«You’re no longer needed,» said the son as he took the keys.
«Mum, stop making a scene! We agreed to talk this through calmly!» Andrew drummed his fingers nervously on the table, avoiding his mothers eyes.
Margaret Elizabeth sat across from her son in her small kitchen, where everything had its place, where the air smelled of freshly baked bread and coffee. Her hands trembled slightly, but her voice was steady.
«What scene? I’m only asking why you and Caroline decided to sell the house without discussing it with me?»
«Because its in my name. You signed it over to me five years ago, remember?»
«I remember. But I thoughtI believed it was just a formality. So you could handle the paperwork.»
Andrew stood and paced the kitchen. He was forty-two, but he looked older nowgrey at his temples, lines on his forehead, tired eyes.
«Mum, youve got to understand. We need the money. Carolines business failed, and were drowning in debt. Emilys just started universitytheres housing to pay for.»
«I could help with money. Ive some savings»
«Your savings are pennies, Mum. Im sorry, but a pension of two hundred pounds a month wont solve our problems.»
Margaret rose and walked to the window. Outside, the first snow was falling, large flakes drifting slowly.
«Your father planted every tree in that house. Remember the apple tree by the summerhouse? You helped himyou were seven.»
«I remember,» Andrew said quietly.
«And the greenhousewe built that when you were fifteen. You said youd bring your children there, my 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. His wife, Caroline, stood on the thresholdtall, polished, wrapped in an expensive coat.
«Well, have you talked?» she asked, stepping past her mother-in-law without a greeting.
«Caroline, hello,» Margaret said.
«Oh, hello,» the younger woman replied carelessly. «Andrew, we need to go. The estate agents waiting.»
«What estate agent?» Margaret asked, alarmed.
«The one wholl help us sell the house quickly. He already has buyers.»
«But I left things there! Your fathers tools, the photo albums»
«You can collect them,» Caroline cut in. «Youve a week.»
«A week? How am I to move everything alone?»
«Mum, well help,» Andrew said uncertainly.
«Help?» Caroline shot him a look. «Have you got spare time? Youre working two jobs as it is.»
«Ill figure something out.»
Margaret sank into a chair, her legs giving way.
«Andrew, love, must you sell it? Couldnt you let it out? I wont visit, I promise.»
«Mum, renting isnt worth it. The house is old; it needs repairs. Selling gives us a good sum.»
«Three hundred thousand,» Caroline added. «Just enough to clear the debts.»
«Three hundred thousand for your fathers house» Margaret whispered.
«Its a fair price,» Andrew said. «The plots large, the locations good.»
«Good for whom? For those wholl tear down our home and build some modern monstrosity?»
«What does it matter?» Caroline shrugged. «The moneys what counts.»
Margaret stood and took her sons hands.
«Andrew, please. Dont sell. Its your fathers memory.»
«Hes been gone ten years, Mum.»
«For youten years. For me, its like yesterday. I go to that house and I feel him there. In every nail he hammered, every flowerbed he dug.»
«Margaret,» Caroline interrupted. «You must see these are just sentimental notions? You cant live in the past.»
«And the future? Where will your daughter spend summers?»
«Spain, perhaps. Or Italy. Like normal people.»
«Normal people»
Andrews phone rang. He glanced at the screen.
«Its the estate agent. Mum, I really must go.»
«Wait.» Margaret went to the next room and returned with a folder. «Look at this.»
Andrew opened it. Inside were photographsthe house over the years. Andrew as a boy on his fathers shoulders, picking apples. Andrew as a teenager tending the garden. His weddingtables set in the yard, guests laughing, the newlyweds dancing.
«Mum»
«And heres Emily taking her first steps. Remember? Along the path between the flowerbeds.»
Caroline snatched the folder and snapped it shut.
«Enough of this guilt! Andrew, lets go.»
«Im not guilting anyone,» Margaret said softly. «Im only asking you to keep whats dear.»
«Dear?» Caroline laughed. «You know whats dear to me? A life without debt. My daughters education. A decent car, not that rust bucket Andrew drives.»
«Caroline, stop,» Andrew tried.
«Stop what? Speaking the truth? Your mother clings to the past, and were supposed to suffer for it?»
«Im not asking you to suffer. Im asking you to keep the house.»
«And Im asking you to stay out of our affairs!» Caroline raised her voice.
«Ours? This is my affair too. That was my husbands house, your fathers.»
«Was your husbands. Now its Andrews. And hes decided to sell. End of.»
Margaret looked at her son.
«Is this your final word?»
Andrew looked away.
«Yes, Mum. Im sorry.»
«Well then.» She sat, folding her hands in her lap. «Theres only one thing left for me to do.»
«What?» Caroline tensed.
«Im moving there. Permanently.»
«What?» Andrew gaped. «Mum, have you lost your mind? Winters coming!»
«Theres a fireplace. Firewood left from last year.»
«But theres no proper facilities! The loos outside, the waters from a pump!»
«I grew up in the country, Andrew. Ill manage.»
«This is blackmail!» Caroline cried. «Youre saying this to make him change his mind!»
«Im saying what I mean. If the house is sold, Ive nowhere to go. And here, in this flat, I cant breathe.»
«A rented flat, mind,» Caroline interjected. «Which we pay for.»
Margaret flinched.
«I never asked you to pay. I could have»
«On your pension? Dont make me laugh.»
«Ill find work.»
«Doing what? Youre sixty-eight!»
«I could clean. Or mind a building.»
Andrew stood and approached her.
«Mum, stop this. Youre not going anywhere, and youre not working. Well sell the house, clear the debts, and things will improve.»
«Whose things? Yours?»
«Yours too.»
«My life wont improve without that house.»
«Youre being dramatic.»
Margaret went to the hook and took down a set of keys.
«Here. The house keys. Take them.»
«Mum»
«Take them. Do what you will. Sell it, tear it down, build anew. Just leave me out of it.»
She held out the keys. Andrew took them, turning them in his hand.
«And give her the flat keys,» Caroline said suddenly.
«What?» Andrew and Margaret turned as one.
«The keys to this flat. We pay for it; weve the right.»
«Caroline, whats got into you?»
«Oh, what? If were selling the house against your mothers wishes, then forgive me, but trust is gone. Who knows what she might do in her grief?»
«What could I do?» Margaret asked wearily.
«Anything. Leave the gas on, start a fire»
«Caroline!» Andrew barked. «Enough!»
«No, shes right.» Margaret unclipped the flat key. «Here. Take it.»
«Mum, dont»
«Take it.» She pressed the key into her sons palm. «Do you need anything else from me?»
«Yes,» Caroline said. «Your signature on the sale papers.»
«Why? The house is in Andrews name.»
«But youre registered there. We need your consent.»
Margaret nodded.
«Very well. When?»
«Tomorrow. Ten at the solicitors.»
«Ill be there.»
Caroline smiled smugly and took her husbands arm.
«Come, Andrew. The estate agents waiting.»
Andrew looked at his mother. Something like doubt flickered in his eyes.
«Mum, are you sure youre all right?»
«Absolutely, son. Go on.»
They left. Margaret stood in the middle of the kitchen. Then she moved to a chair and sat. Taking out her phone, she dialled.
«Hello, Sarah? Its Aunt Margaret. Yes, thank you, Im well. Listen, you said your hall needed a porter? Yes, Ill take it. When can I start? Tomorrow? Lovely. Yes, with lodging. Thank you, dear.»
She hung up and looked around. The rented flat held few belongingsclothes, dishes, a handful of photos. It would all fit into two suitcases.
That evening, Andrew called.
«Mum, how are you?»
«Fine. Packing.»
«Packing for where?»
«Moving. Ive found a job with lodging.»
«Doing what?»
«Porter at a student hall. A small room, but my own. And they pay a hundred and fifty a week.»
«Mum, why would you do that?»
«Why? One must live on something. You wont be paying rent anymore.»
«We will! Mum, dont be daft.»
«You took my keys today. And you saidno, not you, but stillthat you no longer needed me.»
«I never said that!»
«But Caroline did. And you didnt argue.»
«Mum»
«Its all right, son. I understand. Youve your own life, your troubles. And I Ill manage somehow.»
«Mum, let me come over. Well talk.»
«No need. Well see each other at the solicitors tomorrow.»
She hung up. Andrew didnt call back.
The next morning, Margaret went to the solicitors. Andrew and Caroline were already there. Her son looked rumpled, as if he hadnt slept.
«Mum, lets talk.»
«About what? Where are the papers?»
The solicitor, a stout woman in glasses, looked at them over the documents.
«Now, Margaret Elizabeth, youre giving your consent to the sale of the property?»
«I am.»
«You understand that once sold, you forfeit the right to reside there?»
«I do.»
«Sign here and here.»
Margaret took the pen and signed. Her hand didnt shake.
«All done? Am I free to go?»
«Yes, you may leave.»
She stood and walked to the door.
«Mum, wait!» Andrew caught her in the corridor. «Where are you going?»
«To the hall. My shift starts at two.»
«Mum, dont be ridiculous! Come home, lets talk.»
«Home? Ive no home left, Andrew. You took the keys, remember?»
«Caroline 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 argue.»
«I dont agree! Its just complicated.»
«I know, son. Go on. Carolines waiting.»
Margaret stepped outside. Snow fell in thick flakes, blanketing the city. She lifted her face to the sky, letting the snowflakes land on her skin.
«Forgive me, Robert,» she whispered. «I couldnt keep our house. But I tried.»
A month later, Andrew came to the hall. He knocked on the porters door.
«Mum? Its me.»
«Come in, its open.»
The room was tinya bed, a table, a wardrobe. On the wall were photosRobert, a young Andrew, granddaughter Emily.
«How are you managing?»
«Fine. The students are kind. Help if theres something heavy to carry.»
«Mum, the house is sold.»
«I know. Caroline rang to boast.»
«She wasnt boasting, just letting you know.»
«If you say so.»
Andrew sat on the only chair.
«Mum, Ive brought you money.»
«I dont need it.»
«Of course you do! Its from the sale. Your share.»
«The house was in your name. Ive no share.»
«But morally»
«Morally?» Margaret smiled sadly. «Had morals mattered, the house would still be ours.»
«Mum, we had no choice!»
«Theres always a choice, son. You couldve taken extra work. Caroline couldve found a job instead of staying home.»
«She was raising Emily!»
«Emilys nineteen. What raising?»
Andrew said nothing. Then he pulled out an envelope and placed it on the table.
«Heres three thousand. Take it.»
«Buying my forgiveness?»
«Dont be like that. Its just help.»
«I dont need help. Ive work, a roof, food. What more is there?»
«What about us? Your family?»
Margaret looked at him long.
«Andrew, you said you didnt need me anymore.»
«I never said that!»
«No? Then who took my keys? Who sold the house against my will?»
«We had to!»
«Perhaps. But after that, I understood one thingIm a burden to you. An old woman clinging to the past.»
«Mum, how can you say that?»
«Its the truth. And I dont blame you, truly. But trust trust broke with those keys you took.»
«Ill earn it back! However long it takes!»
«Perhaps. Time will tell.»
Andrew began visiting weekly. He brought groceries, medicine, simply sat and talked. Emily moved in with him but visited her grandmother even more often.
And Margaret lived her quiet life. Helped students study, taught them to cook, listened to their troubles.
One day, the universitys dean came to inspect the hall. He saw Margaret tutoring struggling students.
«Are you a teacher?» he asked.
«Once was. Forty years in a school.»
«Would you consider running prep courses? The pays modest, but its something.»
«Id love to. Thank you.»
So, at sixty-nine, Margaret Elizabeth began teaching again. And she was happy.
The house was demolished. A modern home stood in its place. Andrew drove past once, stopped, and stared. Then he went to his mother.
«Mum, I went there. Where the house was.»
«And?»
«Nothings left. They cut down the apple tree too.»
«Shame about the tree. Your father loved it.»
«Forgive me, Mum.»
«I have, son. Long ago.»
«But you havent forgotten.»
«No. Some things cant be forgotten. Only accepted, and life moved on.»
Andrew hugged her.
«Youre strong.»
«No. Just old. And age changes how one sees things.»
«I love you, Mum.»
«And I love you, son. No matter what.»
They sat embraced in the tiny porters room. Outside, snow fell, students hurried to lectures, life went on.
And Margaret knewwhatever came, shed face it. For shed found what mattered mostthe freedom to be herself. In a small room, on a modest wage, but without fear that someone would again say, *Youre no longer needed*, and take the keys.
