Longing in Her Eyes
Margaret swept crisp autumn leaves from the path in her garden. She paused, glancing about, and unexpectedly recalled the day she met old Mrs. Clarke on the bus. Though years had passed, the words echoed:
I cant rest in the city, Margaret. Its not my home. Everyone lives by rules that arent mine
How could anyone ever leave their own home? Margaret pondered as she brushed the leaves. We country folk arent suited to city life. At home, its quiet, theres spacestep out into your garden or pop round to the neighbours for a cuppa. In the city, everyones locked away behind their doors. Some dont even know the name of the person next door.
She recalled coming home from visiting her younger son, David, in Manchester. She only went now and then to see her grandson. On the bus shed sat down, mind elsewhere, her bag at her feet, only glancing at her seatmate once shed settled.
Good heavens, Mrs. Clarke! Sorry, I didnt notice youwas fussing with my bag here.
Afternoon, Maggie, dear.
All the village called her Mrs. Clarke. Shed lived for years on the next street over. Everyone knew she had two sons, both living their lives in the city. The elder hardly ever returned. The younger one, Peter, stayed somewhere nearby; hed visit now and then, help his mum with the logs and the veg patch, usually stopped by on his own.
Mrs. Clarke still lived in the old cottage, but lately Peter had started taking her back to Manchester for the winter. This was her journey home at last.
Youre heading back a bit early, arent you, Mrs. Clarke? Its not even the end of March Cant be easy, the weathers still icy. Youll freeze in that draughty old house, wood burner or no, Margaret said with concern.
The old lady was silent, staring out at the fields.
Didnt you tell me yourselfyour house hardly keeps in the heat, the wind flies straight through. Its still biting cold. The verges are rimmed with snowdrifts. How will you manage in that chilly old place?
Oh, Maggie she gave a sad smile even if its cold, its my own. And the city isnt. I cant sleep there, its all strange. Even with Peter being my son, his wife Susans the boss, and we all follow her ways. If I put my slippers somewhere new, shell scold. I dropped a mug by accident in her kitchen, and she went off at meI could barely believe it. She doesnt understand, getting old isnt easy, hands are clumsy. She said awful things, and I felt so hurt. Good job Peter was out. Shes sweet as pie to me when hes around. I promised Id get her another mug, but she didnt want a new onethe old one had belonged to her mum.
Mrs. Clarke sighed heavily, clearly still feeling the sting.
I told Peter theres no need to cart me off each winter. Im a stranger to Susan, just a mother-in-law, but still. He wanted me to stay a bit longer, even drive me back himself, but I didnt want to wait. Decided to come on my own. Thank heavens I can still walk and Ive my pension.
Yes, Mrs. Clarke, life grows complicated in old age. Who can say what awaits us? I couldnt live anywhere but here. Its all Ive ever known, Margaret mused. I visit my son for a few days and just long to come home again.
Youre right, Maggie. If even you as a young thing think that way, Ive got no hope.
That was long ago. Mrs. Clarke is gone nowa new two-storey house stands where her cottage was. Peter built it, and his family comes for summer holidays in the village.
Folk still whisper about the row between the brothers over that old house. Mrs. Clarke wasnt gone a week before the daughters-in-law started feuding. The elder saying her husband was just as much a son, only for everyone to find Mrs. Clarke had left the house to Peter. The older brother never forgave him.
Margaret is long retired, living alone. The years weigh heavy. Shed been the local schools maths teacher. When her husband Jack passed on, she stayed. Her older daughter, Helen, lives far away, visits only for a summer holidayand then only for a few days, because theres always the beach to get to. David turns up more often, but usually alone; his wife Catherine cant stand the countryside.
Go on, David, you head out on your own, Catherine always grumbles. I cant bear the midges, the cows, the smell of manure.
He knew hed married a city girlshed never even seen a real farm until they visited after the wedding. She didnt warm to it: dogs barking, cows lowing, flies buzzing. She wouldnt even stroll along the river or walk in the woods, just sat in the yard until it was time to head home.
Well, the Lord gave me a daughter-in-law, Margaret would laugh. So be it, as long as Davids happy.
Time passed. Margaret slowly aged. She found herself at church more often, drawn by something she couldnt name. Occasionally, shed call in on neighbours, or theyd visit her.
Today, she was preparing to see her neighbour when a car pulled up outside. David had come.
Oh, Davids here, Margaret said, peeking out the window. He forgot his potatoes last time, probably back for them now.
David came in, hugging her tight.
Hello, Mum. How are you?
Hello, love. Same as ever, muddling through.
Day off, is it?
Yes, needed to talk to you.
Well, come to the table, Ill get you fed. Feel it in my bones, made fresh stew this morning, she bustled about, fetching bowls.
Stew sounds grand, David grinned. Dish me up then.
He ate heartily, then sipped tea with blackcurrant jam, stacking his pancakes high.
Thanks, Mum. No one cooks like you.
Get it down you, son. Now, what did you want to talk about?
Mum, we worry about you. It cant be easy, living here on your own. Youre seventy-two, and its a big place. Wood, fires, hauling water, shovelling snowespecially in winter, you know I cant always get here to help. Catherine and I we think youd be better off with us. Its warm, all mod cons, no need for heavy lifting.
Margaret was stunned. The thought raced, lightning quick:
But Im not a helpless old lady, am I? I cook, clean, garden, even keep chickens!
She couldnt find the words, but she knew she had no wish to leave for the city.
Well, mum? Cat got your tongue? What do you think?
I dont know, love, she answered gently Its true, its all easier there, but none of its mine. I fear Id never truly settle, and I still feel strong.
She saw David didnt like her response. They sat a while, then he said:
Sleep on it, Mum Its up to you, but think hard.
Dont forget your potatoes, love, left them last time, Margaret remembered.
Thats right, he loaded the sack into his car and left.
Margaret sat quietly, lost in thought.
No surprise I remembered Mrs. Clarke. Her son fetched her for winter, at least she always got home for summer. But my boy and Catherinewhy the sudden fuss about me? I dont trouble anyone, am still fit, thank the Lord. Oh, it cant mean anything good Weve never had talk like this. What would I even do all day in a fourth-floor flat? I cant sit idle.
The thought of leaving her home, her village, gnawed at Margaret. She was born here, grew up here, returned after university. Married Jack and taught at the school. How could she just go? Even after a day in the city she longed for her own hearth.
Her house was sturdythe kind Jack built with his own hands. Though hed been gone years, the walls stood straight, the fence still true.
David hadnt told her the real reason they wanted her to move. Two weeks later he returned, Catherine with him. Margaret made them supper, and the mood grew serious.
Well, Mum. Have you thought about our offer?
I have, love.
And?
I wont do it, she declared. I cant live in the city.
Mrs. Bailey, its hard here alone, Catherine chimed in softly. Its lonely and risky, especially with winter ahead.
Catherine, I still feel fine, and a bit of snows nothing. What would I do in a flat all summer? Youve no cottage, and wed hardly be back here for holidays.
Oh no, I couldnt live in the country, Catherine replied quickly.
David, what about the house? Your father built it himself.
David looked from mother to wife, tension flickering.
The house? Well sell the house. See, your grandsons married now, and they need a carcould take a loan, but theyve already got a mortgage on a flat. They cant manage both. Your house would fetch a good price, and quickly tooIve looked into it.
Margaret couldnt speak.
So thats it, she thought, stung. They dont care about me being alone. They want my house to sell.
Youre used to being on your own, but what if we cant live together? What then?
You can move in with Helen, Catherine offered. Shes your daughter, after all.
She might not want me either, Margaret replied. Her husband may not care to have a mother-in-law around.
David and Catherine pressed on, but Margaret stayed firm. She would not go.
Well, then. Stay here on your own, but dont expect me to come again, David said sharply. They stood and left, not bothering to say goodbye.
Margaret sat, dazed, tears running down her face. Thats how her neighbour found her and, hearing the story, tried to comfort her.
You did right, Margaret. If you dont want to go, dont go. Life will show you the way.
Margaret carried on, that ache in her eyes. Helen came when she could, offering comfort.
Mum, stay as long as you can. David should knowmoving old folk isnt a small thing. They pine for what they know. Well figure something out if things get hard. We wont leave you on your own.
Thank you for reading, for your kindness and support. Wishing everyone luck and warmth.
