Step by Step, We Brought Water and Finally Gas to Her Old Home—Then We Added All the Modern Conveniences. Later, I Found My Aunt’s House on a UK Property Website

Bit by bit, we managed to connect Aunt Catherine’s cottage to water, and eventually gas as well. After that, we installed all the conveniences befitting a modern home. Years later, I even discovered her house listed on a property website.

My Aunt Catherine was seventy-eight and had two sisters, one of whom was my mother. She had no children of her own, though shed been married at least ten times. Her last husband passed away some ten years ago. Aunt Catherine and her husband lived in an old cottage with scarcely any amenitiesit consisted of just two rooms, and her lavatory was outdoors.

Her husband was a real character, as folks tend to saya lively figure. Wed frequently pay them visits. Catherines younger sister lived in Sweden, yet the sisters kept in touch via phone calls.

When Catherines husband died, we found ourselves journeying there more often. Out of our own pockets, we bought coal and firewood to keep her warm. Wed spend afternoons helping with her garden, planting and tidying it up. We never took a penny from her. Time and again, we invited her to come live with us, but she insisted she wasnt cut out for city life.

Slowly, we brought running water and then gas to her home. We renovated her house, modernized it, built her a proper bathhouse in the garden, and fixed the roof, all to ensure she could enjoy as comfortable a life as possible in the village. In gratitude, Aunt Catherine declared shed leave her cottage to our children.

Wed travel there at a moments notice, whenever she called. Then, quite unexpectedly, she went to Sweden to live with her younger sister. I often wondered how, after years of little contact, such sisterly affection had blossomed suddenly. And as for the house, Catherine simply told us to leave it be for now.

I mused that, no matter how relations among sisters shifted, Aunt Catherine might one day return. Her Swedish sister had a husband and an adult daughter, and the whole family lived together under one roof.

We still held the keys to Catherines cottage and decided to visit the next weekend to check things over. But when we arrived, our key didnt fitthe lock had been changed. Bold, white letters painted on the fence read: For Sale.

Upon returning home, I found Aunt Catherines cottage listed on an English property website. I rang the estate agents number. The agent said the house had already been sold for nearly £200,000. I didnt call Aunt CatherineI was far too upset.

If not for the money and effort wed put into her cottage, it would have been worthless. A month later, Catherine phoned to say shed sold the home and given the proceeds to her Swedish niece, the daughter of her sister. Now, I scarcely know how to face my husband, knowing that all the money we poured into Catherines cottage was as much his as mine.