Margaret Clarke was sitting on a bench in the little garden by St. Mary’s Hospital, wiping away tears. It was her 80th birthday and none of her children had turned up to wish her. Her neighbour in the ward, Evelyn Smith, did stop by with a card and a tiny present, and the carehome nurse, Molly, even gave her an apple as a little treat. The home itself was decent, but the staff were pretty indifferent overall.
Everyone knows that places like this are where families send their elders to finish their days when they start feeling like a burden. Margarets son, Tom, claimed he was taking her to a cosy spa resort to rest and recover, but really he just wanted to get her out of the way of his wifes mother. The flat had always been Margarets, but Tom had managed to convince her to sign a deed that seemed to give him ownership. He promised she could stay as she always had, yet the moment the paperwork was done they all moved in with her and the tension with his wife, Claire, began.
Claire was never satisfied the kitchen was never quite right, the bathroom was left a mess, and she was always finding fault. At first Tom defended her, then he stopped and started yelling himself. Margaret noticed theyd always be whispering in the hallway, but as soon as she stepped into the room theyd shut up.
One morning Tom tried to tell her she needed to rest and get better. She looked him straight in the eye and asked, halfjoking, Youre sending me to a nursing home, arent you, love? He went red, stumbled over his words and said, No, Mum, its just a rehab centre. A month here, then well bring you back home. He signed the forms, rushed off, promising to return soon. He only ever came back once with two apples and two oranges, asked how she was doing and then disappeared again.
So shes been living there for two years now.
When a month passed and Tom still hadnt visited, she tried calling the number shed left at home. Strangers answered; it turned out Tom had sold the flat and nobody knew where he was. Margaret spent a couple of nights sobbing, but she already knew she wouldnt be taken back, and there was no point in shedding more tears. The most painful part was that shed once turned against her own daughter to keep Tom happy.
Margaret was born in a small village in Yorkshire. She married her school sweetheart, Peter, and they lived in a modest farmhouse. Life wasnt lavish, but they never went hungry. Then a city neighbour visited, bragging about the good wages and instant council housing in Leeds. Peter got the idea of moving to the city, sold everything, and they headed for a flat that the neighbour arranged for them straight away. They bought some furniture and an old Mini, which soon got into an accident.
Two days after the crash Peter died in the hospital. After the funeral, Margaret was left alone with two kids. To keep a roof over their heads, she spent evenings cleaning stairwells in council flats. She hoped the children would grow up and help, but that never happened.
Tom fell into trouble and she had to borrow money to keep him out of jail, paying it back for a couple of years. Her daughter, Emily, got married and had a baby. For the first year everything was fine, but then Tom fell ill often. She quit her cleaning job to accompany him to doctors, who struggled to pin down a diagnosis. Eventually they found a rare condition treated only at a specialist clinic in Manchester, but the waiting list was endless. While Emily was shuttling him between hospitals, her husband left her at least he left the flat behind. In the hospital she met a widower, George, whose daughter had the same illness. They grew close, moved in together, and five years later George fell seriously ill and needed money for surgery. Margaret had some savings and wanted to give it to Tom as a deposit for a new flat.
When Emily asked for that money, Margaret felt sorry for George and refused, saying her own son needed it more. Emily was hurt, told her mother she was no longer a mother to her, and swore shed never turn to her again. Twenty years passed without a word.
Emily eventually recovered, and she and her family moved to a seaside town in Cornwall. If she could turn back time, Margaret says shed have done things differently, but the past cant be changed.
One afternoon Margaret slowly got up from the bench and shuffled back toward the care home. Suddenly she heard, Mum! Her heart jumped. She turned and saw her daughter Emily, stumbling a bit as her legs gave way. Margaret almost fell, but Emily caught her.
Finally found you, Emily whispered. Tom wouldnt give me the address, but I threatened him in court he sold the flat illegally, so hes gone quiet now.
They went inside and sat on a sofa in the lounge.
I’m sorry, Mum, for not keeping in touch, Emily said. I was angry, then I kept putting it off, felt ashamed. A week ago I dreamed of you walking in a forest, crying. I got up and felt so heavy inside. I told my husband everything, he told me to come and make peace. I came, but there were strangers, nobody knew anything. I kept searching for Toms address, finally found it. So here I am. Pack your things, well go together. You know the big house by the sea? My husband said if youre unwell I should bring you there.
Margaret clung to her daughter, tears spilling but this time they were tears of relief.
May your father and mother be remembered, that your days may be long upon the earth the Lord your God gives you.
