«You’re not needed anymore,» the children said as they left.
«Mum, why do you do this again? We agreed!» Charlotte huffed as she unpacked groceries from the bags shed brought.
«Sweetheart, I only wanted to help. Thought you and James might like it if I knitted little Emily a jumper for winter.» Margaret sat by the window, her delicate fingers fidgeting with the knitting needles.
«Emily is fourteen. She wont wear a homemade jumper, Mum, cant you get that? She has her own style. Kids these days wear completely different things.»
Margaret sighed heavily, setting aside the half-finished pink jumper. Something twisted painfully inside her. Was her gift really so terrible? Shed picked a modern pattern, the softest wool.
«When will you come for tea? Ill bake an apple pie. Like Emily loves.»
Charlotte paused by the fridge for a split second before slamming the door harder than necessary.
«Mum, we dont have time for tea. Emilys revising for her GCSEs, James is swamped with work, and Im at the office from dawn till dusk. We talked about this last time.»
«Right, of course,» Margaret smoothed the crease in her housecoat. «I just thought maybe Sunday»
«Dont start,» Charlotte cut her off. «Sunday were at the cottage with Laura and Simon. Its Jakes birthday, remember?»
«Jakes sixteen already,» Margaret smiled faintly. «They grow so fast. Will you take me along?»
Charlotte frowned, as if the suggestion were absurd.
«Mum, its just the young crowd. Youd be bored. And the drives a nightmare.»
«I wont be tired,» Margaret insisted quickly. «I could bake the cake. Remember how Jake loved my honey cake?»
«Theyve ordered one from the bakery. Modern, with photo icing.»
Margaret nodded and picked up her needles again, hiding her disappointment. The children had grown, the grandchildren too. They had their own lives now, and somehow, there seemed less and less space for her in them.
Charlotte glanced at her watch and stiffened.
«I have to go. Put the shopping away. Dont cook riceit spikes your blood pressure. And dont forget your pills tonight.»
«Thank you, love,» Margaret hugged her at the door. Charlotte tensed, as if the embrace were unwelcome, and slipped free too quickly.
«Bye, Mum. Ill ring next week.»
The door clicked shut. Margaret stood in the hallway for a long moment, listening to her daughters retreating footsteps before returning to the silent flatonce filled with laughter, now hollow.
She opened the sideboard and pulled out the family album. There was little Charlie and Charlotte in the sandpit. Holidays at Brightonback when her husband was alive, when theyd all saved up for that trip. First days at school, graduations, weddings and tiny grandbabies in Grandmas arms. When Emily was born, Margaret had quit work early, even with three years left before retirement. Charlotte and James had been so relieved someone could look after the baby. Shed cared for Jake too, though not as muchLaura had managed on her own.
The doorbell yanked her from the memories. Mrs. Thompson from two floors down stood there, fuming.
«Margaret, can you believe it? No hot water again! No warning! Fancy a cuppa? I cant even wash up.»
«Of course, come in,» Margaret brightened. «I was going to bake, but well no one to share it with now.»
«Charlotte visited?» Mrs. Thompson toed off her shoes and headed to the kitchen. «Saw her car out front.»
«Just dropped off shopping,» Margaret nodded, fetching teacups. «Always in a rush. Says theres never any time.»
«They all say that,» Mrs. Thompson waved a hand. «My Andrews always too busyuntil he needs me to mind the grandkids for the summer. You should invite yourself over. Better than sitting here alone.»
«I tried,» Margaret sighed, setting down the cups. «But they always have plans.»
«Dont ask, just say: Im coming Saturday to see my granddaughter. Thats it. They wont turn their own mother away.»
Margaret stayed quiet. Mrs. Thompson didnt know that the last time shed dropped in unannounced, Charlotte had been so annoyed she hadnt called for a week. Said theyd had Jamess colleagues over, and there she was, barging in with her pies.
Mrs. Thompson poured the tea, reaching for the biscuit tin.
«Im thinking of spending Christmas with my sister in Edinburgh. Warmer there, good company. Whats here? Just me and the telly when Big Ben chimes, no one to toast with.»
«Charlotte promised to have me over for New Years,» Margaret said quickly. «They always celebrate at homeSimons family joins them.»
«Well, fingers crossed,» Mrs. Thompson said, though her tone was doubtful. «Theyre all talk, these kids. When it comes to doing»
After her neighbour left, Margaret baked the apple pie anyway. Small, just four slices. One for herself, two wrapped for the elderly couple downstairs, the last saved for tomorrow.
That evening, her son called.
«Mum, hi. How are you?» Andrews voice was cheerful but distant.
«Fine, love. Charlotte came today with shopping. Hows Laura? Hows Jake?»
«All good. Listen, Mum, about the cottage»
Margaret tensed. The cottage, left by her husband, was still in her name. A modest place with an old but sturdy house. Theyd spent every summer there as a family. Then the kids grew up, her husband passed, and she went lesstoo hard to maintain alone.
«Yes, I remember,» she answered cautiously.
«Well, heres the thing. Laura and I have a chance to build a bigger placeproper countryside. But we need the deposit. We thought maybe sell the cottage? You hardly go anyway.»
Margaret gripped the phone, silent. She hadnt expected this. The cottage was the last piece of her life with George. The porch hed built himself, the apple trees hed planted.
«Andrew, but its your dads memory. I thought maybe the grandkids»
«Mum,» impatience edged his voice. «What grandkids? Jake wont set foot therejust wants his Xbox. And that place is falling apart. Better sell now while its worth something. Well give you your share, of course.»
«Ill think about it,» she whispered.
«Mum, theres nothing to think about. Its a solid offer. Need to sign tomorrow. Ill pick you up at ten, yeah?»
The next day, Andrew arrived as promised, oddly attentiveeven helped her with her coat. In the estate agents office, he chatted about their future place, the huge guest room.
«You can visit every weekend, Mum. Gorgeous spot, fresh air. Not like that old place by the motorway.»
Margaret listened, nodding. Deep down, she knew no one would drive her out every weekend. That guest room would stay empty. But she didnt argue. He was so set on this.
At the office, she signed the papers. A young man in a suit droned about taxes, but she barely heard. All she saw was the cottage porch, where she and George had watched sunsets with their tea.
«Brilliant,» Andrew said afterward. «Moneyll come through soon. Your share goes straight to your account.»
«Alright, love,» she forced a smile. «Not in a rush today? Fancy tea at mine? Baked a pie yesterday.»
Andrew checked his watch.
«Cant, Mum. Meeting in twenty. Rain check?»
He dropped her at the curb with a wave and drove off. Margaret climbed the stairs slowly. Mrs. Harris from across the hall peered out.
«Margaret, that pie yesterdaydivine! Mind sharing the recipe? My grandkids are visiting weekend.»
Margaret smiled. At least someone appreciated her baking.
Days later, Charlotte called, breathless.
«Mum, why arent you answering? I tried the landline!»
«I popped to Tesco, love.»
«Oh. Right. Listen, Mumbig news! James got a three-year contract in Aberdeen. Double the salary, company flat. Were taking it.»
Margaret sank onto a chair, legs weak.
«Aberdeen? But thats so far.»
«Only an hour by plane! Well visit at Christmas.»
«What about Emily? Her school, her friends»
«Its perfect for her. Theres a top grammar schoolshe wants to study medicine later. Everythings falling into place.»
«When do you leave?» Margaret fought to keep her voice steady.
«Two weeks. Sorting visas now. Well come say goodbye.»
Those two weeks vanished. Margaret waited, hoping theyd visit as promised. Each morning, she woke thinking today shed see Emily, bake her favourite pie. But the phone stayed silent.
The day before their flight, the doorbell rang. Charlotte and James stood there. Emily waited in the carheadache, Charlotte explained. They stayed half an hour at most, gulping tea, refusing piewatching their weight.
«Mum, we got you a basic mobile,» Charlotte handed her a box. «Easy to use. Well call. And here,» she passed a slip of paper. «My friends numbersSophie and Emma. If you need anything.»
«But what about Andrew»
«Andrews got that country house now. He wont be around much. But dont worry, the girls are reliable.»
As they left, Charlotte hugged her tighter than usual, whispering:
«Just stay well, alright? Itll ease our minds.»
That evening, Andrew called.
«Mum, you okay? Not ill?»
«Im fine, love. Charlotte left safely?»
«Yeah, theyre settled. Emilys enrolled in school. All good.»
«Im glad. Why dont you visit? I baked a pie.»
Andrew hesitated.
«Mum, swamped at work. And the new houseyou know how it is.»
«I see.» Her voice was small. «But maybe weekends? Id love to see Jake. Miss him.»
«Jakes got hockey matches now. Honestly, Mum, visits arent possible right now. When things calm down, promise.»
But they never did. Calls grew rarer, shorter. Then the blow shed fearedAndrew rang to say they were moving to London.
«Its an incredible opportunity, Mum. Jakell get into a better uni later. And Londons where things happen.»
«The house? You just built it.»
«Well rent it out. Or sell. Undecided.»
«When do you leave?» Her heart pounded in her throat.
«About a month. Sorting paperwork.»
«Andrew will you visit before you go?»
He cleared his throat.
«Mum were snowed under with the move. Maybe once were settled in London.»
«Andrew,» she gathered her courage. «About that care home. I wont go. This is my home. Where I lived with your dad, raised you. All my memories are here.»
«Mum, dont start» His voice hardened. «It was just a suggestion. For your own good.»
«My own good would be having children who remember they have a mother.»
«What?» He snapped. «We do remember! I call, Charlotte writes from Scotland. We send money. What more do you want?»
«I want my family. Not money.»
«Christ, not this again. Ive got to go. Well talk later.» He hung up.
On moving day, Andrew came alone, just for half an hour. Brought chocolates, kissed her cheek like a stranger. Spoke distractedly, as if ticking a chore.
«You managing, Mum?»
«Managing,» she forced a smile. «Wheres Laura? Wheres Jake?»
«Home, packing. No time.»
As he turned to leave, she suddenly knew she wouldnt see him for years. Maybe ever. Her throat tightened.
«Andrew,» she called. «Son am I really not needed anymore?»
He paused in the doorway, avoiding her eyes.
«Mum, dont be daft. Everyones got their own life. You know that.»
«I know,» she nodded. «I know, love.»
After he left, she stood in the empty hallway for a long time. Then she walked back inside, sat on the sofa. The flat was silent. Only the ticking of Georges old clock filled the space.
She picked up the phone and dialled Mrs. Thompson.
«Dorothy, hi. Remember you mentioned Edinburgh for New Years? Can I join you?»
Her neighbour sounded surprised but pleased.
«Margaret! Of course! My sisterll be chuffed. Big house, plenty of room. Changed your mind about the kids?»
«Yes,» Margaret felt something lift in her chest. «Decided to look after myself. Theyve their own lives now.»
«Good on you!» Dorothy cheered. «Youre still youngwhy mope at home? See Edinburgh! The kidsll come crawling back when the grandkids are older, mark my words.»
«Maybe,» Margaret smiled. «But Im done waiting. I deserve my own life too, dont I?»
She hung up and went to the window. Outside, the first snow was falling. A new winter was beginningand with it, perhaps, a new life. Without them, but not entirely alone.
