**Diary Entry 15th October**
“Do you visit the cottage often? Then just live there,” my daughter laughed as she discussed renting out the flat.
“Mum, do you remember where my blue hoodie is?” shouted Emily from her room.
Antonia paused, pulled from sorting through old photographs. Emily was rummaging through the wardrobe, hangers clinking.
“Probably in the wash,” Antonia called back. “Check the laundry basket.”
“Found it!” Emily replied a moment later.
Antonia returned to the photos. There was Emily as a toddler, cradled by her late father, William, beside their first car. Another of her as a schoolgirl, holding flowers on her first day. Then her graduation…
“Mum, what are you looking at?” Emily emerged, tugging on the blue hoodie.
“Just old photos from the dresser. Deciding what to keep.”
Emily leaned over the box. “Oh, this is us at the cottage!” She picked up a picture of the three of them by the newly built summerhouse. “Dad was still alive. Feels like forever ago.”
“Eight years,” Antonia said quietly. “Itll be eight in August.”
“Time flies,” Emily sighed, setting the photo down. “Mum, I wanted to talk to you.”
Something in her tone made Antonia tense. Thirty-four years of motherhood had taught her every inflection. That careful voice always meant trouble.
“About what, love?”
Emily walked to the kitchen, sat at the table. Antonia followed.
“Ive been offered a brilliant job,” Emily began, avoiding her mothers eyes. “A client wants me to develop an online shopgood pay, but its remote. Id need a quiet place to work.”
“Thats wonderful!” Antonia smiled. “Youre brilliant with computers.”
“Thing is working here isnt ideal. The telly, phone calls, neighbours playing music. I need focus.”
Antonia nodded. Their semi-detached had paper-thin walls, and the couple next door loved blasting tunes.
“What are you suggesting?”
“Well” Emily hesitated. “I thought I could rent a flat somewhere quieter. Just for a year. The pay covers it.”
“Rent this one out?”
“Mum, dont take it like that. Of course its yours. But youre always at the cottage! You practically live there May through October. Why not stay full-time?”
Antonias throat tightened. “Youre asking me to move out?”
“No! Its just practical. The flats empty half the year anyway. Wed split the rent moneyfairs fair.”
Antonia gripped the chair. “A sixty-year-old woman, wintering in a cottage?”
“Youre fifty-nine! Plenty of retirees live year-round out there. Fresh air, peace and quiet.”
“And no one around if something happens.”
“The Harrisons are next door! They stay through winter. Youd have neighbours.”
Antonia stared out the window. Kids played below; cars hummed past. The ordinary city life shed known for decades.
The cottage was differentsix acres in Hampshire, an hours drive away. The little house she and William had built themselves, the garden theyd tended. A retreat, not a prison.
“Emily, what if I fall ill? Need an ambulance?”
“Youve got a phone. And the car.”
“I barely drive since passing my test. You know that.”
“Youll manage. Or take the bus.”
Antonia picked up a photo of her and William, newlyweds in front of this very flat. Twenty-two and full of dreams.
“Remember how we got this place? Your dad queued eight years for itworked overtime, took extra shifts.”
“Mum, that was ages ago. Things are different now.”
“Different indeed,” Antonia murmured. “Parents used to bring children home, not send them away.”
“Dont be dramatic! Im not throwing you out. Its mutual benefit.”
Mutual. Antonia almost laughed. Her benefit? Shivering through winter in an uninsulated cottage?
“Ill think about it,” she said stiffly.
“Brilliant!” Emily kissed her cheek. “Youll seeitll work out. Half the rents a nice pension top-up.”
She left for a friends, leaving Antonia alone with her tea and thoughts.
The cottage *was* lovely in summer. But winter? Frost creeping through the windows, no central heating? And the way Emily had sprung it on herlike she was an inconvenience wrapped in concern.
The next morning, Emily rushed out, late as ever. “Thought any more?”
“Still thinking.”
“But the client needs an answer.”
“And if I say no?”
Emily faltered. “Then Id have to refuse the job. Such a shamethe pays fantastic.”
“So its decided, then.”
“No! Just explaining.”
After she left, Antonia took the bus to Hampshire. The cottage greeted her with the scent of apples and silence. She walked the rooms, testing the draughty windows, the wood stove. Livable, yes. But *home*?
“Antonia!” called Mr. Harrison from next door. “Staying long?”
“Perhaps permanently. Emily wants to rent the flat.”
He shrugged. “Your business. But winters tough alone.”
That evening, she sat on the porch, listening to the absence of city noise. Peaceful. Lonely.
Emily was already listing the flat, she discovereda young couple coming to view it.
“You advertised without my answer?”
“I assumed youd agree! You love it here.”
“In *summer*.”
“Mum, dont fuss. Its romanticfires, quiet…”
Antonia studied her daughters eager face. “Youve decided my life for me.”
“Dont be like that! Its a *good* deal.”
“For you.”
Emily huffed. “Fine. If youre dead against it, Ill turn the job down.”
“Ill agree,” Antonia said coldly. “On one condition: *all* the rent comes to me. Compensation for *my* inconvenience.”
“What? Thats not fair!”
“Your share was a gift when you turned eighteen. Consider it returned.”
They argued, but Antonia held firm. Let Emily learn that mothers werent furniture to be rearranged.
The couple moved in a week later. On moving day, Emily hugged her. “Youre not angry?”
“Disappointed.”
“Ill visit every weekend!”
Antonia said nothing. The bus rattled toward Hampshire, fields blurring past. A new life, chosen for her.
*”You love the cottage? Then live there.”*
Well see who wins, she thought. If anyone does.
