This fascinating life story was shared with me by my grandmother, whom I often visit in the countryside. We hadn’t seen each other for a while as I had spent two years working abroad. Upon my return to England, the first thing I did was visit my beloved granny.
I’d been staying in the village for several days when I realized I hadn’t seen Granny’s neighbor from across the street, Mary Smith. I always liked this kind-hearted elderly woman, who was a great worker.
“Granny, where’s your friend Mary Smith? I haven’t seen her all week. Is she alright?” I asked, concerned.
Granny looked at me with surprise. “Oh, you don’t know! Mary’s been living in a retirement home for over a year now. Let me tell you what happened.”
Granny told me the story. Mary had always been industrious. No one in the village had ever seen her idle. Whether she was working in her garden, baking pies (and sharing them with half the village!), or rushing to catch the morning bus with two buckets of cherries, she was always busy. Mary sold fresh vegetables, fruits, and homemade treats at the nearby town market, carefully saving every penny in a biscuit tin.
She didn’t save for herself; she didn’t need much. It was all for her only son, John, his wife Jane, and their daughter, Sally. They lived three hours away in the city and visited regularly—not to help with the garden, but certainly to stock up on country produce. They’d pack the car so full, the wheels would sag.
As time passed, Mary began to age and feel unwell. Her back hurt, her joints ached, and her blood pressure soared. She gradually stopped keeping livestock and cut her garden back to just a few rows, letting the neighbors plant potatoes on the rest. John’s visits became less frequent, and Jane practically stopped coming—it seemed there was nothing more to take from the old country mum.
When Mary’s sight began to deteriorate, she was scared and called her son for help, asking him to take her to city doctors. John took her there; Jane was less than pleased but didn’t show it. They spent the day getting checked and buying medications, and it was too late to return to the village. Jane didn’t hide her irritation when she learned Mary would be staying the night. She clattered dinnerware loudly enough to burst eardrums while preparing dinner.
An elderly neighbor stopped by to say hello and, seeing Mary, was delighted. “Mary! Long time no see! Are you staying long? Let’s have some tea and a chat.”
While Mary went to the neighbor’s, John spoke to his wife in the kitchen. “Jenny, about Mum… she’s not doing well. The check-up showed she’s quite unwell.”
“She’s old, John! What’s your point?” snapped Jane.
“The flat’s got three bedrooms, you know. Sally’s living in London now, not coming back…”
“Wait, are you suggesting Mum moves in here? You’re out of your mind! Our flat’s not a care home,” Jane replied sharply.
“This flat was funded by Mum’s hard work,” John retorted patiently.
“You’re using that against me?” Jane yelled. “She helped her own son and granddaughter.”
“You’re unbelievably cold, Jane,” John sighed. “I thought we could look after Mum. Her house is solid, worth a good price. We could sell it, get a new car, take a holiday in Spain…”
“Let her choke on her house!” Jane shouted. “We’d go on a week’s holiday and then cater to her needs for ten years? You’ve lost it!”
“Stop it, you crazy woman!” John fumed as Mary appeared in the doorway.
“Have you been there long, Mum?” John stammered.
“I just came to fetch my glasses. Kate and I are looking at photo albums. Oh, I forgot to tell you, I’m moving to a retirement home next month. Help me pack, will you?”
John was speechless, but Jane, suddenly eager to help, chimed in, “Of course! We’ll load everything up. It’s great you thought this through, better with peers than alone.”
The retirement home where John and Jane later took Mary was a mixed bag for John. The staff was kind-hearted, but the place was in disrepair. Mary’s room was small and damp. Still, Mary gave no sign of being disheartened.
“It’s alright, Mum,” John said. “We’ll redecorate this place. You’ll love it. We’ll visit soon.”
John remembered his promise six months later when Jane reminded him about selling Mary’s house. Summer was the best time to sell.
The retirement home’s transformation amazed Jane as they visited. “Wow, the lounge looks fantastic. New sofas, chairs, a big-screen TV—how much did it cost?”
“Thanks to your mother,” the director smiled.
“My mum?” John was puzzled. “How’s that?”
“This all came from her funds.”
“Where did she get the money?” Jane laughed, then gasped. “John! Did she sell the house?”
Mary watched her frustrated relatives, calmly responding to their accusations. “Why the fuss? I sold my house, not yours. I wanted to do something nice for good people. Better to make people happy than ‘choke’ on a house, right Jane?”
Jane lowered her eyes and hurried outside, knowing nothing could change now.
