The Further Apart We Are, the Closer I Feel… “You know what, my dear grandson! If I’m such a burden, there’s only one option: I won’t go stay with my daughters anymore, nor wander from friend to friend, and I’m not going to look for a ‘companion’ at my age. Honestly! Trying to marry me off in my sixties! “Gran, it’s what I keep telling you! Mum says it too — move into a retirement home. Just transfer the house to my name, they’ll give you a room, Mum will sort it out. You’ll have neighbours your age, someone to talk to, and you won’t be in my way.” “I’m not leaving my home, Sasha. If I bother you, there’s the door in every direction. You’re young and clever, go find a flat and live as you please. Didn’t want to study? Go get a job. Bring a new girlfriend over every day if you want. I’m nearly 65; I need my peace and quiet. “I’ve drifted about long enough — it’s time to come home. It’s not right, being forced out of my own house, while you and your parade of fiancées live off my pension. My pension isn’t endless, you know. You have one week. Find a flat or go stay with your friends, or that, what’s-her-name — forgot again — but I want you out by tonight. Imagine it! Trying to send me to a home, or set me up with a suitor at my age! “The grandson tried to argue, but Lydia turned away, went to her room, and shut the door, head pounding. She’d have taken a pill, but didn’t want to cross paths with her grandson in the kitchen, so she sipped the last of the mineral water from her bedside bottle instead. *** Lydia surprised herself with her resolve. Years of frustration had finally boiled over. She’d put up with it for two years — bouncing from one daughter’s house to the other, always shooed home after a hint that her stay had ‘dragged on.’ “Now her twenty-year-old grandson is playing master in her cottage. One week it’s this girlfriend, next week another, and Gran gets in the way, wheezing on the other side of the wall, ruining the romance. “Gran, go visit someone. Then Dasha, Masha, Chloe, Sarah — whomever I’m dating this week — and I could have the place to ourselves.” And so Lydia would traipse to her cousin’s, or her mate’s, or an old colleague’s — overstaying each welcome until, inevitably, she wore out her hosts. *** When there was nowhere left to go, her eldest daughter had a new baby. Life in London, a mortgage, an older child at school — she needed Gran’s help as much as ever. Lydia moved in, and at first, everyone was delighted: hot meals, a spotless flat, looked-after grandchildren. But within a few months, the son-in-law — just ten years younger than Lydia — began to complain: “Lydia, don’t buy those sausages — they’re dreadful for us. You’re home all day, is it really that hard to make proper food? Cutlets, maybe, or roast chicken…” “Cutlets are good, but you’re spending a fortune on groceries!” “Do I look like some grass-munching herbivore? There’s barely any meat!” On and on, always something not quite right. “You’re at home with the kids, surely you could help the older one with her homework — why pay tutors with a grandmother here?” Even her older granddaughter — only in Fourth Year, mind you — was mortified by Gran’s unfashionable clothes and her insistence on studying. “Gran, why are you even here? You’ve got your own cottage in the country, go back there and be bossy!” Lydia stayed silent, making up for her “shameful” granny ways by giving pocket money, buying meat out of her tiny pension, sometimes topping up her grandson Sasha’s energy bills. Telling her daughter was useless — the girl wouldn’t hear a word against her precious husband, never mind she’d poached him from another family. Whenever the little one was in nursery, they’d gently drop hints — Lydia’s help was no longer needed. The moment she realised it, Lydia left without waiting to be pushed. Coming home, she found Sasha, her eldest daughter’s son, installed — and not alone, but with his girlfriend, her little house a mess, bills unpaid. She had no choice but to cover the costs with a loan and tidy up. But apparently, her presence ruined her grandson’s “personal life” in the two-bedroom cottage. Almost before she could settle, her younger daughter called for help with the new baby, and off Lydia went again. Three months later, sensing she was a nuisance once more, she returned home — but Sasha was still dissatisfied. So she might have endured it all again, had one incident not tipped her over the edge. *** “Sasha, I’m off to Shirley’s for her birthday — I’ll be late, just lock up, I’ll sneak in the back so I don’t disturb you.” “Why not stay overnight? Give us a couple days to ourselves, yeah?” “I’m only just home a week — how could you be fed up with me already?” “Well, a week is long enough. Staying over or not?” “No. I’m coming home.” At Shirley’s, they celebrated — memories, laughter, trying not to mention the problems. Then Shirley got a call — Lydia’s daughter, asking Shirley to keep her mum overnight so the young couple could have the house to themselves. “She even rang last week,” Shirley whispered after the call, “asking me if I knew any older fellas with a spare flat for you to move in with. All so Sasha could have the cottage.” *** Lydia poured her heart out — about living with her eldest daughter and then the youngest, about feeling like an intruder in her own home thanks to her good-for-nothing grandson. “I’m not even mistress in my own house anymore. Sasha left for town after school, but his step-granddad made him feel unwelcome, so he came back, no college, not drafted. Now he’s my permanent houseguest.” Lydia refused to stay that night, went home, and finally told Sasha everything she’d kept bottled up. Sasha complained to his mother, but Lydia stood her ground. Sasha moved out in a huff — “Don’t expect help from me, Gran!” he snapped. Lydia was glad to be alone. For once, she could breathe, after a life spent catering to everyone else. Her daughters begged her to move back in for help with the grandchildren. But Lydia refused. “Bring them to me,” she said. “The air’s healthier here. At last, I’m mistress of my own home.” Now, whenever her daughters and grandchildren visit, she welcomes them gladly — but no more moving or putting her life on hold. Lydia says, the further apart we are, the closer we become. And I think she’s right.

The further away, the closer to heart

You know what, my dear grandson! If Im truly such a burden to you, then theres only one solution. I wont move in with the girls again, nor will I traipse from one friends house to another. And as for finding myself a new companion at my agewell, thats out of the question! Imagine, thinking I should marry again at my time of life!

Gran, thats exactly what Mum and I have been saying for ages! Move into the retirement home. Easy: just sign the house over to me and theyll give you a little bedsitMum can sort it. There’ll be neighbours for company, you wont have to wander about, and Ill have a bit of peace and quiet here. Couldnt be simpler.

Im not leaving my home, Jack. If I truly am in your way, then theres the doorseven ways out. Youre young, clever enough. Go find yourself a flat and live as you wish! If you dont want to study, get a job. Bring home a new girlfriend every night if it pleases you. Im nearly sixty-five, JackI need peace and quiet, not chaos. Ive spent years wandering from pillar to post; its time I was home. Its just not right, lad, you living off my pension with your lady-friends under my own roof!

Its not an elastic pension, you know! So Im giving you a week. If you dont find somewhere, go stay with your mates! Or with whats-her-namecan never rememberjust dont have her under my roof by tonight. Its nonsense, reallyone minute you want me remarried, the next, tucked away in an old folks home!

Jack spluttered and tried to protest, but Lydia Parker wasnt listening anymore. She retreated to her tiny room, closed the door and pressed her aching head in her hands. She ought to fetch some paracetamol, but she dreaded running into her grandson in the kitchen. Scanning her little room, she spotted half a bottle of sparkling waterwell, that would do for now.

***

Lydia surprised herself with her own resolve. Frustrations had built up, and shed finally let it all out. For two long years shed bitten her tongue, dashing to whichever daughter called, then heading straight home again at the first hint that her visit was a bit much.

Now, her twenty-year-old grandson was running the show in her cosy cottage, parading a succession of girlfriends as each became the love of his life, while poor Gran coughed and sighed behind thin walls, interrupting their romance.

Gran, why dont you visit someone for a change? Then Daisyno, Hannahno, Chloe (honestly, it changes weekly)and I could have some time alone.

So off Lydia would go, to her cousins, or her old friends, or a colleagues, always staying late to avoid being underfoot. At first, these visits were a treat for all, but after a while, when they became routine, Lydia could see her welcome had worn thin.

***

When her eldest daughter gave birth, Lydia thought shed finally be useful again. Life in a London suburb, a mortgage, an older child at schoolher daughter wasnt about to spend long on maternity leave, and a live-in grandma for a while would be more than handy.

At first, everyone was delightedhot dinners, sparkling rooms, well-kept grandchildren. But after a few months, Lydias son-in-law, only ten years her junior, started grumbling.

Lydia, dont buy those cheap sausages again, will you? Well be poisoning ourselves! If youre home all day, cant you manage a proper mealroast chops, perhaps?

And, Lydia, good those chops might be, but youre spending a fortune at the shops! You need to budget more carefully.

Or, Lydia, what do you take me for, a cow? I cant live on saladeconomising is great, but theres such a thing as too little meat!

And on it went. Since she was home with the children, could she not help the older granddaughter with schoolwork, instead of hiring tutors? Those phone calls she madewere they strictly necessary?

Even her eldest granddaughter was a handfula proud little madam for a Year 4! Thought Grans old-fashioned jumpers were embarrassing, nagged about homework, and would hiss, Gran, whyve you come at all? Youve got your own house in Somerset; go home and boss people there!

Lydia endured it all, trying to please, quietly spending her meagre pension on joints for the family, slipping pocket money to the humiliated granddaughter, even sending odd bits to Jack to help cover the bills at home.

No point complaining to her daughter; she was too busy keeping her husband happy to stand up for her mum. On the rare occasion the husband was out, shed quietly say, Just stick it out for my sake, Mum, please.

But once the youngest granddaughter started nursery, her usefulness promptly expired. Thank you, Lydia, but we dont need you nowyou can go, said her son-in-law.

Lydia near skipped home, imagining the peace and autonomy ahead. But noJack (of all peoplethe very grandson shed just left in London) had moved back in, with his current girlfriend, and the house was a tip. Bills overdue, threatening cut-offs one after another.

With no choice, Lydia took out a loan, paid off the debts, and cleaned the house from top to bottom. When things finally quieted down, Jack was moaning about lack of privacy in the two-up, two-down: No way to have a personal life when Grans next door coughing!

And just when she fancied a rest, her youngest daughter asked her to come help with her new baby. Lydia went, stayed three months, then realised she was wearing out her welcome again and returned home before anyone could ask her to. Jack, of course, was still annoyed.

She might have put up with it all for longer if it werent for an incident not long after her last return home.

Shed tackled the cleaning again, relieved for once to find the house in order, the bills paid. But already, Gran was in the way once more.

***

Jack, Im off to my friend Pams for a birthday bashdont wait up, Ill use the back door.

Oh, couldnt you stay the night there? You keep us up tramping through the house at all hours. Stay at Pams for a couple days, give us a break from you!

Oh, whats tiring you out so? Ive only been home a week.

Well, a weeks an eternity! Not staying over?

No, Im coming home.

The party got lively: they started at a café, then just a handful of close friends headed back to the birthday girls place, swapping stories about the old days, carefully avoiding any mention of troubles. Lydia was just about to leave when Pams phone rang. She stepped outside to take the call, then returned with a tense look.

That was your daughter, Annie. Alls fine, but she asked if youd stay the night here.

Why? I told Jack Id be home!

Well, Jack got in touch with his mum, said he wanted the place to themselves for once, that you were getting in the way. So Annie rang me, said to keep you here for the night. Honestly, why not stay a bit, tell me whats really going on?

Oh, nothing to tell. Everythings fine.

You know, Lydia, when things are ‘fine,’ people dont ring round asking for favours like that. Only last week Annie asked if I knew any eligible older gents with a spare flatjoking you should marry one and move in, since you wont go into a home. She said Jacks ready to get married himself and youre breathing down his neck, so its time you found somewhere else.

Lydia poured her heart outabout staying with the eldest, falling short every time; feeling like an obstacle with the youngest; and Jack, the layabout grandson squatting in her own home. For two years, shed had her own house, yet always felt surplusnever the master in her own home.

Jack moved off to the city when he finished school, lived with Annie and her husband, but soon enough it was clear he wasnt wanted there. So back he came, no job and no army, living off me ever since. When he was a boy, Annie helped out, but when he turned eighteen, that stopped. Now hes a millstone round my neck.

Lydia didnt stay the night after all; she went home. That evening, she finally told Jack everything shed held back.

Jack ran straight to his mother, complaining that his gran had lost the plot, trying to boot him out. Annie phoned, tried to have a word, but Lydia repeated exactly what shed told Jack.

Jack finally moved out, declaring Lydia shouldnt expect his help and he wouldnt set foot in her house again.

But Lydia was relievedher solitude was a blessing at last. For the first time, she could breathe. Shed always put everyone before herself: as a single mum, then a widow, always shouldering every burden. She meant well, but in the end, perhaps just raised a family of takers.

Theres no justice in a person being thrown out of their own home in old age. What sort of life is it, being unwelcome in your own house?

Jack eventually came back to make his apologies. Lydia long since forgave himbut didnt ask him to move in again. Come by any time, Jack, but I need my peace. Youve got your life ahead, plenty of girls to keep you busy. I want my quiet.

The daughters call, asking her help with the grandchildren, but she no longer rushes off. Bring them here, she says, Ill be glad to have them. The airs clean in the countryside, and, in my home, Im in charge. No one else calling the shots.

As Lydia puts it, The further away they are, the dearer they feel. And I reckon shes right.