“Oi, love, you won’t believe the drama at my mum’s flat. So MumGillianjust slipped into retirement, right? Sixty years on her shoulders, thirtyfive of those in a ledgerroom at the factory. Now shes got all the time in the world to sip tea, leaf through novels and do absolutely nothing.
The first few months were bliss. Shed sleep in, linger over breakfast, and flick on the morning telly whenever she felt like it. Shopping trips were a breeze tooshed pop to the local store when the queues were gone. After fortyodd years of work, that was pure gold.
Then on a Saturday morning, her daughter Samantha rang, all serious. Mum, we need a proper chat, she said.
What’s up? Gillian asked, worrying. Is everything okay with Molly?
Its fine with the little one. Ill be there, Ill fill you in. Dont stress, Samantha replied, but that dont stress actually made Gillians heart race. You know how it is when kids say dont worrytheres always something to worry about.
An hour later, Samantha was on the kitchen table, handresting on her round belly. Shes thirtytwo, another baby on the way, and still not married to Owen. Theyve been together four years, and Owen drifts between jobsdelivery driver one day, security guard the next. Samanthas on maternity leave, but shell be back on another leave soon enough.
She blurted out, Mum, our rents gone up. The landlord wants an extra £2,000 a month. Gillian gave a sympathetic nodshe knows how tight it is for them. We thought of moving out to save, but nobody wants to give up the flat with a kid inside, Samantha added, fidgeting with the edge of her sweater.
Any ideas? Gillian asked, already sensing a curveball.
Could we crash at your place for a bit? Just until we save enough for a mortgage, Samantha pleaded. Gillian sipped her tea, eyes widening. Her twobed flat is already cramped, and now theres a toddler, a bump, and a potential new baby on the horizon.
Sam, how will we fit? Ive only got two tiny rooms, Gillian said.
Well make do, Samantha replied. Were paying £1,300 a month nowimagine £15,000 a year! If we saved that, it could be a downpayment.
Gillian pictured Owen stumbling around the living room, shouting into his phone, Molly wailing, toys everywhere, cartoons blaring. Where will Molly sleep? she asked, trying to stay reasonable.
Well put a cot in the bigger room, you take the smaller one. Youll have the sofa and the tellyplenty of space, Samantha said.
Gillian sighed. I just retired, love. Ive spent forty years at the factory; Im craving peace.
Peace? Samantha scoffed. Youre only sixty! Grandmas your age are still looking after grandkids. Besides, youve got that cottage in the Cotswolds, right? Fresh air, a garden, tomatoesdoctors say its brilliant for seniors.
Mum, youre a country girl, you know the old wayswoodburning stove, hauling logs in winter, Samantha said, as if pitching a fivestar resort.
Right, but what about the doctor? The pharmacy? The shop? Gillian asked, feeling a chill.
You wont be going every day. Maybe a monthly checkup, and you can stock up on groceries and freeze them. The freezers huge, remember? Samantha replied.
And my friends? The neighbour Ive chatted with for years? Gillian pressed.
Just phone them, or theyll pop over for a barbecue. Itll be fun! Samantha chirped.
Gillian was stunned. Her daughter was basically suggesting she become a countryside hermit so the flat could be theirs. How long do you want to stay? she asked.
At least a year, maybe a year and a half, Samantha said.
A year? In a twobed flat? And what about Owen? Hes all for it, Samantha giggled. Says the cottage will be far quieter than the city. No stress.
Maybe we could even get a satellite dish for more channels, she added, as if that sealed the deal.
Think about it, Mum, Samantha urged. What would you do by yourself in those two rooms? Well be tidy, well save, well get our own place eventually.
We could move tomorrow, Samantha said, eyes gleaming. The landlords looking for new tenants, weve got to be out by the end of the month.
Gillian poured another cup of tea, hands trembling. The thought of being kicked out of her own home lingered like a cold wind.
What if you and Owen split up? Youre not officially married, Gillian asked, trying to probe.
It doesnt matter, Samantha snapped. Weve been together four years, we have kids. A marriage certificate wont change anything.
Suppose you do split, then what? Gillian pressed.
We wont split. And even if something happened, the flat is still yours, Samantha said, a little too confidently.
Gillian knew Owens patternhed been in and out of jobs for four years, never truly settled. Yet she could hear Samanthas desperation: Mum, I just want a bit of peace for myself. She felt the tug of guilt.
Fine, Gillian finally said, but only for a year. No more. You have to save, look for a proper home, and keep the flat tidy.
Samantha threw her arms around her mum, tears in her eyes. Thanks, Mum! Youre the best. Well make sure we dont bother you.
Just remember, Ill still be coming down to the cottage whenever I fancy a break from the city, Gillian added.
Got it, Mum. Your flat, your rules, Samantha grinned.
A week later they moved in. Owen dumped his stuff into the wardrobe, Lucythe little oneran around exploring, and Samantha bossed everyone around, deciding where everything should go. Gillian stood in the middle, packing a satchel for the cottage, feeling like a stranger in her own home.
The first months were a nightmare. Owen learned the TV remote, blasted music, and shouted on the phone at all hours. He stocked the fridge with energy drinks and protein shakes. Lucy whined at night, toys scattered everywhere, cartoons on nonstop. The kitchen filled with dirty dishes, the bathroom became a laundry room for Owens socks, and the sofa was covered in crumbs and juice stains.
Should we tidy up a bit? Gillian asked gently.
Cant now, love! The babys got me, Owens exhausted from work, I need a break! Samantha snapped.
Gillian ended up doing the washing, vacuuming, and dusting, only for the chaos to return the next week. Her cottage felt like exilethirty miles from the nearest shop, a bus that ran twice a day. Neighbours would pop by, baffled.
Gillian, why are you still here? Youve got a flat in town, one said.
Its just temporary, Gillian replied. Theyre saving for a place of their own.
Winter at the cottage was brutal. The wood ran out fast, water had to be boiled to keep warm. Gillian felt like shed been banished to the edge of the world.
Six months later Samantha gave birth to a son, Dennis. Gillian hoped they’d finally push for a proper home, but when she visited, Samantha announced, Mum, with two kids well never find a place. Lets stay another year, okay?
Gillian realised shed been duped from the start. The oneyear promise stretched into two, then three. When the police finally had to escort Samantha and her family out, the street was filled with curses and threats aimed at Gillian. She didnt mindshed stuck to the agreement. As the old saying goes, You reap what you sow.
So, what do you think? Did Mum do the right thing, or was she too hard on her daughter? Let me know. Cheers.
