The neighbour means more to me than you do, Mum said before hanging up the phone.
Eleanor stood in the kitchen of her London flat, clutching the receiver as if it had turned to ice. Shed only rung her mother in York to share news of her promotion at worksomething to celebrate. Instead, shed been met with those cruel, cutting words.
Whats happened? asked her husband, Geoffrey, stepping into the room. Youve gone pale.
Mum just told me her neighbour means more to her than I do. Eleanor set the phone down slowly, fingers trembling. Just like that. Out of nowhere.
You mustve argued about something?
We didnt! I was telling her about the promotion, and she said, Eleanor, youre always wrapped up in your own life, while Margaret next door helps me every dayfetches my medicine, does my shopping. Shes more family to me than you are.
Geoffrey frowned and sat across from her.
Maybe she isnt well. Could it be her mind?
Her mind is sharp as ever, Eleanor snapped. She said it deliberatelyto hurt me. And do you know what started it? I invited her to stay with us in the summer, maybe rent a cottage in the Cotswolds. She said, Why would I want your cottage when I have Margaret here? We tend the garden together.
She fell silent, then let out a bitter laugh.
And Ive been sending her money every week. Fifty pounds. Just in case, I told her. Thought it might ease things.
Dont send another penny, Geoffrey said sharply. If the neighbour means so much, let the neighbour help.
Geoffrey, dontshes still my mother.
Your mother, who just humiliated you? Eleanor, wake up. No decent mother speaks to her daughter like that.
Eleanor turned to the window. Children played in the courtyard below, their laughter floating up, but it felt distant now, hollow.
Margaret was a good neighbour, she supposed. A widow, living next door, her own children up in Scotland visiting once a year. Eleanor remembered her from childhoodstern, always scolding the neighbourhood children for making noise. Now, somehow, she had become Mums “true family.”
The phone rang again. Mums name flashed on the screen.
Dont answer, Geoffrey said.
What if somethings wrong?
If somethings wrong, let her precious Margaret handle it.
Eleanor picked up anyway.
Yes?
Eleanor, why did you hang up on me? We were talking.
You hung up, Mum. After what you said about Margaret.
A sigh, tinged with irritation. Well, its the truth. Margarets here every day, while youre off in London. When my blood pressure spiked last month, who called the ambulance? Margaret. Where were you?
I was at work! You never told me!
Why bother? You wouldnt have come anyway. Too busy with your important job, your important life.
The sting of old resentments laced her mothers voice, wounds Eleanor thought had long healed.
Mum, do you want me to come tomorrow? Ill take the day off.
Dont trouble yourself. I dont need you. Margarets taking me to the doctor. Youd just be glued to your phone or inventing some excuse.
Eleanor flinched as if struck.
Fine. Whatever you say.
Oh, and dont bother sending money anymore, Mum added briskly. Margaret says it isnt rightchildren trying to buy their way into a parents good graces. Ill manage.
Silence. Then muffled voicesher mother speaking away from the receiver.
Margaret, love, whats this medicine youve brought? For my stomach? Bless you, dear
Eleanor pressed the end-call button before her tears could fall.
Geoffrey wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She doesnt know what shes saying. Maybe it is her mind.
She knows, Eleanor whispered. Ive just become a stranger to her.
That evening, after putting the twinsOliver and Charlotteto bed, Eleanor sat in the dim parlour, flipping through old photo albums. Here she was, a little girl, picnicking with Mum in the Lake District. Mum, young and vibrant, hugging her tightly. Baking biscuits together, eight-year-old Eleanor covered in flour. Her graduationMum beaming beside her, pride glowing in her eyes.
When had it all changed? After Dads passing? Or sooner?
Hed been gone five years, and since then, Mum had withdrawnbitter, perpetually dissatisfied. Eleanor had told herself it was grief, that time would soften it. But time only hardened the distance between them.
The phone rang again. Not Mum this timean unknown number.
Hello?
Is this Eleanor? Its Margaret, your mothers neighbour. You must come. Shes been crying since your call, wont stop. She keeps saying, Ive hurt my girl, Ive hurt my girl. Ive tried everythingtea, comfortbut shes beside herself. She thinks youll never speak to her again.
Eleanors throat tightened. Is sheis she unwell? Her mind
No, no, nothing like that. Shes just heartbroken. Says she spoke in anger, didnt mean a word. She loves you dearly, always has. Just doesnt know how to say it.
The bitterness in Eleanors chest dissolved like sugar in tea.
Tell her Ill be there tomorrow. With the children.
The next morning, Eleanor took the train to York, the twins chattering excitedly about the gifts theyd made for Grandmaa scrapbook of drawings, a handkerchief Charlotte had stitched in class.
Mum was waiting at the door, eyes red and swollen. The moment she saw Eleanor, she pulled her into a fierce embrace.
Forgive me, darling. Forgive this foolish old woman. I never meant
Its all right, Mum. Eleanor stroked her silver hair gently. Im here. We all are.
And Margaret, lingering in her own doorway, smiled softly before retreating inside. Some things, after all, were understood without words. Neighbours could be kindbut family was family.
