Figure It Out Yourself, Mate

No, Emily, dont count on me. Youre married nowbe with your husband, not me. I dont need strangers in my house, Margaret said sharply.

Emily swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. A lump rose in her throat. She hadnt expected such a cold refusal.

Mum Hes not a stranger. Hes my husband, your son-in-law. Were not asking you to buy us a flatjust to stay with you while we save for the deposit.

A short, bitter laugh crackled down the line.

I know how this goes. Let you stay, and youll never leave. First the deposit, then the repairs, then something else. And Ill never have a moments peace. No, Emily, dont take it to heart, but your father and I managed on our own. Youll have to do the same.
Manage how? Emily pressed. You know were both working, saving every penny. Most of it goes on rent. At this rate, with prices rising, well only ever afford a shoebox.
Who has it easy these days? Margarets voice grew sharp. Your father and I never lived with our parents. We went through it all ourselves and never complained.
Yourselves, yourselves Mum, dont even start. I remember! I remember Gran helping you.
Thats different. Gran helped because she wanted to. We never asked. I earned this flat the hard way, with your father
I never asked to be born into nothing, Emily blurted before slamming the phone down.

Her chest burned with anger. Perhaps her mother had every right to refusebut the way shed done it As if shed built an empire single-handedly, and Emily, the ungrateful wretch, was trying to ride on her coattails. But that wasnt how it had been at all.

…When Margaret found out she was pregnant, she wasnt even married. Edward, Emilys father, was careless, still sowing wild oats, with no interest in responsibility. His mother was much the samelong divorced, forever chasing happiness. So Margaret turned to Eleanor, Edwards grandmother.

Eleanor had wept with joy when she heard, hugging Margaret tightly and promising to help.

Dont you worry, love. You keep that baby. Ill have a word with our Eddie, shed said. And since its come to this, Ill sign the cottage over to you. Ill move in with my daughter. Its too much for me alone, and Lucy could use the help. Youll have a proper home to raise the little one.
Eleanor, you cant! Margaret had gasped. Its a whole cottage, not some hovel!
Im not taking it with me, am I? I never found happinesslet you have yours, shed sighed.

Eleanor kept her promise, and then some. She put the cottage in Margarets name, knowing her grandson was no family man. Margaret later sold it for a modest two-bedroom flat.

When Emily was born, nothing changed. Edward still caroused, his contribution to family life limited to his wagesand even those often went missing.

Margaret knew but endured it. She complained, even wept, but never threw him out.

Children need both parents, shed tell her own mother when divorce was suggested. When Emily turns eighteen, Ill leave him.

Emily, however, disagreed. Better a single mother and growing up fast than being a shoulder to cry on, listening to rows, breaking up fights.

Margaret clung on until Emilys eighteenth birthday, then filed for divorce. Emily had dared to hopetoo soon.

Were on our own now. Two grown womenwell share the load, Margaret announced. This month, rest up. Next month, half the bills and groceries.

Emily, still at university, was horrified. Her grant barely covered bread, let alone her mothers taste for proper mealsmeat, fish, fresh veg. She suggested separate shelves, but Margaret wouldnt hear of it. No part-time job paid enough to cover her share. Emily had to work full-time.

Within six months, she dropped out. She couldve switched to evening classes, but when would she study? And what employer would tolerate a student?

That decision haunted her still. Every job favoured candidates with degreeseven stacking shelves.

At first, she blamed herself. Then, talking to peers, she understood: shed never been given a fair start.

Margaret took the news calmly.

Guess it wasnt for you, was all she said.

From then on, they lived like flatmatesno rows, but no warmth either.

Ten years passed. Emily married James. They rented a cramped flat on the outskirts. He was an electricianessential work, meagre pay. Odd jobs helped, but the money vanishedboots, dentist bills, patching holes in their budget. Savings grew, but

At this rate, itll take twelve years, James sighed, staring at his phone.

Thats when Emily called her mother. Margaret had a spare room.

But Margaret had no desire to take her backespecially with a “stranger.”

Emily didnt know how to feel. She understood her mothers life hadnt been easy. She mightve grown just as hard in her place. But it still hurt. Years of effort, never asking for a thingand when she did, only ice: “Manage on your own.”

Fine. If thats how it was, they would. Emily had one last cardthe cottage shed nearly forgotten.

Youve got yours, Margaret. Let Emily have hers, her maternal grandmother had once said.

When Gran passed, Emily was twelve. Margaret took over the cottageplanting potatoes, fixing the roof, arguing with neighbours. Emily never mentioned it was hers. What good would that do? Everything Margaret grew went to their table.

But if her mother prized independence so much, why not follow her example?

Two days later, Emily called againthis time firm.

Mum, Im calling to warn you. Clear your things from the cottage. Were renting it out.

A pause. Margaret scoffed.

Renting? Whod take that place?
Not your concern. Its sitting empty, just costing me taxes.
Not my concern? Ive kept it from falling apart! Ive spent money, fixed the roofyouve done nothing!
No one asked you to. You chose to, Emily cut in. Clear your things, or they go with the tenants.
Well see about that

Margaret hung up. Emilys heart raced long after. This time, she hadnt spoken as a daughter, but as an equala grown woman with her own rights.

Margarets words proved partly true. Few wanted the cottage.

We could sell it. Or move in, James said one evening.

Emily listed it. It hurtnot the loss of the cottage, but the memories. Summers, apple scent, Grans jams and cordials But life demanded sacrifices. And Gran wouldve approved.

One day, a call came. A woman haggled, then arranged a viewing.

But it was Margaret who arrived. Shed seen the listing and sent a friend to call. Too proud to do it herselfthey hadnt spoken since that bitter exchange. And Emily wouldnt have dealt with her anyway.

Well? Discount for family? Margaret smirked.

No choice. Emily just wanted it over. The sale went through. Six months later, she and James drank tea in their own kitchenno unannounced visits, no inspections.

Then the phone rang. Margaret. Emily hesitatedthis was the first call since the sale. She answered, fearing bad news.

Hello. I was at the cottage, Margaret began cautiously. The apples did well this year. Made too much jam. Want some?

Emily sighed. After selling the cottage, shed felt hollow. No anger, no bitterness. But no love, either. Their relationship was purely transactional now. And business partners didnt exchange jam for free.

No, Mum. Were fine, she said wearily.
Alright Suit yourself.

Emily knew things would never be the samenor did she want them to be. Margaret had stood her ground; so had she. But the walls theyd built in this war left no room for bridges.