Rose sat quietly in the kitchen of her little cottage on the outskirts of Oxfordshire, counting out the rent money from her tenants. A neat stack: one thousand pounds in crisp notes.
Five hundred for food, two hundred on firewood, another hundred for medicines, and the rest for the little odds and ends that made up everyday life. It just about covered everything, if she was careful.
Since losing her husband three years ago, shed moved out here, to the cottage that had belonged to her parents and was left mostly unused. Shed scraped together her last pennies for renovations, fitted insulation, sorted out the plumbing, and made the place properly habitable. Her flat in town she began to let out.
Her tenants were a reliable, quiet couple, always paid on time, never any trouble. Rose could finally breathe easy knowing she had some steady income.
Shed explained the whole arrangement to her son, Matthew. Hed nodded, told her shed done the sensible thing.
Matthew drifted between gigs, never settlingsometimes temping in offices, sometimes working as a cabbie. Always promising that soon he’d sort himself out, maybe even start his own business. Meanwhile, Rose helped as best she could: a bit towards his rent some months, a little for groceries others. Matthew always promised that soon, soon, hed be the one helping her.
And then, quite out of the blue, he brought his fiancée home.
Jessica was a pleasant enough girl around twenty-eight, working as a receptionist at a beauty salon, chatty and quick to smile. Rose set a proper spread, brewed some English Breakfast tea, brought out a jar of her homemade marmalade.
Mum, Jess and I have decided to get married, Matthew announced.
Roses heart leapt. At last, her son was settling down.
Congratulations! Whens the wedding?
Well, thats just it, were not sure yet, Jessica said, glancing across the table. It depends where well live, first.
Were thinking of renting, said Matthew. But the prices are dreadful these days.
Youre telling me, Rose agreed, its nearly impossible.
Matthew hesitated, as if hed been working up to this the whole time. Mum, what if Jess and I lived in your flat? You wouldnt mind, would you? It wouldnt make much difference to you whos living there. And itd save us a fortune.
Rose set down her tea.
How do you mean, live there? The tenants are in the flat.
Well, you could just ask them to leave, couldn’t you? End the tenancy.
Matthew, love, I need their rent. Thats what keeps me afloat.
Well pay too, Mum. Of course we will.
How much?
Matthew hesitated.
Well, as much as we can manage. At least cover the bills.
Her tenants paid a thousand pounds. Without that, how was she supposed to manage?
I need the full sum, Matthew, she said firmly. I cant afford to lose that income.
Mum, youre out here in the country, you dont even spend much anymore.
Rose sighed. I still need money. Food, medication, logs for the firesall of it costs something.
Well help, once were on our feet, Jessica chimed in, all sunshine and promises. Well be family.
Rose looked at her soon-to-be daughter-in-law and saw at once that Jessica had no intention of paying her a penny. She was after a free ride.
Matthew, I have an agreement with the tenants. I cant just evict them.
Mum, its your flat. If you wanted them out, you could.
Well I dont want them out. Theyre good tenants, and they pay.
Matthew scowled.
So you trust strangers more than your own son?
Its nothing to do with trust. Its about the money.
Thats it, isnt it? All about money. Youd rather make a profit from your own child?
Im not making a profit, Rose said, her voice strained. I just cant give the flat away for nothing.
Its not nothing. We said wed pay the bills.
Its nowhere near enough.
Matthew stood abruptly, making his mug rattle on the table.
Right. So my own mother wont help me. Thanks for making it clear.
They left. Rose was left alone, staring into her half-empty mug. The entire conversation left a bitter taste.
The next day, the phone rang. It was Jessica.
Mrs. Hughes, I need to talk to you. If we cant find somewhere to live, the wedding might not happen.
Why?
How would we manage, living in a pokey rented bedsit? Its not respectable.
Plenty of couples start out renting, Rose replied gently.
Thats some people, Jessica snapped. But not us. Matt promised wed have a place to call our own.
You mean my own?
Youll leave it to him in your will, anyway.
Rose reeled at her shamelessness.
Perhaps I will. But as long as Im alive, my flat is mine. And the income from it keeps me going.
Youre selfish, Jessica spat, then hung up.
Rose sat there, phone in hand, wondering since when were parents considered selfish for not signing away everything while still breathing?
Matthew called every day after that, pleading one minute, guilt-tripping the next.
Mum, youre always talking about saving for the future. What future, if your own sons got nowhere to go?
You have a roomyour rented one.
Thats not mine.
And neither is my flat.
But it will be, eventually, wont it? After you’re gone.
Dont put me in the ground just yet, Matthew!
Im just saying, the flat sits empty while youre out at the cottage.
Its not empty! Its rented out to good people who pay on time.
Strangers!
Reliable, paying people!
Matthew would not give up. Soon other relatives started ringing, urging her to help the lad, give him a start.
Come on, Rose, let him live there if hes getting wed. You cant turn your back on family.
Im not stopping him marrying. Let them rent somewhere.
Dont be daft, youve got a flat sitting in town.
Its my income.
And your sons happiness isnt important?
She grew weary of explaining herself. She knew she sounded like some hard-hearted, calculating mother who valued money above her own boys happiness.
But she understood something none of them seemed to grasp. If Matthew and Jessica moved in, theyd never move out. Promise to pay, but never get round to it. Shed be left here on her own, no income, no backup if her health failed.
The cottage was lovely in the summer, but winter turned it into a test of endurance. Keeping the fire going, lugging in logs, trekking three miles to the nearest shop. The flat was her safety nether only bit of security.
And then one day her friend Beryl told her what shed overheard at the pub.
Rose, your Matthew was sitting there with his mates, bold as brass. I heard him myself: Give it a week, Ill have Mum wrapped round my little finger, well have the flat for nothing.
Something inside Rose turned cold. So that was the plan all along: take the flat, pay nothing.
She phoned Matthew and told him to come. He arrived alone, clearly expecting her to cave in.
Matthew, let me show you the numbers.
She pulled out her notebook with all her budgets laid out.
Look. Out here, its two hundred a month on firewood, seventy on electricity, four hundred on food, two hundred on medication, a hundred on phone and broadband. Thats nearly a thousand a month. Now, the flat costs another two hundred in bills, and another fifty to the agents. So, altogether, I spend over twelve hundred a month. The tenants pay me a thousand in rent. I have to dip into my pension for the rest.
Matthew stayed silent.
If you move in and only cover the bills, thats just two hundred a month. Then all I have is my pensionbarely enough for me to get by. Does that make sense?
I get it, he said quietly.
So how am I supposed to manage?
Come on, Mum, youll have to tighten your belt a bit.
She looked at him.
Tighten my belt? Im sixty-five, Matthew, and my joints ache. You want me to go without so you can live for free?
Its not free, I told youwell pay the bills.
Thats not rent, its charity on my part.
Youre my mum. Youre supposed to help.
Ive helped all my life. Now I need a bit of security.
Matthew stood up fast.
So thats it. Youre saying no.
Im not saying no. Im offering a compromiserent the flat from me at market rate. A thousand a month, with a proper contract, for a year. In that time you two can save up for something of your own.
A thousand a month? Thats no different from renting anywhere else!
Its the same, yes, because thats what I lose if you move in for less.
So you ARE charging your own son.
Im just not willing to lose out. I need the money, Matthew.
He grabbed his jacket.
Youre cold-hearted, Mum. I thought you loved me, but all you care about is cash.
All I care about is surviving. You just want something for nothing.
Im your son!
And you want to bleed your own mother dry.
He slammed the door and left.
A week later, he called again, voice bitter and flat. The weddings off. Jessica wont marry me unless we get the flat.
Rose braced herself for his anger. It came.
Happy now? Youve ruined my life!
I didnt ruin anything, love. I just didnt hand over my only asset.
Itll be mine one day, anyway.
Perhaps. But while Im alive, its mine.
Matthew stopped ringing after that. No calls, not even a birthday card.
Rose carried on letting the flat, taking the rent, living out at the cottage. But it gave her no comfort. She kept glancing at her phone, waiting for a message from her son. It never came.
Her friends insisted shed done the right thing, that a parent mustnt give everything away, must think of herself sometimes. Somehow, those words offered no solace at all.
