**Diary Entry**
*12th March 2024*
“Mum, it’s freezing there in winter! The wood burner needs constant feedingdragging logs in and out!”
“But you grew up in the countryside, love,” I said. “You had the same sort of life when you were little. Your grandparents lived like that for years and never complained. And in summer, itll be lovelya proper garden, berries, foraging for mushrooms in the woods.”
Galina had only just settled into retirement. Sixty years old, thirty-five of them spent as an accountant at the factory. Now, at last, she could enjoy slow mornings with tea, books, and nowhere to rush off to.
The first few months were blisssleeping in, leisurely breakfasts, catching up on telly. She shopped when the stores were quiet, a luxury after decades of rigid schedules.
Then her daughter, Sophie, phoned one Saturday.
“Mum, we need to talk. Properly.”
“Whats wrong?” Galinas stomach twisted. “Is Lily alright?”
“Shes fine. Ill come over and explain. Dont worry!”
That phrase always meant trouble. When children say *dont worry*, theres definitely something to worry about.
An hour later, Sophie sat at the kitchen table, absently rubbing her rounded belly. Thirty-two, another baby on the way, and still not married to that Mark of hers. Theyd been together four years, raising little Lily, yet a wedding certificate seemed the last thing on their minds.
“Mum, weve got a housing problem,” Sophie began, fidgeting with her mug. “Our landlords raising the rent. Were barely scraping by as it is, and now its another two hundred quid a month.”
Galina nodded sympathetically. She knew how hard it was for young families. Mark drifted between jobsdelivery driver one month, security guard the next. Sophie had been on maternity leave with Lily and would soon be off again.
“We thought about moving somewhere cheaper,” Sophie continued, “but no one wants tenants with a baby.”
“What are your options, then?” Galina asked, already dreading the answer.
Sophie hesitated. “Thats why Im here. Mum could we stay with you? Just temporarily. Until we save up, maybe get a mortgage.”
Galina nearly choked on her tea. Her two-bedroom flat was cramped enough without a whole familyplus a newborn on the way.
“Sophie, love, where would we all fit? Its only two small rooms!”
“Well make it work. Think of the money wed save! Were paying £1,300 a month nowthats over £15,000 a year! That could go toward a deposit.”
Galina pictured it: Mark stomping about in his boxers, shouting into his phone. Lilys constant wailing, toys strewn everywhere, cartoons blaring. Sophie hormonal and demanding attention.
“Where would Lily sleep?” she tried.
“In the living room with us. Youd have the small roomjust your telly and sofa. Its fine!”
“Sophie, Ive just retired. I want some peace. Forty years of workIm tired!”
Sophie sighed as if that were ridiculous. “Mum, what do you need peace for at sixty? Youre healthy! Other grandmothers your age are running after grandkids full-time.”
The guilt-tripping began. *Other* grandmothers were usefulapparently she was selfish.
“And,” Sophie added brightly, “youve got the cottage. Nan kept it in perfect shape. Fresh air, quietideal for retirees!”
“The *cottage*?” Galina stared.
“Yes! Its sturdy. You could grow vegdoctors say elderly people need outdoor activity.”
Elderly. The word stung. The cottage was twenty miles out, buses only twice a day.
“But its freezing in winter! No central heating, just the wood burner.”
“Youre from the countryside, Mum! Nan and Grandad lived like that forever. And summers gorgeousgardening, blackberry picking, mushroom hunting!”
She made it sound like a holiday, not exile.
“What if I need a doctor? Or groceries?”
“You dont see the doctor *daily*, do you? Stock up the freezer! Youve got space.”
“And my friends? My neighbours?”
“Phone them! Or invite them over for a barbecue. Fun, isnt it?”
Galina couldnt believe her ears. Her daughter was seriously suggesting she become a hermit to free up the flatand framing it as *concern* for her health!
“How long would you need the flat?”
“A year. Maybe eighteen months.”
A *year*. Trapped with them or banished to the cottage.
“What does Mark think?”
“Oh, hes all for it!” Sophie beamed. “Says youll *thrive* in the countryside. No stress!”
Galina imagined Mark magnanimously approving her exile from her own homeeven offering to install satellite TV.
“Sophie what if you and Mark split up? Youre not even married.”
“Mum, paperwork changes nothing. Weve got kids together. Even ifwhich we wontthe flats still yours.”
But Galina knew Markflighty, shifting jobs and friends. Sophie, blindly devoted.
“Sophie, I *just* retired. I wanted time for myself.”
“What does that even *mean*?” Sophie snapped. “Helping family is sacred!”
The guilt was relentless. Galina felt her resolve crumbling.
“What if I say no?”
Sophie went quiet, then sighed heavily, hands on her belly. “I dont know what well do, Mum. Honestly. Itd *hurt*knowing my own mother turned me away.”
The threat hung thereestrangement, losing her grandchildren.
“And where would we go?” Sophie sniffled. “Two kids, no savings. Mark says maybe his mums, but shes got a one-bed, and she *hates* me.”
Galina knew Marks mothersharp-tongued and unforgiving. Sophie wouldnt last a week.
“Mum, *please*. Just a year! Well be quietyou can escape to the cottage whenever.”
“Fine,” Galina surrendered. “One year. No more. And you *save*actively look for a place.”
Sophie flung her arms around her. “Thank you, thank you! Youll seeitll be brilliant!”
A week later, they moved in. Mark commandeered the wardrobe. Lily rampaged through the flat. Sophie orchestrated the chaos.
And Galina packed for the cottage, feeling like a stranger in her own home.
The first months were hell. Mark blared the telly, shouted on calls at all hours. The fridge filled with his energy drinks, the shelves with protein powder. Sophie, pregnant and irritable, demanded silence, then noise, then heat, then cold. Lilys toys and cartoons invaded every corner.
Galina visited weekly for grocerieseach time, her flat was worse. The kitchen piled with dishes, laundry strung up in the bathroom. Her sofa was stained with juice and crumbs.
“Sophie, cant we tidy?”
“When, Mum? Lilys a handful! Marks exhausted after work!”
Galina scrubbed and vacuumed, but chaos always returned.
At the cottage, she felt utterly marooned. The nearest shop was two miles, buses scarce. Neighbours eyed her curiously.
*”Galina, why are you here all year? Dont you have a flat in town?”*
*”Oh, Sophies family is staying there temporarily. Saving up.”*
No one needed to know shed been gently evicted “for her own good.”
Winter was brutalchopping logs, boiling water. She felt like a convict in Siberia.
Six months in, Sophie had baby Noah. Galina hoped theyd finally house-hunt. Instead:
“Mum, no one rents to families with *two* babies! Lets stay another year, yeah?”
The betrayal sank in. One year would stretch to five. *No.*
She evicted thempolice involvedamid screams and slammed doors.
Guilt? None. A deal was a deal.
Let the gossips talk. As they say: *You make your bed*
(What would you have done?)
