Its all mine, and you dont belong here, declared the daughter, demanding the room be emptied.
Mum, youve forgotten to turn the gas offagain! shouted Emily, bursting into the kitchen and twisting the stove knob sharply. How many times do I have to remind you? Youll burn the house down!
Martha Wilson flinched, tearing her gaze away from the window where shed been watching sparrows on the ledge.
Dont shout at me, Emily. I just got distracted The water was boiling for tea.
Distracted! Emily huffed. At your age, distraction is dangerous. The neighbours keep complaining about the smell of gas in the hallway.
Emily wasnt wrong. Martha had become forgetful, especially since burying her husband, Arthur, a year ago. It was as if the little things had slipped away along with himwhile the big things, like Emilys first steps, the day Arthur proposed, or her daughters birth, remained sharp as ever. But yesterday? Last week? Hazy.
Ill make us tea, Martha said gently. Fancy a scone? Baked them this morning, with raisinsjust how you like.
Emily slumped into a chair, drumming her fingers impatiently on the oilcloth.
Mum, we need to talk. Seriously.
Something in her tone put Martha on edge. She set out the cups slowly, slicing the scones with deliberate care.
Go on, then. Im listening.
You cant live alone anymore. Its not safefor you or the neighbours. The gas, the electrics What if you fall? Whod even notice?
Emily, what are you on about? I manage perfectly fine. Yes, I forget things now and then, but everyone does at my age.
Emily shook her head, pulling papers from her handbag.
Its already sorted. Ive enrolled you in a lovely care home. Theyll keep an eye on youmeals on time, medication sorted, activities. Youll make friends your own age. No more moping about.
Martha felt the blood drain from her face. The scone turned to sawdust in her throat.
A care home? Emily, have you lost your mind?
Its not some grim institution, if thats what youre imagining. A private residence, very respectable. Ive already paid the deposit.
Without asking me? Marthas voice trembled. Emily, this is my home! My entire life is here!
Mum, be realistic. Youre rattling around in a three-bedroom house all by yourself. The utility bills are sky-high, the place is falling apart, and Im the one footing the bill.
Martha opened her mouth to argue, but Emily held up a hand.
Besides, Daniels moving to London. Weve decided to marry. This house is perfectcentral, good layout. Id hate to sell it. Its our family home, after all.
Daniel? Martha frowned. Youve only known him six months.
Mum, Im forty-two. I know what I want. Daniels a serious manowns his own business. Hes happy for me to quit my job, finally focus on myself.
And what about me?
The care home, obviously! Youll love it, trust me. I looked it up onlineyoga, painting classes, choir. New friends, a proper social life.
Martha pushed back from the table, pacing the kitchen. Forty years of breakfasts here. Forty years staring out this window. Emily had taken her first steps on these tiles, done her homework at this table. Arthur had read his paper here every morning, muttering over politics.
So youve decided? No discussion, no consideration?
Whats there to discuss? Emily shrugged. Youd have refused anyway. So I took charge.
Took charge Martha repeated. Emily, Im your mother, not some inconvenient package.
No one said you were! But we have to be practical. Ive spent thirty years putting you and Dad first. Now its my turn.
The words stung. Martha remembered scrimping for Emilys university fees, sewing her prom dresses, babysitting little Sophie while Emily worked late.
Sophie Where was she in all this?
And Sophie? Does she agree to shoving her grandmother into a home?
Emily looked away.
Sophies grown. Shes at uni in Edinburgh, barely visits. No point upsetting her.
So you havent even told her?
I will. Once youre settled.
Martha sank back into her chair. Her legs had turned to lead.
And if I refuse?
Mum, you dont have a choice. The homes paid for. Daniel moves in next week. Pack your essentialswell sort the rest later.
My things? Emily, every spoon here is mine! That china set was our wedding gift! The tablecloth I embroidered myself! And my plantswholl water them?
You can have plants at the home. And the china Mum, theyve got their own crockery. Why drag old junk along?
Old junk. Emily had called their family treasures old junk.
Martha stood, pulling a photo from the sideboardArthur cradling newborn Emily, all three of them beaming. So young. So hopeful.
Remember when Dad built you that treehouse? Youd swing there for hours. I was terrified youd fall.
Mum, dont. This is hard enough.
And when you had pneumonia at twelve? I barely left your bedside for a fortnight. Dad took holiday to relieve me.
Please
Then when that awful boyfriendwhat was his name? Mark?dumped you. You sobbed for weeks. I stayed up night after night, telling you thered be others.
Emily shot to her feet.
Enough! Im not to blame because lifes unfair! Or because youre struggling alone! But I wont sacrifice my life for your old age!
Old age Martha whispered. Im sixty-nine, Emily. Not some doddering crone.
You forget the gas! Lose your things! Mrs. Jenkins saw you in the garden wearing one slipper yesterday!
Martha remembered. Shed taken the bins out, hadnt noticed the missing slipper till she was outside. But was that really
Emily, I understand you want your own life. But must it be like this? Ill stay in my room, quiet as a mouse. Daniel wont even know Im here.
You dont get it. Daniel needs space. Quiet. And youyou blast the telly because you wont admit youre deaf. You clatter pans at dawn. Well have guests, parties. Its awkward having your mum in the next room.
Ill be quieter. Take more walks. Promise.
No, Mum. Its decided.
Martha slumped onto the chair. For the first time in years, she felt utterly helpless. After Arthur died, shed thought the worst was over. She was wrong.
And if I refuse? If I stay?
Emily produced another document.
Ill petition the court. Have you declared unfit. The neighbours have written about your memory lapses. Even the GPs concernedafter I reported the gas leaks.
You Youve seen doctors?
A specialist. He said with my testimony, the court would likely rule in my favour. Especially as your only child, acting in your best interests.
Martha said nothing. This couldnt be her Emilyher baby, whose hair shed braided, whose tears shed kissed, whose first day at school shed photographed.
When?
Monday. A cars coming. Well pack your things this weekend.
Todays Friday
Yes. Youve time to prepare.
Emily stood, adjusting her handbag.
Dont be dramatic. Its not the end. Youll make friends, find hobbies. Ill visitSundays, probably.
Sundays Martha echoed.
Honestly, it might be for the best. Since Dad died, youve shut yourself away. Theres loads going on there.
I go to the GP, the shops, the post office. Thats not shut away.
Whatever. Its settled.
Emily turned to leave but paused at the door.
And Mumdont you dare ring Sophie and upset her. Shes got exams coming up.
The door clicked shut. Martha sat alone in the kitchen, the smell of cold scones and bitterness hanging in the air.
She cleared the table mechanically, washing each cup as if underwater. Emilys words echoed: unfit. Old junk. Settled.
That night, she dug out the photo albums. Emily at nurserysolemn-eyed in pigtails. All three of them
