*Why Should I Give You My House?*
It was Eleanor Whitcombes anniversary, and she had been bustling about the kitchen since dawn, determined to get everything just right. Cooking for so many guests was no small featshe had planned the menu weeks in advance, shopped at the finest farmers markets for fresh vegetables, artisanal cheeses, and the best cuts of meat. The supermarkets simply wouldnt do. She wanted to gather her family around the table, to feed her children and granddaughter well, and to bake her signature honey cake, the very same one she had made for her daughter Lillian and son Edward when they were young.
Eleanor sighed, remembering the past, when they had all lived together in this very house. Her late husband, Professor Henry Whitcombe of Oxfords physics department, their twinsLillian and Edwardand herself, a music teacher. Henry had been granted this grand four-bedroom house for his contributions to science and his connections in high places, and Eleanor had furnished it with exquisite taste. She had gone to great lengthsas people used to sayto acquire the crystal chandelier for the drawing room, the mahogany sideboard, and the fine Wedgwood china. The perfect linen tablecloths, the vintage silverwareevery detail mattered. She had been overjoyed when she found a rare soup tureen, so she could serve soup properly, not straight from the pot. Sometimes her friends remarked that her home resembled a museum or a salon straight out of the Victorian era. Eleanor took pride in that. She loved hosting, playing the piano for guests, and presiding over elegant conversation. This house was her kingdom, her fortress. And she spoiled her husband and children with her cooking.
“Mum, will my wife cook as well as you do?” little Edward had once asked.
“I should hope so, darling. But it wont be easy to find one who does,” she had replied with a smile.
“Then Ill just stay here with you forever!”
“Oh no,” she had laughed. “Children must grow up and leave the nest in time. Its not right to cling to your parents forever. You must make your own way, start your own family.” Indeed, she would rather be a Sunday grandmother than live under the same roof with children and grandchildren forever.
But then, suddenly, her happy life ended, and Eleanor was left alone.
Henry had passed away unexpectedly one morning. The ambulance hadnt even arrived in time. His heart. He had complained for years, taken his pills dutifully, seen doctorsbut there it was. Man is mortal, and worse yetsuddenly so.
Eleanor grieved, then pulled herself together and carried on as best she could. The children flew the nest, just as she had always said they would. Lillian studied economics, married a man named James, and moved into a cramped flat in a rough part of Londonall they could afford. Their daughter, little Charlotte, was born in the local hospital. Edward, meanwhile, began dating a girl named Sophie, rented a room in a dismal shared house, and moved out too.
When Lillian had first married, she had tentatively asked, “Mum, could we stay with you just for a little while? Until James finds a proper job?”
“No, my dear. Once you marry, you start your own life. Do you think your father and I had help? No. We lived in digs, in wretched little flatsno hot water half the time, no heating. But we managed. And look where we are now. We made something of ourselves. You must do the same.”
She had told Edward the same thing: “Youre a man now. You must provide for your family. If you take on responsibility, you must see it through.” The children hadnt been pleased, but they didnt argue. It was no use living where you werent wanted.
Eleanor believed distance made the heart grow fonder. She called them regularly, sent gifts on holidays, invited them for tea and cake, and even to concerts where she accompanied her students on the piano. She tried to create the perfect family idyll.
And today, she was preparing for a grand anniversary lunch. The table was set flawlessly, the food smelled divine, and she had even managed to do her hair and a touch of makeup. She wore a shimmering evening dress and the diamond earrings Henry had given her.
The family arrived. Edward and Sophie came first, bearing a bouquet of roses and a delicate porcelain tea set.
“Oh, how lovely! Such craftsmanship. Thank you, darlings,” Eleanor exclaimed, embracing them. “You know just how to please me.”
“We did try, Mum,” Edward said.
“Sophie, that dress is simply divine. Flowy, elegant. And your cheeks have such a lovely rosy glow. You look like a porcelain doll.”
“Well, Mum, we actually wanted to tell you” Edward began.
“Later, later! Come in. Lillian and James are nearly here. Their dreadful old car broke down againtheyre taking three different buses, but theyll make it.”
Half an hour later, Lillian arrived with James and Charlotte. They brought tulips and a small velvet boxinside was a golden pendant with gemstones.
“Oh, how they sparkle! Thank you, my dears. I can see theyre not diamonds, but still lovely. I shant wear them with these earrings, but theyll go nicely with my ring.”
“We couldnt afford diamonds, Mum,” Lillian said tiredly. “But youll still shine in these. That car eats all our money, the rents gone up again, Charlottes lessonsby the time weve paid for everything, theres nothing left.”
“Lillian, lets not spoil the mood with all this talk of bills. Everyone has troubles. Theyll pass. Come, everyoneto the table!”
The guests settled around the lavish spread, praising the food and making dull conversation about work and the weather.
“How lovely this is, my dears. Only I do miss your father. He always brought me the grandest bouquets and the finest jewels. And Id cook his favourite dishes. It was such a happy time Gone too soon. But we mustnt dwell. Must we, my darlings? After lunch, Ill play, and well all sing together.”
“Mum, let me say something,” Edward raised his glass. “We have another gift for you. A surprise. Honestly, it was a surprise for us too.”
“Oh? Do tell,” Eleanor lifted her glass expectantly. She had rather hoped for diamonds on such a milestonesomething to show off at school.
“Mum youre going to be a grandmother again! Sophie and I are expecting.”
“Oh! Goodness!” Eleanor paused, then clapped her hands. “Now that is a surprise! How wonderful! Come here, let me hug you!”
Lillian rushed to congratulate her brother. James shook Sophies hand. Little Charlotte simply grinned, enjoying the excitement.
“Now, now, settle down, children,” Eleanor said, a touch sharply. She was pleased, yesbut irked that the attention had shifted from her. “Whod like seconds?”
“Mum, what do you think of this place?” Edward slid a glossy brochure across the tablea new cottage development.
“Charming,” she flipped through it. “Are you buying?”
“Mum, we wanted to talk to you Its not for us. Its for you.”
“For me? A gift?”
“No, Mum. You see, weve been living in that awful shared house for years. The communal bathroom, the kitchenyouve seen it.”
“Yes, dreadful conditions. But what has that to do with me?”
“Weve put up with it. But the baby we cant raise a child like that. Its impossible.”
“Then buy a proper flat. Or rent something better.”
“Mum, I work as hard as I can. Sophie does too. But we cant afford it. So were asking you to sell this house and help us buy our own.”
Lillian and James stared at Edward in shock. Eleanor frowned.
“Darling, I dont understand. Why should I give you my house? This is my homeyour father and I built it together. And now you want me to hand it over and move to some godforsaken cottage village? The audacity!”
“Mum, you live alone in four bedrooms! A master suite, a drawing room, a guest room, even a study! And that enormous balcony! And youre happy to let your children scrape by in hovels? Have you no shame?”
“Excuse me? How dare you! Ive always welcomed you with open arms! Gifts, concert ticketsI do what I can! My pension isnt large. And youre counting my rooms? Shame on you!”
“Yes, Im counting them! When I hear drunken neighbours screaming at night, I count them! When I queue for the shower at dawn, I count them! Parents should help their childrenespecially in times like these!”
“Times are always hard! Your entitlement knows no bounds. A child is your choicetake responsibility for it. Improve your own situation. Lillian, why are you so quiet?”
“Thats rich, Edward. Sell the house and give you the money?”
“Yes
