While we sort out selling the flat, you can stay in the care home for a bit my daughter told me.
Margaret had married late in life. To tell the truth, shed had dreadful luck over the years, and as a woman in her forties, shed rather lost hope of finding, in her mind, a decent man.
Yet, along came Edward, at forty-five, a would-be prince charming if there ever was one. Hed already been married a few times and had three children, to whom, as directed by the courts, hed handed over his own flat.
So, after a few months of bouncing between rented places, Margaret had no choice but to drag her new husband off to her mothers, Marys, flat on the outskirts of Birmingham.
From the moment he stepped inside, Edward wrinkled his nose in disgust, making no effort to hide his distaste at the slightest whiff in the place.
Smells like musty old things in here, he muttered, scowling. This place seriously needs airing out.
Mary, a dignified woman of sixty, clearly heard her son-in-laws grumble, but chose to ignore it.
So, where are we supposed to sleep? Edward sighed heavily, staring about at the old-fashioned furniture as if it might infect him.
Margaret immediately started bustling about, desperate to please, and gently pulled her mother aside.
Mum, Ed and I will take your room for a bit, she whispered, you could have the little one in the meantime.
That very day, Mary found herself relocated to the box room a space barely fit for living in. She had to move all her own things herself, of course, as Edward wouldnt lift a finger to help.
From then on, life for Mary grew heavier by the day. Nothing pleased Edward: the meals, the cleaning, even the wallpaper colour, all were below his standards.
But more than anything, he was infuriated by the scent of, as he said, old age, which he claimed set off his allergies.
Whenever Margaret stepped through the door, Edward would launch into a fit of exaggerated coughing.
I cant live like this! Somethings got to be done! he stormed at Margaret one evening.
We cant afford to rent, Margaret replied, wringing her hands.
Get your mother out, Edward grumbled, pulling a face. I cant even breathe in here.
Where am I meant to send her?
Figure it out! Anyway, this flats past saving. We ought to sell up and buy a new place, he grunted. Thats the answer! Speak to your mother!
And say what? Margaret asked, troubled.
Think of something! That flatll be yours anyway when shes gone. Were just speeding things along, Edward said coolly.
It feels wrong…
Whos more important here, her or me? Im the one who rescued you at forty. Who else would have bothered with you an old spinster? If I leave, youll be on your own, and you wont find another like me. Edward pressed on, knowing just where to twist the knife.
Margaret shot a wary glance at her husband and quietly crept off to the small box room where her mother now slept.
Mum, this cant be pleasant for you, living in here? Margaret began, roundabout as ever.
Are you giving my room back? Marys voice trembled with hope.
No its something else. Youll be leaving this flat to me anyway, wont you? Margaret asked, feigning innocence.
Of course.
Well, lets not drag things out! I want to sell the flat and buy somewhere better in a nicer building, she pressed.
Maybe we should do up this one?
No, Id rather find a bigger one.
And where am I supposed to go? Marys lip quivered.
Just for a little while, you could stay in a care home, Margaret declared brightly, as though it was thrilling news, just as a temporary thing. Well come back for you, I promise.
Really? Mary looked at her daughter, barely daring to believe.
Absolutely. Well get all the paperwork sorted, decorate the new place, then bring you home, Margaret said, squeezing her mums hand.
With nothing else for it, Mary believed her daughter and transferred the flat into her name.
Once the ink was dry, Edward all but rubbed his hands in glee.
Pack up her things! Were taking Gran to the care home, he barked.
So soon? Margaret blanched, her conscience pricking.
Whats the point in waiting? Even with her pension, shes no use to me. More hassle than help. Shes had her life, best to let us live ours now, Edward declared pompously.
But we havent even sold the flat yet…
Do as I say, or youll be on your own again, he said, eyes cold.
Two days later, Marys belongings and Mary herself were bundled into the car and driven off to the nearest care home. On the way, she wiped away tears secretly, her heart heavy with foreboding.
Edward didnt come along. He claimed he needed to let the flat air out.
Mary was quickly checked in. Margaret, guilt gnawing at her, left after a clumsy goodbye.
Youll come back for me, wont you, love? Mary asked, full of hope, as they parted.
Of course, Mum, Margaret mumbled, unable to meet her eyes.
She knew full well Edward would never allow Mary to move into their new place.
Flush with their windfall, the pair quickly sold the flat and bought another, though Edward insisted it be in his name. He said Margaret couldnt be trusted.
A couple of months on, Margaret tried to bring up her mother, but Edward shut her down with a scowl.
Try and mention her again and youre out, he threatened.
So Margaret kept her silence. She thought of visiting her mother a few times, but the image of Marys sad face always stopped her short.
For five long years, Mary waited every day, certain her daughter would return. She never did. In the end, the loneliness overwhelmed her.
Margaret only heard the news a year later, after Edward chucked her out as well, and thoughts of her mother finally returned.
Crushed by guilt, Margaret sought penance at a convent, hoping, somehow, to find forgiveness.
From this, I learned too late that nothing, not even the hope of love, is worth betraying those who truly care for you. The price you pay for such a choice lives with you forever.
