Mum, have you completely lost your marbles? What do you mean, holiday? Southport? Weve got tickets for Tenerife burning a hole in our pockets, we leave next week! Do you know how much money well lose if we cancel?
Louises voice had gone shrill, and she was pacing the little kitchen like a caged lioness, banging her hip off the table and not even noticing. Margaret Parker sat on her battered old stool, fingers so tightly clasped in her lap her knuckles were paper white. She fixed her gaze on her daughter, struggling to recognise the furious, polished woman in front of her as her little Lou shed once plaited ribbons into.
Louise, love, dont shout, please. My blood pressures not what it used to be. Margaret spoke softly, but stood her ground. I told you back in February, I wanted to sort my knees out this summer, remember? The doctors said I absolutely need a spot of proper rest, nothing too strenuous. Ive put aside my pension for six months for this holiday. Booked it all myself, coach and everything. Why should I always be the one who has to give up something?
Because were family! Louise near barked it, coming to a stop with her hands on her hips, wedding ring glinting. Because thats what grandmothers are for: helping out with the grandchildren. And here you are swanning off on holiday while Neil and I slave away? We havent had a break in a year, Mum! We finally found a decent hotel abroad, but taking the kids costs a fortune, and we fancy a proper rest for once not chasing after them all over the beach. Youll have them at your place for the summer. No argument.
Margaret stifled a sigh. Shed heard this no argument business for ten years straight. First, Mum, you watch little Jamie, I need to get back to work, the mortgage wont pay itself. Then, Now Tobys here, youll have both of them, youll cope, youre brilliant. And so she did missed out on all sorts, was there at every drop of a hat, nursed them through colds, drove them to clubs. But the boys werent toddlers any more Jamie was almost twelve, Toby nine. They were whirlwinds, and in a week theyd flatten her backyard to a mud patch. Worse, they needed watching every second, round-the-clock feeding, heaps of washing. Margaret was barely managing picking a handful of strawberries these days, never mind running after two livewires.
I really cant, Louise, she said quietly but firmly, meeting her daughters glare. Physically, I cant do it anymore. They need to run about, go cycling, splash in the river I cant chase round after them. What if something happens? I couldnt forgive myself or you. Besides, my trips paid, tickets bought. Im off on the third of June.
Louise fell suddenly, ominously silent, eyeing her mother with a cold, calculating look Margaret had never seen before. The kind that sent a chill right down her spine. The kitchen was silent, save for the old fridge humming away.
So your knees are more important than your grandchildren? Louise enunciated every word. You love yourself more than your own flesh and blood?
Im just finally loving myself a tiny bit, Lou. For the first time in sixty-five years Im putting myself first. Is that really a crime?
Fine, Louises voice went icy, scarier than her shouting. She sat opposite, ankle crossing over her knee, smoothing her skirt. Lets talk like adults then. Youre sat here, alone, in a three-bedroom flat, dead in the centre of town, while Neil and I squeeze into a tiny place out in the sticks, still slogging through the mortgage and the car payments. Its not like you didnt have help you forget I had to sell Dads old shed to help with your deposit?
Thats not true, and Ive always helped as much as I could I even pitched in on your deposit when you bought that house! Margaret reminded sharply.
Small change! Louise waved her off. Listen up, Mum. If you head off to your precious Southport, throwing us to the wolves, then youre basically telling me youre too old, too frail, cant even cope with your own grandkids. If thats the case, maybe it isnt safe for you to be living here, on your own. What if you forget to turn the oven off, or leave the taps running?
Margarets heart stuttered. What are you saying?
Ill say it outright: There are some lovely care homes these days. Private, council-funded, proper meals, doctors and nurses, schedules. You can lie there, rest, get your knees sorted. Meanwhile, we can rent or sell this place, pay off the mortgage, or maybe even move in here ourselves. No point you rattling around all this space. Itll be ours anyway, why wait?
And suddenly it was hard to breathe, the room slid sideways. Her own daughter, who shed nursed through thick and thin in the nineties, who shed always given the last slice to, was sat here threatening her with a care home to get her way.
You… youd put me in a home while youre living?
Not a home, Mum. A lovely residential place, Louise said, tone wintry. If you cant perform basic grandmother duties, then technically, maybe youre not capable. Social services would see sense if I mention youre forgetting things, getting lost. If I got a doctor to say youre starting with a bit of dementia hardly rare at your age.
Get out. Margaret could barely croak it.
What?
Get out of my house! And dont bring the boys! I know exactly who I am, and who owns this flat!
Louise got up, scowled around the kitchen. Fine, yell away. You give yourself a heart attack Ill ring 999 and theyll see whos off their head. Youve got until tomorrow to change your mind: either you take the boys all summer and we forget this or I start the paperwork and you get whats coming. I always follow through, Mum, dont forget. Got that from you.
The door slammed. Margaret collapsed back onto the stool, her legs gone. Hands shaking, she could hardly pour water for herself; tears spilled hot down her face. How on earth had her little girl become this harsh? Where had she gone wrong?
She sat in near darkness all evening, thoughts flapping round her skull like startled birds. She pictured a care home: shiny floors, bleachy hospital smells, strangers everywhere, barred windows. Terror gripped her Louise was stubborn, and Neil just did as he was told. She barely slept, and when dawn light sneaked through the curtains, anger, icy and sharp, replaced fear. Shed always put everyone else first husband, daughter, job, her whole life was bending to suit everyone elses plans. Clearly, all that kindness had been mistaken for weakness.
Morning came, and she swallowed her blood pressure tablets, donned her best jacket, grabbed the folder with her flats deeds and headed not to the greengrocers or doctors, but the solicitors office.
The young legal chap listened to her trembling tale, frowned sympathetically, then reassured her: Margaret, youre absolutely fine. No one can put you in a home against your will if youve got all your faculties. It takes a court, assessments, endless red tape. Unless youre deemed truly unable to look after yourself, nobody can just pack you off. And you own your property. To protect yourself, get a psychiatrists note that youre of sound mind and Id consider redoing your will for now.
Leaving the solicitors, Margaret felt the weight lift off her shoulders. She nipped into the private clinic for a mental health check got herself an official note, all stamped and signed then popped to the bank and shuffled her savings onto an account her daughter didnt know about.
Home for lunch, Margaret ignored Louises ringing. She fished out her case the old one shed taken to the seaside back in the seventies, with her late husband and started carefully packing her things: light dresses, practical shoes, her pile of library books.
That evening, the doorbell went again. Louise on her own this time.
Margaret opened the door, but left the chain on.
Mum, why dont you answer your phone? Were worried! Louises voice was less strident, more wheedling. Open up, will you? Ive dropped some things for the boys, well be round with them first thing tomorrow.
You wont, Lou, Margaret replied calmly, peering through the crack. Im leaving tomorrow.
What dyou mean? Did you forget what I said about the care home?
Oh, I remember. Which is why I went to the doctor and the solicitor today. Here look.
She slid a copy of her letter through the gap.
Mentally sound, no signs of dementia? Louises cheeks drained of colour. You actually went and did this? Youre kidding.
Im not. And I also checked with the solicitor about slander and unlawful detainment. They told me about a charity for older people that helps with this sort of thing, too. If anything happens to me or anyone tries to force me out, theyd be more than happy for me to sign over the flat in exchange for a lifelong annuity and their support.
Now Louise looked genuinely rattled. She knew her mother never bluffed when she got this way.
Youd give your flat to a charity instead of your own family?
Would my own daughter threaten me with a care home over a holiday in Tenerife? shot back Margaret. Heres the deal, Louise: Im leaving for Southport in the morning three weeks, all paid for. Neighbour Jeans got my spare key to water my peace lilies. Youre not having the keys and by the way, Ive changed the locks.
Youve changed the locks? Louise squeaked. Mum, youve lost your mind!
No, just being careful. I dont want to come home and find youve moved in and chucked all my stuff. I love my grandsons, but Im a grandma, not your skivvy! Want a break? Sort out childcare yourselves. Youre the parents, its your job. Ive done more than enough.
She tried to close the door but Louise stuck her foot in.
Mum, wait! I went over the top, alright? Things were just fraught. This bloody holiday! They wont refund the tickets, massive fees if we cancel. Please take the boys, theyll watch YouTube all day, you wont notice theyre here!
No, Louise. Thats my final answer. Now move your foot, I need to get some rest before my trip.
Louises face cycled between anger, pleading, and odd as it was something like fear. Fear of losing out, perhaps.
Oh, just go on your daft spa trip then! But dont expect us to be there for you later. Dont come crawling to us if you get stuck!
Wasnt planning to, Margaret replied. Ive got myself and my solicitors to rely on now. Bye, Louise. Have a nice flight.
The door banged shut. Margaret locked everything top and bottom bolts. Her hands trembled, but she felt lighter than she had in years. Shed stood up for herself. Shed finally done it.
Next morning she called a taxi, perched in her hat, case rolling behind, waving to the neighbours on the way. Neil sat in his car by their block, ignoring her. She could guess Louise had ordered him to sulk.
The train down to Lancashire rattled through hedges and fields, the scents of late summer in the air. Sitting with tea in her hand, Margaret felt her worries drop away with every mile. In her carriage, another lady of her years Joan was off to the same resort.
My lot know the score, Joan told her over sandwiches. Grandkids are for Sundays and only if Im up to it. They had a strop the first time, but now, well they respect a bit more. Weve got a right to a life.
Exactly what I told myself, Margaret smiled. Took stronger words from me, mind.
Her three weeks by the sea flew by. Spa baths, massages, clifftop strolls, breathing that salty air. Her colour came back, her back un-stooped, her knees less of a bother. She met new friends, even went to an outdoor theatre with a dapper old gent she met over breakfast. Margaret remembered she was more than just a family helpdesk; she was still a woman.
She barely turned her phone on. Louises messages shifted from Youve ruined our holiday were deep in debt! to whiny Jamies got chickenpox, weve got work! to blunt When are you back?
Margaret replied: Get well soon. Ill be home on the 25th.
She was a bit nervous when she returned. What would she find? An ambush? Changed locks (her paperwork was tucked in her bag, just in case)? But the flat smelled of comfort, peace lilies watered, a note from Jean on the table: Louise tried for the keys, said pipes had burst. I checked with the plumber, all fine. Hang in there, Margaret!
She smiled, pleased.
Louise turned up that evening, subdued, suntanned but spent.
Hi, she muttered, walking in. Youre back?
Back. Tea?
Louise slumped into the old stool by the window, silent.
How was your holiday? Margaret asked, pouring boiling water.
Alright. Cost a bomb with the kids. Ended up moving to a much worse place, had to take out another loan. Neils not happy.
Well, at least the boys saw the sea.
Louise fiddled with her mug. Quiet, ashamed.
Mum did you really make a Will to that charity?
I did.
So what now? Did you sign?
Not yet, but I could. Depends on you lot.
Louises eyes filled with tears.
Mum Im sorry. I just snapped that day, you know what Im like. It wasnt about the care home, I didnt mean it just wanted you to back down. Was desperate. Youve always been there, every single time, and I forgot how much you do. Then you said no and it threw me.
Margaret walked round, gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. The anger vanished, only sadness left.
I didnt rebel, Louise I just needed you to remember Im not a machine. I have limits. Ill help where I can, but not at cost to my health and only with notice, not orders. If you want me to look after the boys, you check in first see how I am, what Im doing. If I can help, I will. If not youll manage.
Alright, Mum. I get it.
And youre not having a spare key again. Visit, ring before Ill be more at peace.
Louise nodded, dabbing her eyes.
And this Will, Mum will you undo it?
For now. Nothings changed. The flat will be yours. Just, not till Im gone.
They drank tea, conversation stilted, but no longer a warzone just a cold truce. As she left, Louise managed, Ill drop the boys round on Sunday for pancakes, just for a couple of hours, alright?
Margaret locked the door behind her and, exhaling, looked out at the city lights. She felt like the captain of her very own ship battered, still afloat, her hands steady on the wheel. The following weekend the grandsons tumbled in, sunburnt and happy.
Gran, we saw jellyfish! Toby shouted. And Dad went bright red!
They wolfed down pancakes, chattered about Tenerife. Louise kept quiet, didnt boss, didnt complain. Two hours, then she whisked them away, promising to help with their homework.
When the flat was quiet again Margaret curled up in her favourite chair, flicked on her reading lamp and returned to her book. She felt content. Lonely? Not really. It was a proud, peaceful kind of loneliness: the kind belonging to a woman who finally knows her own worth. She understood something now being loved doesnt mean always being agreeable. And for respect? Sometimes you have to bare your teeth even if all youve got is a doctors letter and the strength to defend your own rights.
By autumn, shed joined the pool and a local Over 60s Club. Life, shed found out, really does begin at sixty-five so long as you dont stand by while others write your story for you.
And thats my tale. Thanks for sticking with me to the end! Let me know in the comments have you ever had to stand your ground with family?
