“No, Emily, dont count on me. You got marriedbe with your husband now, not me. I dont need strangers in my house,” snapped Margaret.
Emily swallowed hard, gripping her phone tighter. A lump rose in her throat. She hadnt expected such a cold refusal.
“Mum Hes not a stranger. Hes my husband, your son-in-law. Were not asking you to buy us a flatjust to stay with you a while until we save up for the deposit.”
A sharp, bitter laugh crackled down the line.
“I know how this goes. Let you stay, and youll never leave. First the deposit, then the renovations, then something else. And Ill never have peace. No, Emily, dont take it to heart, but your father and I did everything ourselves without bothering anyone. Youll have to manage on your own.”
“Mum, how can we? You know were both working, scrimping on everything. Most of our money goes on rent. At this rate, with prices rising, well only save enough for a shoebox!”
“And who has it easy these days?” Margarets voice grew sharper. “Your father and I never lived with our parents, not a single day. We went through it all alone and never complained.”
“Alone, alone Mum, dont rewrite history. I remember! I remember how Gran helped you.”
“Dont comparethat was different. Gran helped because she wanted to and could. We never asked. I earned this flat the hard way with that useless father of yours”
“Well, I didnt ask to be born into nothing,” Emily spat, slamming the phone down.
Her chest burned with frustration. Maybe her mother had the right to refusebut the way shed done it As if shed built an empire with her own hands, and Emily, the ungrateful wretch, was trying to freeload. But that wasnt the truth at all.
…When Margaret found out she was pregnant, she wasnt even married. Thomas, Emilys father, was recklessstill chasing fun, dodging responsibility. His mother was no better, divorced long ago and forever chasing happiness. So Margaret turned to Evelyn, Thomass grandmother.
Evelyn had wept with joy when she heard, hugging Margaret tight and promising to help.
“Dont you worry, love. You have that baby. And Ill have words with Tommy,” she said firmly. “Since its come to this, Ill sign the cottage over to you. Ill move in with my daughter. Its hard managing alone now, and Tanya could use the help. Youll have a proper place to raise the little one.”
“Evelyn, you cantits a whole house!” Margaret had gasped.
“Wont take it with me, will I? I wasnt happybut you ought to be.”
Evelyn kept her word, and more. She signed the deed to Margaret, knowing her grandson was no family man. Margaret sold the cottage for a modest two-bed flat.
When Emily was born, nothing changed. Thomas still drank, still strayed, and his only contribution was his wageswhen he bothered to bring them home.
Margaret knew but endured it. She complained, even cried, but never kicked him out.
“Children need both parents,” shed tell her own mother when divorce was suggested. “When Emily turns eighteen, then Ill leave.”
But Emily disagreed. Better a single mum and growing up fast than being a sponge for tears, listening to rows, stepping between her parents.
Margaret held on until Emily turned eighteen, then filed for divorce. Emily had been relieveduntil
“Emily, its just us now. Were both grown womenwell manage together,” Margaret announced. “This month, rest up. Next month, half the bills and groceries.”
Emily was still in university. The meagre student loan wouldnt cover bread, let alone the full meals Margaret insisted on. Emily begged for separate shelvesuseless. No part-time job paid what she owed her mother each month. She had to work full-time.
Within six months, she dropped out. She couldve switched to part-time studies, but when would she find the time? And what employer wanted a student?
That decision haunted her still. Every job demanded degreeseven stacking shelves.
At first, she blamed herself. Then, talking to friends, she realised: shed never been given a fair start.
Margaret took the news calmly.
“Well, it wasnt for you,” was all she said.
From then on, they lived like flatmatesno fights, no warmth.
Ten years passed. Emily married James. They rented a tiny flat on the outskirts. He was an electricianessential work, pitiful pay. Side jobs barely covered boots, dental bills, or patching holes in their budget. Saving was slow.
“At this rate, well need twelve years just for the deposit,” James sighed, staring at his phone.
Thats when Emily called her mother. Margaret had a two-bedone room empty.
But Margaret wasnt keen on welcoming her backespecially with “a stranger.”
Emily didnt know how to react. She understood her mothers life wasnt easy. Maybe shed have turned hard too. But it still hurt. Years of struggle, never asking for helpand when she did, only ice: “Manage on your own.”
Fine. If “on your own” was the answer, she had a backup. The cottage shed nearly forgotten.
“Margaret, youve got yours. Let Emily have hers,” her grandmother had once said.
After Gran died, Emily was twelve. Margaret took overplanting potatoes, arguing with neighbours. Emily never mentioned it was hers. Pointless. Everything Margaret grew fed them.
But if independence was so prized, why not follow her example?
Two days later, Emily called againdifferent tone.
“Mum, Im calling to warn you. Clear your things from the cottage. Were renting it out.”
A pause. A scoff.
“Renting? Whod rent that dump?”
“Not your concern. Its just sitting there, wasting my taxes.”
“Not my concern? If not for me, itd be rubble! I maintained it, spent my money, fixed the roofyou never lifted a finger!”
“Nobody asked you to. You chose to,” Emily cut in. “Take your things, or Ill rent it as-is.”
“Well see about that,” Margaret hissed, hanging up.
Emilys heart pounded, but for the first time, she hadnt spoken as a daughterbut as an equal.
Margaret was half-right. No one wanted the cottage.
“Only options are sell or move there,” James said one night.
Emily listed it. It achednot the bricks, but the memories. Summers, apple trees, Grans jams But life demanded sacrifices. And Gran wouldve approved.
Then, a call. A strangers voice haggled, arranged a viewing.
But at the viewingMargaret. Shed seen the ad and sent a friend. Too proud to call herself after that last fight.
“So, family discount?” Margaret smirked.
Emily just wanted it over. They finalised the sale. Six months later, she and James sipped tea in their own kitchenno unannounced visits, no inspections.
Then, Margaret called. Emily feared the worstfirst contact since the saleso she answered.
“Hi. I was at the cottage. Apples came in well this year. Made too much jam. Want some?”
Emily sighed. After selling the cottage, shed felt hollow. No anger, no grudge. But no love either. They were business partners nowand partners didnt deliver jam out of kindness.
“No, Mum. Were fine,” she said wearily.
“Alright Suit yourself.”
Emily knew things would never go back. Margaret had her way; Emily had hers. But the walls theyd built left no room for bridges.
