“I don’t have a spare room,” said my daughter when I arrived with my bags.
“Mum, did you pack everything? Did you remember the documents?” Emily nervously fiddled with the clasp of her handbag, standing by the kitchen window.
“Do you think I’m completely senile?” Margaret waved her off, checking the contents of her suitcase for the third time. “Passport’s here, money’s here, medicine… Oh! I forgot my dressing gown! Emily, wheres my blue one?”
“In the wardrobe. Mum, do you really need it? Imogen probably has something you can borrow.”
Margaret stopped and gave her daughter a long look.
“Emily, love, Im not just staying overnight. Imogen invited me for a proper visit, to get away from the city. The airs fresh there, the rivers close. You said yourself it would do me good.”
“I did, I did…” Emily turned back to the window. “I just didnt know then that Richard would be out of work again. Third time this year.”
Her mother stepped closer and rested a hand on her shoulder.
“You never mentioned anything. What happened?”
“Whats there to say? New boss came in, decided to refresh the team. Richard was first on the chopping block. Experience meant nothingthey want younger staff, cheap labour.”
Margaret shook her head and sat on the stool.
“Im so sorry, love. Maybe I should stay home? Help out?”
“No, Mum. Go. Imogens expecting youshes got everything ready.” Emily turned, forcing a smile that didnt reach her eyes. “Have a proper rest. You deserve it.”
Margaret opened her mouth to reply, but the phone rang.
“Hello? Mum? Its Imogen! Are you on your way? Ive aired the room, fresh sheets and all!”
“Im coming, love. Emilys taking me to the station now.”
“Brilliant! I was starting to worry. Oh, Mum, Ive missed you! Youll love it hereapple trees in bloom, the airs like nothing youve breathed in that smoggy city.”
“Lovely, Imogen. See you soon.”
Margaret hung up and glanced at Emily.
“See how excited she is? Hasnt seen me in six months.”
“Yeah. Excited.” Emily grabbed the car keys. “Come on, Mum, youll miss your train.”
The drive was silent. Margaret tried to talk, but Emily answered in monosyllables, as if lost in thought.
“Emily, maybe I should stay? Youre struggling.”
“Mum, stop. Well manage. Richards been jobless beforehell find something.”
“But the money? How will you get by?”
Emily braked sharply at a red light.
“Well manage. Ive got my salary, hell get benefits. We wont starve.”
“What about the mortgage?”
“Mum, please! Stay out of it. Were adultswell sort it.”
Margaret sighed and looked out the window, a knot tightening in her chest. Emily had never been so sharp with her. Something was wrongsomething serious.
At the station, as Margaret boarded the train, Emily suddenly hugged her tight.
“Sorry, Mum. Im just… wound up. Everythings a mess.”
“I understand, love. Call me if you need me. Ill come straight back.”
“Have a proper rest. Say hi to Imogen for me.”
The train pulled away, and Margaret waved from the window. Emily stood on the platform until it disappeared around the bend.
Imogen met her at the station with a bouquet of lavender and a beaming smile.
“Mum! Youre here!” She pulled Margaret into a tight embrace. “How was the journey? Tired?”
“Fine, love. You look wonderful! So tanned and healthy.”
“Country air. Better than choking on city fumes. Come on, Ill show you the houseyou havent seen it yet!”
The house was charmingsmall but cosy, with a sprawling garden and a view of the river. Imogen led her through every room, proudly pointing out the new furniture and fresh paint.
“This is your room,” Imogen said, opening the door to a sunlit space with two windows. “See? Morning sun pours in, and in the evenings, you can watch the river.”
“Its lovely, love. Wheres Oliver?”
“Still at work. Hell be thrilled to see youkeeps asking when youll bake your famous pies again.”
“Ill make him some, dont worry.” Margaret sat on the bed, taking it all in. “Its so peaceful here.”
“It is, Mum. Were happy. Olivers got steady work, I do a bit of freelancing. Were thinking of starting a family soon.”
“Oh, thats wonderful! Finally, some grandchildren.”
Imogen sat beside her, taking her hand.
“Mum… hows Emily? She sounded off when I called.”
“Trouble at home. Richard lost his job again.”
“Honestly! Hes a capable manwhy does this keep happening?”
“Bad luck, I suppose. Emilys taking it hard.”
Imogen frowned, then said, “Maybe they should move here? Plenty of work, cheaper living. Oliver could ask around.”
“I dont know, love. Theyre city folk. And the flattheyve still got the mortgage.”
“Right… tricky.” Imogen stood. “Rest now, Mum. Ill start dinnerOliverll be home soon.”
That evening, Oliver was delighted to see her. They sat on the terrace, sipping tea and chatting as the tension of the past months melted away. Here, in this quiet corner of the world, Margaret felt her soul unclench.
A week passed. Margaret helped in the garden, took long walks, and read. She called Emily daily, but the conversations were strained.
“Hows it going, love?”
“Fine, Mum. Richards got a few interviews lined up.”
“And you? Not overworking?”
“Tired, but coping.”
“Emily, maybe I should come back? You sound exhausted.”
“No, Mum. Stay with Imogen. She was so looking forward to this.”
“But if you need help”
“Mum, its fine. Really.”
Yet Margaret couldnt shake her worry. Emilys voice grew thinner, and once, shed even broken down before quickly steadying herself.
“Imogen, I think Ill head home,” Margaret said over breakfast. “Somethings not right with Emily.”
“Mum, youve only just arrived! Ive got planstheres a lovely museum in the next town, and weve barely been to the river!”
“I know, love. But my gut tells me Emilys in trouble.”
Imogen sighed and set down her cup.
“All right. If youre sure, Oliver will drive you to the station.”
The journey home was restless. A gnawing dread settled in Margarets chest. She tried calling Emilyno answer.
She arrived at dusk. The flat felt colder, the lift louder. She unlocked the door, but the chain was latched from inside.
“Emily! Love, its me!”
Silence. Then footsteps.
“Mum? Youre supposed to be at Imogens”
“Open the door, love.”
When it swung open, Margaret barely recognised her daughterhollow-cheeked, red-eyed.
“Emily! Whats happened?”
“Nothing. Just… tired.”
Margaret stepped inside and froze. Suitcases in the hall, papers on the table.
“Love, whats going on? Wheres Richard?”
Emily sank onto the sofa, face buried in her hands.
“Mum, I didnt know how to tell you. Didnt want to ruin your trip.”
“Tell me.”
“Hes gone. For good. Said we were only dragging each other down. Moved in with a mate.”
Margaret sat and pulled her close.
“Oh, my love… I thought it was just the job.”
“That too. But it doesnt matter now.” Emily wiped her eyes. “Mum, Im selling the flat. Cant handle the mortgage alone. Buyers are lined upwe sign next week.”
“Where will you live?”
“Rent a room somewhere.”
Margaret absorbed this, then asked, “What if you came to me? Theres space.”
“Mum, your flats tiny. Where would I sleep?”
“The sofa for now. Well figure it out.”
Emily shook her head.
“I wont crowd you. And works too far.”
“What about Imogens? She said theres work there.”
“No. I wont be a burden.”
They sat in silence, shoulders touching. Margaret knew words werent neededjust presence.
The next day, they sorted the paperwork. The buyers were kind, in no rush to haggle. Emily signed with a shaky hand.
“Feels lighter already,” she admitted on the walk home. “Mortgage cleared, a bit left over. Enough to start fresh.”
“And then?”
“Ill land on my feet. Maybe… maybe Imogens right. She called again last nightsaid theres a teaching job going.”
“Go, love. Country air, good people. Youll find your way.”
Emily stopped mid-step.
“Will you come with me?”
“Me? Ive got my flat, my friends, my doctor…”
“But youll be lonely.”
Margaret smiled.
“Ill manage. Library shifts, the ladies group… Ill visit often.”
On moving day, they packed only essentialsclothes, documents, a few treasured trinkets.
“The rest can go,” Emily said, surveying the near-empty flat. “Fresh start.”
“Thats the spirit. New life, new things.”
At the station, Emily burst into tears.
“Mum, Im sorry. For snapping, for hiding things… I was ashamed it wasnt working.”
“Nonsense. Lifes just beginning.” Margaret held her tight. “Go, dont look back. Imogens thrilled, Oliver will help. Ill visit soon.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
The train pulled away. Margaret waved until it vanished, then walked home slowly. The flat was quiet, but not emptyjust waiting for the next chapter.
A week later, Emily called, her voice bright.
“Mum, guess what? Ive got a job! The local school needed a history teacher. The head took one look at my CV and hired me on the spot!”
“Brilliant! And the room?”
“Staying with Imogen for now. She says theres no rushtheir place is huge.”
“Imogens always had a big heart.”
“Yeah. And Mum? Ive slept better this week than in years. Maybe… maybe this is where Im meant to be.”
Margaret hung up, smiling. Emily would be all right. And she? Shed stay in her little flat, her familiar world, knowing both her girls had found their footing.
That evening, she wrote to Imogenthanking her for taking Emily in, for kindness without questions. Sometimes the greatest help is simply being there.
The next day, Margaret phoned a travel agent and browsed seaside getaways. At her age, new beginnings werent just for the young. Her children had their pathsnow it was her turn to live for herself.
“I dont have a spare room,” her daughter had said. And she was right. There are no spare rooms in life, no spare peoplejust the right time and place for each. A parents wisdom is knowing when to let go.
