Dear Diary,
I was sitting in the kitchen, humming softly, when the subject came up again why does Mum need a twobedroom flat? Shes already sixtyfive; shes unlikely to take in many guests, and when her sisters pop round she can simply have a cuppa at the kitchen table. Honestly, a modest onebedroom would more than do the trick for her.
Marge Thompson knew exactly why her son and daughter had turned up. The idea had first flickered in Micks words a week earlier, when the whole family gathered to celebrate little Sophies birthday Marges youngest grandchild.
Mick and Olivia had just arrived, barely started their chatter, when the doorbell rang. A neighbour peeked in.
Oh, Marge dear, Im a bit early youve got visitors, the elderly lady said, blushing.
Just family, Nora, Marge replied. Whats the matter?
My sewing machine has jammed again the thread is snarled and I cant get the bobbin out. Ill pop round later, sorry, she murmured.
No worries, Ill have a look itll be quick, Marge said, turning back to the kitchen and addressing Mick and Olivia.
Ill be with the neighbour for five minutes; could you two head to the kitchen? Ive already put the kettle on. Love, tidy up a bit.
Marge sorted the sewing issue and hurried back home. As she paused in the hallway, she heard something that struck her.
Olivia, Ive done the maths, Mick said. We could sell this flat for at least three million pounds, while a comparable twobedroom in the little cottage Mum plans to move into is worth about a million.
And you want Mum to hand us the difference? A million each? Olivia asked.
Exactly. Even a bit more say one point two million each, Mick replied.
How does she get that? Olivia pressed.
I told you Id crunched the numbers! Why does Mum need two rooms? Shes sixtyfive. She wont be taking in many visitors, and with her sisters she can just have tea in the kitchen.
Honestly, a onebedroom would be more than enough for her. A decent, renovated onebedroom could be had for about six hundred thousand, Mick continued.
I was looking at something not on the outskirts but nearer the town centre, in a relatively new block, so shops and the health centre are close, he added.
Maybe Mum wont agree? Olivia wondered.
Why not? Im not against her moving at all. If shes being nudged into a retirement home, let her at least make something nice of it for us.
Marge has lately been mulling over a return to her hometown. When they first moved out to the outskirts of London, she was fortyfive. At that age you dont make many new friends; she had a few acquaintances, but nothing like the lifelong bonds of youth.
Back then she didnt want to uproot quit her job, pull the kids out of school, and head to an unfamiliar town. Yet when her husband was offered a good post at a local factory, she agreed.
Twenty years slipped by: work, family, the occasional visit back home. Two years ago her husband passed away unexpectedly.
Her son and daughter now have families of their own, and Marge felt as if she were floating in a vacuum. Retirement only deepened the loneliness, especially as her sisters kept calling.
She didnt wait for Olivias reply. She slammed the kitchen door shut as if shed just walked in.
Mick and Olivia were already at the table. Olivia had poured tea into mugs and sliced the Victoria sponge Marge had baked.
Mum, are you really set on moving? Olivia asked.
Yes. With your father gone, theres nothing holding me here. After twenty years this place never felt like home.
What about us? The grandchildren? Olivia frowned.
Olivia, youve got your own life, your own worries. I dont want to be a burden. Your kids are grown, they dont need a nanny. Whats left for me sitting on a bench with other pensioners, strolling the park with a walking stick?
Its not appealing to me. What will I have? Books and the telly? My sisters are nearby, many acquaintances. Not far from the village theres my parents old cottage where the whole family gathers each summer.
I keep dreaming Im back in my hometown, walking the streets, and everyone I meet feels familiar, she confessed.
Right, Mum, what about the flat? Mick steered the conversation toward practicality.
Ill sell it and buy a new one, she said.
Do you want a hand with the sale? Mick offered.
Ill go through an agency. The advert is already up. Ill start packing soon, she replied.
Mum, Im not just offering for the sake of it. There are plenty of scams these days. You could end up with no money and no flat.
Dont worry. Lisa Cole, my brotherinlaws wife, will help with the sale you remember her? She runs her own estate agency. Natashas also got a reliable agent; they just helped Paul buy a property, Marge explained.
How much are you planning to ask? Mick asked.
Lisa says three million is a fair price, though we could start a touch higher. Ive checked the listings myself it all lines up, Marge said.
The other flats are cheaper, Olivia noted.
Yes, a similar twobedroom nearby is listed at around two million, Marge admitted.
Mum, Olivia and I have a favour to ask: after you sell, could you give each of us a million? Mick asked.
A million each? Id barely have enough for my own place, Marge replied.
Why not? You could buy a smaller flat, perhaps a onebedroom, Mick suggested.
A onebedroom would be uncomfortable for me I need two rooms, a bedroom and a sitting room, she answered.
Some families of three live in onebedrooms, Mick countered.
Yes, those who cant afford larger homes. I have the means, and I dont understand why I should give that up. Id like to live in comfort, she said.
It would be fair to Olivia and me. It is still a family flat after all, Mick urged.
Mick, I never imagined Id be discussing this, but remember, Dads will gave you everything you were entitled to, Marge reminded him.
He didnt shortchange you. All I inherited was the flat. And now youre asking me to split it with you?
Mick didnt phrase it quite right, Olivia interjected, trying to help. He meant you could support us if you have any surplus.
I have a mortgage, and Ian and I want to buy a cottage. Even half a million would help us.
Even if you buy a twomillion flat, youll still have a million left over. Thats what were counting on, they said.
That leftover would be my safety net. Im not getting any younger and dont want to become a burden if I fall ill, Marge replied.
So you wont give us anything? Mick asked.
Mick, Im surprised youve brought this up. Youre thirtyseven, Olivia thirtyfour. Both of you are welleducated, you and your spouses work, she noted.
You still have years of mortgage to pay. But youre not in need. If I hadnt decided to move and sell, would you have managed? Did you ever have a plan to relocate me to a simpler flat?
No, we didnt, Olivia admitted. Sorry we pressed the issue.
Maybe we thought Mum, whos always helped us, would never say no, Marge said.
I wouldnt refuse if you truly needed it. But I think youll manage: Mick will clear the mortgage, Ian and I will save for the cottage, and everything will be fine.
I did exactly what I had planned: sold the flat, moved back to my hometown, and bought a new place not far from where my husband and children once lived. Relatives helped me settle in and renovate. Now, each morning when I wake, I truly feel at home.
