**Diary Entry 15th October**
Going to the cottage, are you? Might as well live there, my daughter laughed as she listed the flat for rent.
Mum, have you seen my blue hoodie? Emily called from her roomrustling through the wardrobe.
Antonia set aside the old photographs shed been sorting and listened. Hangers clattered as Emily rummaged.
Probably in the wash, Antonia replied. Check the laundry room.
Found it! came the reply a moment later.
Antonia returned to the photos. There was Emily as a toddler, cradled by her late father, James, in front of their first car. Another of her in school uniform, clutching flowers at graduation. Then prom night
Mum, whats all that? Emily emerged, tugging on the blue hoodie.
Just old pictures from the dresser. Deciding what to keep.
Emily leaned in, peering at the box. Oh, this is us at the cottage! She lifted a photo of them standing by the newly built summerhouse. Dad was still alive. Feels like forever ago.
Eight years, Antonia said softly. Itll be eight this August.
Time flies, Emily sighed, setting the photo down. Mum, I wanted to talk to you.
Something in her tone put Antonia on edge. Thirty years of motherhood had taught her every inflection. This careful voice usually meant trouble.
What about, love?
Emily retreated to the kitchen, sitting at the table. Antonia followed.
Ive been offered a brilliant job, Emily began, avoiding her gaze. A client wants me to develop an e-commerce siteremote work, good pay.
Thats wonderful! Youre brilliant with that sort of thing.
Yes, but theres a catch. I need absolute quiet to focus, and this flat well, the telly, the neighbours blasting musicits impossible.
Antonia nodded. The walls *were* paper-thin, and the couple next door loved their drum and bass.
So, whats your plan?
I was thinking what if I rented a quiet place? Just for a year. Somewhere in the suburbs.
Rent? This is your home.
I *know*, but I need a proper workspace. My salary can cover it.
Antonia stared. Theyd always lived togethereven during Emilys brief marriage. When it fell apart, her husband left, and Emily stayed.
And Id be here alone?
Mum, youre always at the cottage! May through October, you barely come back. Why not live there full-time?
Antonias throat tightened. Youre kicking me out?
Dont be daft! Emily waved her hands. Its practical. You love it there, and the flats just sitting empty. Wed split the rental incomefairs fair.
And winter? The cottage freezes.
Youve got the wood stove. Or well buy an electric heater.
Emily, Antonia said quietly, are you seriously asking your sixty-year-old mother to winter in a *cottage*?
Youre fifty-nine! Plenty of retirees live in the countryside year-round. Fresh air, peace
And no one around if I fall ill.
Youve got a phone! And the neighboursthe Wilsons stay all winter.
Antonia turned to the window. Kids played below; a dog barked. The familiar hum of London.
The cottage was different. A humble plot in Kent, an hours drive away. The little house she and James had built themselves, with its garden and apple trees. A retreatnot a home.
Youve already decided, havent you?
Emily hesitated. No! Im just proposing it. But the project starts in three weeks
Antonia picked up a photoher and James, newlyweds, grinning by their first flat. Twenty-two and full of dreams.
Remember how we got this place? Your dad waited eight years for that council flat. Worked double shifts, did community service
Mum, that was *then*. Things are different now.
Yes. Parents used to *welcome* their children home, not ship them off to cottages.
Im not *shipping* you! Its a win-win.
*Win-win.* Antonia almost laughed. What did *she* win? Frostbite?
Ill think about it.
Emily beamed. Brilliant! Youll seeitll work out. Half the rentll be a nice pension boost. She kissed Antonias cheek. Off to Sarahsdont wait up.
The door clicked shut.
—
That night, sipping tea at the kitchen table, Antonia weighed it all. The cottage *was* lovelyin summer. But winter? Lonely and harsh.
Worse was how easily Emily dismissed their life together. As if her mother were clutter to be tidied away.
Eight years ago, when James died, Emily had begged her: *Dont be alone. Move in with me.* Now? *Move out.*
The next morning, Emily rushed out, barely pausing for coffee.
Thought any more? she called, buttoning her coat.
Still thinking.
Right, butthe client needs an answer.
And if I say no?
Emily faltered. Then Id lose the job. The moneys *really* good.
So its an ultimatum.
No! Just explaining.
After she left, Antonia took the train to Kent. The cottage greeted her with apple-scented silence. Two rooms, a tiny kitchen, the wood stove. Livable, yesbut *home*?
Neighbour Tom waved from his garden. Staying long?
Might be permanent. Emilys renting the flat.
Tom frowned. Winters rough alone.
That evening, sitting on the porch, Antonia faced it: Emily wasnt *asking*. Shed already listed the flat.
—
Next day, Emily bounced in, triumphant. Signed the contract! Just need to sort the flat.
Youve found tenants?
A couple with a toddlerviewing tomorrow.
Antonias stomach dropped. So you didnt wait for my answer.
Emily flushed. I *knew* youd agree. You always say how much you love it here.
In *summer*.
Mum, dont make a fuss. Itll be cosyromantic, even.
Antonia studied herbright-eyed, oblivious. Youve decided where I live. Without me.
I *asked* yesterday!
You *told* me. Now youve booked viewings.
Emily huffed. Fine, I rushed. But it *is* sensible, isnt it?
For *you*.
For us both! Quiet, no noisy neighbours
And no one if I collapse.
God, youre *healthy*!
A pause. Then Emily muttered, If you refuse, Ill lose the job.
Antonia straightened. Ill agree. On one condition: *all* the rent comes to me.
Emily gaped. What? Thats not fair!
Compensation for *my* inconvenience. Your share was a gift. Consider it returned.
But I need money for *my* rent!
Youll manage. Or no deal.
—
A week later, the young couple moved in. As Antonia loaded her last box into the taxi, Emily hovered.
Youre not angry, are you?
Antonia kissed her forehead. Just disappointed.
The train rattled toward Kent. Fields blurred past. *Going to the cottage? Might as well live there.*
Well see who wins, she thought. If anyone does.
**Lesson:** Children grow up. But sometimes, they forget their parents are peoplenot furniture to be rearranged for convenience.
