**Diary Entry**
*Thursday, 15th June*
*”This is all mine, and you dont belong here,” my daughter declared, demanding I clear out the room.*
*”Mum, you forgot to turn the gas offagain!” shouted Emily, bursting into the kitchen and twisting the stove knob sharply. “How many times do I have to tell you? Youll burn the house down!”*
*Margaret Winthrop flinched, tearing her gaze away from the window where shed been watching sparrows on the ledge.*
*”Dont shout at me, Emily. I just got distracted The water was boiling for tea.”*
*”Distracted!” Emily scoffed. “At your age, distraction is dangerous. The neighbours have already complained about the smell of gas in the hall.”*
*She wasnt wrong. Margaret *had* become forgetful, especially since burying her husband a year ago. It was as if, along with George, her ability to keep track of lifes little details had vanished. She remembered the big things perfectlyEmilys birth, Georges proposal, her daughters first steps. But yesterday? Last week? A fog settled over those memories.*
*”Ill make the tea,” Margaret said, trying to smooth things over. “Fancy a scone? Baked them this morning, just how you like.”*
*Emily sat at the table, drumming her fingers impatiently on the checked tablecloth.*
*”Mum, we need to talk. Seriously.”*
*Something in her tone made Margaret stiffen. Slowly, she set out teacups and sliced the scones.*
*”Go on, then. Im listening.”*
*”You cant live alone anymore. Its not safefor you or the neighbours. The gas, the electricity What if you fall? Whod find you?”*
*”Emily, what are you on about? I manage perfectly well. So I forget things sometimeshappens to everyone.”*
*Emily shook her head, pulling papers from her handbag.*
*”Ive sorted it already. Found you a lovely care home. Theyll look after youmeals, medication, company. People your own age. You wont be lonely.”*
*Margaret felt the blood drain from her face. The scone stuck in her throat.*
*”A care home? Emily, what nonsense is this?”*
*”Not some grim institutiona private place, very respectable. Ive paid the first month already.”*
*”Without asking me?” Margarets voice trembled. “Emily, this is *my* home! My whole life is here!”*
*”Mum, be realistic. Youre alone in a three-bedroom house. The bills are sky-high, the place is falling apart, and *Im* the one footing it all.”*
*Margaret opened her mouth, but Emily held up a hand.*
*”And besides, Daniel wants to move to London. Weve decided to marry. This house is idealcentral, good layout. Id rather not sell it. Its still the family home, after all.”*
*”Daniel?” Margaret frowned. “Youve only known him six months!”*
*”Mum, Im forty-two. I know what I want. Daniels seriousowns his own business. He doesnt mind if I quit my job, finally focus on myself.”*
*”And where does that leave me?”*
*”At the care home! Youll be happy there, trust me. I looked it upyoga, painting, even a choir. New friends, a fresh start.”*
*Margaret stood, pacing the kitchen. Forty years of breakfasts at this table. Forty years staring through this window. Emily had been born in the next room, done her homework at this table. Every morning, George had read the paper here, tutting over politics.*
*”So youve decided everything? Didnt think to ask me?”*
*”What was there to ask?” Emily shrugged. “Youd have refused. So I took charge.”*
*”Took charge,” Margaret repeated faintly. “Emily, Im your mother, not some burden.”*
*”No one said you were! But we must be practical. Ive spent thirty years putting you and Dad first. Now its *my* turn.”*
*The words stung. Margaret remembered scrimping for Emilys education, sewing her prom dresses, minding little Sophie while Emily worked late.*
*Sophie Where was she in all this?*
*”What about Sophie? Does she want her gran shipped off?”*
*Emily looked away.*
*”Sophies grown, busy with uni. Barely comes home. No point upsetting her.”*
*”You havent even told her?”*
*”I will. Once youre settled.”*
*Margaret sank back into her chair, legs suddenly weak.*
*”And if I refuse?”*
*”Mum, youve no choice. Ive paid the fees. Daniel moves in next week. Pack essentialswell sort the rest later.”*
*”My things? Emily, every spoon here is mine! That china set was our wedding gift! The lace tablecloth I stitched myself! And my plantswholl tend them?”*
*”You can have plants there. As for the china Mum, theyve got their own crockery. Why drag old junk along?”*
*Old junk. Shed called their heirlooms *old junk.*
*Margaret went to the cupboard, took down a photoher and George holding newborn Emily, radiant, young, full of dreams.*
*”Remember when Dad built your treehouse? Youd swing for hours. I was terrified youd fall.”*
*”Mum, dont. This isnt helping.”*
*”Or when you had pneumonia at school? I barely slept for two weeks. Dad took leave to spell me.”*
*”Please”*
*”And when that boywhat was his name? Tom?dumped you. You wept for a month. I stayed up nights, telling you itd pass.”*
*Emily stood abruptly.*
*”Enough! Its not my fault lifes unfair! Not my fault youre struggling! But I wont sacrifice my happiness for your old age!”*
*”Old age?” Margaret whispered. “Im sixty-nine, Emily. Not some helpless crone.”*
*”You forget the gas! Lose things! Mrs. Carter saw you in the garden wearing *one slipper* yesterday!”*
*Margaret recalled ittaking the bins out, not noticing her mismatch. But was that really*
*”Emily, I get you want your own life. But must it be like this? Ill stay in my room, quiet as a mouse. Daniel wont even know Im here.”*
*”You dont understand. Daniel needs space, quiet. You blast the telly because youre deaf, clatter pans at dawn. Well have parties, guests. Its awkward with a mum hovering.”*
*”Ill take walks, keep out the way”*
*”No. Its decided.”*
*Margaret slumped into the chair, feeling smaller than she had in years. After George died, shed thought the worst was over. Shed been wrong.*
*”What if I stay? Refuse to go?”*
*Emily produced another document.*
*”Ill petition the court. Have you deemed unfit. The neighbours will testify about your memory. The GPs notes back me uphe came about the gas leak.”*
*”Youve seen doctors already?”*
*”A specialist. Said with my evidence, the court would likely rule in my favour. Especially as your only child, responsible for your welfare.”*
*Margaret was silent. This couldnt be her Emilyher baby, whose tiny hands shed held, whose tears shed kissed.*
*”When?”*
*”Monday. The homes sending a car. Well pack your things this weekend.”*
*”Todays Friday”*
*”Yes. Youve time to prepare.”*
*Emily stood, adjusting her handbag.*
*”Dont be dramatic, Mum. Its not the end. Youll make friends, find hobbies. Ill visitSundays, probably.”*
*”Sundays,” Margaret echoed.*
*”Maybe its for the best. Since Dad died, youve shut yourself away. There, life goes on.”*
*”I go to the shops, the chemist”*
*”Anyway, its settled.”*
*At the door, Emily turned back.*
*”And dont call Sophie to whinge. Shes got examsno need to distract her.”*
*The door clicked shut. Alone in the kitchen, Margaret smelled cold scones and bitterness.*
*She cleared the table slowly, washing each cup as if underwater. Emilys words circled:
