**Diary Entry 25th March**
*»I won’t live with a strangers grandmother.»* Thats what my son said, looking me straight in the eye.
*»Mum, just tell him yourselfIm tired of explaining!»* Emily nervously fidgeted with the edge of the tablecloth, refusing to meet my gaze.
*»Whats there to explain?»* James set his mug of tea down and sat across from her. *»Ive made myself clearIm moving out next week. The flats sorted, deposit paid.»*
*»But, love, how will we manage here?»* Emily started, but James cut her off with a sharp gesture.
*»Mum, Im twenty-seven. Isnt it time I lived on my own?»*
From the next room came the sound of a muffled cough, followed by something clattering to the floor and a grumble of irritation.
*»See?»* Emily sighed. *»Shes dropped something again. Id better check.»*
*»Dont.»* James placed a hand on her shoulder. *»Let her sort it out herself. Youre not her carer.»*
*»Jamie, shes elderly»*
*»Mum, stop.»* His voice hardened. *»Shes nothing to you. Nothing at all! Dads mother, who never had a kind word for you in her life.»*
Emily winced as if struck. It was trueMargaret had never accepted her. Twenty-eight years ago, when they married, Margaret had been cold and aloof. Shed told the neighbours her son couldve done better, that Emily came from *»the wrong sort,»* that she had a sharp tongue. And when James was born, Margaret declared shed raise him herselfhis mother was too inexperienced, too foolish.
*»Remember what she called you?»* James pressed, seeing hed hit a nerve. *»That wife of yours.» Not even by name. And when Dad died*
*»Enough,»* Emily whispered. *»Dont bring that up.»*
But James wouldnt stop. Three years had passed since the funeral, yet the memories still stung. Margaret had outright claimed the house belonged to *her* son, so now it was hers. That Emily and *»her boy»* ought to find somewhere else. That shed suffered enough from *»these outsiders.»*
*»And who picked her up when she had that stroke?»* James snapped. *»Who called the ambulance? Who sat by her hospital bed?»*
*»Thats enough,»* Emily stood, clearing the table.
*»Its not! You see what shes doingbanging pots at night, blaring the telly, hinting youre starving her or buying the wrong medicine!»*
From Margarets room came a sharp yell: *»Emily! Emily, come here!»*
She moved automatically, but James grabbed her wrist.
*»Where are you going? Let her get up if she needs something.»*
*»James, shes ill»*
*»Ill? Shes healthier than both of us! Shes just used to bossing people about. Dad waited on her hand and footnow youre doing it.»*
*»Emily!»* The voice turned shrill. *»Are you deaf?»*
Emily pulled free and walked to Margarets room. The old woman lay bundled under a quilt, a newspaper sprawled on the floor.
*»Pick that up,»* she commanded. *»I want to read.»*
*»Margaret, your glasses are right there.»*
*»Of course they are. Think Im blind?»* She snatched them from the nightstand. *»And fetch me tea. Properly hotnot that lukewarm rubbish you gave me yesterday.»*
Emily wordlessly retrieved the paper and went to boil the kettle. James sat at the table, glowering.
*»Running to her orders again?»*
*»Dont start,»* Emily said tiredly.
*»Mum, listen.»* James leaned forward. *»Im moving. And youre coming with me.»*
Emily froze, kettle in hand. *»What?»*
*»Simple. Its a two-bedroom flatplenty of space. Youll finally live without the nagging and the drama.»*
*»And her?»*
*»She can manage. People reap what they sow.»*
*»Jamie, I cant Shell be alone.»*
*»Good. Maybe then shell appreciate what youve done.»*
Emily set the kettle down, gripping the counter. Guilt and relief warred in her chest.
*»Mum, remember what she said after Dads funeral?»* Jamess voice softened. *»You can start packingthis house is mine now. Remember?»*
Emily nodded. Shed never forget. Returning from the cemetery, exhausted, only for Margaret to coldly announce they were *»in the way.»*
*»And who refused to leave? Who said theyd care for her anyway?»*
*»I did,»* Emily admitted. *»But it was different then. Shed just buried her son»*
*»Mum, its been three years! Three years of cooking, cleaning, doctors visits. Has she ever thanked you?»*
Emily thought. Not once. Only complaintsthe soup was salty, the laundry stiff, the pills wrong. Last week, Margaret told the neighbour, Mrs. Thompson, she lived with *»strangers waiting for her to die.»*
*»Emily! Wheres my tea?»*
*»Coming!»* But James blocked her path.
*»No. Sit down. We need to talk.»*
Reluctantly, she obeyed. James took her hands.
*»Mum, I wont live with a strangers grandmother,»* he said firmly. *»And neither should you. Youre fifty-twoyouve got a life ahead. Why waste it on someone who despises you?»*
*»Shes not a stranger. Shes your grandmother.»*
*»Grandmother?»* James laughed bitterly. *»She never loved me. Said I took after youthat sharp tongue. When I got into uni, she called it a waste of money.»*
Emily stayed silent. She remembered. Her husband had brushed it off*»Mums harsh, but she means well.»*
*»Emily!»* Margarets voice turned furious.
James stormed into her room. *»Gran, Mums busy. If you want tea, make it yourself.»*
*»How dare you speak to me like that? Fetch your mother!»*
*»No. And were moving out next week.»*
A pause. Then Margarets disbelieving whisper: *»And me?»*
*»Youll stay here. Alone. Like you always wanted.»*
*»James!»* Emily called, but he returned, satisfied.
*»Done. Now let her think.»*
*»You shouldve discussed it with me first»*
*»Mum, weve talked this to death. You said you couldnt take her nastiness anymore.»*
True. Especially after Margaret called her a *»freeloader»* in front of guests.
*»But shes old, frail»*
*»Shes seventy-five, not ninety. And no frailer than anyone her age. She just plays it up.»*
Whimpers came from the bedroom. Emily stood, but James shook his head.
*»Dont. Its an act. Shell switch to guilt-tripping next.»*
*»What if shes genuinely upset?»*
*»Genuine?»* He scoffed. *»Where were her tears when she kicked us out? Where was her pity then?»*
Emily remembered. Margaret had been ice-cold, almost triumphant.
*»And then she had the stroke. Who saved her? Who called the ambulance?»*
*»I did,»* Emily whispered.
*»Exactly. And once she recovered, it was back to This is too salty, thats not clean enough.»*
The whimpers stopped. Silence.
*»See?»* James nodded. *»No audience, no performance.»*
Emily drank a glass of water, thoughts churning. James was right. Margaret had never loved or valued her. Yet leaving an elderly woman alone felt cruel.
*»Mum, I know its hard,»* James said gently. *»Youre kind. But dont you deserve a life too?»*
She did. A life without walking on eggshells.
*»Remember how it was when Dad was alive? We went to the theatre, had friends over. When was the last time you did anything for yourself?»*
Emily couldnt recall. Work, chores, Margarets appointmentsthat was it. Her friend Lucy had invited her to the cinema twice, but shed refusedMargaret couldnt be left alone.
*»Lets try it,»* James urged. *»Move out, see how it goes. If she truly cant cope, well rethink.»*
*»What if something happens?»*
*»Shes got a phone. Neighbors. Or she can hire a carerif shes willing to pay.»*
Footsteps shuffled down the hall. Margaret appeared in the doorway, leaning heavily.
*»So,»* she croaked, *»youre abandoning me?»*
*»No ones abandoning you,»* James said calmly. *»Were just living separately.»*
*»And how will I manage? Im ill!»*
*»Youre not as ill as you pretend,»* James replied. *»Besides, you offered to throw us out three years ago. Remember?»*
Margaret blinked. *»Thatthat was different»*
*»How?»* James stepped closer. *»Same house, same people. What changed?»*
*»Im weaker now! I need help!»*
*»Then maybe you shouldve thought of that earlier.»* Jamess voice turned steely. *»Maybe you shouldnt have hurt the person whos looked after you all this time.»*
Margaret turned to Emily. *»You wont leave me, will you? I need you»*
Emily hesitated, torn between duty and exhaustion.
*»Mum,»* James said softly, *»tell her the truth. Tell her youre tired of being treated like an outsider in your own home.»*
*»I never called you an outsider!»* Margaret protested.
*»No? What did you tell Mrs. Thompson? That you live with strangers waiting for you to die?»*
Margaret faltered. *»II didnt mean»*
*»Didnt you?»* James countered. *»Mums been in this family thirty years. Thirty years of putting up with you. And you still treat her like a servant.»*
Emily walked to the window, her chest tight.
*»Margaret,»* she said quietly, *»do you remember what you said three years ago?»*
*»Emily, I was grieving»*
*»You said, Start packingthis house is mine. Remember?»* Silence. *»And that youd had enough of these outsiders. Remember that too?»*
Margaret sank onto a chair, suddenly small. *»But Im unwell»*
*»You are,»* Emily agreed. *»But why should help come from the people youve spent a lifetime pushing away?»*
Margaret twisted her dressing gown in her hands.
*»Emily its just how things are done.»*
*»Done by whom?»* James cut in. *»You? What about whats done for Mum? A lifetime of criticism?»*
Margaret looked up, tears in her eyes. *»Jamie, youre my grandson»*
*»A grandson you never loved. Told me Id amount to nothing.»*
*»I didnt think youd remember»*
*»I remember. And so does Mum.»*
Something inside Emily snapped. A cord of duty, stretched too thin, finally breaking.
*»Margaret,»* she said, firm now, *»were leaving. Next week.»*
Margaret shuddered. *»Emily»*
*»Its Emily *Margaret*. And yes, were going. Youll have the house to yourselfjust like you wanted.»*
*»But how will I?»*
*»How would *we* have managed,»* Emily said, sitting across from her, *»if youd thrown us out three years ago?»*
Margaret bowed her head.
*»I was grieving»*
*»Grieving,»* Emily nodded. *»And we werent? Burying a husband and father? Yet we didnt turn you out.»*
The silence stretched. James by the window, Emily at the table, Margaret hunched and suddenly frail.
*»Perhaps we could reconsider»* Margaret murmured at last.
*»Reconsider what?»* James asked.
*»Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was too harsh»*
Emily shook her head. *»Too late, Margaret. Far too late.»*
And she meant it. In that moment, watching the woman whod made her life miserable for decades, she chose herself. Chose peace. Chose mornings without dread.
*»Mum,»* James squeezed her shoulder, *»Im proud of you.»*
Emily smiledproperly, for the first time in years.
**Lesson learned:** No one owes their life to those whove spent a lifetime diminishing them. Kindness shouldnt be a prison. Sometimes, walking away isnt crueltyits survival.
