The smell of fresh rain on the garden soil was the only thing that kept me tethered to the real world. Its been two months since my son, Andrew, just dropped dead, and the quiet in the house feels like a weight you cant shake off.
My daughterinlaw, Poppy, moved around the rooms like a ghostcalm, icy, and oddly detached. Even in those first gutwrenching days after the service, she never let a tear fall, never cracked the polished front she put on.
A week after the funeral, my phone rang. It was Andrews solicitor, MrHughes. I still hear his voice as clear as if it were happening right now.
MrsHarper, he said, pushing his glasses up, your sons will is very specific. He left the family house and the towncentre flat he bought last year to you. All his other assetsbank accounts, savingsare also in your name.
I blinked, taken aback. What about Poppy? His wife?
For her, he replied, the only thing he gave is the lifeinsurance policy. No property, no accounts. Thats how he wrote it.
I sat there, heart thudding. Andrew was always methodical, every decision thought through. If he chose to cut his wife out of almost everything, there had to be a reason deeper than I could see.
So I kept quiet. Out of loyalty. Out of love. Out of that little voice inside me that whispered he must have known something I didnt.
Two months later, on a grey morning, I was coming downstairs when I stopped dead in my tracks.
There, in the sitting room, was Poppy, wrapped in another mans arms. He was tall, broadshouldered, and carried himself like he owned the place. Poppy, smiling and unapologetic, turned to me as if nothing was amiss.
Oh, perfect timing, Margaret, she said smoothly, slipping her hand into his. This is Daniel my partner.
My pulse pounded in my ears. Poppy its far too soon, I muttered, still in disbelief.
Too soon? Poppy laughed, crossing her arms. Please, youre so oldfashioned. Daniel and I have decided its time for a change. This house feels stale. We need space, you understand? So, if youd be so kindpack your things. You can go elsewhere.
I stood there, the air thick between us, and something that had been silent for weeks suddenly woke up.
My dear, I said softly, pulling a thick envelope from my pocket, I think youre the one who should be packing.
I set the envelope on the coffee table. The papers inside landed with a crisp, decisive thud.
This house isnt yours, Poppy. It never was after Andrew died.
Poppy frowned, confusion flickering across her face. What are you on about, Margaret?
I met her gaze, steady and unflinching. Andrew left everything to methe house, the flat, the accounts. You only have the insurance, thats all. I didnt say anything before because I trusted my sons reasons. And now, I added, voice firm, I see exactly why.
The colour drained from Poppys cheeks. Daniel shifted uneasily beside her, glancing toward the door as if already halfway out.
You have twentyfour hours to clear out your stuff, I continued, calm, almost gentle. If not, my solicitor will serve an eviction notice. I want my son to rest in peace, and peace doesnt live next to deceit.
I pulled out my phone and dialed without hesitation. MrCarter? Its Margaret Harper. Please prep the eviction notice. Ill sign it first thing tomorrow.
Poppys bravado melted into panic. Daniel muttered under his breath and stepped back, realising the new home hed imagined was gone before it even began.
I sank into the armchair by the window, the late afternoon light spilling over my hands. The house was mine againand more importantly, justice was mine. My silence had been an act of love; my words now, an act of truth.
And for the first time in months, I could almost hear Andrews voicecalm, grateful, and finally at peace.
