**Diary Entry 12th October**
After my husbands funeral, my son drove me to the outskirts of town and said, This is where you get out, Mum. We cant look after you anymore. But I carried a secret Id kept for yearsone my ungrateful son would come to regret.
The day of the burial, a light drizzle fell. My small black umbrella did little to hide the loneliness gnawing at my heart. I trembled as I held the incense stick, staring at the freshly dug grave, the earth still damp. My companion of nearly forty yearsmy beloved Henrywas now just a handful of cold soil.
There was no time for grief. My eldest son, James, the one Henry trusted completely, wasted no time taking the keys.
Years earlier, when Henry was still healthy, hed said, Were getting older. Lets put the house in Jamess name, so he can take responsibility. I didnt objectwhat parent doesnt love their child? So, the house and land were transferred to James.
A week after the funeral, James suggested a walk to clear my mind. I never imagined it would feel like a knife in the back. The car stopped at the edge of town, near an abandoned bus stop.
Get out here, he said coldly. My wife and I cant support you anymore. Youll have to manage on your own. My ears rang, my vision blurred. I thought Id misheard. But his expression was firm, as if he might push me out.
I sat in shock by the roadside, clutching a cloth bag with a few clothes. The home where Id lived, cared for Henry, and raised my childrenwas no longer mine. It was in his name. I had no right to return.
They say, When you lose your husband, you still have your children. But sometimes, its as if you never had any at all.
Yet James didnt know I wasnt empty-handed. Hidden in my pocket was my savings bookthe money Henry and I had set aside all our lives, tens of thousands of pounds. Wed kept it secret, never telling our children.
Once, Henry had said, People are only good when theyve got something at stake. That day, I decided to stay silent. I didnt beg. I didnt reveal a thing. I wanted to see how Jamesand lifewould treat him.
The first night, I sat under the awning of a corner shop. The owner, Mrs. Wilkins, took pity and brought me a hot cup of tea. When I told her about Henry and my children abandoning me, she sighed deeply. These days, love, there are too many stories like yours. Children value money more than love.
I rented a small room, paying from the interest on my savings. I was carefulno one knew about my fortune. I lived simply, wore old clothes, bought cheap food, and kept to myself.
Some nights, curled on my rickety bed, I missed my old homethe creak of the ceiling fan, the smell of Henrys roast dinners. The ache of longing was sharp, but I told myself: as long as I lived, I had to keep going.
I adapted. By day, I worked at the marketwashing vegetables, carrying loads, packing bags. The pay was meagre, but I wanted to stand on my own two feet, not depend on pity. They called me Kindly Margaret there.
They didnt know that back in my rented room, Id quietly open my savings book before tucking it away. It was my secret lifeline.
Then I ran into an old friendEleanor, my dearest companion from youth. Seeing me in a rented room, I simply said life had been hard since Henry passed. She took pity and offered me work at her familys café. I accepted. The work was tough, but I had shelter and meals. It gave me more reason to keep my savings secret.
Meanwhile, rumours about James reached me. He lived in a big house with his wife and children, bought a new car, but had taken to gambling. A whispered rumour said, I bet hes already mortgaged the house. My heart clenched, but I refused to reach out. Hed left me without remorse at that bus stop. I owed him nothing.
One afternoon, as I cleaned the café, a well-dressed but tense-faced man walked in. I recognised himone of Jamess drinking mates. He stared at me. Youre Jamess mother? I nodded.
He leaned in, urgent. He owes us thousands. Hes gone into hiding. If you care about himsave him. I was stunned. He gave a bitter smile. Im broke myself. I cant help.
Months later, James came to me. Gaunt, dishevelled, his eyes bloodshot. The moment he saw me, he fell to his knees. Mum, I was wrong. Ive been a wretch. Pleasesave me one last time. Or my familys ruined.
My heart twisted. I remembered the nights Id wept for him, the abandonment Id suffered. But I also remembered Henrys dying words: No matter what, hes still our son.
I said nothing for a long moment. Then I went to my room and took out the savings bookthe money my parents had left me, thousands upon thousands.
I placed it before him and met his eyes. This is the money my parents left me. I hid it because I feared you wouldnt respect it. Take it nowbut remember: if you trample your mothers love again, no amount of money will ever let you walk with dignity.
James trembled as he took it. He wept like a child in the rain.
I dont know if hell change. But at least Ive done my duty as his mother. And the secret of that moneyat lastwas revealed when it needed to be.
