Off to the cottage again? Might as well live there, chuckled Emily, handing over the keys to the flat.
Mum, have you seen my blue hoodie? shouted Lily from her room. The one with the hood.
Margaret set aside the old photographs shed been sorting and listened. Her daughter was rummaging through the wardrobe, hangers rattling.
Probably in the wash, she called back. Check the laundry basket.
Found it! came the reply a minute later.
Margaret returned to the photos. There was Lily as a toddler, perched on her late husband Jamess lap by their first car. Another of her in school uniform, clutching a bouquet on her first day. Then her graduation
Mum, whats all this? Lily emerged, tugging on the blue hoodie.
Just old photos from the dresser. Deciding what to keep.
Lily leaned in, peering at the box. Oh, this is us at the cottage! She pulled out a picture of the three of them beside the newly built summerhouse. Dad was still with us. God, that feels like forever ago.
Eight years, Margaret said quietly. Itll be eight in August.
Time flies, Lily sighed, putting it back. Mum, actually, I wanted to talk to you.
Something in her tone made Margaret tense. Thirty-four years of motherhood had taught her to recognise every shift in Lilys voice. This careful, measured tone usually meant bad news.
What about, love?
Lily wandered into the kitchen and sat at the table. Margaret followed.
So, Ive got this amazing work opportunity, Lily began, avoiding her mothers gaze. A clients offered me a contractdeveloping an online shop, building the site.
Thats wonderful, Margaret said, brightening. Youre brilliant at that sort of thing.
Yeah, but theres a catch. Lily twirled a teaspoon between her fingers. The pays fantastic, but only if I work remotely. From home. And here, in the flat, Ill never concentrate.
Why not? I dont disturb you.
Mum, come on. The telly, phone calls, the neighbours blasting music through the walls. I need silence to focus.
Margaret nodded. It was truetheir old terrace had paper-thin walls, and the students next door loved their drum and bass.
So what are you suggesting?
I was thinking Lily hesitated. What if I rented somewhere quiet? Just for a bit. A nice area. The pay would cover it.
Rent a flat? Whats wrong with this one?
Mum, dont take it like that. Of course its home. But I need space to work. At least for a year.
Margaret stared at her, bewildered. Theyd always lived together, even when Lily was marriedher husband had moved in with them. That hadnt lasted, of course. Mark left, and Lily stayed.
So Id be here alone?
Mum, youre always at the cottage! Lily brightened. Youre there from May to October, basically living there. Why not just stay?
Stay? As in, move there?
Yeah! You love it. The flat just sits empty. We could rent it out, split the incomefairs fair.
A lump rose in Margarets throat.
So youre kicking me out?
Dont be daft! Lily waved her hands. No ones kicking anyone out. Its just practical. Youre happier there, and the flats wasted here.
What about winter? The cottage is freezing.
Youve got the wood burner. Or well get an electric heater.
Lily, Margaret said softly, are you seriously asking a sixty-year-old woman to winter in a cottage?
Mum, youre fifty-nine! And loads of retirees live in the countryside full-time. Fresh air, peace and quiet.
And no one around if something happens.
The Johnsons are next door! And the Wilsons down the lane. They stay year-round.
Margaret fell silent, digesting it. Lily pressed on.
Think about it. Whats the point of keeping a two-bed flat if we could be earning from it? Rentals are booming, especially in this postcode.
And if this job falls through? What then?
It wont. Its a long-term project. And even if it does, Ill find something else.
Margaret stood and walked to the window. Kids played in the square below, a dog barked, traffic hummedthe familiar city soundtrack shed known for decades.
The cottage was different. Six acres in the Kent countryside, an hour from London. The little house she and James had built themselves, the garden, the orchard. A retreat from the urban grind.
But live there permanently?
Lily, what if I get ill? Need an ambulance?
Mum, youve got your mobile. And the car.
Im terrified of driving. Passed my test, but I never use it.
Youll learn. Or get the bus.
Margaret turned to face her.
Youve already decided, havent you?
Lily flushed.
No! Im just putting it out there. Think it over, no rush.
When do you need an answer?
Well the project starts on the first. So, three weeks.
Margaret picked up a photo of her and James, newlyweds, grinning outside this very flat. Shed been twenty-two, him twenty-five. A whole life ahead.
Remember how we got this place? she asked.
Youve told me a hundred times.
Your dad waited eight years on the council list. Worked overtime at the factory, did community workall for these two rooms.
Mum, that was then. Things are different now.
Yes, Margaret agreed. Parents used to bring their children home. Not send them packing to the countryside.
Mum, stop being dramatic. Im not throwing you out. Its a mutually beneficial arrangement.
Mutually beneficial. Margaret almost laughed. What benefit was there in shivering through a rural winter?
Fine, she said. Ill think about it.
Brilliant! Lily beamed. Youll see, itll work out. Well split the rent moneynice little top-up to your pension.
She kissed Margarets cheek and grabbed her bag.
Off to Sophies, back late. Dont wait up.
The door clicked shut, leaving Margaret alone with her thoughts.
That evening, with Lily still out and the flat silent, Margaret sipped tea at the kitchen table, untangling her feelings.
On one hand, Lily had a point. The cottage was lovelyshe spent half the year there anyway. Clean air, no noise, room for her books and her veg patch.
On the other, visiting was one thing. Living there, especially in January, another entirely.
What stung most was how easily Lily had suggested uprooting her. As if her mother were an inconvenience, neatly solved by banishment under the guise of concern.
She remembered eight years ago, when James died, how Lily had begged her not to stay alone.
Mum, dont be silly, shed said then. Come live with me. I hate being by myself too.
Now the same Lily was easing her out. Softly, kindly, but the intent was clear.
Next morning, Lily slept in, gulped coffee, and headed for the door.
Mum, any thoughts about our chat? she asked, zipping her coat.
Still thinking.
Right. Its a big decision. But the clients pushing for an answer.
What if I say no?
Lily faltered.
Well Id have to turn it down. Shame, reallythe moneys mad.
So its an ultimatum.
No! Just explaining the situation.
After Lily left, Margaret took the train to Kent. She needed to see the cottage anewcould it really be home?
The journey took ninety minutes. Autumn had tinged the trees amber, leaves crunching underfoot as she walked from the station.
The cottage welcomed her with the scent of apples and woodsmoke. She aired the rooms, checked the log store.
Compact but cosy. Two bedrooms, a galley kitchen, the sunroom James had added. The wood burner worked, the roof was sound. It could work.
Margie! called Mr. Johnson from next door. Down for long?
Not sure, Tom. Might stay a while.
His eyebrows shot up. What about the flat?
Lily wants to let it. Says Im here more anyway.
Your business, he shrugged. But winters rough solo. Specially for a woman.
You and Joan stay.
Aye, but were used to it. Pension doesnt stretch in town.
