While were selling the flat, you can stay in a care home for a while, her daughter suggested.
Margaret married late in life. Honestly, shed had a rough time with men and, being forty, had nearly given up hope of meeting someone she thought was truly decent.
Then along came forty-five-year-old Richard. He was hardly Prince Charminghed been married several times already and had three children, to whom hed already handed over his own flat, as the court suggested.
So after a couple of months being shunted between rented places, it was Margaret who ended up dragging her new husband to her sixty-year-old mother Rosemarys.
Richard made no secret of his disapproval the second they stepped into the house. He pulled a face, wrinkled his nose, and let out a loud sigh.
It smells musty in here, he complained. Could do with some fresh air, honestly.
Rosemary heard his remark perfectly well, but pretended not to.
So where are we supposed to stay? Richard groaned, clearly unimpressed with the living arrangements.
Eager to please him, Margaret fussed and ushered her mum aside.
Mum, me and Richard are going to have your bedroom for now, she whispered. Would you mind moving into the little room?
That very day poor Rosemary was shunted into the box room, which barely passed as fit for living. She had to move her things herself, as Richard refused to help.
From then on, life became draining for Rosemary. Richard picked at everythingthe cooking, the cleaning, even the colour of the wallpaper. But it was always, above all, the smell that got on his nerves. He insisted the flat smelt of old people, and now he was allergic to it.
Each time Margaret came home, Richard would cough theatrically, rolling his eyes.
I cant live like this! You have to do something, he snapped at Margaret.
We cant afford to rent anywhere else, she replied, hands in the air.
Well, send your mother somewhere, he barked, I can hardly breathe in here.
And where am I supposed to send her?
Dunno. Figure something out! The only thing to do is sell this place and get a decent flat. Thats it! Speak to your mum about it.
What am I supposed to say? Margaret looked genuinely worried.
Work it out! After all, youll inherit this flat when shes gone. We might as well get the ball rolling now, he said flatly.
It just doesnt feel right
I dont get itwho matters more to you, me or her? Im the one who took you in at forty. No one else wanted you, spinster that you were, Richard piled on. If I leave, youll only be alone again, and I doubt anyone else would look at you.
Margaret shot him a sullen look and went into the box room to see her mum.
Mum, Im sure you dont want to live like this? she started gently.
Are you giving my room back? Rosemary asked anxiously.
No, theres another idea. Youre going to leave me this flat anyway, arent you? Margaret said hopefully.
Of course.
So lets not drag it out. I want to sell it, get somewhere nicer, in a good area.
Cant we just fix this one up?
No, we need somewhere bigger, better.
And where will I go, love? Rosemarys lips began to tremble.
You can stay in a care home for a little while, Margaret blurted, sounding weirdly pleased. Its only temporary. Once were sorted, well absolutely come and get you.
Really? the older woman asked, clinging to hope.
Of course, Mum. Once the paperworks done and weve done up the new place, well come for you, Margaret said, squeezing her mothers hand.
Rosemary had little choice but to take her word for it and signed over the flat.
As soon as everything was official, Richard could barely contain his delight. Pack her things up! Well take her over to the care home.
Already? Margaret hesitated, guilt gnawing at her.
What are you waiting for? I dont even need her pension. Your mums more trouble than shes worth. Shes had her life, now let us get on with ours, Richard responded, completely matter-of-fact.
But we havent even sold the flat yet!
Do as I say, or youll end up alone again, Richard warned, making it clear he wouldnt budge.
Two days later, Rosemarys belongings were packed, and she was bundled into the car and taken to the care home.
On the way, she quietly wiped away tears behind her daughters back, uneasy about what lay ahead.
Richard didnt go with them; he wanted to air out what he called the old person smell from the flat.
Rosemary was checked in at the home, and Margaret, after a rushed, sheepish goodbye, left her there.
Will you come back for me? Rosemary asked, with one last hopeful look.
Of course, Mum, Margaret replied, staring at the floor.
She already knew Richard would never agree to take Rosemary back into their new place.
After selling the flat, the pair quickly bought a new onea much better one, and Richard made sure it was in his name, saying Margaret couldnt be trusted with such things.
Several months went by before Margaret plucked up the courage to ask about bringing her mum back, but Richards reaction was swift and aggressive.
Dont even mention her! If you bring her up again, youre out!
Margaret bit back her words, knowing he wasnt joking. She never mentioned her mother again.
A handful of times she thought about visiting Rosemary at the care home, but each time she pictured her mother in tears, and she lost her nerve.
For the next five years, Rosemary waited every day for Margaret to come back for her. But her daughter never did. Broken by the disappointment, Rosemary eventually passed away.
Margaret only found out about it almost a year later, after Richard kicked her out, and she suddenly thought back to her mother.
The guilt weighed so heavily on her heart that Margaret ended up joining a convent, to spend the rest of her days seeking forgiveness for what shed done.
