“You’re not needed anymore,” said the children, and they left.
“Mum, why must you always do this? We agreed!” Elizabeth sighed irritably as she unpacked the groceries she had brought for her mother.
“Darling, I only wanted to help. I thought you and David might like it if I knitted little Emily a jumper for winter,” Margaret murmured, sitting by the window, her thin fingers fidgeting with the knitting needles.
“Emily is fourteen, Mum. She wont wear a jumper knitted by her grandmotherdo try to understand. She has her own style. Young people dress differently these days.”
Margaret sighed heavily, setting aside the half-finished pink jumper. Something ached inside her. Was her gift really so dreadful? She had picked a modern pattern, the softest wool she could find.
“And when will you come for tea? Ill bake an apple piejust as Emily likes it.”
Elizabeth stiffened, then shut the fridge door harder than necessary.
“Mum, we simply dont have time for tea. Emilys revising for her GCSEs, Davids swamped at work, and Im at the office from dawn till dusk. We talked about this last time.”
“Yes, of course,” Margaret smoothed a crease in her housecoat. “I only thought perhaps on Sunday…”
“Dont start,” Elizabeth cut in. “On Sunday were going to the cottageOlivia and James are hosting little Olivers birthday. Had you forgotten?”
“Olivers already sixteen,” Margaret smiled faintly. “How quickly they grow. Will you take me along?”
Elizabeth frowned as though the suggestion had caught her off guard.
“Mum, its just the young crowd. Youd be bored. And the drive is dreadful.”
“I wouldnt mind,” Margaret said quickly. “I could bake the cakeremember how Oliver loved my honey cake?”
“Theyve already ordered one from the bakery. A modern one, with a printed photo.”
Margaret nodded and picked up her needles again, hiding her disappointment. The children were grown, the grandchildren too. They had their own lives, and somehow, there seemed less and less room for her in them.
Elizabeth glanced at her watch. “I must go. The groceries are put away. Dont bother with riceit makes your blood pressure spike. And dont forget your tablets this evening.”
“Thank you, darling,” Margaret walked her to the door and hugged her goodbye. Elizabeth tensed, as if the embrace were an inconvenience, and slipped free quickly.
“Bye, Mum. Ill ring later in the week.”
The door clicked shut. Margaret lingered in the hallway, listening to her daughters retreating footsteps. Then, slowly, she returned to the sitting room. The flat, once filled with childrens laughter, now felt too quiet, too empty.
She opened the glass-fronted cabinet and took out the family album. There was little James and Elizabeth in the sandpit. There they were at the seasideher husband still alive then, all of them saving for that trip to Brighton. School plays, graduations, weddings and tiny grandchildren cradled in her arms. When Emily was born, Margaret had left work early, though retirement was still three years away. Elizabeth and David had been so relieved to have someone to mind the baby. She had looked after Oliver too, though not as muchOlivia had managed on her own.
The doorbell startled her from her thoughts. It was Marjorie from downstairs.
“Margaret, can you believe it? Theyve gone and cut the hot water again! No warning! Fancy a cuppa? Ive no way to wash up.”
“Of course, come in,” Margaret brightened. “I was going to bake a pie, but now, well, theres no one to share it with.”
“Elizabeth popped by?” Marjorie slipped off her shoes and headed to the kitchen. “Saw her car outside.”
“Just brought some groceries,” Margaret nodded, fetching the teacups. “Always in such a rush. Says she hasnt a moment to spare.”
“They all say that,” Marjorie waved a hand. “My Anthonys the samenever a minute to spare, if you listen to him. But when its time to ferry the grandkids to Cornwall for the summer, suddenly hes freecan drop me off, pick me up. You ought to invite yourself over, better than sitting here alone.”
“I tried,” Margaret sighed, setting out the cups. “But they always have their own plans.”
“Dont asktell them. Im coming Saturday, I want to see my granddaughter. Thats all. They wont turn their own mother away, will they?”
Margaret said nothing. Marjorie didnt know that the last time shed dropped in unannounced, Elizabeth had been so cross she hadnt rung for a week. Said David had colleagues over, and there she was, barging in with her pies.
Marjorie poured the tea, helping herself to the biscuit tin.
“Ive been thinking of spending Christmas with my sister in Bath. Its cosy there, good company. Whats here? Sitting alone with the telly, the bells chiming, and no one to wish you happy Christmas.”
“Elizabeth promised to have me for Christmas,” Margaret said quickly. “They always host, with Jamess family.”
“Well, fingers crossed,” Marjorie nodded, though her tone was doubtful. “Theyre all talk, these children. When it comes to it…”
After Marjorie left, Margaret baked the apple pie anyway. A small one, just four slices. She ate one, wrapped two for the neighbours she sometimes chatted with by the lift, and saved the last for tomorrow.
That evening, James rang.
“Mum, hello, how are you?” His voice was cheerful but distant.
“Fine, dear. Elizabeth came today, brought groceries. Hows Olivia? Hows Oliver?”
“All right. Listen, Mum, about the cottage…”
Margaret tensed. The cottage, left by her husband, was in her name. A small place with an old but sturdy house. Theyd spent every summer there as a family. Then the children grew up, her husband passed, and she went less oftentoo much to manage alone.
“Yes, I remember,” she said cautiously.
“Well, heres the thing. Olivia and I have a chance to build a proper house, somewhere nicer. But wed need the deposit. We thoughtmaybe sell the cottage? You hardly go there anymore.”
Margaret was silent, gripping the receiver. She hadnt expected this. The cottage was the last piece of their life with William. The veranda hed built himself, the apple trees hed plantedit all still spoke of him.
“James, but its all about your father. And I thought perhaps the grandchildren”
“Mum,” impatience crept into his voice. “What grandchildren? Oliver wont set foot thereall he cares about is his games. And that place is falling apart. Better sell now while its still worth something. Well give you some of the money, of course.”
“Ill think about it,” she said softly.
“Mum, theres nothing to think about. Its a good offer. The buyers have already seen it. Ill pick you up tomorrow at ten to sign the papers, all right?”
The next day, James arrived as promised, uncharacteristically attentive, even helping her with her coat. On the way to the estate agents, he chattered about the new house, the spacious guest room.
“You could visit every weekend, Mum. Lovely spot, fresh air. Not like that old place by the motorway.”
Margaret listened and nodded. Deep down, she knew no one would drive her out every weekend. The guest room would stay empty. But she didnt want to argue. He was so set on this.
At the office, she signed the papers. A young man in a suit prattled about taxes and completion dates, but she barely heard. In her mind, she saw the cottage veranda where she and William had taken tea in the evenings, watching the sunset.
“All sorted,” James said brightly as they left. “Moneyll come through in a couple of days. Ill transfer your share straight to your account.”
“Thank you, dear,” she forced a smile. “Are you in a hurry? Fancy popping in for tea? I baked a pie yesterday.”
James checked his watch.
“Cant, Mum. Meeting in half an hour. Another time.”
He dropped her at the flats with a wave. Margaret climbed the stairs slowly. Mrs. Thompson from across the hall peered out.
“Margaret, that pie you made yesterdaydivine! Mind sharing the recipe? My grandchildren are visiting this weekend.”
Margaret smiled. At least someone appreciated her baking.
A few days later, Elizabeth called, sounding flustered.
“Mum, why arent you answering? I tried the landline.”
“I popped to the shops, darling.”
“Oh, right. Listen, Mum, big news! Davids been offered a contract in Edinburghthree years at least. Double the salary, a company flat. Weve decided to take it.”
Margaret sank onto a chair, her legs weak.
“Edinburgh? But thats so far…”
“Not really. Just an hour by plane. Well fly back for holidays.”
“What about Emily? Her school, her friends”
“Its a brilliant opportunity for her. Theres a grammar school with a science specialismshe wants to study medicine. Everythings falling into place.”
“When do you leave?” Margaret fought to keep her voice steady.
“Two weeks. Sorting the paperwork now, packing. No time at all! But well come and say goodbye before we go.”
The fortnight passed in a blur. Margaret waited, hoping theyd visit as promised. Each morning she woke thinking today shed see Emily, bake her favourite pie. But the phone stayed silent.
Finally, the day before their departure, the doorbell rang. Elizabeth and David stood there. Emily waited in the carheadache, Elizabeth explained. They stayed barely half an hour, gulping tea, refusing piewatching their weight.
“Mum, we got you a simple mobile,” Elizabeth handed her a box. “Easy to use. Well call. And here” she passed a slip of paper. “Numbers for my friends, Lucy and Sophie. If you need anything, ring them.”
“But what about James”
“James has his new place now, you know how it is. He wont have time to visit. But dont worry, the girls will help.”
As they left, Elizabeth hugged her tighter than usual, whispering:
“Just stay well, all right? Itll put our minds at ease.”
That evening, James rang.
“Mum, were moving into the new house tomorrow. So much to do, its madness. Olivia says we wont be able to have guests for a while. Dont take it to heart, eh? Once were settled, well have you over.”
“Of course, dear. I understand.”
The days stretched, filled with silence. Elizabeth rang weekly, conversations clipped. James hardly calledtoo busy with renovations. The grandchildren were always occupiedlessons, sports, friends.
Margaret tried to fill the void. She joined the library, attended poetry readings at the community centre. Met others like herlonely pensioners with time to spare.
One evening, returning from a reading, her phone rang. Elizabeth.
“Mum, hello. How are you?”
“Fine, darling. Just back from a poetry evening. I even read one of mine. Everyone loved it.”
“Thats wonderful,” Elizabeth said distractedly. “Listen, weve had an opportunity Davids been offered a transfer to Canada. Can you imagine? Such a chance for us all! Emily could study at a proper university there.”
Margaret went very still.
“Mum? Are you there?”
“Yes, darling. Canadathats so far.”
“I know, but the opportunities! Weve almost decided. If it works out, well go in three months.”
“And what about me?” Margaret asked quietly.
“What do you mean?”
“Ill be quite alone. James is busy, barely calls. And now you”
“Mum, dont start. Youre a grown woman. You have your life, we have ours. We cant turn this down just because youll miss us.”
“I understand,” she swallowed. “But perhaps I could come too?”
Silence.
“Mum, thats impossible. Visas would be a nightmare. Well rent a tiny flatno space. And you dont speak the language. How would you manage?”
“I could learn”
“Mum,” Elizabeth sounded exhausted. “Youre sixty-seven. Languages? Emigrating? Youve your pension, your flat here. Your friends, your routine. Youd only be miserable there.”
Margaret blinked back tears.
“Yes, I suppose youre right.”
“Good. We havent decided yet. Well keep you posted.”
A week later, James called, brisk and businesslike.
“Mum, weve been thinking with Liz going to Canada Perhaps you should let your flat? Extra income. You could move to a retirement home. Lovely places nowmeals, nurses, activities.”
“A home?” Margaret echoed.
“Dont look so shocked. Not like the old days. A proper residence. People your age, good company. You wouldnt be lonely.”
“And my flat?”
“Wed let itsome income for the home, some for you. Fair all round.”
Margaret closed her eyes. So this was it. A home, to free up the flat.
“James, I dont want to go. I want to stay here.”
“Mum, be sensible. Its better for you! No cooking, no cleaning. Here, youre alone. What if something happens?”
“Nothing will. I manage perfectly well.”
“Dont be stubborn. Were only thinking of you.”
“No, James. Youre thinking of my flat.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.
“What?” His voice turned cold. “Thats unfair. We worry! Liz is off to Canada, Im out in the sticks. Wholl look after you?”
“Ill look after myself. I dont need a keeper.”
“Always so difficult. Try to help, and this is the thanks” He broke off. “Fine. Think it over. Ill ring tomorrow.”
But he didnt. Nor the day after. After three days, Margaret rang him. Olivia answered, said he wasnt home.
“Tell him his mother called,” Margaret said.
“Right,” Olivia said shortly, and hung up.
A week later, Elizabeth phoned.
“Mum, we fly the day after tomorrow. Everythings sorted.”
“So soon? What about saying goodbye?”
“Were swamped, Mum. Packing, paperwork. But well video call. Maybe visit next year.”
“Darling, I wont even get to hug you?”
“Mum, dont make a scene. Its not forever. Just a few years. Well be back.”
“Someday,” Margaret echoed.
“And Mum James and I talked. About the home. It really is a good idea. Dont dismiss it.”
“James, Im not leaving my home.”
“Fine, fine,” Elizabeth said hurriedly. “Just think about it, all right?”
On the day they left, no call came. Margaret sat by the phone all day. That evening, she rang Elizabeths mobile. No answer. Already on the plane, perhaps.
James rang three days later.
“Mum, you all right? Not poorly?”
“Im fine, dear. Did Elizabeth arrive safely?”
“Yes, theyre settling in. Flats sorted, Emilys in school. All good.”
“Im glad. Why dont you visit? Ive made a pie.”
A pause.
“Mum, works mad. The new houseyou know how it is. Once were straight, well have you over.”
“I see,” she said softly. “But perhaps at the weekend? Id love to see Oliver. I miss him.”
“Olivers got hockey matches. Signed up for a team. Honestly, Mum, visits arent possible right now. Once things calm down, promise.”
But they didnt come. Calls grew rarer, shorter. Then the worst happened. James rang to say he and Olivia had been offered jobs in London.
“Brilliant opportunity, Mum. Oliver can go to a top school. Londons the place to be.”
“But the house? Youve only just built it.”
“Well let it. Or sell, not sure yet.”
“When do you go?” Her heart pounded in her throat.
“About a month. Sorting the paperwork.”
“James, will you visit before you leave?”
He coughed.
“Thing is, Mum No time for visits. Too much to sort. Maybe once were in London.”
“James,” she gathered her courage. “About the home. I wont go. This is my homewhere I lived with your father, where you grew up. All my memories are here.”
“Mum, not this again. Were only trying to help.”
“Help would be remembering you have a mother.”
“What?” His voice hardened. “We do remember! I call, Liz writes from Canada. We send money. What more do you want?”
“I want my children and grandchildren. Not money.”
“Mum, were adults. Weve our own lives. You cant expect us to hover around you forever. Times have changed. Families scatter.”
“I dont expect hovering. Just not to be forgotten.”
“Here we go. Look, Ive work to do. Well talk later.” He hung up.
On moving day, James camealone, for barely half an hour. A box of chocolates, a peck on the cheek, like a stranger. Distant, as though ticking a duty.
“You managing, Mum?”
“Managing,” she forced a smile. “Wheres Olivia? Wheres Oliver?”
“Home, packing. No time to spare.”
As he turned to leave, she realised she might not see him for years. Maybe never. Her throat tightened.
“James,” she called. “Son, dont you need me anymore?”
He paused in the doorway, then spoke without meeting her eyes.
“Mum, dont be daft. Everyones busy. You understand.”
“I understand,” she nodded. “I do, son.”
He left. She stood in the doorway a long while, staring at the empty hall. Then slowly returned to the sitting room. The clock ticked on the wallold, Williams favourite. Hed loved mechanical clocks, said they had souls.
She picked up the phone and dialled Marjorie.
“Marjorie, remember you mentioned Christmas in Bath with your sister? Might I join you?”
Marjorie sounded surprised but pleased.
“Margaret! Of course! Shed be chuffed. Plenty of room. Changed your mind about the children, then?”
“Yes,” Margaret felt something lift inside her. “Decided to look after myself. Theyve their own lives now.”
“Good for you!” Marjorie said warmly. “Youre still youngno need to mope. Baths lovely at Christmas. Theyll come crawling back once the grandchildren are older, youll see.”
“Perhaps,” Margaret smiled. “But I shant wait. Ive a life to live too, havent I?”
She hung up and went to the window. The first snow was falling. A new winter was beginning, and perhapsa new life. Without the children, but not, perhaps, entirely alone.
