In my twilight years, my children suddenly remembered they had a mother, but I will never forget how they treated me.
When my husband left me for a younger woman, my children sided with himafter all, he was a man of great standing, a respected managing director at a prominent London company. For years, they barely gave me a thought, and I found myself utterly alone. Not long ago, my former husband passed away, and only then did it come to light that he had left all his possessions to his young new wife.
And thats when my children remembered I existed. These days, they visit rather often, but I know the reason why Only recently, my daughter began dropping hintssuggesting that surely it was time to think about the future, about my will. None of them have the faintest idea what little surprise Ive planned for them all. Theyll find out soon enough, after Im gone.
As the years slipped by, I felt like a shadow clinging to the edge of the world. My children always looked at me like a stranger, speaking as though our words came from different tongues.
After my divorce, it was as if the final thread between us snapped. Naturally, they chose his sidehe was influential, so commanding in his three-piece suit, shaking hands at the club, never missing a step. And, if truth be told, it was simply easier for themmore advantageous, even. And me? I was left behind: an abandoned wife, a forsaken mother.
The children quickly shut me out altogether; I only caught snippets of their laughter and stories from mutual friendsholidays abroad with their father and his young bride, long dinners at West End restaurants, laying out plans for their glittering futures.
Meanwhile, I lingered in my silent flat in Winchester. Each new tale of their merriment pricked me like tiny shards of glass.
One morning, drenched in the grey London drizzle, I told myself: its time to live for me. So I left for work abroadFrance, Italy, even a spell in Spain. For the first time in decades, I breathed freely, marvelling at my own independence.
In time, I returned, nestling back into my little English home with enough saved up to change my life. I redecorated: fresh paint, new carpets, a proper armchair for my reading. I bought new appliances and set aside some moneypounds sterling, safely counted awayfor my old age.
By then, my children had started their own families. I heard, through the grapevine, that all was well: grand weddings, lively grandchildren, christenings and Christmases. Then, suddenly, a twistmy ex-husband died, struck down by a heart attack. It turned out hed left his entire estate to his young wife.
My son and daughter were left without so much as a penny. Their disappointment curdled quickly into fond nostalgia for me.
At first, they paid cordial visits, bearing little giftsboxes of biscuits, a selection of apples, sometimes flowers. They asked about my health, my routines, my summer plans. I welcomed them cheerfully but understood perfectly well that they had their eyes on something.
I am now 72fit, sharp, and content. Not long ago, my daughter again hinted that perhaps it was time to discuss my will. Just a fortnight later, my granddaughtermarried barely a yearpopped in for tea.
Grandma, dont you get lonely here by yourself? she asked, her eyes wide with innocent curiosity.
No, darling, Im rather cosy here, I replied.
But the flat is so big, she pressed on. It must be hard to keep up with the cleaning! Wouldnt it be easier if my husband and I moved in? More cheerful for you, and we wouldnt have to pay rent anymore.
I smiled. Their designs were laid bare.
Who said you wouldnt have to pay? I said smoothly. I can offer you a fair discount, mind.
She faltered, quite unpreparedI could see shed imagined Id spread my arms and say: All of this is yours! Id be delighted. But I had made other plans, you see.
Several years ago, I quietly made out my will, stating clearly that, upon my passing, my flat should be sold and the proceeds donated to a charity for ill children.
When my daughter found out, she was lividringing me relentlessly, shouting accusations of injustice, that I was robbing her children of their future. My son, who came round after, tried gently to persuade meoffering, in his own roundabout way, to look after me in my old age. But their sudden affection did nothing to move me.
And tell meif you were in my shoes, would you let your granddaughter come live in your flat?
