**Diary Entry 12th March**
*Youll Be Alone One Day Then Youll Remember Me*
Is it really so hard to spare an extra bowl of soup for me and your grandson? I dont understand!
Yes, Emily. It is hard. A lot has changed since you left, replied Margaret, not even letting her daughter past the doorstep. Remind mewasnt it you who threw me out of your house and your life? So why are you making demands now?
Emily rolled her eyes like a petulant child being scolded for bad manners. Then again, she *was* acting like a child. *Everyone owes me*hardly the attitude of a grown woman.
Mum, are you serious? I was *pregnant* back then. Hormones, stress… I dont even remember what I said!
Oh, *I* remember. Every word. That you hated me, that I had no heart, that I wanted your baby dead… And thats the polite version. If Im so terrible, why come running to me now?
Good Lord, Mum! Still holding a grudge? Youre the adultyou shouldve understood and met me halfway. Youve been through childbirth; you know how emotions swing.
Even now, Emily spun it as if *Margaret* were at fault. As if she shouldve smiled, nodded, and danced to her tune. But Margaret was done.
I understood you perfectly, she said slowly, crossing her arms. But I didnt forgive. Emily, I can give you some money. A little. But I wont let you back in.
She wasnt just talking about the flat. She couldnt let Emily back into her *life*. Because she knewEmily would push, demand, and eventually wreck everything Margaret had rebuilt.
A *little*how much?
Two thousand pounds. Enough to get back on your feet.
That wont even last a *month*! Fine for meIll tighten my belt. But how can you do this to your *grandson*? Emily attacked again.
Margaret refused to engage further.
When people are desperate, theyre grateful for pennies. If its nothing to you, then manage alone.
With that, she shut the door.
Fine! I *will*! But remembermen come and go, but its your children wholl hand you a glass of water in old age. And you wont get yours. Youll be alonethen youll remember me, Emily spat through the door before her footsteps faded.
Margaret leaned against the hallway wall, biting her lip to keep from crying. It hurt terribly, but the rift between them had been there for years.
…Emily had always been spoiled. Grandparents rushed to buy toys at her first whimper; her father, especially, indulged her endlessly. Didnt like a dress? Off to the shops for a new one. Smashed her phone in a tantrum? No matterhed buy a better one. Wanted a dog? *Of course, darling, pick any breed.*
No surprise she was a daddys girl. If Mum said no, she ran to Dadwho always said yes.
Her parents argued over it constantly. Richard was a loving husband and father but had no sense of boundaries.
Rick, whyd you give her money for concert tickets? At least *ask* me first! Margaret fumed. I told her nonot about the money, but because I needed her to help your mum with the garden. Know what she said? *If you two care, *you* clean it.*
Richard would wince, knowing Emily went too far, but wave it off.
Come on. Remember us at her age. Let me spoil her while I can. Shell fly the nest soon enough.
Those words turned out prophetic.
Richard passed when Emily was fourteen. Then everything truly fell apart. Shed always been difficult, but after losing her father, she blamed Margaret for *everything*. Caught a cold? *You brought it home from work.* Broke up with a boyfriend? *Because you wouldnt let me stay out all night.* Flunked her A-levels? *Obviouslyeveryone else had tutors.*
Margaret hadnt expected top marks anyway. Shed set aside savings for tuition.
Why bother with uni? her friend remarked. No offence, but Emilys no genius. If she drops out later, itll only hurt more.
She wants it. Im doing this for Rick, really. Hed never forgive me if I sent her into the world empty-handed.
Margaret worked two jobs to support them. Colleagues called her a saint. But truthfully? She was terrified of being left with no one. Emily was all she had.
At uni, Emily announced shed move in with a *friend*turned out to be a bloke named Daniel. A year later, she was pregnant.
Mum! Were having a *baby*! she gushed.
Margarets legs nearly gave way.
Emily… Neither of you works. Where will you live? What will you live *on*?
Benefits, Daniels parents, *you*… Hell find odd jobs, Emily said breezily.
Margaret didnt like her role in this plan. Shed hoped supporting Emily through uni would be the end of her duty. Now it was clearthered *be* no end.
Oh, and Mum… Tuitions due soon. Can you cover it?
*Tuition?* Youll lug a pram to lectures? Take a gap year or sort out the baby. This isnt the time.
What followed was ugly. Emily claimed half her fathers savings were rightfully hers, accused Margaret of wanting to *kill her grandchild,* and finally called her a monster before slamming the door.
Margaret waited for her to cool off. But the next day, she found herself blocked everywhere. She *couldve* gone to Emilys flatbut enough was enough. No more grovelling.
Losing Emily felt like losing her purpose. But nature abhors a vacuum.
After Emily left, Margaret rebuilt her life. She joined a gym, where she met Jamesa widower ten years her senior, with a grown son, Anthony, a daughter-in-law, Claire, and a grandson, Noah. They welcomed her warmly, especially Claire, who treated her more like a friend than a mother-in-law.
Noah was special. Margaret doted on himtoys, homemade biscuits, trips to the park. At first, Claire only asked her to babysit in emergencies, but soon Noah begged to visit.
Gran, can we feed the pigeons today? he once asked.
Her heart swelled. Shed forgotten what pure, uncalculated love felt like.
Life had colour again. Then, two years later, Emily reappeared.
Daniel had decided fatherhood wasnt for him. Hed scraped through uni, job-hopped, then packed up and left.
But the baby remained. And Emily needed somewhere to go.
Only this time, Margaret refused. Especially when Emily returned not with apologies, but fresh demands*Youre my mother; you owe me.*
*Youll be alonethen youll remember me.* The words still ached. But Margaret had grieved this loss long ago.
Her phone chimed. A text from James: *Fancy a quiet night in? Ill grab wine.* Another from Clairea photo of three lopsided gingerbread men.
*Noah made these at nursery. One for me, one for Dad, and one for you. Can we pop over?*
Margaret smiled. Warmth flooded her. Which to choosea cosy evening with James or her makeshift family?
But it didnt matter. She loved both options. What *did* matter was this: Shed once feared loneliness so much shed tolerate anything to feel needed. Now she knewbeing needed isnt the same as being loved.
No, she wasnt alone. And perhaps she never would be again.
