**Diary Entry A Mothers Choice**
*»I dont have a spare room,»* my daughter said when I arrived on her doorstep with my bags.
*»Mum, did you pack everything? You didnt forget your documents, did you?»* Emily fidgeted with her handbag strap, standing by the kitchen window.
*»Do I look that old to you?»* Margaret waved her off, checking her suitcase for the third time. *»Passports here, money, medicine Oh, I forgot my dressing gown! Emily, wheres my blue one?»*
*»Its in the wardrobe. Mum, do you really need it? Im sure Sophie can lend you something.»*
Margaret paused, studying her daughter carefully. *»Emily, love, Im not staying just one night. Sophie invited me for a proper visitfresh air, the countryside. You said itd do me good.»*
*»I did, I did»* Emily turned away. *»But I didnt know Mark would lose his job again. Third time this year.»*
Her mother stepped closer, resting a hand on her shoulder. *»You never told me. What happened?»*
*»Nothing to tell. New manager came in, wanted fresh faces. Mark was first out. Experience didnt matterjust cheap labour.»*
Margaret sighed, sinking onto a stool. *»Im so sorry. Maybe I should stay? Help however»*
*»No, Mum. Go. Sophies expecting you.»* Emily forced a smile, but it didnt reach her eyes. *»You deserve the break.»*
Margaret opened her mouth, but the phone rang.
*»Hello? Mum? Its Sophie! Are you coming? Ive aired out the guest room, fresh sheets and all!»*
*»Im on my way, love. Emilys driving me to the station.»*
*»Brilliant! I was starting to worry. Oh, Mum, its gorgeous hereapple trees in bloom, the airs pure heaven compared to city smog.»*
*»See you soon, dear.»*
Hanging up, Margaret glanced at Emily. *»Hear how excited she is? Six months since we last met.»*
*»Yeah. Thrilled.»* Emily snatched the car keys. *»Come on, or youll miss your train.»*
The ride was silent. Margaret tried to talk, but Emily answered in monosyllables, distant.
*»Darling, maybe I *should* stay? I can tell youre struggling.»*
*»Mum, *stop.* Well manage. Marks been unemployed before.»*
*»But the mortgage»*
Emily braked sharply at a red light. *»Well sort it. My salary, his benefits We wont starve.»*
*»Still, the payments»*
*»Mum, *please.* Were adults. Drop it.»*
Margaret stared out the window, stomach twisting. Emily had never been so sharp. Something was terribly wrong.
At the station, as the train pulled in, Emily suddenly hugged her tight.
*»Sorry, Mum. Im just stretched thin.»*
*»Call me if you need me. Ill come straight back.»*
*»Just rest. Give Sophie my love.»*
The train departed. Emily stood on the platform until it vanished.
Sophie met her at the country station with a bouquet of lavender. *»Mum! Finally!»* She beamed. *»How was the trip?»*
*»Lovely. You look radiant!»*
*»Country living. No pollution, just fresh air. Come see the cottage!»*
It was perfectcosy, with a garden and river views. Sophie proudly showed off the renovations.
*»This is your roomsunny mornings, river evenings.»*
*»Gorgeous. Wheres Michael?»*
*»Working. Hell be *thrilled* to see youmisses your roast dinners!»*
Margaret sat on the bed. *»Peaceful here.»*
*»Were happy. Michaels jobs secure, I do freelance. Were trying for a baby.»*
*»Grandchildren! At last.»*
Sophie hesitated. *»Mum hows Emily? She sounded off when I called.»*
Margaret sighed. *»Mark was sacked *again.* Moneys tight.»*
*»*Again?* Bloody hell. Hes skilled!»*
*»Bad luck, I suppose. Emilys stressed.»*
Sophie bit her lip. *»Should they move here? Jobs going spareMichael could ask around.»*
*»Their flats mortgaged»*
*»Right. Tough.»*
Over dinner, Michael welcomed her warmly. Laughter and tea on the porch eased Margarets worries. For the first time in months, she *breathed.*
A week passed. She helped in the garden, read, phoned Emilyshort, tense calls.
*»Hows Mark?»*
*»Interviewing. Might get something.»*
*»And you?»*
*»Tired. Managing.»*
*»Should I come back?»*
*»No. Sophie planned so much for you.»*
But Margaret *heard* the tears.
*»Sophie, Im going home. Emilys not okay.»*
*»Mum, youve barely *been* here! Weve trips planned»*
*»My gut says she needs me.»*
Sophie sighed. *»Fine. Michaelll drive you.»*
The journey was agony. Emilys phone rang unanswered.
Home by evening, the lift groaned louder. The door was bolted.
*»Emily? Its me!»*
Silence. Then footsteps.
*»Mum? Youre supposed to be»*
The door opened. Emily looked *hollow*red-eyed, gaunt.
*»Love, *whats wrong?»*
*»Nothing. Just tired.»*
Inside, suitcases sat packed. Papers littered the table.
*»Wheres Mark?»*
Emily crumpled onto the sofa. *»Gone. For good. Said we were dragging each other down. Moved in with a mate.»*
Margaret held her. *»Oh, darling I thought it was just work.»*
*»That too. Doesnt matter now.»* Emily wiped her face. *»Im selling the flat. Cant handle the mortgage alone.»*
*»Where will you live?»*
*»A bedsit. Maybe.»*
Margaret hesitated. *»Or with me?»*
*»Mum, your place is tiny. Where would I *sleep?»*
*»Well make it work. Until»*
*»No. I wont crowd you. And works miles away.»*
*»What about Sophies? She mentioned jobs»*
*»I wont be a *burden.*»*
They sat in silence, clinging to each other.
Next day, they signed the sale. The buyers were kind, no haggling. Emily exhaled in relief.
*»Feels like a weights lifted,»* she admitted walking home. *»Mortgage paid, a bit left over.»*
*»What next?»*
*»Ill figure it out. Maybe Sophies offer.»*
*»Go, love. Fresh air, good people.»*
Emily stopped mid-step. *»Come with me?»*
*»Me? Why? My lifes herefriends, my doctor»*
*»Youll be *lonely.*»*
Margaret smiled. *»Ill visit. Youll be busynew job, new start.»*
Packing day, Emily took only essentials.
*»Rest Ill sell. Fresh start, fresh things.»*
At the station, Emily broke down.
*»Mum, Im *sorry.* For snapping, for hiding things I was *ashamed.*»*
*»Nonsense. This is your *beginning.*»* She hugged her tight. *»Sophies *excited* to have you. Michaelll help. Ill visit soon.»*
*»Promise?»*
*»Promise.»*
The train left. Margaret walked home, the flat too quiet but not *empty.* Shed done rightno smothering, no guilt.
A week later, Emily called, buoyant.
*»Mum! Got a jobhistory teacher at the village school! Head loved my CV.»*
*»Wonderful! And housing?»*
*»Sophies for now. Says theres no rush. Its peaceful here. Maybe *right.*»*
Margaret smiled. *»Sophies always been kind.»*
Hanging up, she felt *light.* Her girls were safe.
That night, she wrote to Sophiethanking her for opening her home, her heart. Sometimes love means *space,* not speeches.
Next morning, she rang a travel agent, browsing seaside breaks. At her age, *she* could start anew too. Her children had their paths.
Now, it was her turn.
*»No spare rooms,»* Emily had said. True. Just as there are no spare *lives.* We each have our time, our place. Wisdom isnt holding onits knowing when to let go.
