23October2025
I still hear my grandmothers voice urging me on: You must go on living. Run if you have to, but keep moving. If you can find a decent man, even a flawed one, raise the child on your owndont worry.
My upbringing was a patchwork of the few people who stayed. My mother, Margaret, and my grandfather, Arthur, raised me; the memory of my greatgrandmother is hazy, blurred by the fact that I was only five when she passed, leaving behind the scent of her spiced crumpets as the sole fragment I recall.
My father never entered my life. He fled before I was born, leaving Margaret and me to arrive together in the little village of Littleford. She met her own parents there, set a wedding date, and thenwithout warningthe groom vanished. No one searched for him. Margaret wept bitterly, already carrying my halfbrother, and the village women whispered, Tears wont bring him back.
Arthur, stern as a schoolmaster, taught me respect for elders and gratitude for what I have. I learned quickly, never becoming a spoiled brat. By my twenties I was a respectable bachelor: good looks, a steady career at the regional council, a salary of about £75000, and a threebedroom terraced house in the city. Women flocked to me, yet I was in no rush. Weekends I drove back to Littleford to see Margaret, whose health had begun to wane. She still tended to the garden, but the tasks grew harder.
I tried to persuade her to move in with me, but she protested, Why should I leave? Ill never see my grandchildren again. Ill just sit here, quietly, until the end. I suggested a summer stay in a seaside convalescent home, then perhaps a longer spell at the spa, insisting, You need rest, Mum. Recover, then you can return homemaybe Ill even join you.
Your work wont allow that! Margaret snapped. What business have you in the countryside?
People work in the country too, I shrugged.
At that point I was seeing two women. The first, Lily, was a modest farm girl from a neighbouring hamlettender, homey and sweet. The second, Charlotte, was striking, vivacious, and clearly the sort whod never learned to knead dough or mend a fence, but who could make anyone laugh. I hadnt decided whom to choose.
I didnt invite either of them to live with me; our meetings were always on neutral ground, but the moment to decide was looming, and I felt paralyzed. I thought Id introduce them both to my mother, who had just returned from a fortnight at the seaside resort, looking refreshed.
Lily arrived first, eyes bright. Its lovely, Paul, so spacious, she said, glancing around the living room.
It is, I replied. Mums feeling a bit frail now.
Why is she staying with you? Lily asked. I thought she was just visiting.
She is, I said simply.
Ill be honestIm not going to look after her, Lily declared.
I wasnt asking you to, I answered, surprised. Ill manage.
She laughed. Right, then. Its better we each have our own roof. Mum lives in her cottage out there, shell be happier there, and well be fine without her.
Mother will always be with me. No debate, I insisted.
She shrugged, Well, I thought you were serious, not just Mums son! Change your mind, give me a ring. She slipped out before even having a cup of tea.
I thought, She fled like a rabbit. Charlotte will be even faster; Ill end up without a fiancée.
So I told Charlotte outright, My mother will always be with me, wherever I go.
She stared, puzzled. Why are you saying that?
Because if we live together, how do you feel about my mother being part of that?
Its fine! Are you proposing?
I smiled, Perhaps. Lets go meet my mum.
Will she like me? she asked, a little breathless.
Youll see. Whats there to fear?
She admitted, Im not sure. Something just feelsodd.
Charlotte and Margaret hit it off instantly, strolling together by the garden wall while waiting for me to finish work. Later the three of us drove to Littleford, and surprisingly, Charlotte loved the country air. Margaret decided she would stay there for good.
Summers getting better; I feel strong again, she told me.
Six months later we married.
Now Ill finally have grandchildren! Margaret exclaimed, tears of joy.
And she didfirst a granddaughter, then a grandson.
Charlotte, Paul and the children settled in the city, the kids now preparing for university. Margaret moved back in with them during holidays, never quite leaving her little cottage. One evening she said, Charlotte, Im thinking of moving back to the village permanently. Can we go?
Of course, Charlotte replied. Paul will be home soon from work.
Lets leave straight away. Tell him, its urgent.
The village, as always, was quietits population dwindling each year.
Now Im home for good, Margaret announced suddenly. Sell my house; it wont fetch much, but Id hate to see it fall into ruin.
Mother, what are you saying? I blurted. Were leaving right now!
Right, right, Charlotte murmured, bewildered.
Please, set the kettle on. I could use a cup of tea, Margaret said, waving a hand.
After tea she slipped into her bedroom for a brief rest. Charlotte and I lingered at the kitchen table.
Mum, we should be going, I finally called.
There was no answer.
I entered her room, heart pounding, and found her still. She had passed in her sleep.
We laid Margaret to rest in the village churchyard.
She felt she was finally home, Charlotte wept. I loved her as my own.
I noticed that a long time ago, I said quietly. What shall we do with the house?
Selling feels wrong, Charlotte whispered.
Perhaps it should stay, a fragment of the past, I replied. Let it stand for the children and grandchildren to visit.
So we left the cottage standing, a quiet sentinel on the edge of the village, waiting for future generations to pass by and remember where they came from.
