granddaughter.
Over time, helping became an obligation. She takes my pension, and if I dont hand it over, I cant see my granddaughter. I thought renting a room would at least let me keep some food in the house, but now she wants to take that too. What kind of child did I raise?
She was sobbing now, forgetting her tea. My heart ached for her.
And now she wants to move me outsell my flat, put me in a bedsit at the ragged edge of town. Maybe shell leave me on the streetshes started dropping hints. If I refuse, she threatens to keep my granddaughter away from me. But Id sell everything I have just for a chance to see my little treasure.
When my girlfriend came home from universityshes in her fourth year of lawI asked what we could do, how we might help the old lady.
We talked to the neighbours, whod overheard the shouting about money. We gathered their statements to serve as witnesses in court. After that we helped her put together a case to secure her right to regular visits with her granddaughter.
We also had her collect statements from a doctor, just in case her daughter tried to twist things in court.
We won the case, and now she sees her granddaughter legallyonce a fortnight for three hours. Her daughter cant hold her pension over her head any longer. With no means for blackmail, our landlady started eating a bit better; a slice of meat, and fresh fruit, became normal at her table. We help with small repairs, a lick of paint here, new wallpaper therethings shed put off for thirty years.
In gratitude, shes refused to take rent from us for the room. Of course, we make her accept it, almost forcing it into her hands.
How could someone treat their own mother this way? To snatch away what little pension she has, never caring about the well-being of the woman who gave them life? Its the height of ingratitude.
Treasure your parents! Youre here only because of themnever forget that.