12May2025
Dear Diary,
Why does Mum need a twobedroom flat? Shes already 65. Shell hardly entertain guests, and with her sisters she can simply have a cup of tea in the kitchen. Honestly, a onebedroom flat would be more than enough for her.
Mum, Margaret Hughes, knew exactly why my brother Michael and I had turned up at her cottage. The thought had already flickered in Michaels mind a week earlier, when the whole family gathered to celebrate little Eleanors birthdayMums youngest granddaughter.
We barely set foot in the sitting room when the doorbell rang. It was the neighbour, Mrs. Perkins, peeking in.
Good heavens, Margaret, Im a bit late. Youve got company, havent you? she said, blushing.
These are family, Nina I mean, Mrs. Perkins, Mum replied. Whats the trouble?
My sewing machine has jammed again; the bobbin is stuck and I cant get it out. Ill pop round later, sorry, she answered.
No problem, Ill have a look. It wont take long, Mum said, already heading for the kitchen.
She turned back to Michael and me.
Ill be with the neighbour for five minutes. You two can head to the kitchenIve already put the kettle on. Dear, make yourself at home, she instructed.
Mum sorted the sewing machine issue quickly and hurried back to the hallway, where she paused, a startled expression crossing her face.
Michael, Ive crunched the numbers, he began, that flat could fetch at least £3million, whereas the twobedroom unit Mum plans to move into in her village is only about £1million.
And you expect her to hand over the difference? A million each? Eleanor asked.
Exactly. Not a million, but £1.2million each, Michael replied.
Where will she get that? Eleanor pressed.
Ive done the homework! Why does Mum need two rooms? Shes 65. She wont be throwing parties, and with her sisters she can sit down for tea right in the kitchen.
Honestly, a singleroom flat would do her fine. You could even buy a decent one with a modest renovation for around £600000, Michael countered.
I was looking at properties not on the outskirts but closer to the centre, in a relatively new block where shops and the GP are nearby, he explained.
Im not sure Mum will agree, Eleanor muttered.
Why not? Im actually opposed to her moving at all. But if the decision is already made, lets hope something good comes out of it for us.
Mum had been pondering a return to her hometown in Yorkshire for some time. When they first moved to the outskirts of London, she was already 45. At that age, making new friends is a challenge; she had a few acquaintances, but none of the lifelong bonds you forge in youth.
She didnt want to relocate thenleaving a job, pulling the kids out of school, and heading to an unfamiliar place. Yet her husband accepted a senior post at a manufacturing plant, and she went along.
Twenty years passedfamily, work, occasional trips back to Yorkshire. Two years ago her husband died unexpectedly.
Michael and Eleanor had established their own families, and Margaret felt as if she were drifting in a void. When she retired, loneliness settled in, and the call from her sisters grew louder.
She didnt wait for Eleanors answer. She slammed the front door as if shed just arrived home.
Michael and Eleanor were already at the kitchen table, tea poured, a slice of apple cake that Mum had baked before she got here.
Mum, are you really set on moving? Eleanor asked.
Yes. Now that your father is gone, theres nothing anchoring me here. After twenty years this house never felt like home.
What about us? The grandchildren? Eleanors voice trembled.
Olivia, you have your own lives, your own responsibilities. I dont want to be a burden. Your children are grown; they dont need a nanny. What would I be left to dosit on a park bench with other pensioners, clutching a walking stick?
Some might enjoy that. Not me. What will I have? Books and the TV? My sisters live nearby, many acquaintances, a family house in the village where the whole clan gathers each summer.
I keep dreaming Im back in Yorkshire, walking the high street, and everyone I meet feels familiar, she whispered.
Alright, Mum, what about the flat? Michael steered the conversation back to practicality.
Ill sell it and buy a new one, she said.
Do you want help with the sale? Michael offered.
Ill go through an agency. The advert is already up, so Ill start packing, she replied.
Mum, Im not just offering help for nothing. There are scammers everywhere. You could end up without money or a home, Michael cautioned.
Dont worry. Lisa Collins, my brotherinlaws wife, will handle the sale. She runs her own agency. Remember Natashas reliable realtor? They helped Paul buy his place not long ago, Mum reminded him.
How much are you aiming for? Michael asked.
Lisa said £3million is realistic, though we could list a bit higher first. Ive checked the listings myselfprices are accurate, Mum answered.
Neighbouring flats are cheaper, Eleanor noted.
Yes, a similar twobedroom flat goes for about £2million, Michael replied.
Mum, both Eleanor and I have a favour to ask: could you, after the sale, give each of us at least £1million? Michael said.
A million each? I wouldnt have enough left for my own place, Mum protested.
Why not? You could buy a smaller onebedroom flat, Michael suggested.
A onebedroom wont work for me. I need two rooms: a bedroom and a sitting room, Mum insisted.
Some families of three live in onebedroom flats, Michael argued.
Yes, those who cant afford larger homes. I can afford more, and I dont see why I should give it up. I want to live comfortably, she replied.
It would be fair to us, considering its a family flat, Michael said.
Mick, I never imagined wed be discussing this. But remember the willyour father left you everything youre entitled to, Mum reminded them.
He wasnt stingy. All I inherited was this flat. And now youre demanding I share it with you? Michael shot back.
Your brothers wording was a bit off, Eleanor interjected, trying to smooth things over. He meant that if you have any surplus, you could help us.
Hes got a mortgage; Illya and I want a cottage. Even £500000 would be a huge help, Michael added.
Even if you buy a £2million property, youll still have a million left. Thats what were talking about, Eleanor emphasised.
That leftover would be my safety netjust in case I fall ill. Im not getting any younger, and I dont want to be a problem for my family, Mum said.
So you wont give us anything? Michael asked.
Mick, Im surprised you even brought this up. Youre thirtyseven, Eleanor thirtyfour, both welleducated, both working, Mum observed. You still have a few years left on your mortgage. But youre not struggling. If I hadnt decided to move and sell, would you have found another way to get me a place? Was there any plan to relocate me into a simpler flat?
No, we didnt have one, Eleanor admitted. Sorry we opened this can of worms. We just thought
You thought Mum, whos always helped you, would do it again, Mum finished.
I wouldnt refuse if you truly needed it. But I think youll manage: Michael will finish the mortgage, Illya and I will save for the cottage, and youll be fine, she concluded.
I watched Mum carry out the plan exactly as shed laid out: the flat went under contract, she moved back to her hometown in Yorkshire, and bought a modest twobedroom house close to the family farm where she and my father once lived.
Relatives helped her settle in and refurbish the place. Now, each morning when I hear the rooster on the village green, I know shes finally home.
Lesson learned: sometimes the hardest decisions are the ones that bring us back to where we truly belong, and those who love us will quietly step aside, trusting us to forge our own path.
