She cant stay hereshes nothing to us, I overheard my late husbands daughter, Emily, loudly explaining to her brother why I should be evicted from the house Id called home for the last 15 years.
Hold on, Emily. Its not that simple. Wheres Aunt Margaret supposed to go? replied James, my husbands son, who Id always considered far more decent than his sister. In 15 years of marriage, Id learned a thing or two about their characters.
My husband had passed away recently, and his children from his first marriage had swooped in to divide the inheritancea sizable country home, a vegetable patch, a garage, and a car. I hadnt made any claims, but I hadnt expected to be shoved out the door quite so quickly.
Paul and I met later in life, both carrying the baggage of failed marriages and grown children. I had two daughters, and he had a son and a daughter. Id just turned 50, my eldest daughter had married and moved her husband into our cramped flat, and my youngest was still single. It was chaos.
Then I met Paul, five years my senior, whod been living alone for years. His children were settledmarried, with homes of their own, thanks to his successful career in management. He didnt waste time and soon asked me to move into his countryside cottage. After some thought, I agreed. He was a good man, kind to me, and we made a happy life together.
We settled into rural livingtending the garden, raising chickens, even dabbling in keeping a cow and a pig at one point. Our children visited often, and we always sent them home with bags full of homegrown produce. We never officially married, though wed talked about it early on. Eventually, we decided a piece of paper didnt matter much at our age.
Those were 15 wonderful years. In that time, my youngest daughter married, leading to a near-brawl over who got the flat. My eldest, already settled there, refused to share, so they paid off the younger one, and that was that.
But then my youngest divorced, returning with her child and sparking fresh arguments. Id hoped she might reconcile with her husband, but no luck. Now, with Paul gone, Id have to move backthough I knew full well there was no space.
Aunt Margaret, if youd like, you can stay until we find a buyer, James offered the next morning.
I was relieveduntil Emily clarified the terms: I could stay if I kept up the house and garden. Alone. So, Id be their unpaid labourer in exchange for not charging *them* rent?
Not exactly a generous deal. At 65, Im not as spry as I used to be, and country life is hard work. Now Im stuckstay here as a glorified caretaker, only to be booted out when they sell, or return to my daughters cramped flat (which is still legally mine, though Id clearly be in the way).
What do I do? Sometimes, an outsiders perspective helps.
