My children are all settled, Ive got a bit put aside, Im on track to get my pension.
A few months back, the neighbours held a funeral for my mate next door, George. Wed known each other for well over a decade, always living side by side. We didnt just exchange polite nods and neighbourly grins; we were family friends. Our kids grew up practically under our noses. George and Margaret had five of them, bless! The parents managed to get all five set up in their very own housesworked themselves to the bone to do it. George especiallyhe was a legend in town, a car mechanic everyone swore by. His appointment book was always packed; youd have better luck getting a table at The Ivy. The owner of the fancy garage almost worshipped him, desperate for someone who could diagnose a dodgy engine just by listening to its cough. A true wizard with a spanner.
Not long before he passed away, after their youngest daughters wedding, George took to buzzing about on his old pushbike and slowing downthe sort of meandering shuffle that only comes with age. Not that he was ancient! Hed only celebrated 59 springs that year and shouldve had miles left on the clock. Hed taken time off work, never mind his boss was practically on his knees, begging George not to take more than ten days off for fear of losing customers. But George stood his ground. The day before he was meant to return, he popped in for a word with the big cheese and said, Let me go quietly Ill help out if youre absolutely desperate, but I need this.
For some reason, he didnt tell Margaret a thing. Next morning, when he shouldve been raring to head off to the garage, he just rolled over and drifted back to sleep. Margaret bustled in from the kitchen (halfway through frying bacon, of course), hands on hips, and said:
Youre still in bed? Who did I make breakfast for then? Itll go cold!
Ill eat it cold. Im not going in today
What dyou mean, not going in? Theyre waiting for you, depending on you!
Im not. I handed in my notice yesterday
Stop winding me up! Get up already!
Margaret yanked the duvet, giggling, but George simply curled up tighter and shielded his eyes like a grumpy old badger.
Im tired, Margaret. Used up my miles like an old engine nearing its last overhaul. Kids are sorted, Ive stashed away a few quid, and Ill try for my pension soon.
What pension? The kids are up to their earsjobs, renovations, new kitchens, sofas, Sarah wants a car! Whos going to pitch in now?
Well, let them work it out themselves. You and I have done enough and never held it against them
Margaret turned up on my doorstep in a right old state, pouring out the whole breakfast drama and asking what to do. I gave her my two pence about all the changes in George:
He sounds properly knackered, Margaretif hes telling you so himself, dont push him. Let him rest. Hes not Tony Hawk under those cars anymore! Last dusk I hardly recognised himshuffling like an old man, hunched and slow. And even he said, Im tired
But Margaret wasnt having any of it.
Oh, its just a sulkhes playing up! Ill get the kids over. Theyll remind him theres work to be done!
Margaret, dont you start. How olds the eldest now, 45? Soon enough hell be a granddad, and you still want to mother him. Let the children look out for you; old age is knocking.
She huffed off after that.
A week later, George and Margaret hosted a full houseevery kid around the big table, plenty of chatter, but under it all, tension you could twang like a violin string. It was obvious they werent just there for Sunday roast.
Margaret kicked off the family council:
Your dads going to retire. So, what do you all reckon? Shall we have a natter? No more bailing you out; you’ll have to tighten your own belts from now on.
George jumped in:
Why the long faces? Look at you lotfive, all working! Cant feed the two of us? We raised five! And not just kept you alivegot you standing on your own two feet. None of you are skint. Im not having a dig, Im just reminiscing. Parents are meant to help, but now, maybe we deserve a bit back. Its hard for me nowI worry Ill fall off the lift in the garage one of these days
After a moody silence, the kids piped up. Oldest first: Henry. No Are you feeling all right, Dad?just a long list of his own headaches. End result:
Im sorry, but we just havent got the spare cash to help you out, maybe later
The rest were much the sameone needed a house, another wanted a car, all banking on Mum and Dad to splurge yet again. No one seemed interested in how the folks scraped those savings together.
Eventually, George stood up looking glum.
Well then, if you all reckon I should keep working, Ill carry on til the wheels come off
Next day, Margaret popped round again, launching straight back in:
So you see! The kids came, nattered to their fathernow theyve all returned to work! As if just to spite me: Tired, tired! Im tired toowhat now, eh?
George was back at the petrol station for three days. Then, one afternoon, an ambulance carted him off. They couldnt do much for his tired heart, and soon, all the kids were gathered in grim suits for their dads send-off. Of course, we were there toolistening to the stories, hearing them remember him, talk about how brilliant hed been for them and the grandchildren. I wanted to ask, If he was so wonderful, why didnt you pitch in when he asked?
Its a sad one, really, for our neighbour Margaret. She lives alone now, pinching every penny, while the kids wrestle with their endless unsolved problemsIn the weeks that followed, Margaret learned to fill the quiet. There was a new hush to the housea gentler rhythm, as if the walls themselves exhaled. Sometimes, shed sit on the back step with a cup of tea, staring at Georges ageing pushbike propped by the shed, half expecting him to wander up and tease her for burning the toast.
One morning, she found a note tucked between two gardening books, scrawled in her husbands familiar hand. Margaretrest awhile. Let yourself be spoiled for once. She held it to her chest, tears and laughter tangled, and for the first time didnt rush off to do a dozen chores. She let the sunlight warm her face. In time, the children stopped bynow not just to ask for favours, but to listen, bringing cake and stories and grandkids for messy afternoons.
Slowly but surely, they learned what George had tried to teach them: that the strongest hands, which lift and fix and hold, must also be cherished. Margaret planted a rose bush out frontGeorges favourite, bright and stubborn. And whenever the petals caught the wind, scattering across the garden, she felt him there: a promise kept, miles run, offering rest and a gentle reminder that, even after engines stop, love keeps on humming.
