“I won’t live with some stranger’s grandmother.” The grandson fixed his mother with a steady gaze.
“Mum, you tell him! I’m done explaining!” Eleanor nervously twisted the edge of the tablecloth, refusing to meet her son’s eyes.
“What’s there to explain?” Edward set his mug of tea down with a thud and sank into the chair opposite her. “I’ve made myself clearI’m moving out next week. Found a flat, paid the deposit.”
“But darling, how will we manage” Eleanor began, but Edward cut her off with a sharp wave of his hand.
“I’m twenty-seven, Mum. Time I stood on my own two feet, don’t you think?”
From the next room came a muffled cough, the clatter of something falling, followed by muttered complaints.
“You see?” Eleanor sighed. “She’s dropped something again. I’d better check.”
“Don’t.” Edward placed a firm hand on her shoulder. “Let her sort it out herself. Youre not her nurse.”
“Eddie, shes elderly…”
“Mum, enough!” His voice hardened. “Shes nothing to you. Nothing at all! Just Dads mother, who never had a kind word for you in all these years.”
Eleanor flinched as though struck. It was trueher mother-in-law, Margaret Whitmore, had never accepted her. Twenty-eight years ago, when the young couple married, she had greeted her new daughter-in-law with icy detachment. Whispered to the neighbours that her son couldve done better, that Eleanor came from the wrong sort, had a dreadful temper. And after Edward was born, shed declared shed raise the boy herself, since his mother was too green and simple-minded.
“Remember what she used to call you?” Edward pressed, seeing the blow land. “That girl of yours. Couldnt even be bothered to use your name. And after Dad died”
“Stop,” Eleanor whispered. “Dont bring that up.”
But her son wouldnt relent. Three years had passed since the funeral, yet the memories still ached. Margaret had wasted no time in declaring the house belonged to her sonwhich meant it was hers now. That Eleanor and her boy ought to start looking for somewhere else. That shed suffered enough from these outsiders.
“And who picked her up off the floor when she had that stroke?” Edwards voice rose. “Who called the ambulance? Who sat by her hospital bed?”
“Thats enough.” Eleanor stood, gathering the teacups.
“Its not! You see what she doesbangs about at night, drops pans so you cant sleep, blasts the telly. And those little digs about the food being rubbish, the wrong medicines…”
“Eleanor!” Margarets voice rang out sharply from the other room. “Eleanor, come here!”
She moved automatically toward the door, but Edward caught her wrist.
“No. If she needs something, she can get up herself.”
“Eddie, shes ill”
“Ill? Shes sturdier than the pair of us put together! Just used to barking orders. Dad spent his life dancing attendancenow youve taken over.”
“Eleanor!” The voice turned shrill. “Are you deaf?”
She pulled free and went. Margaret lay in bed, blankets tucked to her chin. A newspaper sprawled on the floor.
“Pick that up,” she said, nodding at it. “I want to read.”
“Margaret, do you have your glasses?”
“Of course I do! Think Ive gone blind?” The old woman fumbled them onto her nose. “And fetch me tea. Properly hot this time. Yesterdays was barely lukewarm.”
Eleanor wordlessly retrieved the paper and went to put the kettle on. Edward sat at the table, glowering.
“So, off to obey orders again?”
“Dont start,” she said wearily.
“Mum, listen to me.” He pulled his chair closer. “Im moving. And youre coming with me.”
Eleanor froze, kettle in hand.
“What?”
“Its simple. The flat has two bedroomsplenty of space. Youll have a proper life, without the rows and the nagging.”
“And what about her?”
“She can manage. People reap what they sow.”
“Eddie, I cant… Shed be all alone.”
“Good! Might teach her what lifes like without you running after her.”
Eleanor set the kettle down, gripping the countertop. Guilt and relief tangled in her chest.
“Mum, remember what she said after Dads funeral?” Edwards voice softened. “You can start packingthe house is mine now. Remember?”
She nodded. That conversation was branded in her memory. Theyd returned from the cemetery, changed out of black, sat down with tea. Then Margaret, silent throughout the service, had announced everything would change now. That Eleanor and her son didnt belong here. That they should find somewhere else.
“And who told her we werent going anywhere?” Edward continued. “Who said shed look after her, no matter what?”
“I did,” Eleanor admitted. “But it was different then. Shed just buried her son…”
“Mum, its been three years! Three years of you waiting on her hand and footcooking, cleaning, doctors visits. And what thanks have you had? None! Just complaints. Soup too salty, laundry not done right, wrong pills from the chemist. And last week, telling Mrs. Higgins from next door shes living with strangers who cant wait for her to die so they can take the house!”
“Eleanor! Wheres my tea?” Margarets voice carried down the hall.
“Coming!” Eleanor called, but Edward blocked her path.
“No. Sit down.”
“Eddie”
“Mum, sit. We need to talk.”
Reluctantly, she obeyed. Edward took her hands.
“I wont live with a strangers grandmother,” he said, holding her gaze. “And you shouldnt either. Youre only fifty-twoyour whole lifes ahead. Why waste it on someone who doesnt appreciate you?”
“Shes not a stranger. Shes your grandmother.”
“Grandmother?” He gave a bitter laugh. “She never liked me. Always said I took after youbad-tempered, no good. When I got into uni, she said it was a waste of moneythat Id never amount to anything.”
Eleanor stayed silent. She remembered every slight, every wound to her boy. But her husband had brushed it offsaid his mother was difficult, but fair at heart.
“Eleanor!” Margarets voice turned sharp. “Have you died in there?”
Edward stood abruptly and strode to her room. Eleanor heard him say, “Gran, Mums busy. If you want tea, make it yourself.”
“How dare you speak to me like that? Fetch your mother!”
“I wont. And just so you knowwere moving out next week.”
“Moving where?”
“To a new flat. Me and Mum.”
Silence. Then Margarets disbelieving voice: “And what about me?”
“Youll stay here. Alone. Like you always wanted.”
“Edward!” Eleanor called, but he was already returning, satisfied.
“Done,” he said, rubbing his hands. “Let her chew on that.”
“Why did you? You shouldve talked to me first.”
“Mum, weve talked it to death. Youve said yourself youre worn out, cant take her nonsense anymore.”
It was true. Shed complained often, especially after Margaret called her a freeloader in front of the neighbours.
“But shes old, poorly”
“Shes seventy-five, not a hundred! And no sicker than anyone her age. She just knows how to play it up.”
Sniffling came from the other room. Eleanor stood, but Edward shook his head.
“Dont. Its an act. Shell cry, then play the pity card.”
“But what if shes truly upset?”
“Truly?” He scoffed. “Where were her tears at Dads funeral? Where was her pity for us then?”
Eleanor remembered. Margaret had been dry-eyed, firm. Almost triumphant when telling them to leave.
“And then what happened? A stroke. And who looked after her? Who called the ambulance, sat in hospital, fetched her medicines?”
“I did,” she murmured.
“Exactly. And what thanks did you get? None. Back to the usualnothings right, you dont try hard enough.”
The sniffling stopped. Silence fell.
“See?” Edward nodded toward the room. “No audience, no performance.”
Eleanor poured herself water, drinking slowly. Her thoughts churned. He was right. Margaret had never loved or valued her. Criticised, belittled, humiliated her for years. And after her sons death, tried to throw them out.
But to leave an old woman alone… It felt cruel.
“Mum, I know its hard,” Edward said softly. “Youre kind. You care. But think of yourself. Dont you want a life too?”
She nodded. She did. One without tension, without daily barbs, without walking on eggshells. To wake and not dread the days first criticism.
“Remember how things were before?” he asked. “When Dad was alive? We talked, went places. Whens the last time you did anything for yourself?”
She thought. Three years of work, house, hospital, shops. Her friend Sarah had asked her to the cinema twiceshed refused, couldnt leave Margaret alone.
“What if we try?” Edward pressed. “Move out, see how it goes. If she really cant cope, well decide what to do.”
“But if something happens?”
“Shes got a telephone. Neighbours. She can hire help if shell pay for it.”
Footsteps shuffled down the hall. Margaret appeared in the doorway, leaning on the frame.
“So,” she said, “youre abandoning me?”
“No ones abandoning you, Gran,” Edward said evenly. “Were just living separately.”
“And how will I manage? Old and ill as I am?”
“Youre not as ill as you pretend,” he said. “Besides, you were happy enough to throw us out three years ago. Remember?”
Margaret blinked, thrown.
“Thatthat was different.”
“How? Same house, same people. Whats changed?”
“Im frail now! I need help!”
“Then maybe you shouldve thought of that earlier.” Edwards voice turned cold. “Maybe you shouldnt have abused the person whos looked after you these three years.”
Margaret turned to Eleanor.
“You wont leave me, will you? You understandIm old, I need”
Eleanor said nothing. Pity warred with resentment, duty with the longing to be free.
“Mum,” Edward said quietly, “tell her the truth. Tell her youre tired of the digs. How it hurts to be called an outsider in your own home.”
“I never said that!” Margaret snapped.
“No? What did you tell Mrs. Higgins? That you live with strangers waiting for you to die?”
The old woman faltered.
“II didnt mean”
“What did you mean?” Edward pressed. “Mums been in this family thirty years. Thirty years of putting up with you. And you still treat her like a guest.”
Eleanor went to the window, her heart heavy. She wanted to cry, but no tears came.
“Margaret,” she said, back turned, “do you remember what you said to me three years ago?”
“Eleanor, I was grieving”
“You said, You can start packingthe house is mine now. Remember?”
Silence.
“And you said youd had enough of outsiders. Remember that too?”
“Eleanor, I didnt”
“Intentions dont matter now.” She turned. “Only the words. And we remember them.”
Margaret sank onto a chair, suddenly aged.
“But Im ill… I need help…”
“You do,” Eleanor agreed. “But why must it come from the people you call strangers?”
The old woman twisted her dressing gown hem.
“Margaret,” Eleanor continued, “you made sure I knew my place hereon the outside. Why should I stay now that you need me?”
“Becausebecause its right,” Margaret said weakly.
“Right for whom?” Edward cut in. “You? And whats right for us? A lifetime of criticism?”
Margaret looked up, eyes unexpectedly wet.
“Eddie, youre my grandson…”
“A grandson you never liked. Told Id never amount to anything.”
“II didnt think youd remember”
“I remember. And so does Mum.”
Something in Eleanor snappeda taut wire finally breaking.
“Margaret,” she said quietly but firmly, “we are moving out. Next week.”
The old woman flinched.
“Eleanor”
“Not Eleanor. Mrs. Whitmore. And yes, were leaving. Youll have the house to yourselfas you wanted.”
“But how will I?”
“How would we have managed?” Eleanor sat opposite her. “When you threw us out three years ago? Wed have coped, wouldnt we?”
Margaret bowed her head.
“I was… grieving…”
“So were we.” Eleanor nodded. “Burying a husband and father. But we didnt turn you out.”
A long silence fell. Edward stood by the window, Eleanor at the table, Margaret hunched and suddenly frail.
“Perhaps… perhaps we could reconsider…” Margaret said at last.
“Reconsider what?” Edward asked.
“I may have been… harsh…”
Eleanor shook her head.
“Its too late, Margaret. Far too late. Weve decided.”
And she had. In that moment, sitting at the kitchen table, looking at her mother-in-laws bent frame. She had a right to her own life. A quiet home without daily scorn. A son who could bring friends over without shame. Evenings without rows, mornings without dread.
“Mum.” Edward squeezed her shoulder. “Im proud of you.”
Eleanor noddedand smiled properly for the first time in months.
