25May2025 Diary
Today, when I finally retired, James and his wife Hannah turned up at my flat in Manchester with a set of brass keys and a nervous smile. They whisked me off to a solicitors office, and I was so flustered that all I could manage was a whispered, Are you really giving me something so costly? I dont need it!
James chuckled, Its a retirement bonus, Mum. Youll have a place for anyone who wants to stay with you. I had barely collected my final payslip from the factory and was still adjusting to the idea of not working. Yet they had already arranged everything without even consulting me. When I tried to push back, they told me not to make a fuss.
My relationship with Hannah has never been smooth. At first we got along, then out of nowhere a storm would break out, and Id be the cause just as much as she was. Over the years we learned to keep from arguing, to stop fighting, and, by Gods grace, weve settled into a quiet peace.
When my sisterinlaw, Evelyn, heard about the gift, she rang straight away, showering me with congratulations before turning the praise on herself: I must have raised a good daughter, for she never minded this sort of present for you! She added that she herself would never accept such a gift and would give it up for her own grandson.
That night, halfasleep, I wondered whether I could survive on one pension. In the early hours I called my grandson Oliver, whos just about to turn sixteen, and gently probed whether hed mind if I set up a flat for him. Hell soon be heading off to university, has a girlfriend, and cant take her to his parents house.
Grandma, dont worry, he said. Ill earn my own keep.
Everyone declined the flat James, Hannah, even Oliver. I even offered it to my sister Margaret, who once saw her sisterinlaw lose her house and be forced into council accommodation, clinging to a single room like a drowning reed.
Our Uncle Arthur has been missing for fifteen years, and his heirs are still at each others throats, unable to split his estate without a quarrel. I recall a TV documentary once showing how my own parents had bequeathed their house to James; he then evicted them, sold the property and left them homeless on the streets.
Tears rolled down my face I cant say whether they were from gratitude, pride, or something else. After a visit to the pension office I learned my state pension is £2,000 a month, and James has now rented the flat for £3,000 a month. In that moment I truly appreciated my childrens gift: it was as regal as any crown.
