When I turned sixtyfive, the starkest terror was not the prospect of being alone but the dread of having to beg my children to call, fully aware that I was a burden to them.
Mum, hello I need your help urgently, my sons voice crackled through the handset, sounding more like a superior issuing orders than a son speaking to his mother.
I, Nancy Pearson, froze, the remote still in my hand, the evening BBC news never having turned on.
Kevin, hi. Whats wrong?
Nothing, love. Alls well, he sighed impatiently. Kate and I have snagged a cheap getaway; we fly out tomorrow morning.
What about Duke? No ones left to look after him. Can you take him in?
Duke was a massive, drooling mastiff who, in my modest flat, occupied more space than the old mahogany sideboard.
Will it be long? I asked, already knowing the answer.
For a week, maybe two, if it works out. Mum, who else can we ask? Leaving him in a dog hotel would be cruel you know how sensitive he is.
I glanced at my sofa, freshly reupholstered in a light fabric Id been saving for months, denying myself small luxuries. Duke would ruin it within days.
Kevin, Im not comfortable. I just finished the renovation.
What renovation? Did you repaper the walls? his tone edged into irritation. Duke is wellbehaved; just take him for a walk before you leave. Kates already calling, we need to pack. Well be there in an hour.
A brief hiss of the line, no pleasantries, no birthday wishes my birthday had been the week before.
I had spent the whole day waiting for his call, preparing my signature cucumbermint salad, slipping into a new dress. The children promised to drop by, yet never appeared.
Kevin sent a terse text: Mum, FYI stuck at work. Olivia didnt reply at all.
And today Urgent help needed.
I sank slowly onto the sofa. The problem wasnt the dog nor the ruined upholstery. It was the humiliating awareness of my role: the freestanding caretaker, the emergency hotline, the last resort.
I remembered how, decades ago, when my kids were tiny, Id dreamed theyd grow up independent. Now I understood that the real horror wasnt an empty flat; it was the heartstopping pause waiting for a call that only came when they needed something.
An hour later, there was a knock. Kevin stood at the door, leash in hand, Duke bounding inside, leaving muddy paw prints on the spotless floor.
Mum, heres his food, his toys. Three walks a day, remember? Weve got to rush, or well miss the flight! he thrust the leash at me, gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and vanished.
I was left standing in the hallway, Duke sniffing the chair legs, the sound of fabric tearing from somewhere in the flat. I glanced at my phone. Should I call Olivia? Maybe shed understand? My finger hovered over the screen, but Olivia hadnt called in a month. Shed have her own life, her own family.
For the first time, the familiar sting of resentment didnt surface. Instead, a cold, clear, unmistakable realization settled: enough was enough.
Morning broke with Duke, deciding to express affection, leaping onto the bed and leaving two dirty pawprints on the pristine duvet. The new sofa was already torn in three places, and my beloved ficus, nurtured for five years, lay on the floor, leaves gnawed.
I poured a glass of valerian from the bottle, dialed Kevin. He didnt answer immediately. In the background, I could hear the surf and Kates laughter from a holiday postcard shed sent.
Mum, whats wrong? Everythings fine here, the sea is brilliant!
Kevin, about the dog. Hes wrecking the flat, tearing the sofa. I cant manage him.
What do you mean? Hes never scratched anything before. Maybe youre keeping him locked up? He needs freedom. We just arrived, want to relax. Just walk him a bit longer, hell settle.
I walked him two hours this morning! He pulled the leash so hard I nearly fell. Please, take him back. Find another place for him.
Silence stretched over the line. Kevins voice hardened.
Mum, are you serious? Were on the other side of the world. How am I supposed to bring him back? You agreed to this. Do you want us to quit everything and fly back because of your whims? Thats selfish, Mum.
The word selfish struck like a slap. I, whod spent my life for them, now labelled a selfish woman.
Kevin, Im not being whimsical, I
Enough, Mum. Kates brought the cocktails. Keep Duke entertained. Im sure youll get along. Kiss.
Another hiss of the line. My hands trembled as I sat at the kitchen table, the sense of helplessness almost physical. I decided to call Olivia, always the more sensible one.
Olivia, hello.
Hi, Mum. Something urgent?
Yes. Kevin left his dog with me and flew off. Hes out of control, destroying furniture. Im scared hell bite me next.
Olivia sighed heavily.
Kevin asked for help, so it was a necessity. Isnt it hard to help your brother? Were family. Replace the sofa, hell pay you back later.
Its not about the sofa! Its about how hes put me in this position!
And how do you think he should act? Begging on your knees? Mum, youre retired, you have plenty of time. Keep the dog, whats the harm? Ive got my own boss looking over my shoulder.
The conversation ended. I set the phone down.
Family a strange word. In my case it meant a group of people who remembered you only when they needed something, accusing you of selfishness if you couldt instantly comply.
That evening a downstairs neighbour, furious as a banshee, banged on my door.
Nancy! Your dog has been barking nonstop for three hours! My baby cant sleep! If you dont quiet him Ill call the police!
Duke, standing behind me, barked in agreement. I shut the door, looked at the wagging tail seeking praise, then at the torn sofa, then at my phone, feeling a dull, heavy irritation building inside.
I took the leash.
Come on, Duke, lets go for a walk.
Through the parks lanes I felt the tension in my shoulders turn into a dull, throbbing ache. Duke pulled forward, nearly wrenching the leash from my weakened grip, each yank echoing Kevins and Olivias accusations: selfish, too much free time, hard to help.
Ahead, Zinnia Hart, a former colleague, appeared breezing in a bright scarf, fashionable haircut, eyes twinkling.
Nancy! I barely recognised you! Still buried in chores? Another grandchild? she winked at Duke.
Its my sons dog, I replied hoarsely.
Oh, right! Youre our forevergoto fixit lady. Im off to Spain in a week for a flamenco course! My husband grumbled at first, then said, Go, youve earned it. When was the last time you relaxed?
The question hung in the air. I couldnt recall a true break my holidays had always been spent at the cottage, looking after grandchildren, helping the kids.
You look exhausted, Zinnia said sympathetically. You cant keep bearing everything yourself. Let the kids fend for themselves. Otherwise youll be nanning their dogs while life slips by. Ive got to run, rehearsal!
She darted off, leaving a trail of expensive perfume and a ringing emptiness.
While life passes by. The phrase hit me like a detonator. I stopped so abruptly Duke stared at me, confused. I looked at the massive dog, at my hands gripping the leash, at the grey houses surrounding us.
I realised I could no longer continue not a day, not an hour. Enough.
I pulled out my phone with trembling fingers, typed best dog hotel into the search engine. The first link displayed glossy pictures of a sprawling pen, a pool, a grooming salon, private training sessions with a caninebehaviourist, and prices that made my breath catch.
I dialled without hesitation.
Good afternoon. Id like to book a fortnight for a dog, full board and spa treatments, please.
I hailed a black cab right there in the park; Duke sat calmly, as if sensing the change. The hotel smelled of lavender and highend shampoos, not of dog fur. A smiling receptionist in a uniform handed me a contract.
Without blinking, I wrote my name and Kevins number in the Owner box, and again in the Payer box. I paid the deposit from the money Id set aside for a new coat the best investment of my life.
Well send daily photos to the owner, the receptionist said warmly, taking the leash. Dont worry, your beloved fellow will love it here.
Returning to my quiet, though now a bit battered flat, I felt for the first time in many years a calm rather than loneliness. I poured tea, settled on the surviving edge of the sofa and sent two identical messages: one to Kevin, one to Olivia.
Duke is safe. Hes at the hotel. Direct any queries to his owner.
I muted my phone.
Three minutes later it buzzed Kevin. I took a sip of tea, didnt answer. A minute later it buzzed again, then Olivias message: Mum, what does that mean? Call me right away!
I turned up the television volume, aware of the drama unfolding on the other end panic, outrage, attempts to fathom how their everreliable mother could act so.
Two days later a persistent knock at the door announced the arrival of Kevin and Olivia, suntanned but angry. Their holiday had clearly gone awry.
Mum, have you lost your mind? Which hotel? Did you see the bill? Youre trying to ruin us over a dog?
Good afternoon, children, I said calmly. Come in, take off your shoes, Ill mop the floor.
My composure stunned them more than any shouting could have. Kevin surveyed the shredded sofa, a toppled flower pot.
This, he gestured, what is it?
Its the result of your wellbehaved dog staying in my flat. I called a tradesperson; heres the invoice for reupholstering the sofa and a new ficus. I placed the printed sheet neatly on the table.
Youre charging me for this? Kevin huffed. You should have been watching him!
For? I should have? For the first time in years I looked at my son not with love but with cold curiosity.
I owe you nothing, mother. Neither do you owe us anything.
Olivia interjected, trying to smooth things over. Mum, why the extreme? Were family. We could sort this out.
Kevin snapped, Extremes are when a son accuses his mother of selfishness because she wont let the house turn into a ruin. Extremes are when a daughter says you have plenty of time to serve her brother. He jabbed at the bill.
I listened, my face impassive. You have no right, he roared, and Ill not pay a penny for your ridiculous hotel!
Fine, I replied simply. I wasnt counting on it anyway. Im selling the cottage.
The cottage, where they had planned barbecues, a sauna, weekend retreats, now lay in my mind as a lost dream.
You cant! Olivia shouted, forgetting diplomacy. Its ours too! We grew up there!
My names on the deeds, I shrugged. And childhood, dear, is over.
The money rescued from the hotel bill would cover the losses, the moral damage, and perhaps fund a trip to Spain Zinnia had spoken so fondly of it.
They stared at me as if I were a stranger. No longer the meek, obedient mother, but a woman with a steel spine they had never imagined.
For the first time in years, a tense silence settled over the room the kind that tells you the battle is lost.
Within a week Kevin transferred the exact amount to my account, no apologies, no further calls. I didnt wait for them. From an old attic chest I retrieved a nearly new suitcase, dialed Zinnia.
Zinnia, love, do you still have a spot in the flamenco class?
