«You’re no longer needed,» said the son as he took the keys.
«Mum, stop the hysterics! We agreed to talk this through calmly!» Andrew drummed his fingers nervously against the kitchen table, avoiding eye contact.
Eleanor sat across from him in her spotless little kitchen, where everything had its place, still smelling faintly of fresh biscuits and tea. Her hands trembled slightly, but her voice was steady.
«What hysterics? Im only asking why you and Marina decided to sell the cottage without consulting me.»
«Because its in my name. You signed it over five years agoremember?»
«I remember. But I thoughtI assumed it was just paperwork. To make things easier for you.»
Andrew stood, pacing the small kitchen. He was forty-two but looked olderstreaks of grey at his temples, tired eyes creased with stress.
«Mum, you need to understand. We need the money. Marinas business collapsed, we’ve got loans hanging over us. Emilys starting uni next monthshe needs halls paid for.»
«I can help with money. I have savings»
«Your savings are pennies, Mum. Sorry, but your pension£500 a monthisnt enough to fix this.»
Eleanor rose, walking to the window. Outside, the first snow of winter drifted down in thick flakes.
«Your father planted every tree in that garden. The apple tree by the shedyou helped him. You were seven.»
«I remember,» Andrew said quietly.
«And the greenhousewe built it together when you were fifteen. You promised youd bring your kids there one day. My grandchildren.»
«Plans change, Mum.»
«Plans?» She turned to him. «And what about memories? Every corner of that place is our history. Your childhood.»
The doorbell rang. Andrew answered, and Marina stepped intall, polished, wrapped in an expensive coat.
«Well? Have you talked?» she asked, breezing past Eleanor without a greeting.
«Marina, hello,» Eleanor said.
«Ohhi,» Marina tossed back carelessly. «Andrew, we need to go. The estate agents waiting.»
«Estate agent?» Eleanor stiffened.
«The one wholl sell the cottage fast. Hes already got buyers lined up.»
«Butmy things are still there! Your fathers tools, the photo albums»
«Take them,» Marina cut in. «Youve got a week.»
«A week? How am I supposed to clear it alone?»
«Mum, well help,» Andrew said weakly.
«Help?» Marina shot him a look. «Youve got time for that? Youre working two jobs!»
«Ill figure something out.»
Eleanor sank onto a chair, legs shaking.
«Andrew, love, maybemaybe dont sell it? Rent it out instead? I wont visit, I swear.»
«Mum, rentings not worth it. The place is falling apart. Selling gets us a clean cut.»
«£300,000,» Marina added. «Enough to clear the debts.»
«£300,000 for your dads cottage…» Eleanor whispered.
«Its a fair price,» Andrew said. «Big plot, good location.»
«Good for who? For the people wholl tear it down and build some soulless mansion?»
«What does it matter?» Marina shrugged. «The moneys what matters.»
Eleanor stood, gripping Andrews hands.
«Andrew, please. Dont sell. Its all I have left of your father.»
«Hes been gone ten years, Mum.»
«For youten years. For me, its like yesterday. When Im there, I feel him. In every floorboard he laid, every flowerbed he dug.»
«Eleanor,» Marina interrupted. «Youre clinging to sentiment. You cant live in the past.»
«And the future? Where will Emily spend her summers?»
«Spain. Greece. Like normal people.»
«Normal people…»
Andrews phone buzzed. He checked the screen.
«Its the agent. Mum, Ive really got to go.»
«Wait.» Eleanor hurried to the bedroom, returning with a folder. «Look.»
Andrew opened itphotos of the cottage over the years. A little Andrew on his dads shoulders, picking apples. A teenager digging flowerbeds. His weddingtables set up in the garden, guests laughing.
«Mum»
«And heres Emilys first steps. Remember? Along the path between the roses.»
Marina snatched the folder, slamming it shut.
«Enough guilt trips! Andrew, lets go.»
«Im not guilting anyone,» Eleanor said softly. «Im just asking you to keep what matters.»
«*Matters*?» Marina laughed. «You know what matters to me? Being debt-free. Emilys education. A decent car, not that rust bucket Andrew drives.»
«Marina, stop» Andrew tried.
«Stop what? Telling the truth? Your mums stuck in the past, and were suffering for it!»
«Im not asking you to suffer. Im asking you to spare the cottage.»
«And Im asking you to stay out of our decisions!» Marina raised her voice.
«*Our* decisions? Its my life too. That was my husbands homeyour fathers!»
«*Was* your husbands. Now its Andrews. And hes selling it. End of.»
Eleanor looked at her son.
«Is this your final answer?»
Andrew looked away.
«Yes, Mum. Im sorry.»
«Right.» She sat, folding her hands. «Then Ive only one choice left.»
«Which is?» Marina tensed.
«Im moving in. Permanently.»
«*What*?» Andrew gaped. «Mum, are you mad? Its nearly winter!»
«Theres a wood burner. Plenty of logs left from last year.»
«But its not *normal* living! The toilets outside, waters from a pump»
«I grew up in the countryside, love. Ill manage.»
«This is emotional blackmail!» Marina snapped. «Youre saying this to make him back out!»
«Im saying what I mean. If the cottage goes, Ive nowhere left. This flatits suffocating.»
«*Our* flat, by the way,» Marina said. «The one *we* pay for.»
Eleanor flinched.
«I never asked you to. I couldve»
«On your pension? Dont be ridiculous.»
«Ill find work.»
«Doing *what*? Youre sixty-eight!»
«Cleaning. Night security.»
Andrew stood, gripping her shoulders.
«Mum, *stop*. Youre not moving, and youre not working. Well sell, clear the debts, and everythingll sort itself.»
«*Whose* everything? Yours?»
«Yours too.»
«My life wont sort itself without that cottage.»
«Youre overreacting.»
Eleanor walked to the hook, took down a set of keys.
«Here. The cottage keys. Take them.»
«Mum»
«Take them. Do what you want. Sell it, bulldoze it, build something new. Just leave me out of it.»
She pressed the keys into his hand. Andrew turned them over, silent.
«And the flat keys,» Marina said suddenly.
«What?» Both turned to her.
«The flat keys. We pay for itwe have a right.»
«Marina, *what*?» Andrew stared.
«Whats the issue? If were selling against her wishes, trusts gone. Who knows what shell do in a state?»
«What could I possibly do?» Eleanor asked wearily.
«Anything! Leave the gas on, start a fire»
«*Marina!*» Andrew barked.
«Dont,» Eleanor said, unhooking the flat key. «Here. Take it.»
«Mum, no»
«Take it.» She pressed it into his palm. «Do you need anything else from me?»
«Yes,» Marina said. «Your signature on the sale papers.»
«Why? Its in Andrews name.»
«But youre on the deeds. We need your consent.»
Eleanor nodded.
«Fine. When?»
«Tomorrow. Ten a.m. at the solicitors.»
«Ill be there.»
Marina smirked, tugging Andrews arm.
«Come on. The agents waiting.»
Andrew hesitated, something flickering in his eyes.
«Mum, youre really okay?»
«Perfectly, love. Go on.»
They left. Eleanor stood in the silent kitchen, then slowly sank onto a chair. She pulled out her phone, dialed.
«Sarah? Its Aunt Ellie. Yes, Im fine, thanks. Listenyou said the uni needed a porter? Yes, Ill take it. When? Tomorrow? Lovely. Yes, lodging included. Ta-ta, pet.»
She hung up, glancing around. The rented flat held littleclothes, dishes, a few photos. All of it would fit in two suitcases.
That evening, Andrew called.
«Mum, how are you?»
«Fine. Packing.»
«Packing? *Where*?»
«Moving. Got a job with lodging.»
«Doing *what*?»
«Porter at the student halls. Tiny room, but my own. Pays £400 a week.»
«Mum, *why*?»
«Why? I need to live, love. Youre not paying for the flat anymore.»
«We *are*! Mum, dont be ridiculous.»
«Andrew, you took my keys today. You saidwell, *she* saidIm not needed anymore.»
«I never said that!»
«But Marina did. And you didnt stop her.»
«Mum»
«Dont. I understand. Youve got your life, your troubles. Ill… manage.»
«Mum, let me come over. Talk properly.»
«No need. See you at the solicitors.»
She hung up. He didnt call back.
Next morning, Eleanor arrived at the solicitors. Andrew and Marina were already there. Her son looked exhausted.
«Mum, lets talk.»
«About what? Where are the papers?»
The solicitor, a round-faced woman in glasses, peered over the documents.
«Eleanor, you consent to the sale of the property?»
«I do.»
«You understand this means relinquishing your right to reside there?»
«I do.»
«Sign here and here.»
Eleanor picked up the pen. Her hand didnt shake.
«All done?»
«Yes, youre free to go.»
She stood, heading for the door.
«Mum, *wait*!» Andrew caught her in the corridor. «Where are you going?»
«To the halls. My shift starts at two.»
«Mum, *please*! Come home, talk this through.»
«Home? I dont *have* one, Andrew. You took the keysremember?»
«Marina went too far! Ive spoken to her.»
«And?»
Andrew faltered.
«She thinks she was right.»
«There you are. And you dont disagree.»
«I *do*! Its just… complicated.»
«I know, love. Love makes choices. You chose hers.»
«You *matter*!»
«Now, yes. Because you feel guilty. But when the next crisis comes, youll choose money again.»
«I *wont*!»
«You will. And I dont blame you. Thats life.»
Andrew dropped to his knees, pressing her hands to his face.
«Mum, Im sorry. Im a fool. A traitor.»
«Not a traitor. Just lost.»
«Come home.»
«*What* home? A rented flat where I was barely tolerated?»
«Well get somewhere bigger. A room just for you.»
«Dont. Im happy here.»
«In that *cupboard*?»
«In this cupboard, Im in charge. No ones taking my keys again.»
Andrew wepta forty-two-year-old man sobbing like a child.
«Forgive me, Mum.»
She stroked his hair, like when he was small.
«Its alright, love. Its alright.»
—
Six months later, Andrew divorced Marina. Turned out the cottage money hadnt gone to debtsshed blown it on a new car and a girls trip to Bali.
He came to Eleanor, hollow-eyed.
«Now I see what an idiot I was.»
«Dont punish yourself. We all make mistakes.»
«Mum, come home. Ive got a two-bed now. Well live together.»
Eleanor shook her head.
«Thank you, love. But Im staying.»
«Why?»
«Because this is my world now. Small, but mine. And the studentstheyre like grandchildren. They care for me.»
«But Im your *son*!»
«You are. And I love you. But trust… trust shattered with those keys.»
«Ill earn it back! However long it takes!»
«Maybe. Time will tell.»
Andrew visited weekly after thatbringing groceries, sitting quietly. Emily moved in with him but came to Eleanor even more.
And Eleanor? She lived quietly. Helping students revise, teaching them to bake, listening to their dramas.
One day, the universitys dean stopped by.
«Youre a teacher?» he asked, watching her tutor a struggling student.
«Was. Forty years at St. Marys.»
«Fancy running evening classes? Small salary, but extra income.»
«Id love to. Thank you.»
So at sixty-nine, Eleanor returned to teaching. And she was happy.
The cottage was demolished. A McMansion stood in its place. Andrew drove past once, parked, stared.
«Mum,» he said later, «I went there today. To the cottage.»
«And?»
«Gone. Even the apple tree.»
«Shame. Your dad loved that tree.»
«Forgive me, Mum.»
«I have, love. Long ago.»
«But you havent forgotten.»
«No. Some things cant be forgotten. Only accepted.»
He hugged her.
«Youre strong.»
«No. Just old. Age changes your sight.»
«I love you, Mum.»
«And I love you, son. Always.»
They sat embraced in the tiny porters lodge. Snow fell outside, students rushed to lectures, life went on.
And Eleanor knewwhatever came, shed endure. Because shed found the one thing that mattered: freedom to be herself. In a small room, on a modest wage, but without fear that someone might again say, *Youre no longer needed*and take her keys.
