April 12
Today I sat down with a strong cup of tea and tried to untangle the knot of family plans that have been tightening around Mum ever since she turned sixtyfive. It all began when Michael and I arrived at Mums flat in Croydon to celebrate Imogens little sister Sophies birthday. The flat is a modest onebedroom, but Mum insists she needs a tworoom place Shes not likely to have many visitors, and with my sisters she can still enjoy a cuppa in the kitchen, she says, as if a single bedroom were a cramped wardrobe.
Just as we were settling in, the door bell rang. Our neighbour, Mrs. Nancy, peered in, looking embarrassed.
Oh dear, Im early. You have guests, she muttered, clutching the strap of her coat.
Its family, Nancy, Mum replied calmly. Whats the trouble?
My sewing machine jammed again the bobbin is stuck. Ill pop by later, sorry, she said.
No bother, Ill have a look, Mum answered, already turning back to the kitchen.
She called out to Michael and Imogen, Ill be with Nancy for five minutes. Please make yourselves at home; Ive put the kettle on. Sweetheart, tidy up a bit.
Mum hurried to sort the sewing issue, then lingered in the hallway, where Michaels voice drifted out.
Honestly, this flat could fetch at least three million pounds, and the twobedroom flat Mum is moving into down the lane is worth about a million, he said.
Imogen raised an eyebrow. You want Mum to hand us the difference? A million each?
Exactly, Michael replied, but not a million a million two hundred thousand each.
Imogen pressed, Where will she get that?
Michael answered, Ive done the maths. Why does Mum need two rooms? Shes sixtyfive. She wont be hosting many guests, and with her sisters she can still have tea in the kitchen.
Mum, overhearing, added, Frankly, a singleroom flat would be enough for me. A decent onebedroom with a fresh finish can be bought for about six hundred thousand pounds.
Michael continued, I was looking at a place not on the outskirts but nearer the centre, in a relatively new block, with shops and a clinic close by.
Imogen worried, What if Mum says no?
Im not against her moving, Michael said, but if she ends up in a decent flat, shell do us a favour.
Mums thoughts have turned back to her hometown in Yorkshire for some time now. She moved to London when she was fortyfive, after taking a good job at a factory. At that age making new friends was hard; she had a few acquaintances but none from childhood. When her husband suddenly passed two years ago, the house felt emptier, and retirement left her with a hollow feeling, especially as her sisters kept calling.
Without waiting for Imogens reply, Mum slammed the front door shut as if shed just arrived home. Michael and Imogen were already in the kitchen, a freshly baked apple cake on the table and tea already poured.
Do you really intend to move, Mum? Imogen asked.
Yes. Now that your father is gone, theres nothing holding me here. After twenty years this place never felt like home, Mum said.
Imogen gasped, What about us? What about the grandkids?
Mum, you have your own life, your own concerns. I dont want to be a burden. The children are grown; they no longer need a nanny. Why should I sit on a park bench with other pensioners, waving a stick around?
Im not interested in that, Mum replied. Whats left? Books and the telly? I have sisters, many acquaintances, a village nearby and a family home where we all gather in summer.
She confessed, I keep dreaming Im back in Yorkshire, walking down the lane and seeing familiar faces everywhere.
Michael steered the conversation back to practicalities. What about the flat?
Ill sell it and buy a new one, Mum answered.
Do you want help with the sale? Michael offered.
Ill go through an agency. The ad is already up, so Ill start packing gradually, she said.
Dont underestimate the scams out there, Michael warned. You could end up penniless and homeless.
Mum laughed, Lisa Cole will handle the sale shes the wife of Uncle Jerry, Dads deputy. She runs her own agency. Natasha also knows a reliable realtor they helped Paul buy his flat recently.
How much are you aiming for? Michael asked.
Lisa says three million pounds is a fair price, though we could start a bit higher. Ive checked the listings myself its spot on, Mum replied.
Imogen noted, Flats over there are cheaper.
Yes, a similar twobedroom nearby goes for around two million, Mum said.
Michael then made a request: Mum, after you sell, could you give us each a million?
A million? I wouldnt have enough for my own place then, Mum protested.
Why not? You could buy a smaller onebedroom, Michael suggested.
It would be uncomfortable for me. I need two rooms: a bedroom and a sitting room, Mum explained.
But some families of three live in onebedrooms, Michael countered.
Those are the ones who cant afford more. I have the means and I want to live comfortably, she said firmly.
Imogen pleaded, It would be fair to us, after all its a family flat.
Mum sighed, I never expected to discuss this. Remember the will? Father left everything to you both.
He wasnt stingy. All I got was the flat, and now youre asking me to split it? Michael asked.
Imogen clarified, He meant you could help us if theres any money left.
Theres a mortgage, and Illya and I want a holiday cottage. Even half a million would help, Michael said.
If you buy a twomillion flat as you plan, youll still have a million left for moving, renovation, and furnishing, Mum pointed out.
That would be my safety cushion, because Im not getting any younger, she added.
Michael asked, So you wont give us anything?
No, Im surprised you even brought this up. Youre thirtyseven, Imogen thirtyfour, both welleducated and employed, Mum said. Youll still have mortgage payments for years. If I hadnt moved and sold, would you have managed? Was there a plan to relocate me to a simpler place?
No, Imogen admitted. Sorry for bringing it up. We just thought
Mum, youve always helped us. I wouldnt say no if you truly needed it, but I think youll manage: Michael will pay the mortgage, Illya and I will save for the cottage, and everything will be fine.
In the end Mum did exactly what she intended: she sold the flat, moved back to Yorkshire, and bought a new home close to the village where she and my father once lived. Relatives helped her settle and refurbish. Now, each morning when I hear her breathing easy in her own bedroom, I feel that she is finally home.
Lesson: sometimes love means letting go, trusting that the people you care for will find their own peace once you follow the path that feels right for you.
