«We don’t need you anymore,» the children said and drove away.
«Mum, must you always do this? We agreed on this!» Emily huffed as she unpacked groceries onto the kitchen counter, her movements sharp with irritation.
«I only wanted to help, love,» Margaret murmured from her seat by the window, her knitting needles clicking softly between her trembling fingers. «I thought little Sophie might like a jumper for winter. I picked the softest wool, a modern pattern»
«Sophie is fourteen, Mum. She wont wear a granny-knit jumper, for heavens sake! She has her own style now. Kids these days wear completely different things.»
Margaret sighed, setting aside the half-finished pink jumper. Something inside her twisted unpleasantly. Was her gift really so dreadful? She had tried so hard to make it nice.
«When will you all come round for tea?» she asked instead. «I could bake an apple tartyou know how Sophie loves it.»
Emily paused, then slammed the fridge door harder than necessary.
«Mum, we dont have time for tea. Sophies revising for her GCSEs, Pauls swamped with work, and Im at the office from dawn till dusk. We talked about this last time.»
«Yes, of course,» Margaret said, smoothing the creases in her cardigan. «I only thought, perhaps on Sunday»
«Dont start,» Emily cut in. «Were going to Oliver and Claires countryside cottage on Sunday. Its young Jakes birthdayhad you forgotten?»
«Jake is sixteen already?» Margaret forced a smile. «How time flies. Might I come along?»
Emily stiffened, as if the suggestion had taken her by surprise.
«Mum, its just the younger crowd. Youd be bored stiff. And the drive is exhausting.»
«I wouldnt mind,» Margaret said quickly. «I could bake a cakeremember how Jake adored my Victoria sponge?»
«Theyve already ordered one from a fancy bakery. A modern one, with a printed photo on top.»
Margaret nodded and picked up her knitting again, hiding the sinking weight in her chest. The children had grown, the grandchildren too. They had their own lives now, and in them, she found herself with less and less space.
Emily glanced at her watch. «I should go. Ive put everything awaydont cook the rice, it makes your blood pressure spike. And dont forget your pills tonight.»
«Thank you, love,» Margaret said, following her to the door. She reached for a hug, but Emily stiffened, slipping away as though the touch burned.
«Bye, Mum. Ill ring you in the week.»
The door clicked shut. Margaret stood in the hallway, listening to her daughters footsteps fade. Then, slowly, she returned to the sitting room. The flat, once alive with laughter, now felt hollow.
She opened the sideboard and pulled out the old photo albumtiny Oliver and Emily in the sandpit, a seaside holiday back when her husband was still alive, school plays, graduations, weddings, grandchildren cradled in her arms. She had quit work early to look after Sophie when she was born, and though Claire hadnt needed as much help with Jake, shed still been there.
A knock at the door startled her. It was Dorothy from flat 3B.
«Maggie, can you believe it? The hot waters gone again! No warning! Fancy a cuppa? I cant even wash up.»
«Of course, dear,» Margaret said, relieved for the company. «I was going to bake a tart, but now theres no one to share it with.»
«Emily popped by, didnt she? Saw her car downstairs.»
«She brought some shopping. Always in such a rush. Says theres never any time.»
«They all say that,» Dorothy tutted. «My Jeremys the sametoo busy for his old mum, until he needs me to babysit his lot. You ought to invite yourself overwhy sit here alone?»
«I tried,» Margaret sighed, setting out the teacups. «But they always have other plans.»
«Dont ask, just tell them: ‘Im coming Saturday to see my granddaughter.’ Thats all. They wont turn their own mother away, will they?»
Margaret didnt mention the last time shed visited unannouncedhow Emily had been so cross she hadnt rung for a week. Shed said there were work guests, and Margarets «sudden appearance with cakes» had been awkward.
Dorothy stirred her tea and reached for the biscuit tin.
«Im thinking of spending Christmas with my sister in Bath. Warmer there, good company. Whats here? Just me and the telly when Big Ben chimes.»
«Emily promised to have me over for New Years,» Margaret said quickly. «They always host, with Olivers lot.»
«Well, fingers crossed,» Dorothy said, though her tone was doubtful. «Theyre all talk, these kids, until its time to act.»
After Dorothy left, Margaret baked the apple tart anywaysmall, just four slices. She ate one, wrapped two for the neighbours she sometimes chatted with by the lift, and saved the last for tomorrow.
That evening, Oliver rang.
«Mum, hello. How are you holding up?» His voice was bright but distant.
«Im all right, love. Emily came by with groceries. Hows Claire? Hows Jake?»
«Fine, fine. Listen, Mum, about the cottage»
Margaret tensed. The cottageleft by her late husbandwas still in her name. A modest place, but brimming with memories. Once, theyd spent every summer there. Now, she hardly went. Too much to manage alone.
«We talked about selling it,» Oliver pressed. «Claire and I have a chance at a bigger placea proper family home. We just need the deposit. The cottage just sits there, rotting. We could get good money for it now.»
Margaret clutched the phone. That cottage was the last piece of her life with George. The porch hed built himself, the apple trees hed planted.
«Oliver, but its all we have left of your father. I thought maybe the grandchildren»
«Mum,» he cut in, impatient. «Jake wont set foot therehed rather game all day. And the roofs about to cave in. Better sell while its worth something. Well give you your share, of course.»
«Ill think about it,» she whispered.
«Theres nothing to think about. Weve got buyers lined up. Ill pick you up tomorrow at ten to sign the papers.»
He arrived as promised, oddly attentive, even helping her with her coat. On the drive to the estate agents, he prattled about the new housethe guest room, the fresh air.
«You can visit whenever you like, Mum. Not like that old place by the motorway.»
She nodded silently, knowing full well no one would ferry her back and forth. The guest room would stay empty. But she didnt argue. He was so excited.
At the agents, she signed everything. A young man in a suit droned about taxes, but she barely listened. All she saw was the porch where she and George had watched sunsets with their tea.
«Brilliant,» Oliver said afterward. «Moneyll clear in a few days. Your share goes straight to your account.»
«Thank you, love,» she said weakly. «Are you in a rush? Fancy popping in for tea? I baked a tart.»
He checked his watch. «Cant, Mum. Meeting in twenty. Rain check?»
He dropped her at the flats with a wave. As she trudged upstairs, Mrs. Wilkins from across the hall peered out.
«Margaret! That tart you left us was divine! Would you share the recipe? My grandkids are visiting this weekend.»
Margaret smiled. At least someone appreciated her baking.
Days later, Emily called, breathless.
«Mum, why arent you answering? I tried the landline!»
«I was at the shops, love.»
«Oh. Right. ListenPauls been offered a contract in Edinburgh! Three years, maybe more. Double the salary, a company flat. Were taking it.»
Margaret sank onto a chair.
«Edinburgh? But thats so far»
«Only an hour by plane! Well visit for holidays.»
«What about Sophie? Her school, her friends»
«Its an amazing opportunity for her. A proper grammar school, better uni prospects. Its perfect.»
«When do you leave?» Her voice shook.
«Two weeks. Were packing now. Mad busy! But well stop by before we go.»
The fortnight vanished. Margaret waited, certain theyd come. Every morning, she woke thinking today shed see Sophie, bake her favourite tart. But the phone stayed silent.
The day before their flight, the doorbell rang. Emily and Paul stood there, Sophie waiting in the car»headache,» Emily explained. They stayed half an hour, sipped tea, refused the tart»watching our figures.»
«Mum, we got you a mobile,» Emily said, handing her a box. «Simple to use. Well call. And here» She passed a slip of paper. «My friends numbersLucy and Sarah. If anything happens, ring them.»
«What about Oliver?»
«Hes out in the countryside now, you know how it is. But dont worry, the girls will help.»
At the door, Emily hugged her tightly, whispering, «Just stay well, alright? For our peace of mind.»
That evening, Oliver rang.
«Mum, how are you? Not poorly?»
«Im fine, love. Emily came by. Hows Claire? Hows Jake?»
«All good. Listen, about the cottage»
She stiffened.
«Weve found a buyer. Signing tomorrow. Your shares secure.»
«I see.»
«Brilliant. Ohand were moving into the new place this weekend. Bit hectic, so we wont have guests for a while. Dont take it personally.»
«Of course not,» she said.
Days stretched, hollow and quiet. Emily called weekly, short chats. Oliver barely rang»too busy.» The grandchildren were always occupiedhomework, football, friends.
Margaret filled the silence as best she could. Joined the library, attended the local poetry club. Made friendsother lonely retirees like herself.
One evening, returning from a reading, her phone buzzed. Emily.
«Mum, hi. How are you?»
«Lovely, dear. Just back from the poetry night. I read one of mineeveryone adored it.»
«Thats nice,» Emily said absently. «Listen, Pauls been offered a transfer. To Canada. Can you imagine? Its unbeatable for Sophiea Western education!»
Margarets blood ran cold.
«Canada? But thats»
«Only a seven-hour flight! Well video call. Maybe visit in a year or two.»
«Darling, butwhen will I see you?»
«Mum, dont be dramatic. Its not forever. Just a few years.»
«A few years,» she echoed.
«And, Mum Oliver and I talked. About that retirement home. Its really a lovely place.»
«No,» Margaret said firmly. «Im staying in my home.»
«Fine, fine. Just think about it, alright?»
On moving day, Emily didnt call. Margaret sat by the phone all day. That evening, she tried Emilys number. No answer. Already on the plane.
Oliver rang three days later.
«Mum, you alright? Not ill?»
«Im well, love. Did Emily arrive safely?»
«Yes, all settled. Sophies in school. Everythings fine.»
«Good. Will you visit? Ive made a tart.»
Silence.
«Mum, works mad. The new house, you know»
«I understand,» she whispered. «But perhaps at the weekend? Id love to see Jake.»
«Jakes got hockey tournaments. And honestly, Mum, were swamped. Well come when we can.»
They never did. Calls grew scarcer, shorter. Then Oliver called with news shed dreaded.
«Mum, weve been offered jobs. In London.»
«Butthe house? You just moved in.»
«Well rent it out. Or sell. Jakell have better schools there.»
«When do you leave?» Her heart hammered.
«Next month. Paperworks underway.»
«Oliver will you visit before you go?»
He cleared his throat.
«Mum were snowed under. Maybe once were settled in London.»
«Oliver,» she said, steeling herself. «About the retirement home. I wont go. This is my home. Your father and I»
«Mum, not this again! Were only thinking of you!»
«Id rather you thought of me by visiting.»
«What?» His voice turned hard. «We call, Emily writes, we send money. What more do you want?»
«My family. Not just money.»
«Mum, weve got our own lives. You cant expect us to hover forever. Times change.»
«I dont expect hovering. Just not to be forgotten.»
«Christ, here we go. Ive got to go. Well talk later.» He hung up.
On moving day, Oliver came alone, just for half an hour. Brought chocolates, kissed her cheek like a stranger. Spoke in clipped tones, as if ticking a box.
«You managing alright, Mum?»
«Yes, love. Wheres Claire? Wheres Jake?»
«Packing. No time.»
As he turned to leave, she knewshe might not see him for years. Maybe never.
«Oliver,» she called, voice breaking. «Dont you need me anymore?»
He paused in the doorway, not meeting her eyes.
«Mum, dont be silly. Weve just got our own lives now. You understand.»
«I understand,» she said softly.
When he was gone, she stood in the silent flat, the old clock tickingGeorges clock. Hed loved mechanical things, said they had souls.
She picked up the phone and dialled Dorothy.
«Dorothy, about Christmas in Bath might I join you?»
Dorothy sounded surprised but pleased. «Margaret! Of course! Plenty of room. Changed your mind about the kids, then?»
«Yes,» Margaret said, feeling lighter. «Ive decided to look after myself. Theyve their own lives now.»
«Good for you! Youre not old yetwhy mope about? Once the grandkids are older, theyll come crawling back, youll see.»
«Perhaps,» Margaret smiled. «But Im done waiting. I suppose I ought to have my own life too.»
She hung up and went to the window. The first snow was falling. A new winter, a new lifewithout them, perhaps, but not necessarily a lonely one.
