«Take him away, someoneanyone!»
«Laura, have you lost your mind? What do you mean, ‘take him away’? Paul is your son! You cant just hand him over like some unwanted thing…» Margaret stood in the middle of the kitchen, gripping a tea towel so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Laura sat at the table, nervously fidgeting with the edge of the tablecloth.
«Mum, must you always be so dramatic?» She leaned back in her chair, feigning indifference. «Im not obliged to sacrifice my life for a child. Im only thirty-two, in case youve forgotten.»
Margaret sank into the chair opposite her daughter. A cold dread settled in her chest. Laura continued,
«Ive finally met a decent man, Mum. Andrew proposed. We want to move in together, start fresh.» Laura lifted her eyes to meet her mothers. «But Paul… Paul would just be in the way. You understand, dont you? New relationship, adjustments, all of that.»
«Paul is only twelve, Laura!» Margarets voice wavered. «He needs his mother. Hell realise youve cast him aside forfor Andrew.»
Laura winced but quickly steeled herself, waving a hand dismissively.
«Honestly, Mum, dont make such a fuss. I need to sort out my own life, dont I? I cant spend every minute fretting over him. Besides, hes old enough to manage. Plenty of boys his age are perfectly independent.»
Margaret stared, barely recognising her daughter. When had her sweet girl turned into such a selfish woman? She rose and moved to the window.
«No, Laura. I wont allow it. Not ever.» She turned back sharply. «You cant treat your own son like this.»
«Oh, here we go again!» Laura snatched her handbag from the chair. «I thought youd understand, support me. But youfine. Ill sort it out myself.»
The door slammed behind her. Margaret remained in the kitchen, staring at the closed door, her heart heavy with foreboding.
Three months later, Margaret stood in a banquet hall, watching her daughters wedding. Guests laughed, music blared, but joy eluded her. She moved between tables, exchanging pleasantries, forcing smiles, while her insides twisted with unease.
Finally, she approached the newlyweds. Andrew was regaling his friends with some animated tale, while Laura beamed beside him in her white gown.
«Laura,» Margaret touched her daughters shoulder. «Wheres Paul? I dont see him among the guests.»
Laura whirled around, irritation flashing in her eyes. She seized Margarets arm and pulled her aside, as if terrified Andrew or the guests might overhear.
«Mum, have you gone mad? Why bring him up in front of everyone?»
«So where is your son? Hes not at the wedding?» Margaret pressed.
Laura pursed her lips, avoiding her gaze.
«Andrew… doesnt really get along with Paul.» The words tumbled out, as if eager to be rid of the conversation. «So he stayed home. No point spoiling the day, right? Hed be bored stiff with all the grown-ups anyway.»
Margaret stepped back, eyes wide. Her chest tightened.
«You left a twelve-year-old alone at home on your wedding day? Because your new husband dislikes him?» Her voice shook with anger and pain. «Laura, whats happened to you? Thats your son!»
«Mum, dont make a scene, I beg you!» Laura glanced nervously at the guests. «This is my day, my celebration. Dont ruin it with lectures.»
Margaret turned on her heel and walked out. Laura called after her, but she didnt look back. Soon, she hailed a cab.
«Primrose Lane, number eighteen,» she told the driver.
The whole ride, Margaret thought of her grandson. Was he sitting alone? What was he feeling? The boy had already grown up without a fathernow his mother had betrayed him too.
She climbed the steps to the fourth floor and knocked.
«Paul, its Nan! Open the door, love.» She leaned against it, listening.
Footsteps shuffled inside.
«Nan, is that really you?»
«Of course its me, sweetheart. Let me in.»
The lock clicked, and the door cracked open. Paul stood theredishevelled, eyes red from crying. Margaret pulled him into a fierce hug.
His voice trembled as he asked,
«Nan, does Mum not love me anymore? She left me here alone. Said not to open the door for anyone.»
Margaret held him tighter. A lump lodged in her throat.
«Pack your things, love. Youre coming to live with me.» She drew back, cupping his face. «Itll be alright, I promise.»
While Paul gathered his belongings, Margaret sent Laura a message:
*Paul is staying with me now.*
The reply came instantly:
*See? I suggested it ages ago. You shouldve listened.*
Margaret turned off her phone. She hadnt the strength for this nonsense.
Her two-bedroom flat had room enough for both. Paul settled into Lauras old bedroom. The first days, he was quiet, withdrawn. But Margaret tried to draw him out.
«Paul, fancy learning how to make the best cheese scones in the world?» she asked one morning.
He nodded, and together they stood at the stove. Margaret showed him how to mix the dough, knead it just right.
«Nan,» Paul asked softly as he shaped the scones, «why doesnt Mum ever call?»
Margaret paused, then smoothed his hair gently.
«Adults make mistakes, love. Big ones. But thats no reflection on you. Youre a wonderful boy, and I love you dearly.»
Slowly, life found its rhythm. Margaret enrolled Paul in swimming and coding classeshed always wanted to design games. He flourished, growing steadier, more confident.
Years slipped by unnoticed. Paul grew from a shy boy into a tall, steady young man. Laura rang only a handful of times, and then only for paperwork or some document. She and Andrew had a daughter, and from the rare social media posts, she seemed happy in her new family.
Pauls eighteenth birthday passed quietly.
«Hard to believe youre all grown up,» Margaret said fondly.
After the guests left, they tidied up togetherMargaret washing dishes, Paul drying.
«Paul, theres something you should know.» She turned off the tap, facing him. «The flat your mother lives in… its yours.»
Paul froze, towel in hand.
«What do you mean, mine?»
«Your father… passed when you were five.» She chose her words carefully. «But he left a will. The flat was to be yours when you turned eighteen. Your mother was just the guardian until then.»
«SoI own it?» Paul set the towel down slowly.
Margaret nodded.
«Outright. Its your inheritance.»
The next fortnight, Paul was unusually quiet. Margaret could see him turning things over but didnt pry. He was a man now; hed work it out himself.
Then, early one morning, the phone rang. Laurawho hadnt called in years.
«Mum, what have you done?!» Her voice was shrill. «Why tell Paul about the will? Now hes threatening to evict us! To take us to court!»
Margaret exhaled wearily, sinking onto a stool.
«Laura, I did what was right. The flat is Pauls. His father ensured that.» Her voice was calm. «But you wouldnt understand. Youve only ever thought of yourself. Years without seeing your son, not even asking how he wasyet youd take whats his? It wont happen.»
«Mum, have you lost your mind? Where will we live? Ive got a family, a child!»
«Ask Andrew. Let him provide for you, instead of squatting in a boys flata boy you practically threw out five years ago.» She paused, then added firmly, «I kept silent until Paul turned eighteen because evicting you wasnt possible before. But now? Ill help him get justice. Dont try to change my mind.»
She hung up. Turning, she found Paul in the doorway. A faint smile touched his lips.
«Thank you, Nan,» he said quietly.
Margaret smiled back.
«Well manage, love. Well get your flat back.»
Paul crossed the room and hugged her tightlyjust as she had hugged him on Lauras wedding day.
«Nan, youve been my mother and father both. I love you. Ill never leave you alone. Were family, you and me. Proper family. Dont ever forget that. «Were family, you and me. Proper family. Dont ever forget that.»
Margaret closed her eyes, breathing in the quiet strength of his embrace. The years of silence, of heartache, seemed to settle into something softer, something enduring. Outside, the city hummed on, indifferent, but inside the small kitchen, warm with the scent of cinnamon and old bread, there was peace.
Paul stepped back, wiped his eyes quickly, and smiled. «So,» he said, voice firmer now, «what do you say we go see a solicitor tomorrow? And maybe… Ill call Mum. Just once. Not for her sakefor closure.
Margaret nodded, pride swelling in her chest.
«Whatever you decide, love, Im with you.»
And for the first time in a long time, the future didnt feel like something to survive. It felt like something they could buildtogether.
