“While We Sell the Flat, Go Stay at the Care Home,” Her Daughter Told Her: How Late-Blooming Love Led Ludmila to Betray Her Mother for the Sake of an Ungrateful Husband

“While were selling the flat, youll have to stay at the care home for a bit,” my daughter said matter-of-factly.

Margaret had married very late in life. To be honest, luck had rarely been on her side, and as a woman in her forties, shed already lost hope of meeting by her standards a halfway decent man.

Then along came Edwin, forty-five, some sort of prince charming if there ever was one. Turned out hed been married a few times and had three children, all of whom hed been forced by court order to give his own flat to.

So, after a brief stint hopping between rented places, Margaret had little choice but to drag her husband to the home of her sixty-year-old mother, Mary Wilkinson.

Right as we walked in, Edwin pulled a face and wrinkled his nose, making a show of how much the air offended him.

“Smells musty in here,” he grumbled disapprovingly. “Could do with a good airing out.”

Mary heard him loud and clear, but she simply pretended she hadnt.

“Where exactly are we supposed to sleep?” Edwin sighed heavily, unimpressed with our new accommodations.

Margaret hurried to please her husband and whisked her mother aside.

“Mum, Ed and I will need your room,” she whispered, “and you can stay in the small one for a bit.”

That very same day, poor Mary was bluntly relocated to a box room that could hardly be called fit for living, and she had to shift her own things, seeing as Edwin flat out refused to help.

From that point on, life became a struggle for Mary. Edwin moaned about everything: her cooking, the cleaning, even the colour of the wallpaper.

But it was the smell that truly irked him. He claimed the flat stank of old age and swore it was giving him an allergy.

At the mere sight of Margaret at the door, Edwin started coughing dramatically.

“I cant live like this! Something has to change!” he snapped at Margaret one evening.

“We cant afford to rent a place,” Margaret replied, flustered.

“Just send your mum somewhere,” Edwin grunted, scowling. “I cant breathe in here.”

“What do you want me to do, Ed?”

“I dont know, think of something! This place cant be saved; we need to sell it and buy somewhere new,” he muttered. “Yes, thats it! Talk to your mother!”

“What am I supposed to say?” Margaret asked nervously.

“Youll think of something! The placell be yours when shes gone anyway. Were just speeding up the process,” Edwin answered coolly.

“I suppose it does feel awkward”

“Whos more important to you, me or her? I picked you out when you were forty, a spinster who else wouldve bothered?” he pressed, knowing exactly what he was doing. “If I go, youll be on your own, and whos going to want you then?”

Margaret glanced at her husband from under her brow, then shuffled off to the tiny cupboard that now served as her mothers room.

“Mum, youre probably not happy living in here, are you?” she began cautiously.

“Are you giving me back my room?” Mary asked anxiously.

“No, theres another idea. Youre going to leave this flat to me anyway, right?” Margaret asked, hope flickering in her voice.

“Of course.”

“Then lets not drag it out. I want to sell it now and buy somewhere nicer.”

“Couldnt you just fix this place up?”

“No, we need something bigger.”

“And what about me, love?” Marys lips quivered.

“Well, you could stay in a care home for a little while,” Margaret blurted, all excitement, “just until we get things sorted. Well come for you soon, promise.”

“Really?” Mary looked up at her daughter, hope edging into her eyes.

“Of course. Well get it all straight, do up the new place, and fetch you back,” Margaret said, holding her mothers hand.

Mary had little choice and, trusting her daughter, agreed to sign over the flat.

Once the paperwork was done, Edwin rubbed his hands together gleefully.

“Pack her stuff! Well take her to the care home,” he ordered Margaret.

“So soon?” Margaret faltered, guilt stinging.

“Whats the point in waiting? Not even her pension is worth the trouble. Shes given us more hassle than help. Your mums lived her life, time for us to live ours,” Edwin declared, all business.

“But we havent even sold the old flat yet”

“Just do as I say, unless you want to end up alone,” he said sharply.

Two days later, Marys belongings and the lady herself were bundled into a car and taken off to the care home. On the way, she wiped away tears unseen, an uneasy feeling in her heart.

Edwin didnt bother coming. He stayed to “air out” the flat from all the “old people smell.”

Mary was quickly checked into the care home, and Margaret, after a rushed and shamefaced goodbye, hurried out.

“You will come for me, wont you, love?” Mary asked as she left, clinging to hope.

“Of course, Mum,” Margaret replied, eyes turned away.

Deep down, she knew Edwin would never allow Mary back into their new home.

After getting their hands on the property, the pair sold it at once and bought a new flat. Edwin insisted it be in his name only, claiming Margaret wasnt to be trusted.

A few months later, Margaret tried to broach the subject of her mother with Edwin, but he blew up immediately.

“If you so much as mention her again, youre out!” Edwin threatened, hating even the sound of Marys name.

Margaret bit her tongue, knowing full well he wasnt joking. She never spoke of her mother again.

Now and then she wanted to visit the care home, but the thought of her mothers tears always stopped her.

For five long years, Mary waited each day, hoping her daughter would keep her promise and come to fetch her.

But that day never came. The separation became too much and Mary faded away, alone.

Margaret only heard the news a year later, after Edwin threw her out, and she remembered her mother at last.

Overwhelmed with guilt, she left everything behind and joined a convent, desperate to try and atone for all shed done.