“No, Emily, dont count on me. You got marriedstick with your husband now, not me. I dont need strangers in my house,” snapped Margaret.
Emily swallowed hard, gripping her phone tighter. A lump rose in her throat. She hadnt expected such a dismissive rejection.
“Mum… Hes not a stranger. Hes my husband, your son-in-law. Were not asking you to buy us a flatjust to let us stay with you while we save up for the deposit.”
A short, irritated laugh crackled down the line.
“Oh, I know how this goes. Let you move in, and youll never leave. First its the deposit, then renovations, then something else. And Ill never have peace. No, Emily, dont take it personally, but your father and I did everything on our own. Youll have to manage somehow.”
“Mum, how exactly are we supposed to manage? You know were both working, scrimping on everything. Most of our money goes on rent. At this rate, with prices rising, well only ever afford a shoebox.”
“Who has it easy these days?” Margarets voice sharpened. “Your father and I never lived with our parents. We went through it all ourselves and never complained.”
“Yourselves, yourselves… Mum, dont even start. I remember everything! How Grandma helped you.”
“Thats different. Grandma helped because she wanted to. We never asked. I earned this flat the hard way with your”
“I didnt ask to be born into nothing,” Emily blurted before slamming the phone down.
Her chest burned with frustration. Maybe her mum had every right to refuse, but the way shed done itlike shed built an empire from scratch, and Emily, the ungrateful brat, was trying to piggyback off her. Except that wasnt how it had happened at all.
…When Margaret found out she was pregnant, she wasnt even married. Edward, Emilys father, was carefree, not ready to settle down. His mother had been the samelong divorced, always chasing happiness. So Margaret turned to Evelyn, Edwards grandmother.
Evelyn had wept with joy when she heard, hugging Margaret tight and promising to help.
“Dont you dare think twice, love. Have that baby. And Ill have a word with Eddie,” she insisted. “Since its come to this, Ill leave you the cottage. Ill move in with my daughter. Its too much for me alone, and Sarah could use the help. Youll have somewhere to raise the little one.”
“Evelyn, you cantthats a whole house!” Margaret had gasped.
“I wont take it with me, will I? I wasnt happy, but you can be,” Evelyn sighed.
She kept her wordand then some. The deed went to Margaret, knowing her grandson wasnt the faithful type. Margaret later sold the cottage for a two-bed flat.
When Emily was born, nothing changed. Edward still gallivanted, and his only contribution to family life was his wageswhen he didnt drink them away.
Margaret knew but endured it. She complained, sometimes even cried, but never threw him out.
“Children need both parents,” shed tell her own mother when divorce was suggested. “Once Emily turns eighteen, Ill leave him.”
Emily, meanwhile, had other ideas. Shed have preferred a single mum and growing up fast to being an emotional sponge for tears, listening to constant rows, and breaking up fights.
Margaret held on until Emilys eighteenth birthday, then filed for divorce. Emily had been relieveduntil.
“Em, its just us girls now. Were both adults, so well split everything fifty-fifty,” Margaret announced. “This month, relax. From next monthhalf the bills, half the groceries.”
Emily, still in uni, was horrified. Her student loan barely covered bread, let alone Margarets full meals with meat, fish, and veg. She suggested separate shelves, but that was hopeless. No part-time job paid enough to cover her half. She had to work full-time.
Six months in, Emily dropped out. She couldve switched to evening classes, but even that required time she didnt have. And what employer wanted a student with one foot out the door?
That decision still haunted her. Every job favoured candidates with degreeseven stacking shelves.
At first, she blamed herself. Then, talking to friends, she realised: shed never been given a fair start.
Margaret took the news of her dropping out calmly.
“Guess it wasnt for you,” was all she said.
After that, they lived like flatmatesno fights, but no warmth either.
Ten years passed. Emily married James. They rented a tiny flat on the outskirts. He was an electricianessential work, but poorly paid. Odd jobs helped, but the money vanished into boots, dentist bills, or just keeping afloat. Saving was possible, but…
“If things stay like this, well be saving for twelve years,” James sighed, staring at his phone.
Thats when Emily asked Margaret. She had a spare room in her two-bed.
But Margaret wasnt keen on welcoming her backespecially with “a stranger.”
Emily didnt know how to feel. She understood life hadnt been kind to her mum. Maybe shed have turned bitter too. But it still hurt. Years of hard work, never asking for anythingthen one small request met with ice: “Sort it out yourselves.”
Fine. If it had to be themselves, theyd manage. Emily had a backupthe cottage shed almost forgotten.
“Youve got your own place, Margaret. Let Emily have hers,” her grandma had once said.
When Grandma passed, Emily was twelve. Margaret took over the cottageplanting potatoes, arguing with neighbours. Emily never mentioned it was technically hers. Pointless, anyway. Everything grown there went to the family.
But if Margaret prized independence so much, why not follow her example?
Two days later, Emily called againin a different tone.
“Mum, Im calling to warn you. Please clear your things from the cottage. Were renting it out.”
A pause. Margaret scoffed.
“Renting it? Whod want it?”
“Thats not your concern. Its just sitting there, costing me taxes.”
“Not my concern? If it werent for me, the place wouldve fallen apart! Ive maintained it, spent money, fixed the roofyouve never lifted a finger!”
“Nobody asked you to. You chose to,” Emily cut in. “Take your things, or Ill rent it as is.”
“Well see about that,” Margaret snapped before hanging up.
Emilys heart raced, but for the first time, shed spoken to her mother as an equalnot a daughter, but an adult with her own rights.
Margarets words proved partly true. Few wanted the cottage.
“Either sell it or move there,” James said one day.
So Emily listed it. It achednot for the bricks, but the memories. Summers, apple scent, Grandmas jams… But life had its demands. And she knew Grandma wouldve approved.
One day, a call came. A woman haggled, asked for a discount, and arranged a viewing.
But at the viewingMargaret. Shed seen the ad on Gumtree and sent a friend to call. Too awkward to do it herself, after that last talk. And Emily wouldnt have answered.
“Well? Family discount?” Margaret smirked, humourless.
No choice. Emily just wanted it over with. Soon, the sale was done. Six months later, she and James sipped tea in their own kitchenno unannounced visits, no inspections.
Then her phone rang. Margaret. Worried something was wrong, Emily answered.
“Hi. I was at the cottage,” Margaret began cautiously. “Lots of apples this year. Made jamtoo much, really. Want me to bring some?”
Emily sighed. After the sale, shed felt… hollow. No anger, no resentment. But no love either. Their relationship was purely transactional now. And business partners didnt deliver jam out of kindness.
“No, Mum. Were fine, thanks.”
“Alright… Suit yourself.”
Emily knew things would never go back. Margaret had stood her ground, Emily hersbut the walls theyd built didnt leave room for bridges.
