Margaret Whitaker shuffled back from the local supermarket, her legs aching as she climbed the narrow stairwell to the fourthfloor flat. The shopping bags were heavy, but she refused to cut corners on food; a modest pension of about £800 a month allowed her to buy the quality she was used to.
She set the bags on the kitchen table and began unpacking: a loaf of wholegrain bread, a jug of milk, a block of cheddar, a dozen freerange eggs, a basket of fresh carrots, apples and berries, and a tin of smoked salmonsomething she always bought as a treat for her only son. It had been two years since Daniel had visited, not even for her birthday.
Ah, Daniel, Margaret sighed, maybe youll drop by next weekend? She dialed the familiar number. After a long ring, a robotic voice announced that the subscriber was temporarily unavailable. She set the handset on the windowsill and muttered, He must be busy. Ill try again this evening.
When evening came the line was still silent. She turned on the television to pass the lonely hours, the latest drama flickering across the screen, but her thoughts kept drifting back to Daniel.
He had always been Margarets pride. She had raised him alone after her husband walked out when Daniel was just seven. He graduated with a gold medal, earned a place at the prestigious University of Cambridges economics department, and later secured a junior manager position at a large multinational firm. Visits were frequent, stories of work were shared, and plans for the future were made together.
Everything changed when Daniel met Charlotte, a charming woman from an affluent family. Six months later they were married and settled in Birmingham. At first Daniel called every week and came by once a month, but the calls grew farther apart and the visits rarer. The last time he had been home was Christmas two years ago.
Margaret turned off the TV, brewed a mug of tea, and reached for her favourite shortbread biscuits. A knot of unease settled in her chest. She understood that Daniel had his own life, his own job and family, yet she longed to hear his voice and see his face.
The next morning the telephone rang. Expecting Daniel, Margaret rushed to answer, but it was her neighbour, Mrs. Zinnia Hughes.
Margaret, dear, how are you? Fancy a cuppa? Ive baked a Victoria sponge, Zinnia chirped.
Thanks, Zinnia, but Im not feeling great today. Maybe another time, Margaret replied.
Zinnias kindness lingered, and Margaret opened the smartphone Daniel had given her for her sixtieth birthday. She typed a message: Daniel, love you. I called earlier, but you didnt answer. Could you pop over? I miss you. She hit send and waited.
A few hours later a reply appeared: Sorry Mum, swamped at work. Ill try to visit next month. The month passed with no sign of Daniel. Margaret told herself he was simply busy.
Scrolling through Facebook one afternoon, she saw a photo of Daniel standing in front of a sleek new house, his wife beside him, a golden retriever wagging its tail. The caption read: Our new home! Dreams do come true. Margarets heart tightened. He hadnt mentioned the purchase; she was learning about his milestones from strangers online.
She called again. This time Daniel answered almost immediately.
Hey Mum, how are you? his voice was bright.
I saw the pictures of your new house. Congratulations! Why didnt you tell me? she asked.
Oh, I completely forgot. Work, the move everythings been a whirlwind. Sorry.
I understand. When will you show me the photos? Margaret pressed.
Im not sure maybe you could come over? Its a long drive, though.
Margaret hesitated. But its so far I dont know how to get there.
The conversation faded, and Daniel hung up. She stared at the dead screen, a pang of selfishness hitting her: Ill bake a cake; Daniel will come home hungry. Then she scolded herself: Dont be foolish, love, he lives miles away.
Days slipped by. Margaret shopped, watched TV, and occasionally visited Zinnia for tea, but loneliness clung to her like a coat. She stopped calling Daniel, fearing she would be a nuisance.
When New Years Eve approached, she decided to treat herself. She bought a modest fir tree, a few new baubles, and the ingredients for her favourite roast chicken, sage gravy, and apple crumble. Perhaps Daniel would ring to wish her happy new year.
At midnight the chimes of Big Ben thundered across the city, the Prime Ministers address playing on the television, but her phone stayed mute. She waited until three in the morning, still hopeful. At dawn she found a short text from Daniel: Happy New Year, Mum! Wishing you health and happiness. No question about her day, no mention of the feast she had prepared.
Later that week Margaret visited her old friend Teresa Collins, a nurse at the community health centre. Margaret, youve lost a lot of weight! Whats wrong? Teresa exclaimed, hugging her.
Whats Daniel up to? Margaret asked.
Still in the suburbs, busy with the firm, Teresa replied. He rarely visits, but you shouldnt feel abandoned. Maybe you could move in with him?
He never invites me, Margaret whispered. What would I do with my ailments? Id just be a burden.
Dont be absurd, Teresa snapped. Youre his mother, not a burden. Come over to my flat for tea, I finish my shift at five.
That evening, over tea at Teresas cosy kitchen, Margaret finally spoke of her loneliness. He has his own life, but a short call each month wouldnt hurt, she said.
Have you ever told him how you feel? Teresa asked.
No. I dont want to seem demanding.
Then you must. You have a right to his attention. A simple, honest phone call will clear the air.
Margaret thought it over. The next morning she dialed Daniels number, left a voicemail: Daniel, please call when you can. I need to talk. He returned the call the following day.
Mum, whats wrong? he asked.
Nothings wrong, I just missed hearing your voice, Margaret replied.
Im at work now. Can we talk tonight? he suggested.
Of course, call when youre free, she said.
Evening came, but Daniel didnt call. The next day and the one after he was silent. Margaret decided not to pester him.
In early spring Margaret felt a sharp pain in her chest and a rise in blood pressure. An ambulance rushed her to the hospital; doctors advised a brief stay, but she refused. Who will look after the flat? Who will water the plants? What if Daniel decides to come and Im not there? she worried.
Zinnia visited daily, bringing fresh bread, sometimes a bowl of stew. One afternoon she suggested, Maybe you should let Daniel know youre ill?
No, Zinnia. He has enough on his plate.
Weeks passed, her health wavered, and Daniels calls remained brief and infrequent. Then, one evening, a firm knock sounded at the door. Margaret struggled to the hallway and opened it to find a young woman with a clipboard.
Good evening, are you Margaret Whitaker? the stranger asked.
Yes, and you are?
Im Emma, a socialcare officer. Your neighbour called, saying you might need assistance.
Margaret was taken aback; she hadnt requested help. Emma spread out paperwork.
We can arrange three visits a week for household chores, grocery runs, and health checks, all free of charge, Emma explained.
Margaret felt a wave of weakness and sank into a chair. All right, she whispered. Thank you.
Emma proved diligent and kind, soon becoming a familiar presence in Margarets flat. Over a shared cup of tea, Emma asked, Do you have any children?
My son, Daniel, Margaret replied. He lives in Birmingham, hardly ever visits.
Does he know youre unwell? Emma probed.
No. I havent wanted to worry him, Margaret confessed.
Emmas eyes softened. My own mother lived alone, and I watched my father miss his final years. Its not selfish to ask for help from family.
The words struck a chord. That night Margaret sat at her phone, gathering courage. She dialed Daniel, and after a few rings he answered.
Hello Mum, whats happening? You dont usually call so late, he said, concern in his tone.
Megan I Im ill. My heart, she began, voice trembling.
Why didnt you tell me? Daniels voice rose with a mixture of hurt and guilt. You should have let me know.
I didnt want to burden you. You have a job, a wife, a new house, she replied.
Ill be there tomorrow, he declared. No more hiding.
The next morning Margaret rose early, tidied what she could, and prepared a simple lunch, hoping to greet Daniel properly.
When Daniel arrived after lunch, he carried two large bags. He rushed forward, embracing her tightly, tears welling in both their eyes.
Why didnt you say you were sick? he asked, voice breaking.
I was afraid youd think I was a nuisance, she whispered.
Youre not a nuisance, Mum. Youre my mother, he said, holding her hands. Ive been selfish, thinking only of my career and my own problems. I should have been there for you.
Emma entered later, surprised to see a man in the living room, but quickly understood. Thank you, Daniel, she said. I didnt realise how isolated Margaret had become.
Daniel turned to his wife, Alana, and said, Well bring Mum to live with us. She shouldnt be alone.
At first Margaret protested. I cant leave my flat. My friends, my routine
But youll have us, and well look after you, Alana replied gently. Youve given us everything; now let us give back.
After a moment of quiet, Margaret nodded. Alright, Ill come with you.
The following days were a flurry of packing, farewells to neighbours, and heartfelt thankyous to Zinnia, who had brought fresh rolls every few days. Youre welcome, Margaret. Im glad youll be with Daniel now, Zinnia said, hugging her.
When they arrived at Daniels new house, a modern garden and a bright, airy bedroom awaited her. Alana showed her around, explaining the daily routine. Margaret felt genuinely welcomed.
That evening, the three of them sat on the porch, sipping tea as the winter stars twinkled above. Daniel confessed, I was selfish, Mum. I put my career before you. I promise Ill never let that happen again.
Nothing changes the past, Margaret smiled, but we can choose how to act now.
The lesson Margaret learned, and wanted to share, was simple: keeping silent out of pride only deepens the gap between loved ones, while honest communication bridges it. She realized that asking for help is not a sign of weakness, but a reminder that family is meant to support each other, no matter how busy life gets.
