**Diary Entry**
*”This is all mine, and you dont belong here.”* The words echoed in my mind, sharp as a knife. My daughter, Emily, stood before me, her arms crossed, demanding I clear out my own room.
*”Mum, you left the gas onagain!”* Emily burst into the kitchen, twisting the stove knob with a sharp flick. *”How many times do I have to remind you? Youll burn the house down!”*
I flinched, tearing my gaze from the window where Id been watching sparrows flit along the sill.
*”Dont shout at me, Emily. I just got distracted The water was boiling for tea.”*
*”Distracted?”* She scoffed. *”At your age, distractions are dangerous. The neighbours have complained about the smell of gas in the hallway!”*
She wasnt wrong. I *had* become forgetfulespecially since burying my husband, Henry, a year ago. It was as though the small things slipped through my fingers, while the big memoriesEmilys first steps, Henrys proposal, the day she was bornremained crystal clear.
*”Let me make you some tea,”* I said gently. *”Would you like scones? I baked them this morning, with raisinsjust how you like.”*
Emily sat at the table, drumming her fingers impatiently against the gingham tablecloth.
*”Mum, we need to talk. Seriously.”*
Something in her tone set my nerves alight. Slowly, I set out the teacups and sliced the scones.
*”Go on, then. Im listening.”*
*”You cant live alone anymore. Its not safenot for you, not for the neighbours. The gas, the electricity What if you fall? Whod find you?”*
*”Emily, what are you on about? I manage perfectly well. Yes, I forget things sometimes, but doesnt everyone?”*
She shook her head, pulling papers from her handbag.
*”Ive already sorted it. Theres a lovely care home in Surrey. Theyll look after youmeals on schedule, medication reminders, activities. Youll have company, people your own age.”*
The blood drained from my face. The scone turned to sawdust in my mouth.
*”A care home? Emily, have you lost your mind?”*
*”Its not some grim institution. Its private, respectable. Ive paid the first months fees.”*
*”Without asking me?”* My voice trembled. *”This is my home, Emily. My whole life is here!”*
*”Be realistic, Mum. Youre alone in a three-bedroom house. The bills are astronomical, the plumbings ancient, and Im the one footing it all.”*
I opened my mouth to protest, but she held up a hand.
*”And besides, James and I are getting married. He wants to move to London. This house is perfectcentral, good layout. Id rather not sell it. Its our family home, after all.”*
*”James?”* I frowned. *”Youve only been with him six months!”*
*”Mum, Im forty-two. I know what I want. James is stablehe runs his own business. Hes happy for me to quit my job, finally focus on myself.”*
*”And what about me?”*
*”The care home, like I said! Youll be happy there, trust me. I looked it upyoga classes, painting, choir. A whole new social life.”*
I stood, pacing the kitchen. Forty years of breakfasts at this table, forty years of watching the world from this window. Emily had taken her first steps in this room, done her homework here. Henry used to read his paper every morning, tutting at the headlines.
*”So youve decided everything? Without even discussing it?”*
*”What was there to discuss?”* She shrugged. *”Youd have said no. I took charge.”*
*”Took charge?”* I repeated. *”Emily, Im your mother, not some burden to be managed.”*
*”No one said you were a burden! But we have to be practical. Ive spent thirty years putting you and Dad first. Now its my turn.”*
The words stung. I remembered the sacrificesscrimping for Emilys university fees, sewing her prom dress, minding little Sophie while she 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, living her own life. Shes at uni in Edinburghbarely visits. No point upsetting her.”*
*”So you havent even told her?”*
*”I will. Once youre settled.”*
I sank back into the chair, my legs like lead.
*”And if I refuse?”*
*”Mum, you dont have a choice. The fees are paid. James moves in next week. Pack what you needwell sort the rest later.”*
*”My things? Emily, every plate, every spoon here is mine! That china set was our wedding gift! The lace tableclothI stitched it 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. Our family heirlooms, reduced to *junk.*
I walked to the sideboard, pulling out a photoHenry and I holding newborn Emily, radiant, full of hope.
*”Remember when your dad built that swing in the garden? Youd play for hoursI was terrified youd fall.”*
*”Mum, dont.”* Emilys voice cracked. *”This is hard enough.”*
*”Or when you had pneumonia at school? I barely slept for two weeks. Your dad took leave to relieve me.”*
*”Please”*
*”And when that boywhat was his name? Daniel?when he broke up with you, you sobbed for a month. I stayed up every night, telling you itd get better.”*
Emily stood abruptly.
*”Enough! Im not the villain here! I cant set my life on fire to keep you warm!”*
*”Warm?”* I whispered. *”Im sixty-nine, Emily. Not some helpless crone.”*
*”You forget the gas! Lose your keys! Mrs. Carter saw you in the garden last week wearing one slipper!”*
I remembered. Id taken the bins out, not noticing. But was that really a reason to
*”Emily, I get you want your own life. But cant we compromise? Ill stay in my room, keep quiet. James wont even know Im here.”*
*”You dont understand. James needs space. Quiet. And youyou blast the telly because you wont admit youre deaf. You clatter pots at dawn. Well have friends over, parties. Its awkward having a mum lurking about.”*
*”Ill be silent as a mouse. Ill take long walksyou wont know Im here.”*
*”No. Its decided.”*
I slumped into the chair, feeling smaller than I had in years. After Henry died, Id thought the worst was over. I was wrong.
*”What if I refuse? If I stay?”*
Emily pulled another document from her bag.
*”Ill petition the court. Have you deemed unfit. The neighbours have written statements about your forgetfulness. Even the local bobby remembers the gas incident.”*
*”Youve already spoken to doctors?”*
*”A psychiatrist. He said with my testimony, the court would likely rule in my favour. Especially since Im your only living relative.”*
I said nothing. This couldnt be my Emilythe baby Id sung to sleep, the little girl whod clung to my hand on her first day of school.
*”When?”*
*”Monday. A car will collect you. Well pack this weekend.”*
*”Todays Friday.”*
*”Yes. Youve time to prepare.”*
Emily adjusted her handbag, heading for the door.
*”Dont overreact, Mum. Its not the end. The homes full of people like you. Youll make friends. Ill visitSundays, probably.”*
*”Sundays,”* I echoed.
*”It might even be for the best. Youve been a recluse since Dad died. At least there, youll have a social life.”*
*”I go to the shops. The doctors. The post office for my pension. Thats not being a recluse
