“Youre not needed anymore,” the children said before they left.
“Mum, why do you do this again? We talked about it!” Emily huffed as she unpacked groceries from the bags shed brought for her mother.
“Sweetheart, I just wanted to help. I thought you and Paul might like it if I knitted little Sophie a jumper for winter,” Margaret sighed, sitting by the window, her thin fingers fidgeting with the knitting needles.
“Sophies fourteen, Mum. She wont wear a granny-knitted jumperget that through your head! She has her own style. Kids these days wear completely different things.”
Margaret exhaled heavily, setting aside the half-finished pink jumper. Something ached inside her. Was her gift really that awful? Shed picked a modern pattern, soft yarneverything to make it nice.
“And when will you come over for tea? Ill bake an apple piethe one Sophie loves.”
Emily froze for a second, then slammed the fridge door harder than necessary.
“Mum, we dont have time for tea. Sophies revising for her GCSEs, Pauls swamped with work, and Im at the office from dawn till dusk. We talked about this last time.”
“Yes, of course,” Margaret smoothed a wrinkle on her house dress. “I just thought maybe Sunday…”
“Dont start,” Emily cut her off. “Sunday were going to Olivia and Simons place in the countryside. Its little Jacks birthdayremember?”
“Oh, Jacks sixteen already?” Margaret smiled faintly. “They grow up so fast. Will you take me along?”
Emily frowned, as if the question caught her off guard.
“Mum, its just a kids thing. Youd be bored. Plus, the drives too much.”
“I wont get tired,” Margaret insisted. “I could make a cake. Remember how Jack loved my honey cake?”
“Theyve ordered one from the bakery. A fancy one, with a photo print.”
Margaret nodded and picked up her needles again, hiding her disappointment. The children had grown, the grandchildren too. They had their own lives nowlives that seemed to have less and less room for her.
Emily checked her watch.
“Ive got to run. Ive put the shopping away. Dont cook riceit spikes your blood pressure. And dont forget your meds tonight.”
“Thank you, love,” Margaret walked her to the door, hugging her goodbye. Emily stiffened, as if the touch was unwelcome, and slipped away quickly.
“Bye, Mum. Ill call next week.”
The door clicked shut. Margaret stood in the hallway for a moment, listening to her daughters footsteps fade. Then she slowly walked back inside. The flat, once filled with childrens laughter, felt too quiet now.
She opened the cabinet and pulled out the family album. There was little Simon and Emily in the sandpit. A seaside holidayher husband still alive then, all of them saving up for that trip to Brighton. School plays, graduation photos, weddings and tiny grandchildren in her arms. When Sophie was born, Margaret had quit her job early, even though retirement was three years away. Emily and Paul had been so relieved to have someone look after the baby. Shed helped with Jack too, though not as muchOlivia managed on her own.
A knock on the door snapped her out of it. It was Carol, the neighbour from downstairs.
“Margaret, can you believe it? The hot waters off againno warning! Fancy a cuppa? Ive got nothing to wash the dishes with.”
“Of course, come in,” Margaret smiled. “I was going to bake a pie, but now theres no one to share it with.”
“Emily dropped by?” Carol kicked off her shoes and headed to the kitchen. “Saw her car outside.”
“Just brought some shopping,” Margaret nodded, setting out teacups. “Always in a rush. Says shes got no time.”
“Thats what they all say,” Carol waved a hand. “My Daniels the sametoo busy for his mum, until he needs me to babysit his kids. You should just turn up at theirs, instead of sitting here alone.”
“I tried,” Margaret sighed, pouring tea. “They always have plans.”
“Dont askjust say, Im coming Saturday to see my granddaughter. Thats it. What, they wont let their own mother in?”
Margaret stayed quiet. Carol didnt know that last time shed visited unannounced, Emily had been so annoyed she hadnt called for a week. Said theyd had Pauls colleagues over, and then shed shown up with her pies.
Carol sipped her tea, reaching for the biscuit tin.
“Im thinking of spending New Years with my sister in York. Its cosy there, good company. Here? Just me and the telly when the clock strikes midnight.”
“Emily promised to have me over for New Years,” Margaret said quickly. “They always celebrate at home, with Simons family.”
“Well, fingers crossed,” Carol said, though she sounded doubtful. “Theyre all talk, these kids. When it comes to doing something”
After Carol left, Margaret baked the apple pie anyway. A small one, just four slices. She ate one, wrapped two for the neighbours she sometimes chatted with by the bins, and saved the last for tomorrow.
That evening, Simon called.
“Mum, hi, how are you?” His voice was cheerful, but distant.
“Fine, love. Emily came by with groceries today. Hows Olivia? Hows Jack?”
“All good. Listen, Mum, about the cottage”
Margaret tensed. The cottage, left by her husband, was in her name. A small place with an old but sturdy house. Theyd spent every summer there as a family. After the kids grew up and her husband passed, shed gone lesstoo hard to keep up alone.
“Yes, I remember,” she said carefully.
“Well, heres the thing. Olivia and I have a chance to build a bigger place, somewhere nicer. But we need cash for the deposit. Thought maybe we could sell the cottage? You barely go there now.”
Margaret clutched the phone, silent. This, she hadnt expected. The cottage was the last piece of their life with George. The veranda hed built himself, the apple trees hed plantedall of it was still there.
“Simon, but its memories of your dad. I thought maybe the grandkids”
“Mum,” impatience crept into his voice. “What grandkids? Jack wont set foot thereall he cares about is his Xbox. And that place is falling apart. Better sell now while its still worth something. Well give you a cut, of course.”
“Ill think about it,” she whispered.
“Mum, theres nothing to think about. Its a good offer. Weve got buyers lined up. Need you to sign the papers tomorrow. Ill pick you up at ten, yeah?”
The next day, Simon arrived as promised, oddly attentive, even helping her with her coat. On the way to the estate agents, he rambled about the new house, the huge guest room.
“You can visit every weekend, Mum. Gorgeous spot, fresh air. Not like that old place by the motorway.”
Margaret listened, nodding. Deep down, she knew no one would drive her out every weekend. That guest room would stay empty. But she didnt argue. He was so excited.
At the office, she signed everything. A man in a suit droned about taxes, but she barely heard. All she saw was the cottage veranda, where she and George used to have tea at sunset.
“Sorted,” Simon said, satisfied, as they left. “Moneyll come through in a couple of days. Your share goes straight to your account.”
“Alright, love,” she forced a smile. “You in a rush today? Fancy popping in for tea? I made pie yesterday.”
Simon checked his watch.
“Cant, Mum. Got a meeting in half an hour. Rain check?”
He dropped her at the door with a wave. Margaret climbed the stairs slowly. The neighbour across the hall, Mrs. Henderson, peeked out.
“Margaret, that pie you made yesterdaydivine! Mind sharing the recipe? My grandkids are visiting this weekend.”
Margaret smiled. At least someone liked her baking.
A few days later, Emily called, sounding flustered.
“Mum, why arent you answering? I tried the landline.”
“I was at the shops, love.”
“Right, well. Listen, weve got news! Pauls been offered a contract in Edinburghthree years at least. Double the salary, company flat. Were taking it.”
Margaret sank onto a chair, legs weak.
“Edinburgh? But thats so far”
“Not really. Just an hour by plane. Well visit for holidays.”
“What about Sophie? Her school, her friends”
“Its an amazing opportunity for her. Theres a specialist science school thereshe wants to study medicine later. Its perfect.”
“When are you leaving?” Margaret fought to keep her voice steady.
“Two weeks. Sorting paperwork, packing. No time at all! But well pop round to say goodbye.”
Two weeks flew by. Margaret waited, hoping theyd visit as promised. Every morning she woke thinking today shed see Sophie, bake her favourite pie. But the phone stayed silent.
Finally, the day before they left, the doorbell rang. Emily and Paul stood there. Sophie waited in the carhad a headache, Emily said. They stayed half an hour, gulped tea, refused pie (“watching calories”).
“Mum, we got you a basic mobile,” Emily pulled out a box. “Easy to use. Well call. And here,” she handed over a slip of paper. “Numbers of my mates hereSarah and Lucy. If anything happens, ring them.”
“What about Simon”
“Simons got that new place, you know how it is. But dont worry, the girls are reliable.”
As they left, Emily hugged her tighter than usual, whispering:
“Just stay well, alright? Itll ease our minds.”
That evening, Simon called.
“Mum, you okay? Not ill?”
“Im fine, love. Emily got off alright?”
“Yeah, theyre settled. Flat sorted, Sophie in school. All good.”
“Im glad. Why dont you visit? I made pie.”
A pause.
“Mum, works mad right now. And the new house, you know. So much to do.”
“Of course,” she said softly. “But maybe weekends? Id love to see Jack. Miss him.”
“Jacks got hockey tournaments. And honestly, Mum, were swamped. Well come when things calm down, promise.”
But they never did. Calls grew fewer, shorter. Then the worst cameSimon rang to say he and Olivia had job offers in London.
“Its brilliant, Mum. Jack can get into a top uni after. Londons full of opportunities.”
“What about the house? You just built it.”
“Well rent it. Or sell. Not sure yet.”
“When do you leave?” Her heart hammered in her throat.
“About a month. Sorting paperwork now.”
“Simon, will you visit before you go?”
He cleared his throat.
“Mum weve got no time for visits. Packing, adminits chaos. Maybe well come down from London sometime.”
“Simon,” she gathered her courage. “About that care home. Im not going. This is my home. I lived here with your dad, raised you here. All my memories are here.”
“Mum, dont startwe were just suggesting”
“For my sake? Or for the flat?”
A beat of silence. Then, coldly:
“What? We dont forget you. I call, Emily writes from Edinburgh. We send money. What else do you want?”
“I want my children. My grandchildren. Not money.”
“Mum, were adults now. Weve got our own lives. You cant expect us to drop everything. Times have changed. People move on.”
“I dont expect you to drop anything. Just to remember I exist.”
“Here we go, drama again. Ive got to goworks piling up. Talk later.” He hung up.
The day they left, Simon came alone, just for half an hour. Brought chocolates, kissed her cheek like a stranger. Spoke like he was ticking a box.
“You managing okay, Mum?”
“Managing,” she forced a smile. “Wheres Olivia? Jack?”
“Home, packing. No time.”
As he turned to leave, it hit hershe might not see him for years. Maybe never. Her throat tightened.
“Simon,” she called. “Love do you not need me anymore?”
He paused in the doorway, not meeting her eyes.
“Mum, dont be daft. Its just life. You understand.”
“I understand,” she nodded. “I do, love.”
He left. She stood there a long time, staring at the empty corridor. Then slowly walked back, sat on the sofa. The flat was silent. Only the ticking of Georges old clock on the wallthe mechanical one hed loved, said it had a soul.
She picked up the phone, dialled Carol.
“Carol, hi. Remember you mentioned going to your sisters in York for New Years? Can I come along?”
Carol sounded surprised but pleased.
“Margaret! Of course! Shell be chuffed. Big house, plenty of space. What, changed your mind about the kids?”
“Yes,” Margaret felt something lift in her chest. “Decided to look after myself. Theyve got their own lives now.”
“Good on you!” Carol cheered. “Youre not oldwhy sit around? Yorks lovely this time of year. Theyll come crawling back when the grandkids are older, mark my words.”
“Maybe,” Margaret smiled. “But Im done waiting. I deserve my own life too, dont I?”
She hung up and went to the window. Outside, the first snow was falling. A new winter was beginningand maybe a new life. Without the children, but perhaps not entirely alone.
