The Ruinous Gift
“Sylvia! Sylvia, where are you?” Colin’s voice strained from the parlour. “Come quick! Big news!”
“Coming!” answered Sylvia Edwards, drying damp hands on her apron. “What is it? Is the house on fire?”
“No! Better! Much better!” Her husband sprang up as she entered, grabbing her elbows. “Listen! Remember my old manager, Mr. Peterson? Retired last year?”
“Of course. Why?”
“He phoned! Selling his three-bedroom flat right in town! Offering it to us practically for a song! Says he’ll give it half-price because I helped him sort that business with his nephew!”
Sylvia sank into the armchair. Thoughts whirled like snowflakes in a blizzard. “Colin, what flat? We haven’t such money!”
“Exactly!” Colin perched on the armrest, speaking fast. “Peterson says installments! Small payments! He’s moving to his daughter’s country place, doesn’t need the city flat. Sylvia, think! We’ve squeezed into this tiny two-bed our whole lives! This is our chance!”
“Colin, wait…” Sylvia rubbed her temples. “Why a three-bed? The children are grown, living their lives. This place suits us fine.”
“Suits?!” Colin jumped up, pacing. “Sylvia, you’re bright! Grandchildren visiting? Where will they stay? When we’re old, our children might move back to look after us! Or a carer – she’d need a room!”
Thirty years married, and he remained the dreamer. Always chasing a grand happiness just out of reach. “How much?” she asked cautiously.
“First payment little, three thousand quid. Then fifty pounds every month.”
“Three thousand?!” Sylvia nearly leapt. “Colin, are you mad? Where would we find such money?!”
“Right then,” Colin took her hands. “Mum’s ring? The one with the diamond? Bank valued it around four thousand. We’ll sell! Money sorted!”
Sylvia snatched her hands away. “The ring?! Colin Edwards, have you lost your mind?! That’s your mother’s memory! She gave it you on her deathbed!”
“So?” Colin shrugged. “Mum wanted us happy. We’ll be happy! In that big town-centre flat!”
“And if we can’t pay? If something happens? Illness? Loss of work?”
“Nothing will happen! This is a chance, Syl! Once in a lifetime!”
Sylvia stood, walked to the window. Rain streaked the glass like her muddled thoughts. “Have you spoken to the children? What will they say?”
“They’ll be chuffed! Imagine Audrey’s shock! Sebastian will be dead proud – parents living in town!”
Audrey, the elder, was a schoolteacher, always run ragged. Sebastian, younger, moved to Manchester after his freshers year, barely called. Would they truly rejoice over their parents’ flat? Sylvia doubted.
“Listen,” she said, not turning, “perhaps we shouldn’t rush? Think more… discuss…”
“Discuss whom?!” Colin threw up his hands. “Peterson flies to his daughter tomorrow! Decide today or someone else snaps it up!”
“Why us?” Sylvia asked suddenly. “Can’t he have other mates?”
“Well… says we’re reliable. Trustworthy.”
Something in his voice made Sylvia turn. Colin avoided her gaze, fidgeting with the tablecloth. “Are you telling the whole truth?”
“Course! What might I hide?”
“Dunno. Feels like you’re holding something back.”
Colin sighed heavily. “Alright. Small snag. The flat… needs a bit of work. Serious work.”
“How serious?”
“Plumbing rewiring, perhaps floors. Wallpaper naturally…”
“Colin!” Sylvia dropped back into the chair. “That costs money! Large money!”
“Then we’ll live like kings!” he insisted fervently. “Sylvia, I’ve dreamt of such a place! Town centre, high ceilings, cornicing! Like the old films! This is our shot!”
She saw the same sparkle in his eyes from thirty years ago, courting her with grand plans. She’d believed him then. Married, raised children, scrimped, saved. Yet he always yearned for more.
“Alright,” she conceded. “One condition. We see this flat first. Properly assess the fixing costs. Talk to the children. Then we decide.”
“Absolutely!” Colin beamed. “Booked with Peterson for tomorrow morning!”
Sylvia lay awake that night, thoughts churning. Husband was right – spacious town-centre flat, proper swanky. Worthy gamble? But their little two-bed was snug, familiar. Where the children grew, memories everywhere…
Morning found them viewing the flat. The building was handsome, old, with sweeping stairs and tall windows. But when Peterson opened the door, Sylvia gasped.
“Was there a flood?” she asked, eyeing the water stains.
“Neighbours upstairs sometimes leak,” Peterson smiled apologetically. “No bother, dries out.”
Sylvia toured the rooms. Wallpaper hung in shreds, floors groaned, the kitchen tap was seized. A lovely park view from the cracked window pane.
“Colin,” she whispered, “it’s a complete tip.”
“Opportunity!” he breathed in her ear. “Imagine what we’ll make of it!”
Peterson pressed. Other buyers interested, decide quick. Colin paced nervously, measuring rooms with his stride.
“We’ll take it!” he announced suddenly. “Sylvia, we’ll have it!”
“Colin, wait—”
“No! Decided! Peterson, draw the papers!”
That evening, Colin drank tea on their kitchen, brimming with plans. Sylvia remained silent.
“Picture it,” he said, “big bedroom in the main room. Middle one a lounge with a fireplace. Smallest one my study. Computer, bookshelves…”
“Fixing costs?” Sylvia asked.
“Bit by bit. Room after room. Sort our living space first, prettiness later.”
“What if money runs out for payments?”
“Won’t!” Colin waved dismissively. “I’ll find extra work. Weekend building jobs, perhaps.”
Next day Colin sold the ring. Sylvia stayed home, cleaning, cooking lunch. But her mind circled the flat. Something nagged.
She rang Audrey.
“Mum, what flat?” Audrey sounded puzzled. “You’re grand where you are!”
“Dad decided. Says it’s better.”
“And the money? Your pensions are tight.”
“He’s sold Gran’s ring.”
“What?!” Audrey nearly shrieked. “Mum, have you lost it? That’s an heirloom! Dad always promised it to me!”
“Audrey, love, I argued. He won’t listen.”
“Stop him! It’s pure madness! Spending that much, not knowing what’s coming!”
After the call, Sylvia felt utterly lost. Audrey was right. But how stop Colin when set?
He returned triumphant. “Sold! Got four thousand two hundred! More than hoped!”
“Colin, think again?” Sylvia ventured. “Audrey called, she’s against…”
“What does Audrey know? Youth, no bother! She’ll thank us once she sees the new place!”
Papers were signed swiftly. Peterson took the money, departed same day. Colin and Sylvia held keys to somewhere hardly fit to live in.
Troubles began instantly. Hot water shut off not fortnightly, like elsewhere, but four weeks solid. Heating barely functioned through ancient
Yet in the dim kitchen, as Nicholas wrestled with the unresponsive stove and Gail stared at the cold chrome, the spectral echo of their old, bustling Friday nights—crisps rustling, kettle whistling, laughter bouncing off cramped walls—drifted through the sterile air like a whispered reproach from a life irretrievably misplaced.
