**Why Should I Give You My Flat?**
It was Eleanor Whitmores jubilee, and she had been bustling about the kitchen since dawn, determined to make everything perfect. Such a crowd to feed, and so much to prepare! She had planned the menu weeks in advance, scoured farmers’ markets for fresh vegetables, artisanal cheese, and the finest cuts of meatnothing from the supermarket would do. She wanted the whole family gathered around her table, her children and granddaughter savoring every bite. And of course, she would bake the cake herselfalways her signature honey cake, just like the ones shed made for her daughter Lucy and her son Nicholas on their birthdays.
Eleanor sighed, remembering the past, when they had all lived together under this roof. Her husband, Professor Edward Whitmore, brilliant in his field of physics; Lucy and little Nicky, barely a year apart; and herself, a music teacher. Edwards contributions to scienceand his connectionshad earned them this grand four-bedroom flat in London, which Eleanor had furnished with exquisite taste. She had hunted down a crystal chandelier for the drawing room, a mahogany cabinet, a fine Dresden dinner service, and impeccable linen tablecloths with matching napkins. The silverware was vintage, passed down through generations. She took pride in serving soup from a proper tureen, not some dull pot. Friends often remarked that her home resembled a museumor perhaps a salon from the Victorian era. Eleanor adored the comparison. She was a gracious hostess, playing the piano for guests, presiding over dinners with effortless elegance. This was her kingdom. And oh, how she spoiled her family with her cooking.
“Mummy,” little Nicky had once asked, “will my wife cook as well as you?”
“I hope so, darling. But women like me are rare,” shed replied with a smile.
“Then Ill just live with you forever!”
“Oh no, my boy. Children must grow up and leave the nest in time. No one should cling to their parents forever. You must make your own life,” she often said. She had always preferred being a Sunday grandmother, not one of those matriarchs who insisted on living elbow-to-elbow with their children and grandchildren.
Then, suddenly, happiness ended. Edward passed away one morning, before the ambulance could even arrive. His heart. Hed complained of it for years, taken his pills dutifully, seen the best doctorsbut death comes when it pleases. Worse yet, it comes without warning.
Eleanor grieved, then carried on as best she could. The children left the nest, just as shed always said they should. Lucy graduated with a degree in economics, married a man named Steven, and moved into a cramped rented flat in a rough part of townall they could afford. Their daughter, Emily, was born in the local hospital. Nicholas, meanwhile, started seeing a girl named Alexandra, rented a room in a dismal shared house, and moved out.
Once, when Lucy and Steven were newlyweds, shed tentatively asked:
“Mum could we stay with you for a bit? Just until Steven finds a proper job?”
“No, darling. Youve marriednow build your own life. Do you think your father and I had help? No. We lived in dreadful lodgings, endured shared bathrooms, boilers that never worked. But we managed. And look where we ended up. You must do the same.”
She told Nicholas the same: “Youre a man now. Earn your keep. If youve taken responsibility for a woman, fulfill it.” The children resented her stance, but they didnt argue. Who would force their way into a home where they werent wanted?
Still, Eleanor believed in the old adage: absence makes the heart grow fonder. She called them regularly, sent gifts on holidays, invited them for tea and cakes, even arranged concert tickets where she accompanied her pupils on pianoall to recreate that elusive family idyll.
And today, she had prepared a feast for her jubilee. The table was set flawlessly, the air thick with spices. She had styled her hair, applied just enough makeup, slipped into a shimmering evening dress and diamond earringsEdwards last gift.
The family arrivedNicholas and Alexandra first, bearing a bouquet of roses and a delicate porcelain coffee set.
“Goodness, how lovely! Such fine craftsmanship. Thank you, darlings,” Eleanor exclaimed, embracing them. “You always know how to delight me.”
“We tried to find something youd adore,” Nicholas said.
“Alexandra, that dress is exquisite. Flowing, graceful. And your cheeksso rosy! You look like a doll.”
“Yes, Mum, we actually wanted to tell you” Nicholas began.
“Later, later! Lucy and Steven are on their way. Their wretched old car broke down againtheyre taking three buses, but theyll be here.”
Half an hour later, Lucy arrived with Steven and Emily. They brought tulips and a small velvet boxinside, a golden pendant with gemstones.
“How they sparkle! Thank you, my dears. Not diamonds, I see, but lovely all the same. I wont wear them with these earrings, but theyll go nicely with my ring.”
“We couldnt afford diamonds, Mum,” Lucy replied wearily. “That old car eats our money, the rents gone up again, Emilys ballet lessons One paycheck in, and its already spoken for.”
“Lucy, dear, must you spoil the evening with such dreary talk? Everyone has troublesthey pass. Grind away, and the flour will come,” Eleanor smiled. “Now, everyoneto the table!”
They feasted on her perfect dishes, praised her endlessly, made dull conversation about work and weather.
“How wonderful, my darlings If only your father were here. He always brought me the grandest bouquets, the finest jewels. And Id cook his favorites. Such happy times Gone too soon. But we mustnt dwell. After dinner, Ill play, and well all sing.”
“Mum, theres something else,” Nicholas raised his glass. “Another gifta surprise, really. Even to us.”
“Oh? How intriguing,” Eleanor lifted her own glass, eyes bright. She had rather hoped for diamonds on such an occasionsomething to flaunt at school.
“Mum youre going to be a grandmother again. Alexandra and I are expecting.”
“Oh! Oh my!” she gasped after a pause. “Now that is a surprise! How wonderful! Come here, let me hug you!”
Lucy embraced her brother. Steven congratulated Alexandra. Little Emily simply grinned, swept up in the excitement.
“Now, nowsuch a ruckus!” Eleanor chided gently. She was pleased, yes, but irked that the spotlight had shifted. “Whod like seconds?”
“Mum, what do you think of this place?” Nicholas slid a brochure across the tablea new cottage development in the countryside.
“Charming,” she flipped through it. “Are you buying?”
“No, Mum. This this is for you.”
“For me? A gift?”
“No. You see, weve lived in that dreadful shared house for years. The communal shower, the kitchen Youve seen it.”
“Ghastly. But whats that to do with me?”
“Weve endured it. But with a baby coming we cant raise a child like that. Its unthinkable.”
“Then buy your own flat. Rent somewhere better.”
“Mum, I work myself to the bone. Alexandra does too. Its not enough. So were askingcould you sell this flat? Help us buy our own place.”
Lucy and Steven stared at Nicholas. Eleanor frowned.
“Darling, I dont understand. Why should I give you my flat? This is my homemine and your fathers. And now you want me to hand it over and move to some godforsaken cottage? The audacity!”
“Mum, you live alone in four rooms. A bedroom, drawing room, guest room, studyeven a balcony! And were in that hovel. Dont you feel guilty? Youre being selfish!”
“Selfish? After all Ive done? Concerts, giftsIve given what I can! And now you count my rooms? How dare you!”
“Yes, I count themwhen Im listening to drunken neighbors scream! When I queue for that filthy shower! Parents should help their childrenespecially now!”
“Times are always hard! But your entitlement astounds me. A baby is your choice. Take responsibility! Lucy, why are you silent?”
“Quite the scheme, brother. Sell the flat and pocket the money?”
“Yes! The nerve!”
Eleanor looked to her daughter for support, but Lucy surprised her.
“And what about us? How long must we scrape by? Emilys eight. Weve rented for years. Couldve taken a mortgageif we had the deposit! But you never offered us a penny!”
“I didnt let you stay after the wedding because children must stand on their own feet. Visityes. But dont wait for handouts.”
“And whos waiting?” Nicholas snapped. “We work! But lifes passing, and we deserve to live decently.
