«You’re no longer needed,» said the son, taking the keys from her.
«Mum, enough with the hysterics! We agreed to talk about this calmly!» Andrew drummed his fingers on the table, refusing to meet his mothers gaze.
Margaret Elizabeth sat across from her son in her small, immaculate kitchen, where the scent of fresh bread and coffee lingered. Her hands trembled slightly, but her voice was steady.
«Hysterics? Im only asking why you and Emily decided to sell the cottage without consulting me.»
«Because its in my name. You signed it over to me five years agoremember?»
«I remember. But I thought… I believed it was just paperwork. To make things easier for you.»
Andrew stood, pacing the kitchen. At forty-two, he looked olderstreaks of grey at his temples, deep lines on his forehead, exhaustion in his eyes.
«Mum, listen. We need the money. Emilys business failed, the debts are piling up. Sophies at university nowtheres rent to pay for her halls.»
«I can help. Ive got savings»
«Your savings are pennies, Mum. Im sorry, but a pension of eight hundred pounds a month wont solve our problems.»
Margaret rose, moving to the window. Outside, the first snow of winter drifted down in slow, heavy flakes.
«Your father planted every tree at that cottage. The apple tree by the arbouryou helped him when you were seven.»
«I remember,» Andrew said quietly.
«And the greenhouse? We built it together when you were fifteen. You promised youd bring your children there one daymy grandchildren.»
«Plans change, Mum.»
«Plans?» She turned to face him. «What about memories? Every corner of that place is our history. Your childhood, your youth.»
The doorbell rang. Andrew went to answer it. Emily stood on the thresholdtall, polished, wrapped in an expensive winter coat.
«Well? Have you talked?» she asked, stepping past her mother-in-law without greeting her.
«Hello, Emily,» Margaret said quietly.
«Oh, hello,» Emily replied dismissively. «Andrew, we need to go. The estate agents waiting.»
«Estate agent?» Margarets voice sharpened.
«The one wholl help us sell the cottage quickly. Hes already got buyers lined up.»
«But my things are still there! Your fathers tools, the photo albums»
«Take them,» Emily cut in. «Youve got a week.»
«A week? How am I supposed to clear it all alone?»
«Mum, well help,» Andrew said uncertainly.
«Help?» Emily scoffed. «Since when do you have free time? Youre working two jobs.»
«Ill figure something out.»
Margaret sank into a chair, her legs giving way beneath her.
«Andrew, darling, pleasedont sell it. What if you rented it out? I wont even visit, I promise.»
«Mum, renting isnt worth it. The place needs repairs. Sellings the only way to get a decent sum.»
«Two hundred thousand,» Emily added. «Just enough to clear the debts.»
«Two hundred thousand… for your fathers cottage,» Margaret 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?» Emily shrugged. «Well have the money.»
Margaret stood, taking Andrews hands in hers.
«Andrew, please. Dont sell. Its your fathers legacy.»
«Dads been gone ten years, Mum.»
«For youten years. For me, it feels like yesterday. When I go there, I still feel him. In every plank he hammered, every flowerbed he dug.»
«Margaret,» Emily interrupted. «You must realise this is just sentimentality. You cant live in the past.»
«And the future? Where will your daughter spend her summers?»
«Spain. Or Greece. Like normal people.»
«Normal people…»
Andrews phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen.
«Its the estate agent. Mum, Ive really got to go.»
«Wait.» Margaret vanished into the next room, returning with a folder. «Look at this.»
Andrew opened it. Inside were photographsthe cottage through the years. A young Andrew on his fathers shoulders, picking apples. A teenage boy digging flowerbeds. His weddingtables set in the garden, guests laughing, the newlyweds dancing.
«Mum…»
«And hereSophie taking her first steps. Remember? Down the path between the flowerbeds.»
Emily snatched the folder, slamming it shut.
«Enough guilt-tripping! Andrew, lets go.»
«Im not guilt-tripping,» Margaret said softly. «Im just asking you to keep whats precious.»
«Precious?» Emily laughed. «You know whats precious to me? A life without debt. An education for my daughter. A proper car, not that rust bucket Andrew drives.»
«Emily, stop,» Andrew said weakly.
«Stop what? Telling the truth? Your mothers clinging to the past, and were supposed to suffer for it?»
«Im not asking you to suffer. Im asking you to spare the cottage.»
«And Im asking you to stay out of our affairs!» Emilys voice rose.
«Ours? This is my affair too. That was my husbands cottageyour fathers, Andrews father!»
«Was. Now its Andrews. And hes decided to sell. End of discussion.»
Margaret looked at her son.
«Is this your final decision?»
Andrew looked away.
«Yes, Mum. Im sorry.»
«Then Ive only one thing left to do.»
«What?» Emilys eyes narrowed.
«Im moving there. Permanently.»
«What?» Andrew gaped at her. «Mum, have you lost it? Winters coming!»
«Theres a wood burner. Plenty of logs left from last year.»
«But its not liveable! The loos outside, the waters from a pump!»
«I grew up in the countryside, Andrew. Ill manage.»
«This is blackmail!» Emily snapped. «Youre only saying this to make him change his mind!»
«Im saying what I mean. If the cottage is sold, Ive nowhere to go. And here, in this flat, I cant breathe.»
«A rented flat, I might add,» Emily said pointedly. «That we pay for.»
Margaret flinched.
«I never asked you to. I couldve»
«On your pension? Dont make me laugh.»
«Ill find work.»
«Doing what? Youre sixty-eight!»
«I could clean. Or be a caretaker.»
Andrew stood, gripping her shoulders.
«Mum, stop this. Youre not going anywhere, and youre not working. Well sell the cottage, clear the debts, and things will get better.»
«Whose things? Yours?»
«And yours.»
«My life wont get better without that cottage.»
«Youre being dramatic.»
Margaret walked to the hook by the door, taking down a set of keys.
«Here. The cottage keys. Take them.»
«Mum»
«Take them. Do what you want. Sell it, tear it down, build something new. Just leave me out of it.»
She held them out. Andrew took them, turning them in his palm.
«And give her the flat keys,» Emily said suddenly.
«What?» Both Andrew and Margaret turned.
«The keys to this flat. If were paying, weve a right to them.»
«Emily, what the hell?» Andrew spluttered.
«Why not? If were selling against your mothers wishes, trust is gone. Who knows what she might do in a fit of grief?»
«What could I possibly do?» Margaret asked wearily.
«Anything. Leave the gas on, start a fire»
«Emily!» Andrew barked. «Enough!»
«No, shes right.» Margaret unclipped the flat key from the ring. «Here. Take it.»
«Mum, dont»
«Take it.» She pressed it into his palm. «Is there anything else you need from me?»
«Yes,» Emily said. «Your signature on the sale papers.»
«Why? The cottage is in Andrews name.»
«But youre registered there. We need your consent.»
Margaret nodded.
«Fine. When?»
«Tomorrow. Ten at the solicitors.»
«Ill be there.»
Emily smirked, linking arms with Andrew.
«Come on. The estate agents waiting.»
Andrew hesitated, his eyes flickering with doubt.
«Mum, are you sure youre alright?»
«Perfectly, son. Go on.»
They left. Margaret stood alone in the middle of the kitchen. Then, slowly, she sank into a chair, pulling out her phone.
«Sarah? Its Margaret. Yes, fine, thank you. Listen, you mentioned your university needed a porter? Yes, Ill take it. When can I start? Tomorrow? Perfect. Yes, with lodgings. Thank you, dear.»
She hung up, glancing around. The rented flat held littleclothes, dishes, a few photographs. All would fit into two suitcases.
That evening, Andrew called.
«Mum, how are you holding up?»
«Fine. Packing.»
«Packing? Where to?»
«Moving. Found a job with accommodation.»
«Doing what?»
«Porter at the student halls. Tiny room, but mine. And they pay six hundred a month.»
«Mum, why would you do this?»
«Why? Ive got to live on something. You wont be paying rent anymore.»
«We will! Mum, dont be daft.»
«Andrew, today you took my keys. And you saidno, not you, but stillthat I wasnt needed anymore.»
«I never said that!»
«Emily did. And you didnt disagree.»
«Mum…»
«Its alright, son. I understand. Youve your life, your troubles. And I… Ill manage.»
«Mum, let me come over. Well talk.»
«No need. Ill see you tomorrow at the solicitors.»
She hung up. He didnt call back.
The next morning, Margaret arrived at the solicitors. Andrew and Emily were already there. Her son looked haggard, as if he hadnt slept.
«Mum, lets talk.»
«About what? Where are the papers?»
The solicitor, a plump woman in glasses, peered over the documents.
«Margaret, you consent to the sale of the cottage?»
«I do.»
«You understand this means forfeiting your right to reside there?»
«I understand.»
«Sign here, and here.»
Margaret took the pen, her hand steady.
«Done? May I leave?»
«Yes, youre free to go.»
She stood, turning toward the door.
«Mum, wait!» Andrew caught her in the corridor. «Where are you going?»
«The halls. My shift starts at two.»
«Mum, this is madness! Come home, lets talk properly.»
«Home? I dont have one, Andrew. You took the keys, remember?»
«Emily went too far! Ive spoken to her.»
«And what did she say?»
Andrew hesitated.
«Well… she thinks she was right.»
«There you are. And you agree, since you didnt stop her.»
«I dont agree! Its just… complicated.»
«I know, son. Go on. Emilys waiting.»
Margaret stepped outside. Snow fell in thick flakes, blanketing the city. She tilted her face upward, letting the cold kiss her skin.
«Forgive me, William,» she whispered. «I couldnt save the cottage. But I tried.»
A month later, Andrew knocked on the porters lodge.
«Mum? Its me.»
«Come in.»
The room was minusculea bed, a desk, a wardrobe. Photographs lined the walls: her late husband, a young Andrew, granddaughter Sophie.
«How are you managing?»
«Well enough. The students are kind. Help with heavy things.»
«Mum, the cottage sold.»
«I know. Emily called to gloat.»
«She wasnt gloating, just letting you know.»
«If you say so.»
Andrew sat on the only chair.
«Mum, I brought money.»
«I dont want it.»
«Dont be silly. Its from the sale. Your share.»
«The cottage was yours. Ive no share.»
«But morally»
«Morally?» Margaret smiled sadly. «If morals mattered, the cottage would still be standing.»
«Mum, we had no choice!»
«Theres always a choice, son. You couldve taken extra work. Emily couldve found a job instead of sitting at home.»
«She was raising Sophie!»
«Sophies nineteen. What raising?»
Andrew fell silent. Then he pulled out an envelope, placing it on the desk.
«Twenty thousand. Take it.»
«To buy me off?»
«Of course not! Its help.»
«I dont need help. Ive work, a roof, food. What more is there?»
«What about us? Your family?»
Margaret studied him a long moment.
«Andrew, you said yourselfIm not needed anymore.»
«I never said that!»
«No? Then who took the keys? Who sold the cottage against my will?»
«It was necessary!»
«Necessary. And after that, I realised somethingIm a burden to you. An old woman clinging to the past.»
«Mum, dont say that!»
«Its the truth. And Im not angry. Ive accepted it. Youre young, with your own life. And I… Ill live quietly, without bothering anyone.»
Andrew stood, pacing the cramped roomtwo steps forward, two back.
«Sophie misses you.»
«Tell her I miss her too.»
«Come visit.»
«No, thank you. Emily wouldnt like it.»
«Who cares what she thinks!»
«You should. Shes your wife, Sophies mother. Her opinion matters more than mine. Youve proved that.»
A knock interrupted them. A student peered in.
«Margaret, sorryoh, youve company.»
«Its fine, Lucy. What is it?»
«Brought the kettle I promised. Yours broke.»
«Thank you, dear. Put it there.»
The girl set it down, smiling.
«Margaret, some of us are baking tomorrow. Will you help?»
«Of course.»
«Brilliant! Youre an angel!»
She dashed off. Margaret watched her go.
«Sweet girls. So thoughtful.»
«Strangers care for you, and your own son»
«Dont, Andrew. Youve debts, responsibilities. Those girls have youth and kindness to spare.»
Andrew picked up the envelope.
«So you wont take it?»
«No. Give it to Sophie for her studies.»
«Mum…»
«Go, son. Emilys waiting.»
Andrew left. Margaret watched from the window as he climbed into a new carpurchased with cottage money.
That evening, Sophie called.
«Gran! Dad said youre living at the uni?»
«Yes, love. Working here.»
«Can I visit?»
«Of course, darling. Come anytime.»
«Tomorrow? I need to talk.»
«Tomorrows fine. Im always here for you.»
The next day, Sophie arrived with a bulging bag.
«Gran, I brought food. And your favourite biscuits.»
«You shouldnt have spent your money, sweetheart.»
«I wanted to! Gran, can I stay a bit?»
«Here? But theres only one bed»
«Ill sleep on the floor! Gran, Ive rowed with Mum. About the cottage.»
«The cottage?»
«I told her selling it was rotten. She screamed that Im ungrateful. I said the ungrateful ones are them.»
Margaret hugged her tightly.
«Dont fight with your parents over me.»
«Not over you! Over whats right! Gran, they practically threw you out!»
«No one threw me out. I left.»
«Because they took your keys!»
«Sophie, its complicated.»
«Its not! They chose money over family!»
Sophie burst into tears. Margaret held her, stroking her hair.
«Hush, love. Itll sort itself out.»
«How? The cottage is gone, youre in this box»
«But Im here. And so are you. Thats what matters.»
That evening, they sat squeezed on the narrow bed, sipping tea. Sophie chattered about uni, about friends. Margaret listened, smiling.
«You know, Gran, Ive decided. When I graduate, Ill get a flat and take you with me.»
«Thank you, darling. But thats years away.»
«Only eighteen months! And Im already working. Soon Ill earn more.»
«Dont rush growing up. Enjoy being young.»
A knock. Andrew stepped in.
«Sophie? Your mothers worried.»
«Let her worry,» Sophie muttered.
«Dont be rude to your father,» Margaret said gently.
«He betrayed you, and you defend him?»
«Hes my son. Whatever happens.»
Andrew sank onto the chair, rubbing his face.
«Mum, forgive me.»
«For what, son?»
«For everything. The cottage, the keys, letting Emily speak to you like that.»
«You love your wife. Thats natural.»
«But I love you too!»
«I know. But love takes different shapes. And we choose what seems most important at the time.»
«Youre important!»
«Now, yes. Because you feel guilty. But when debts pile up again, youll choose their solution over me.»
«I wont!»
«You will. And I dont blame you. Its life.»
Andrew knelt, pressing his face into her hands.
«Mum, Im sorry. Im a fool. A traitor.»
«Not a traitor. Just lost.»
«Come home.»
«Home? What home? A rented flat where I was barely tolerated?»
«Well get somewhere bigger. Your own room.»
«No need. Im content here.»
«In this cupboard?»
«In this cupboard, Im in charge. No one will take my keys again.»
Andrew wepta grown man, sobbing like a child.
«Forgive me, Mum. Forgive me.»
Margaret stroked his hair, as she had when he was small.
«Its alright, son. Its alright.»
Six months later, Andrew divorced Emily. The cottage money hadnt gone to debtsshed bought herself a new car and a holiday in Thailand.
He came to Margaret, shamefaced.
«Now I see what an idiot I was.»
«Dont punish yourself. We all make mistakes.»
«Mum, come home. Ive got a two-bed flat. Well live together.»
Margaret shook her head.
«Thank you, but Im staying.»
«Why?»
«Because this is my world now. Small, but mine. The studentstheyre like grandchildren. They care, they share their lives with me.»
«But Im your son!»
«Yes. And I love you. But trust… trust broke with those keys you took.»
«Ill earn it back! However long it takes!»
«Perhaps. Time will tell.»
Andrew began visiting weeklybringing groceries, medicine, just sitting with her. Sophie moved in with him but visited Margaret even more.
And Margaret lived her quiet life. Helping students revise, teaching them to cook, listening to their troubles.
One day, the universitys dean inspected the halls. He found Margaret tutoring struggling students.
«Are you a teacher?» he asked.
«Was. Forty years in secondary schools.»
«Would you consider running prep courses? Modest pay, but extra income.»
«Gladly! Thank you!»
So at sixty-nine, Margaret Elizabeth returned to teaching. And she was happy.
The cottage was demolished. A mansion stood in its place. Andrew visited once, staring at the spot where the apple tree had been. Then he went to his mother.
«Mum, I saw it. Where the cottage was.»
«And?»
«Nothing left. They cut down the apple tree too.»
«Shame. Your father loved that tree.»
«Forgive me, Mum.»
«I have, son. Long ago.»
«But not forgotten.»
«No. Some things cant be forgotten. Only accepted, and lived with.»
Andrew hugged her.
«Youre stronger than Ill ever be.»
«No. Just older. Age changes your sight.»
«I love you, Mum.»
«And I love you, son. Always will.»
They sat embraced in the tiny porters lodge. Snow fell outside, students hurried to lectures, life moved on.
And Margaret knewwhatever came, shed endure. Because shed found the greatest freedom: to be herself. In a small room, on a modest wage, but without fear that someone would again say, «Youre not needed,» and take her keys away.
