Sarah, but its freezing in the country during winter! Youll need a woodburning stove and to haul logs!
Mother, you grew up in a village, thats all you ever knew. Grandfather and Grandmother lived their whole lives out in the countryside and were fine with it. And in summer its beautifulyou can tend the garden, pick berries and go mushroomhunting in the woods.
Margaret has only just begun to settle into retirement. Sixty years sit behind her, thirtyfive of those spent as an accountant at a factory. Now she can sip her tea in the morning, read a book and have no rush to be anywhere.
The first months of retirement she basks in quiet. She gets up whenever she likes, lingers over breakfast, watches her favourite programmes. She shops at the supermarket when the queues are short after forty years of work that feels like a blessing.
On a Saturday morning Sarah calls.
Mother, we need to talk. Really talk.
Whats wrong? Margaret asks, worried. Is Emily all right?
Everythings fine with Emily. Ill be home soon and fill you in. Dont worry, Sarah says.
Those words make Margarets heart race. When children say dont worry, it usually means there is something to worry about.
An hour later Sarah is in the kitchen, handresting on her rounded belly. She is thirtytwo, her second child is on the way, and she still hasnt married James. Theyve been together four years; Emily is growing, but a marriage certificate seems irrelevant to them.
Mother, we have a problem with the flat, Sarah begins, nervously twiddling the handle of her mug. The landlord is raising the rent. Were barely managing the current amount and now he wants two thousand pounds more.
Margaret nods sympathetically. She knows how tight it is for young families. James hops from job to job today a warehouse loader, tomorrow a courier, the next day a security guard. Sarah is on maternity leave with her daughter and will soon start another.
We thought of moving to a cheaper place, Sarah continues, but nobody wants to take a flat with a baby.
What are you thinking of doing? Margaret asks, already fearing a trick.
Thats why Im here, Sarah says, fidgeting with the edge of her sweater. Mother, could we stay with you for a while? Just until we save enough for a mortgage.
Margaret sips her tea. Her twobedroom council flat is already cramped, and now a whole family with a newborn and another baby on the way would move in.
How will we all fit? she asks. I only have two small rooms.
Well manage, Sarah replies. The rent is thirteen thousand pounds a year now thats about a hundred and fifty thousand after twelve months. If we saved that, we could put it toward a deposit.
Margaret pictures James wandering the flat in his slippers, shouting on the phone, Emilys endless crying, Lucys toys scattered, cartoons blaring. She imagines Sarahs swollen belly demanding constant attention.
Where will Emily sleep? Margaret asks, trying to find a sensible solution.
In the big room well put a cot. You can stay in the smaller one you only need a sofa and a TV.
Mother, I just retired. After forty years of work Im exhausted and need peace, Sarah protests.
Margaret sighs, as if hearing something absurd.
Mother, why do you need peace at sixty? Youre still young and healthy. Grandmothers your age are still looking after grandchildren.
It sounds like a rebuke, as if other grandmothers are selfless and she is selfish.
Besides, you have a cottage, Sarah adds. A lovely house your mother kept tidy. You could live there fresh air, quiet, perfect for a pensioner.
A cottage? Margaret repeats, disbelief rising.
Yes. Its a solid place, you could grow a garden, raise tomatoes. Doctors recommend older people spend more time outdoors.
Margaret feels a chill. The cottage is thirty miles from town, with a bus that runs only in the mornings and evenings.
Sarah, but its cold in winter. Youll need a woodburning stove and to haul logs.
You grew up in the country, thats all you ever knew. Grandfather and Grandmother lived there all their lives and were fine. In summer its wonderful you can pick berries and mushrooms.
Sarahs tone sounds like shes offering a pricey resort, not a remote cottage lacking conveniences.
What about doctors? Pharmacies? The shop?
You wont need to go to the doctor every day. A monthly checkup is enough. Stock up on groceries and store them in your big freezer.
What about my friends? My neighbour Ive known forever?
Just call them. Or they can visit the cottage for a barbecue. Itll be fun!
Margaret cant believe her ears. Her daughter is seriously suggesting she become a secluded country dweller just to free up the flat for her own family, presenting it as care for her health.
How long do you want to stay in my flat? Margaret asks.
At least a year, maybe a year and a half.
A year or a year and a half thats the whole time theyd occupy her twobedroom flat, or youd spend it alone at the cottage.
What does James think? Margaret asks.
Hes all for it, Sarah says. He says youll be much better off at the cottage, no hustle, no stress. You could read books or watch TV. He even offered to install a satellite dish so you have more channels.
Margaret imagines James, generous, lying on her favourite sofa, offering a satellite dish as a kindness.
Think about it, Mother. What would you do with two rooms to yourself? Its not much use. Well manage, save money, and get on our feet.
When would you move?
Tomorrow, if you like. We have few things. The landlord wants new tenants and will evict us by the end of the month. Time is short.
Margaret pours another cup of tea, hands trembling. Sarah watches her, eyes saying, What will you do, Mum? Will you turn your own daughter away in a time of need?
Sarah, what if you and James break up? You arent married legally.
It doesnt matter if were married on paper or not. The kids are ours, weve lived together four years. A wedding wont change anything.
But if you split, what then?
We wont split, Sarah declares firmly. And even if something happens, the flat is still yours.
Margaret knows James has been in and out of her life for four years, never settling. He changes jobs every six months, his friends come and go. Sarah is headoverheels for him, ready to do anything.
Mother, Ive just retired and wanted a bit of peace for myself, Sarah says.
What does peace for yourself even mean? Sarah snaps back. Its a holy duty to support your children and grandchildren!
Sarah plays on Margarets emotions expertly. Margaret feels her resistance melt.
What if I say no? If I cant take you in?
Sarah falls silent, then sighs heavily and places her hands on her belly.
Mum, I dont know what will happen then. It would hurt me badly. It would be terrible if my own mother turned me down in a tough moment.
Theres an undercurrent of threat, a promise of lifelong resentment, a break in their relationship, and a loss of contact with the grandchildren.
Margaret envisions Sarah telling everyone, Can you believe my mother refused to help her own daughter!
What will we do then? Sarah sobs. Two kids, no money. James says maybe we could go to his mum, but she only has a onebedroom flat and doesnt think much of us.
Margaret knows Jamess mother a sharp, straightforward woman. Sarah wouldnt last there.
Help us, Mum! Just a year. Well be careful, wont disturb you. You can still go to the cottage when you like, escape the city chaos.
And Ill have to travel there often?
If it works out, maybe youll come to town on weekends, buy groceries, see friends. During the week youll enjoy the quiet countryside perfect for an older person.
Fine, Margaret finally says, feeling a strange surrender. But only for a year. Exactly one year, no more. And you must keep saving, looking for your own home.
Sarah throws her arms around Margaret.
Mum, thank you so much! Youre the best! Youll see, everything will work out. We wont be a burden, well handle the housework.
And Ill go to the cottage whenever I wish, Margaret adds. Thats my condition.
Of course, Mum! Your flat, your rules. Were guests, we understand.
A week later they move in. James efficiently unloads his belongings into the wardrobe. Lucy darts from room to room, exploring the new space. Sarah directs where everything goes.
Margaret stands in the middle of the upheaval, packing a bag for the cottage, feeling like an exile from her own home.
The first months are a nightmare. James quickly adapts, turning the TV up loud, chatting on the phone at any hour. Energy drinks and protein shakes appear on the shelves. Sarah whines about temperature, noise, music. Lucy cries at night, toys litter every corner, cartoons play from dawn till dusk.
Margaret trips to town once a week for groceries and medicines, horrified by the chaos. Her tidy flat becomes a hallway. Mountains of unwashed dishes sit in the kitchen, baby clothes and Jamess socks dry in the bathroom, the beloved sofa stained with juice and biscuits.
Sarah, shall we tidy up a bit? Margaret suggests.
Mother, when will I have time? The baby is tiny, James is exhausted from work, I need evenings to rest, Sarah replies.
I can help while Im in town, Margaret offers.
No, well manage. The baby will be here, then well clean everything, Sarah says, promising a later that never arrives.
Margaret ends up washing dishes, vacuuming, dusting, only for the mess to return before her next visit.
At the cottage Margaret feels like a true outcast. Thirty miles from civilization, the nearest shop three miles away, the bus runs twice a day.
Neighbourhood women stare.
Gally, why are you staying there all year? You still have a flat in town.
Its just temporary my daughters family is staying with me while they save for a house, Margaret explains.
Oh, I see. Good thing youre helping the young ones.
You cant explain to the neighbours that a daughter and her partner have taken over your flat and been politely pushed out to the countryside for health.
Winter at the cottage is harsh. Wood runs out fast, water has to be heated on the stove. Margaret feels stranded at the edge of the world.
Six months later Sarah gives birth to a son, Daniel. Margaret hopes theyll intensify their house hunt. When she visits the newborn, Sarah declares, Mum, with two kids well never find a suitable place. Who will take a family with an infant? Lets stay another year, okay?
Margaret realises shes been duped from the start. One year will become two, two will become three.
Will she really spend her pension years on a deserted cottage? she wonders. No longer.
Eventually the police help evict Sarahs family. Swearwords and threats rain on Margaret, but the agreement was for one year and she kept it. Is she ashamed? No. As the saying goes, You reap what you sow.
What do you think did the mother act rightly, or did she overstep? Share your thoughts.
