James had gone away and seemed to have forgotten us.
Margaret Thompson shuffled back from the shop, climbing the stairs to her flat on the fourth floor with a sigh. The bags were heavy, but she never skimped on groceries her pension was decent enough, and shed always gotten used to buying good stuff.
The flat was quiet and a bit chilly. She set the bags down on the kitchen table and started unpacking: loaf of bread, milk, cheese, a dozen eggs, fresh veg and fruit, a tin of smoked salmon. Shed bought the salmon out of habit a little treat for her only son. Only problem was, James hadnt turned up in two years, not even for her birthday.
Ah, Jamie, she murmured, maybe youll pop over next weekend?
She dialed a familiar number. After a long ring, a mechanical voice told her the line was temporarily unavailable. She sighed, set the phone on the windowsill and thought, Hes just busy, Ill try again tonight.
Evening came, but James didnt answer. She turned on the telly to pass the lonely hours, the latest drama flickering on the screen, her thoughts drifting back to her boy.
James had always been Margarets pride. Shed raised him alone after her husband walked out when Jamie was seven. Hed grown up sharp and determined, left school with a gold medal and then won a place at a prestigious university to study economics.
After graduating, he landed a job at a big firm. Margaret beamed at his achievements. He used to visit often, chat about work, and talk about the future.
Then everything shifted. He met Emily, a beautiful girl from a welloff family. Six months later they were married and moved to Manchester. At first James called his mum every week and visited once a month, but the calls grew rarer, the visits even rarer. The last time he came was last Christmas.
Margaret switched off the TV, brewed a pot of tea, and fetched her favorite biscuits. Her heart felt uneasy. She knew James had his own life, job, and family, but she longed to hear his voice and see his face.
The next morning the phone rang. She lunged for it, hoping for James, but it was her neighbour, Eleanor Brown.
Hey Margaret, how are you? Fancy a cuppa? Ive baked a cake.
Thanks, Eleanor, but Im not feeling great. Maybe another time?
Eleanor was sweet, but Margaret wasnt up for chatting. She decided to text James. Carefully typing on the smartphone hed given her for her sixtieth birthday, she wrote: James, how are you? I called earlier, you didnt answer. Fancy dropping by? I miss you. She hit send and waited.
A few hours later he replied: Sorry Mum, swamped at work. Ill try to visit next month.
The month passed and James still hadnt shown up. Margaret told herself she shouldnt nag him Hes busy, thats that.
One day, scrolling through Facebook, she saw a picture of James standing in front of a lovely house, Emily and a golden retriever beside them. The caption read: Our new home! Dreams do come true!
Her chest tightened. Hed bought a house and hadnt even mentioned it to her! All the big news came via the internet, as if she were a stranger.
She dialed again; this time James answered almost immediately.
Hey Mum, how are you? his voice was bright.
James, I saw the pictures. Congratulations on the house! Why didnt you tell me?
Oh, Mum, I completely forgot. Work, the move a lot on my plate. Sorry.
I get it. When can I come over and see the new place? Ive missed you.
I dont know, love. Its a bit far Im not sure how to get there.
Maybe another time then. Ive got to run, talk soon! He hung up.
Margaret stared at the silent screen, then trudged back to the kitchen. Ill bake a pie, Jamie will be home hungry, Ill feed him, she thought, then stopped herself: Dont be silly, he lives miles away now.
Days drifted by. She shopped, watched telly, and occasionally stopped by Eleanor for tea, but the loneliness lingered. She stopped calling James, not wanting to bother him.
New Years was approaching, so she decided to treat herself. She bought a small fir, a few new baubles, and all the festive food roast chicken, salads, an apple crumble hoping James might ring to wish her a happy New Year.
On the morning of 31December she set the table, put on her best dress, did a quick hairdo and a touch of makeup, convinced that James would call at midnight. The clock ticked towards twelve, she stared at her phone, waiting for that familiar voice. The chimes of Big Ben boomed, the Prime Ministers New Year message aired, but her phone stayed mute.
She kept the line open until three in the morning, then finally fell asleep. At dawn she found a short text from James: Happy New Year, Mum. Wishing you health and happiness. Just one line, no questions about her day, no details about his celebration.
She sat at the kitchen table, staring at the cold salads and untouched chicken. Was she now a stranger to her own son? How could it have come to this?
A week later she visited her old friend Susan at the local health centre. Susan, a nurse, always had a handy tip for anything.
Margaret, youve lost a stone! Whats happened? Susan exclaimed, waving a hand.
Nothing special, just getting older, Margaret replied with a smile.
And James? Not seen him for ages.
Hes fine, bought a house in the suburbs, works a lot.
Does he ever come over?
Rarely. Hes busy.
Susan looked concerned. Youre living alone, Margaret. Thats not right. Maybe you should move in with him?
He never invites me, Margaret said softly. And where would I go with my ailments? Id just be a burden.
Dont be silly! Youre his mother, not a burden. Susan insisted. Come over to my place for tea, I finish my shift in an hour.
That evening, over tea at Susans flat, Margaret finally spilled how lonely she felt, how much she missed James, how painful his neglect was.
I get it, he has his own life, Susan said. But isnt it fair to ask for a call once a month, a proper chat, instead of those brief texts?
Did you ever tell him that? Susan asked.
No. I didnt want to seem demanding.
You have the right to his attention. If he doesnt see it, remind him.
How?
Just call and say you need to talk, that youre feeling lonely. Let him know.
Margaret mulled it over. Maybe Susan was right.
She dialed James again. He didnt pick, so she left a voicemail: Son, please call when you can. I need to talk. He returned the next day.
Mum, whats up? All good? he asked.
Its fine, just wanted to hear your voice, she said.
Im at work. Can we talk this evening?
Sure, call when youre free.
Evening came, but James didnt call. He didnt the next day either. Margaret decided not to pester him.
Early spring she felt her heart race, her blood pressure spike. She called an ambulance. Doctors gave her a quick injection and suggested a night in hospital, but she refused. Wholl look after the flat? Wholl water the plants? What if James decides to visit and Im not here?
Eleanor, hearing the news, started dropping by daily with fresh bread, sometimes soup or meatballs.
Margaret, maybe call James? Let him know youre ill, she suggested one afternoon.
No, Eleanor, hes got enough on his plate. I dont want to add to his worries.
But hes your son! He should know!
Ill tell him when Im better. I dont want him rushing over only to find me in bed.
Weeks passed, Jamess calls remained brief. One evening a knock sounded at the door. Margaret, barely up from the sofa, opened it to find a young woman with a large tote.
Are you Margaret Thompson? the woman asked.
Yes, and you are?
Im Lena, from social services. Your neighbour called, said you might need help.
Margaret was taken aback. She hadnt asked for anything. Lena stepped inside, laid out some paperwork.
Youll need to sign a care agreement. Ill visit three times a week, help with chores, grocery trips, check your blood pressure. Its all free, dont worry.
I didnt ask for this
Your neighbour is worried. She said you live alone, youre often unwell, and its getting hard to manage.
Margaret felt a wave of weakness, slipped onto a chair, and softly said, Alright, thank you.
Lena turned out to be a bright, caring woman, handling the housework with ease. Over time Margaret grew to look forward to her visits.
One afternoon, sharing tea, Lena asked, Do you have any children?
Yes, a son James. He lives in Manchester.
Does he visit?
Rarely. Hes busy with work and his family.
Does he know youre ill?
No, I dont want to worry him.
Lena smiled. My grandma lived alone too. Her daughter worked far away and rarely visited. She always regretted not being there in her last days. Maybe its time you called James, tell him how you feel?
Margaret thought about it. Shed always hidden her condition. When James called, shed say she was fine. She didnt want to be a burden.
Youre right, Lena. Ill call him tonight.
She sat with the phone, gathering her thoughts. Finally she dialed. James answered after a few rings.
Hey Mum, whats up? You dont usually call so late, he said.
I… I wanted to talk, Margarets voice trembled.
Whats wrong? his tone showed concern.
Im ill, dear. My heart
Why didnt you tell me? his voice held a hint of reproach. You should have said something!
I didnt want to trouble you. You have your life, your work
A social worker? Oh Mum, Ill come tomorrow!
No, James, Ill manage. I just wanted you to know.
Ill be there tomorrow morning, he said firmly.
Margaret hung up, heart pounding. Would he really come and find her in such a state? She didnt want to be a burden to his family.
The next morning she rose early, tidied the flat as best she could, made a simple lunch, hoping to greet James properly.
He arrived after lunch, large bags in hand. He pulled her into a tight hug, and tears welled in Margarets eyes.
James, Im so glad youre here!
He looked at her pale face, the faded sparkle in her eyes. Mum, why didnt you tell me you were unwell? How could I not see it?
I didnt want to add to your worries. You have your job, your home
Mum, youre my family, he said, taking her hands. Ive been selfish, only thinking about my career. I never realised you were alone, sick
She stroked his arm. Its alright, love. The important thing is youre here now.
They talked long into the evening. James spoke about his job, the new house, future plans. Margaret listened, grateful just to be near her son.
Later, Lena arrived, surprised to see a man in the flat. Hello, you must be James. Im Lena, the care worker.
Thanks for everything, James said. I didnt know Mum was ill.
She didnt want to worry you, Lena replied, looking at Margaret.
James turned to his mother. Mum, Im taking you to live with us.
What? I cant, I have my own life, Emily she protested.
Emily will be happy. Weve been meaning to ask you to move in, but I kept putting it off. I thought youd want to stay in your flat, keep your friends.
How can I be any trouble?
Youll never be a trouble, Mum. Youve cared for me all my life. Now its my turn.
If I say no?
Then Ill move closer, work from home. But I wont leave you alone again.
Tears streamed down Margarets cheeks. Shed never imagined hed drop everything for her.
Okay, she whispered. Ill go with you.
James embraced her tightly. Thank you, Mum. I promise youll be well with us.
The following days were a flurry of packing, sorting out the flat, saying goodbye to neighbours, especially Eleanor, who gave her a warm hug. Thank you, Eleanor. If it werent for you, Id still be sitting here alone.
Dont mention it, dear. Now youll be with your son. Hes a good lad, just got swept up in life.
A week later James drove Margaret to his new home. He opened the door to a bright, airy bedroom. This is yours, Mum, he said.
Emily welcomed her with a smile, showed her around, explained the daily routine. Margaret felt genuinely welcomed.
That evening the three of them sat on the veranda. James turned to his mother. Mum, Im sorry. I was selfish, only thinking about work. I forgot I have a mother whos always been there.
Its alright, love. Were together now, she replied.
He promised never to let her feel neglected again. Margaret looked at her son, his wife, their home now also hers and for the first time in ages felt truly happy. She knew things would be fine now. Her son had come back, just not in the way shed imagined, but it didnt matter. What mattered was that they were together again.
