“Emily, we need to do something” sighed Rebecca into her phone.
“And whats happened now?” asked her younger sister, Molly, a touch of concern in her voice.
The fact that Rebecca was calling instead of texting already set Molly on edge. Usually, they just exchanged brief WhatsApp messages, but this time, Rebecca insisted on an actual phone call.
“Mum simply cant live by herself any longer. If you spoke to her a bit more often, youd know,” Rebecca said reproachfully.
“Oh, dont start! Get to the point already. What dont I know?”
Rebecca let out another sighMolly always got defensive, especially in recent years, ever since she made it clear she was independent and took any criticism as an attack.
“Just a reminder, Mums 73 now. Her blood pressure is all over the place, shes always tired. She barely manages to cook for herself and keep the flat tidy, really has no strength at all,” Rebecca patiently explained. “She struggles to even pop to the shop for a loaf, if it wasnt for Mrs. Knight next door bringing her bits now and then”
“Are you saying Mums starving?” Molly sounded sharper.
“Of course not! I go over every fortnight and get her everything she needs. Thats not the pointIm saying Mum cant manage alone anymore. If she fell and broke something? At her age and weight, itd be impossible to care for her properly.”
Both sisters fell silent. Even in her younger days, Evelyn Brown had always been curvy; as the years went by, shed gained more. She loved her food and took offence whenever her daughters so much as hinted at a diet, despite her health issues.
“And whats more, she gets so lonely she nearly cries when I leave,” continued Rebecca. “Says everyones deserted her. Its just becoming impossible.”
“So what are you suggesting, exactly?”
Rebecca hesitated, steeling herselfit got tougher to reason with Molly with each passing year.
“Im suggestingyou move in with her.”
“Brilliant! And why exactly cant you move in, Rebecca? Let me guessbecause youve got your precious Harry, a miracle husband, and his not-so-little stepson, just the tender age of 25, to look after. Right?”
“Molly, whats that supposed to mean?”
“It means you always try and sort everything out for everyone else! And me? You couldnt care less about me!” Molly was almost shouting now.
Rebecca felt her own temper rising.
“And where were you when Mum was ferrying groceries into town for you and Maisie, minding Maisie so you, darling little sister, could work and rest as you pleased while Dad was ill? That suited you fine, didnt it? No complaints then!”
For a moment, Molly was silent. Her sister was right. When her marriage to Maisies father had fallen apart, and her mother-in-lawa sweet womangraciously let both Molly and her granddaughter stay in a council flat until Maisie turned 18, Molly had had to keep up with the bills somehow. Her ex paid a pittance and didnt see his daughter much. Molly spun in circles just to keep their heads above water. Back then, her own parents help was invaluableher mum had truly come through for her. Was she really going to have this thrown at her for the rest of her life?
As for the flat, her former mother-in-law kept her word, but asked them to leave when Maisie came of age. By then, Maisie was in college in Manchester and had a boyfriend, so Molly decided to finally change something in her own life and took a job in London. Shed lived for years in rented rooms in Croydon, working whatever jobs she could findover forty, decent postings werent easy to come by.
Still, she was fairly content, and had no intention of moving back to the countryside.
“Youve got no idea what its like to raise a child alone!” she snapped back at Rebecca, aiming below the belt. “Try living like I did before you pass judgement!”
Now it was Rebeccas turn to fall quiet. Her own life, for the most part, had turned out well: after university, she settled in Reading, worked as an accountant, and was determined to marry well. The problem was, decent men were few and far betweenone was too fond of the pub, another a mummys boy, the next a layabout.
Finally, at 39, shed met Harrya widower three years her senior, with a ten-year-old son, Tom. He was an electrician for the local housing association, practical and handy with anything. Quiet, even stern, but never drinks, meticulous to a fault.
Rebecca had fallen for him hard. In their 14 years of marriage (theyd married a year after meeting), shed done all she could to please him. It took time, but she eventually won over Tom, and doted on them both. Shed always wished for her own child, but it wasnt to be, so Harry and Tom became her world.
She didnt want to risk all that.
“I did want to take Mum in,” she admitted, her voice scratchy with emotion, “but she refuses. Wont even talk about it.”
“What? And your precious Harry is just fine with his mother-in-law living in your two-bed flat, is he?” Molly jibed. “Or are you, as usual, avoiding telling him, confident Mum would say no anyway?”
“Molly, enough! This is serious!”
“Weve talked enough,” Molly muttered, and hung up.
Well, that was that.
Rebecca stared at her phone, unmoving. The perfect solution would have been Molly moving in with Mum. Rebecca could keep bringing groceries and help out financially, perhaps even find Molly remote work. Oddly enough, internet wasnt a problem in their little Hampshire village.
But Molly had no intention of making Rebeccas life any easier. Spoiled as a child, still acting the same in her forties! And now, you couldnt order her around anymore.
The next day, Molly sent a message: “Spoke to Mumshe says shes fine, doesnt need any help. Stop making a fuss!”
Rebecca didnt bother replying. What was the point? Molly barely rang Mum once a month, hardly sent more than a few texts. Mum wouldnt say a word out of placeshed hate to upset Molly, terrified her youngest would take offence and cut her off for good.
So Rebecca just listened to all the complaints week after week, then lay awake at night worrying. Even Harry, who usually never noticed her moods, had asked if everything was all right.
She decided not to trouble him with itwhy pile it on? But she simply couldnt work out what to do. Hiring a carer was out of the questionwith London prices, that would drain their savings in a flash.
Harry abruptly thumped his mug down on the table. “Right, thats it. Youve been like this for three months. Whats going on?”
Rebecca tried not to cry, but tears snuck up on her. She struggled to compose herself (men dont like tears, she reminded herself), and quickly explained the situation.
“And why didnt you tell me your mums so unwell?” Harry stared at her.
“I didnt want to worry you” she mumbled, eyes downcast. Now she regretted saying a thingthis wasnt Harrys problem, and the last thing he wanted was a wife with baggage.
“I see,” Harry got up from the table. “Thanks for dinner. Im off to bed.” He didnt even bother with the news on telly like usual. Now what?
Rebecca tossed and turned half the night and overslept, not hearing the alarm. It was Saturday, so she had no work, but she always made Harry breakfast at the same time. Now shed messed that up too!
Yet when she finally shuffled into the kitchen, Harry was calmly drinking tea, reading something on his phone.
“Wide awake at last?” he turned to her. His face was serious but his voice gentle.
“Yes, Harrysorry, Ill get breakfast on,” she said, flustered.
“Sit down, we need to talk.”
Rebecca perched gingerly on the kitchen stool, heart pounding.
“Ive been thinking,” Harry began. “We need to help your mum. You cant leave old folks to fend for themselves. My mother never made it to old age Anyway, well move in with her. Ive checkedtheres work at the local farm for me, and Im sure something will turn up for you.”
Rebecca nearly fell off the stool.
“Harry Are you sure?”
“Completely. Or did you forget how Evelyn looked after Tom during the school holidays, how she fussed over me when you two first met? I remember where kindness comes from. Besides, Ive been dreaming of moving to the countryside for ages. If your mums happy for us to, of course.”
Rebecca stared at her husband. She never expected this from Harrywas she dreaming?
“And what about Tom?” she blurted.
“What about him?” Harry was surprised. “Hes a grown bloke, has his job and life. If anything, hell be glad for the extra space.”
“Oh, Harry!” Rebecca flung her arms round his neck, teary, forgetting he hated shows of emotion.
But this time he didnt pull away. He just squeezed her shoulder gently.
“Dont worry, love. Its all going to be fine.”
And, for once, Rebecca truly believed it might be.
