Hey love, Ive got to tell you about Margaret Parkers life lately its been a right rollercoaster. She just got back from the supermarket, dragging a mountain of bags up the stairs to her flat on the fourth floor of that old block in Manchester. The bags were heavy, but she never skimped on food her pensions decent, a couple of hundred pounds a week, and shes always insisted on good quality stuff.
The flat was quiet and a bit chilly. She set the bags on the kitchen table and started unloading: fresh loaf, milk, cheese, a dozen eggs, crisp veg, fruit, even a tin of smoked salmon she bought the salmon because its his favourite treat. Her only son, James, nevermissed a birthday, but he hasnt turned up for two years now, not even for her birthday.
James, love, she sighed, maybe you could pop over next weekend? She dialled the familiar number, heard the endless ring, then a robotic voice saying the line was temporarily unavailable. She put the phone down on the windowsill and muttered, Hes just busy, Ill try again tonight. Nothing the phone stayed silent.
She switched on the telly to kill the time, a new drama flickering across the screen, but her mind kept drifting back to James. Hed always been her pride and joy. Shed raised him alone after her husband walked out when James was only seven. Hed been sharp, driven, left school with a gold medal, then got a place at a top university for economics. After graduating he landed a job at a big firm, and shed beamed at every little success. He used to visit often, chat about work, make plans for the future.
Then everything changed. He met Emily, a lovely girl from a welloff family, and half a year later they were married and moved to Bristol. At first he called every week and visited once a month, but the calls grew rarer, the visits even rarer. The last time he was home was last Christmas.
Margaret turned off the TV, brewed a mug of tea, and reached for her favourite biscuits. She felt a knot in her chest she knew James had his own life, his own job and family, but she just longed to hear his voice and see his face.
The next morning the phone rang. She lunged for it, hoping it was James, but it was her neighbour, Mrs. Wilson.
Hey Margaret, how are you? Fancy coming over for a cuppa? Ive baked a cake, she said.
Thanks, Wilson, but Im not feeling great today. Maybe another time, Margaret replied.
Mrs. Wilson was sweet, but Margaret wasnt in the mood to chat. She opened the messaging app on the smartphone James had given her for her 60th birthday and typed, James, love, called you earlier you didnt answer. Could you drop by? I miss you. She hit send and waited.
A few hours later a reply pinged in: Sorry Mum, swamped with work. Ill try to visit next month. The month slipped by and James never showed up. She decided not to pester him Hes got his own life, must be really busy, she thought.
One day scrolling through her feed, she saw a photo of James standing in front of a gorgeous house, Emily beside him, and a golden retriever wagging its tail. The caption read, Our new home! Dreams do come true! Margarets heart clenched hed bought a house and hadnt even mentioned it to her! All the big moments were now just internet updates.
She dialled his number again; this time he answered right away, his voice bright.
Hey Mum, how are you? he said.
James, I saw the pictures congratulations on the house! Why didnt you tell me? she asked.
Oh, Mum, I completely forgot. Its been a whirlwind work, the move. Sorry, he replied.
I understand. When can I come over and see the new place? Ive missed you, she said.
I dont know, Mum. Things are hectic maybe you could visit us? Its a bit far though, he said.
She felt a flutter of hope, then disappointment. But its so far I dont even know how to get there, she murmured.
He laughed, Well sort it later. Ive got to run. Talk soon! The line went dead. She stared at the silent screen, then thought about baking a pie for when James came home hungry, but quickly snapped herself out of it: What am I, a silly old woman? He lives in Bristol now.
Days passed slowly. Margaret kept up with the grocery trips, the telly, the occasional tea with Mrs. Wilson, but the loneliness lingered. She stopped calling James as often, not wanting to be a burden.
With NewYears coming, she decided to treat herself. She bought a tiny Christmas tree, a few new baubles, and all the trimmings maybe James would ring to wish her a happy NewYear. On 31December she cooked her favourite dishes: salads, roast chicken, an apple crumble. She dressed up in her best dress, did a little makeup, feeling hopeful that a call would come as the clock struck midnight.
She sat at the table, eyes glued to the phone. The chimes of Big Ben rolled in, the Prime Ministers speech played, but the handset stayed quiet. She waited till three in the morning, still no ring. Exhausted, she finally went to bed. In the morning she found a text from James: Happy NewYear, Mum. Wishing you health and happiness. Just one line, no questions, no chat about his celebrations.
She stared at the cold salads and untouched chicken, wondering if shed become a stranger to her own son.
A week later she visited her old friend Susan at the local health centre. Susan, a nurse, greeted her with a hug.
Margaret, youve lost weight! Whats the story? Susan asked.
Oh, just getting older, Margaret smiled.
Hows James? Susan pressed.
Hes bought a house in the suburbs, works a lot, Margaret replied.
Does he visit? Susan asked.
Rarely. Hes very busy, Margaret said, sighing.
Susan looked concerned. Youre on your own, love. Maybe you should move in with him?
He never invites me, Margaret murmured. And with my health issues Id just be a burden.
Dont say that! Youre his mother, not a weight. Come over to my place for tea, Im off my shift soon.
That evening, over tea at Susans kitchen, Margaret opened up about how lonely she felt, how painful it was to be ignored.
I get it, he has his own life. But couldnt he spare a few minutes a month for his mum? A proper chat, not just short messages? Susan nudged.
Have you ever told him that? she asked.
No, I dont want to seem demanding, Margaret confessed.
You have the right to ask for his attention. If he doesnt see it, you need to make it clear, Susan advised. Give him a call, say you need to talk seriously. Let him know how you feel.
Margaret thought about it, then dialled James. He didnt pick up, so she left a voice note: Son, please call when you can. I need to talk. He called back the next day.
Mum, whats up? Everything okay? he asked.
Yes, love, just wanted to hear your voice, she answered.
Im at work. Maybe later this evening?
Sure, call when youre free, she replied.
He never called that evening, nor the next day, nor the one after. Margaret decided to give him space.
In early spring her health took a turn her heart ached, blood pressure spiked. An ambulance rushed her to the hospital, they gave her a shot and suggested a short stay, but she refused. Who will look after the flat? Who will water the plants? What if James shows up and Im not home? she fretted.
Mrs. Wilson, hearing the news, started dropping by daily with fresh bread, sometimes soup or meatballs. One afternoon she suggested, Maybe you should call James? Let him know youre ill.
No, Wilson, hes got enough on his plate. I dont want to bother him, Margaret said.
But hes your son! He deserves to know, Wilson insisted.
Ill tell him later, when Im better, Margaret replied.
Weeks slipped by, her condition fluctuated. James called now and then, always brief. One evening the doorbell rang. Margaret, weary from the sofa, shuffled to answer, expecting Mrs. Wilson. Instead a young woman in a tidy uniform stood there.
Good afternoon, are you Margaret Parker? she asked.
Yes, and you are?
Im Lily, a social worker. Your neighbour mentioned you might need some help.
Margaret was taken aback she hadnt asked for anything. Lily spread some papers on the kitchen table.
We can arrange three visits a week help with shopping, check your blood pressure, tidy up. Its all free, Lily explained.
I didnt ask for this Margaret began.
Lily glanced at her watch, Your neighbour is worried. She says you live alone and have had a few falls lately. Margaret felt a wave of weakness and sank into a chair. Alright, thank you, she whispered.
Lily turned out to be bright and caring, handling chores with ease. Over time Margaret grew used to her visits and even looked forward to them.
One afternoon, as they sipped tea, Lily asked, Do you have any children?
My son, James. He lives in Bristol, Margaret replied.
Does he visit?
Hardly. Hes busy with his business and family.
Does he know youre unwell?
No. Ive kept it to myself; I dont want to trouble him.
Lilys eyes softened. My own grandmother lived alone, and Ive seen how regret eats you when a parent passes without you being there. Maybe you should call him, tell him what’s happening?
Margaret reflected. Shed always said she was fine. Youre right, Lily. Ill call him tonight.
She stared at the phone, gathering courage. When James finally answered, he sounded surprised.
Mum? Its late, whats wrong? he asked.
I I wanted to talk. Ive been ill my heart she faltered.
Why didnt you say anything? his voice wavered with concern. You should have told me!
I didnt want to add to your load. You have your life, your work she explained.
Im coming tomorrow, James said, urgency in his tone. Ill be there. No need for anyone else.
Ill manage, James, Margaret tried to reassure, but Im glad you know.
The next afternoon James arrived with two large bags, eyes bright when he saw her. He hugged her tightly, and tears welled up.
Mum, why didnt you tell me you were struggling? he asked, his voice shaking.
I was scared youd think I was a burden, she whispered.
Youre not a burden. Youre my mum, and Ive been selfish, he admitted. Ive been so wrapped up in my career that I forgot who has always been there for me.
They spent the evening in the kitchen, chatting about his new house, the dog, his plans. Lily arrived later, surprised to see a man in the flat, but quickly understood.
Thank you, James, Lily said. I didnt know your mum was ill.
Thanks for looking after her, James replied. I had no idea.
After Lily left, James turned to Margaret. Mum, Im taking you to live with us.
No, I cant. You have your life, Emily Margaret protested.
Emily will be delighted. Weve been meaning to ask you to move in, but I kept putting it off, thinking youd never want to leave your flat and friends, James said.
Id feel like Im getting in the way, Margaret whispered.
Youll never be a bother. Youre my mum, and I want to care for you like you always cared for me, he promised.
Fine, she sighed, Ill go with you.
James hugged her tightly. Thank you, Mum. I promise youll be happy with us.
The next few days were a blur of packing boxes, saying goodbye to Mrs. Wilson and the neighbours. Margaret thanked Mrs. Wilson, If it werent for you, Id still be alone with my ailments.
Dont mention it, love. Youll be with a good son now, Mrs. Wilson replied, smiling.
When they finally arrived at Jamess new house in Bristol, James opened the door to a bright, airy bedroom. This is yours, Mum, he said. Emily greeted her warmly, showed her around the garden and the cosy living area.
Later, the three of them sat on the veranda, and James confessed, I was selfish, Mum. I only thought about work and my own ambitions. I forgot I had a mother who needed me.
Its all right, love. Were together now, and thats what matters, Margaret answered, feeling a happiness she hadnt known in years.
Now shes settled in, the house feels like home, and for the first time in a long while she truly feels safe and loved. Its funny how life can twist around when you least expect it, isnt it? Talk soon, okay?
