Bit by bit, we managed to get running water into her house, and eventually we sorted out the gas too. After that, we gave her place a proper facelift with all the little home comforts. One day, though, I found my aunts house listed on a property website.
So, my aunt Margaret is now seventy-eight, and shes got two sistersmy mums one of them. Aunt Margaret, to put it mildly, has been married at least ten times! Her last husband passed away about ten years ago, and she never had any children of her own. For years, Aunt Margaret lived with her husband in this old cottage that had never seen a single modern convenience. It was basically two rooms, and she still had an outside loo!
Her late husband was what youd call a real character, constantly coming up with stories and making people laugh. We used to pop round all the time. Her youngest sister, Aunt Susan, lives up in Sweden. The sisters only really kept in contact by phone calls.
After Margarets husband died, we ended up visiting her much more often. Out of our own pockets, wed buy coal and firewood to keep her warm. Wed help her with the garden every spring and tidy up the flower beds. We never accepted anything in return, and more than once we invited her to come and live with us in town, but she was adamantcity living wasnt for her.
As time went by, we got her house hooked up with water and gas, then added proper facilitiesbuilt her a bathroom outside and even replaced the roof. We honestly just wanted her to be as comfortable as possible in her village. As a thank you, Aunt Margaret said shed leave the cottage to our kids in her will.
Literally, whenever she called, wed drop everything and go. Well, it turned out later that shed suddenly packed up and moved to Sweden to live with her youngest sister. Funny how, after all those years barely speaking, a wave of sisterly affection washed over them! And the house? She told us to just leave it alone for now!
In the back of my mind, I wondered if maybe Margaret would return. Her sister in Sweden has her own familya husband and a grown-up daughterand they all live together.
We still had the spare keys to Aunt Margarets cottage, so the next weekend, we decided to drive down and check everything was alright. Would you believe it, our key didnt fit the doorsomeone had changed the locks. And on the garden gate, painted in enormous white letters, it said: For Sale.
When we got back home, I looked up the cottage online; lo and behold, there it was, listed by an estate agent. I rang the number, and they told me it had already been sold for nearly two hundred thousand pounds. I was so cross, I couldnt bring myself to phone Aunt Margaret.
Without all the money wed poured into the place, it wouldve been worth nothing. A month later, Margaret called me to say shed sold the cottage and given the money to her nieceher sister Susans daughter, the one in Sweden. I dont even know how to face my husband at this point, considering he had invested just as much in that house as I did.
