Ethel, but its freezing in the country in winter! Youll need a woodburning stove and a heap of logs!
Mum, youre a country girl; you grew up that way. Granddad and Nana spent their whole lives in a village, and that was fine. In summer its brilliant a garden, berries, mushrooms in the woods.
Eleanor had just begun to settle into retirement. Sixty years behind her, thirtyfive of them in the accounts department of a factory. Now she could leisurely sip her morning tea, lose herself in a novel and never be in a rush.
The first months of retirement she savoured the peace. She rose whenever she liked, lingered over breakfast, and watched her favourite programmes.
She shopped at the supermarket when the queues were short a true luxury after forty years of queuing.
Then, on a Saturday morning, her daughter Harriet called:
Mum, we need to have a serious chat.
Whats wrong? Eleanor asked, a note of worry in her voice. Is Lucy all right?
Everythings fine with the baby. Ill be home soon and tell you everything. Dont worry!
That dont worry made Eleanors heart race. When a child says dont worry, theres always something to worry about.
An hour later Harriet was in the kitchen, one hand resting on her rounded belly. She was thirtytwo, her second child on the way, and still hadnt tied the knot with Ian. Theyd been living together for four years, Lucy was growing fast, but a marriage certificate seemed optional.
Mum, weve got a problem with the flat, Harriet said, fidgeting with the handle of her mug. The landlord wants to raise the rent. Were just coping with what we pay now, and they want an extra two hundred pounds.
Eleanor nodded sympathetically. She knew how hard it was for young people. Ian jumped from job to job yesterday a warehouse loader, today a courier, tomorrow a nightsecurity guard. Harriet was on maternity leave, and another spell of leave was looming.
We thought about moving out to a cheaper place, Harriet continued, but no one wants to hand over the flat with a baby inside.
What do you plan to do? Eleanor asked, already bracing for a twist.
Thats why Im calling, Harriet said, tugging at the edge of her sweater. Mum, could we stay with you for a while? Just until we save enough for a mortgage.
Eleanor stared at her tea. Her twobedroom council flat was already snug; adding a whole family with a newborn and a second child on the way seemed ambitious.
Ethel, how will we all fit? Ive only got two small rooms.
Well make it work, Mum. The point is to save. Were paying thirteen hundred pounds in rent now; thats fifteen thousand six hundred a year! We could put that towards a deposit instead.
Eleanor pictured the scene: Ian strolling around in his slippers, talking loudly on the phone; Lucy wailing, toys scattered everywhere, cartoons blaring; Harriet waddling about with her baby bump, demanding constant attention.
Where will Lucy sleep? Eleanor tried to find a sensible argument.
Well put a cot in the big room with us. Youll have the smaller one just a sofa and the telly, thats enough!
Mum, Ive just retired, I want some peace. Ive worked forty years; Im exhausted!
Harriet sighed dramatically, as if Eleanor had said something utterly absurd:
Mum, why do you need peace at sixty? Youre still spry. Grandmothers your age are still looking after their grandchildren.
It sounded like a reprimand, as if other grandmas were useful and she was selfish.
And you have that lovely cottage, dont you? The one you keep tidy all year. You could live there fresh air, quiet, perfect for a pensioner.
At the cottage? Eleanor repeated, halfincredulous.
Yes. Its a sturdy little house with a garden you can grow tomatoes in. Doctors say fresh air is good for us older folks.
Eleanor felt a chill. The cottage was thirty miles from town, the bus ran only at dawn and dusk.
But its cold in winter, youll need a wood stove and logs.
Mum, youre a country girl; you know how it works. In summer its wonderful berries, mushrooms, all that.
Harriets pitch sounded more like a pricey resort brochure than a modest village cottage.
What about the doctor? The pharmacy? The grocery shop?
You wont be going to the doctor every day. A monthly checkup is enough. Stock up on food and freeze it; you have a big freezer, dont you?
And my friends? The neighbour Ive spoken to for years?
Phone them, or they can pop over to the cottage for a barbecue. Itll be fun!
Eleanor could barely believe her ears. Her daughter was basically proposing that Mum become a hermitcottagedweller so the flat would be free for her own family, and she passed it off as looking after Mums health.
How long do you want to stay?
At least a year, maybe a year and a half.
A year or a year and a half in a twobedroom council flat, or a solitary year on a remote cottage.
What does Ian think?
Hes all for it! Harriet chirped. He says youll be much better off up in the country than in the city. No hustle, no stress.
You could read books, watch the telly. He even offered to install a satellite dish for more channels.
Eleanor imagined Ian, magnanimously planning her wellbeing while lounging on her favourite sofa, even offering a satellite dish as a charitable gesture.
Think about it, Mum, Harriet pressed on, what will you do in a tworoom flat all by yourself? Its a lot of space for no use. Well manage, save money, get on our feet.
When would you move in?
We could be there tomorrow. We dont have many things. The landlord wants new tenants and will evict us by the end of the month. Times short.
Eleanor poured herself another cup of tea with trembling hands. Harriet stared, waiting for a reaction, her eyes saying, What will you say, Mum? Will you turn your own daughter away when shes in need?
Ethel, what if you and Ian split up? Youre not officially married.
What difference does it make? Weve lived together four years, the kids are ours. A marriage wont change anything.
But if you break up, what then?
We wont break up, Harriet declared firmly. And even if something happened, the flat is yours.
That didnt sound very convincing. Eleanor had known Ian for four years; his employment was a patchwork, his friendships equally fleeting. He floated from job to job, and Harriet seemed headoverheels for him.
Mum, I just retired; I wanted a quiet life for myself.
Mum, what does for yourself even mean? Harriet retorted, a hint of sarcasm. Its a noble cause to support your children and grandchildren!
Harriet was playing on Eleanors emotions like a seasoned actress. Eleanor felt her resistance melt.
What if I say no? What if I cant take you in?
Harriet fell silent, then let out a heavy sigh and rested her hands on her belly:
Mum, I dont know what Ill do then. Honestly, it would hurt me terribly. It would be a real shame for a mother to refuse her own daughter in a tight spot.
There was an undercurrent of silent threat a lifelong grudge, a rupture, denial of grandchildren.
Eleanor imagined Harriet telling everyone, Can you believe my mother refused to help her own daughter?
And then where will we go? Harriet sniffed. Two kids, no money. Ian says maybe we could stay with his mother, but she only has a onebedroom and doesnt like us much.
Eleanor knew Ians mother sharptongued and nononsense. Harriet wouldnt last long there.
Mum, please help us! Just a year! Well be careful, we wont be a nuisance. You can still go to the cottage whenever you like.
And Ill have to travel there often?
Whenever you feel like it. Maybe on weekends youll pop into town for shopping, see your friends. During the week, itll be peace and quiet at the cottage ideal for an older person.
Fine, Eleanor finally said, feeling a strange resignation. But only for a year. No more. And you must keep saving, keep looking for your own place.
Harriet threw her arms around her mother:
Thank you, Mum! Youre the best! Well be tidy, well do all the housework.
And Ill go to the cottage whenever I please, Eleanor added. Thats my condition.
Of course, Mum! Your flat, your rules. Were just guests.
A week later they moved in. Ian neatly arranged his belongings in the wardrobe. Lucy darted from room to room, exploring the new territory. Harriet directed the chaos, telling everyone where to put what.
Eleanor stood in the middle of the upheaval, packing a bag for the cottage, feeling like an exile from her own home.
The first months were pure hell. Ian adapted quickly, blasting the telly at full volume, chatting on the phone at all hours. His fridge filled with energy drinks, the shelves stocked with protein shakes.
Harriet threw tantrums about everything too hot, too cold, music too loud. Lucy wailing at night, toys strewn everywhere, cartoons looping from dawn to dusk.
Eleanor drove into town once a week for groceries and medicine, each visit a fresh shock at the state of her oncetidy flat. The kitchen was a mountain of dirty dishes, the bathroom a pile of baby clothes and Ians socks. Her beloved sofa was speckled with juice and biscuit crumbs.
Ethel, maybe we should tidy up a bit? Eleanor suggested.
When will I? Harriet snapped. The babys tiny, Im exhausted, and Ian is knackered after work. He needs his evenings to rest.
I can help while Im in town, Eleanor offered.
No need, Mum. Well manage. Well tidy up after the baby arrives, I promise.
After never arrived. Eleanor did the dishes, vacuumed, dusted, but each week the flat reverted to chaos.
At the cottage, Eleanor felt like a true outcast. Thirty miles from civilisation, the nearest shop three miles away, the bus ran just twice a day.
Neighbours were curious:
Gal, why are you spending a whole year out there? Youve still got a flat in town.
My daughter and her family are staying there temporarily, saving for a house, Eleanor explained.
Ah, that makes sense. Young folks need a hand.
You cant exactly tell the neighbours that your flat is now occupied by a daughter and a freelancing lover who politely nudged you out for health.
Winter at the cottage was brutal. The wood ran out fast, water had to be boiled on the stove. Eleanor felt stranded on the edge of the world.
Six months later Harriet gave birth to a son, Daniel. Eleanor hoped the new baby would spur the family to find their own place. But when she visited the city to see the newborn, Harriet declared:
Mum, with two kids well never find a suitable flat. Lets stay another year, okay?
And Eleanor realised shed been duped from the start. One year would become two, two would become three.
Shell spend her pension years in that deserted cottage? Not on my watch!
Eventually the police had to escort Harriets family out when they stubbornly refused to leave. Eleanor was on the receiving end of curses, insults and threats.
She didnt mind any more; the agreement was for a year, and shed kept it. Was it shameful to stand up to her own daughter? As the saying goes, you reap what you sow.
What do you think was Mum right, or did she overstep? Feel free to comment below, and give a like if you enjoyed the tale.