«She can’t stay hereshe’s nothing to us,» I overhear my late husbands daughter telling her brother, insisting I should be kicked out of the house Ive called home for the past fifteen years.
«Hold on, Emily. Its not that simple. Wheres Aunt Margaret supposed to go?» replies James, my husbands son, who Ive always found more decent and considerate than his sister. After fifteen years of marriage, Ive learned a thing or two about them.
My husband, William, passed away recently. His children from his first marriage arrived straightaway to sort out the inheritance. The estate isnt small: a countryside house, a vegetable garden, a garage, and a car.
I never laid claim to anything, but I never expected to be thrown out so quickly.
William and I met later in life, both of us with failed marriages behind us and grown children. I had two daughters, and he had a son and daughter.
Id just celebrated my fiftieth birthday and married off my eldest daughter. Shed moved in with her husband, and my younger daughter was still unmarried. Our flat wasnt big enough for all of us, and I had no idea how wed manage.
Then, almost immediately, I met William. He was five years older than me and had lived alone for years. His children were grown and settledhis son and daughter both married and provided for, thanks to his well-paying managerial job.
Long story short, William didnt hesitate. He invited me to move in with him straightaway. I thought it overwhy not? He was a good man, a kind husband, and treated me well.
I moved into his countryside home. We lived wellhe had a vegetable patch, chickens, rabbits, and at one point, even a cow and a pig.
Our children visited oftenmine and hisand we always welcomed them warmly, never letting them leave empty-handed. Wed send them off with bags full of homegrown produce.
William and I never officially married. We talked about it at first, but later decided a stamp in the passport didnt matter much at our age.
Those were fifteen wonderful years, and I regret none of it.
In that time, my younger daughter also married. She and her sister nearly came to blows over who should keep the flat. But the eldest, already settled there, refused to share or let her sister and husband move in. Instead, she and her husband paid off the younger one, and that settled itor so it seemed.
A year ago, my younger daughter divorced and moved back home with her child. The eldest isnt thrilled, and the arguments have started again.
Id hoped shed reconcile with her husband, but so far, nothing. And now, with William gone, Ill have to return to my old flatthough I know its already cramped without me.
«Aunt Margaret, if youd like, you can stay here until we find buyers,» James offered the next morning.
I was relieved by his kindnessuntil Emily stepped in, clarifying the terms: I could stay, but only if I kept up the house and garden alone.
So now Im to be their unpaid labourer, in exchange for not paying rent?
I dont like the idea. Keeping up a country home and garden is hard work, and Im not young anymoreIm sixty-five.
Now Im stuck. Do I stay here, working for children wholl toss me out the moment they sell? Or do I go back to my flat, which is still legally minebut where I know Im not wanted?
What should I do? Maybe an outside perspective would help.
