Mum, open up! Its me!
The voice beyond the front door startled Margaret so much that she nearly dropped her plate. Her heart raced; shed recognised it immediately, despite not having heard it for nearly five years. Amy? Surely not
Her hands shook as she wiped them on her apron, hurrying to the hallway. On her way, she knocked the edge of the table and didnt even notice a cup clattering to the floor.
Im coming, sweetheart, just a second, her voice cracked to a whisper.
She swung open the door, and there was her girl. Still Amy, but different. Grown up. A wool coat, manicured nails, a distant chill in her eyes. Yet, when the girl smiled, for a fleeting moment Margaret saw her little girl with plaited hair again.
May I come in? Amy asked, bending forward as if to embrace her but stopping halfway.
Of course, darling, of course! Margaret stepped back, clearing the way. I was just making a cup of tea You still love it with mint, dont you? I remember…”
Her daughter wandered through the lounge, glancing around. The flat was unchanged after five yearsthe same curtains, that same blue vase, the old photos on the wall. Amy paused at one of themthe two of them, hugging, beaming at a birthday party ages ago.
How how are you? Margaret finally asked, not knowing where to start. Her hands twitched, wishing to neaten Amys collar, but she restrained herself.
Im fine, Amy said, turning from the photo. And you?
Oh, you know getting by
Silence hung between them, heavy and awkward. Margaret noticed her own handsveined, mottled with age. Amys were slim, perfectly manicured. So distant.
Sit down, please, Margaret fussed. Ill just
Mum, enough, Amy sighed. Lets just talk.
Margaret nodded, gripping the corner of her apron. Lord, how shed missed her
I Im so glad youve come, she blurted out.
Amy looked at her, something indefinable flickering in her gaze.
Yes, Mum. Me too.”
But her voice was flat. Unshaken. None of the warmth that Margaret so desperately searched for.
Outside, snow drifted downsoft, hesitant. It felt as though those five years hadnt happened, as if Amy had only nipped to the shops and come straight back.
Yet something was still not right.
***
Margaret worked constantly, from dawn to dusk. After her husband leftwhen Amy was just threeshe had found herself alone, raising a daughter in a council flat. Money was terribly tight, but she would do anything to make sure Amy didnt want for anything.
Mum, can I have that dress? All the girls at school have one, except me!
Mum, my phones ancientI cant go out with it like this!
“If you won’t let me go to that party, Ill never speak to you again!”
She would sigh, but relent, picking up overtime and scrimping on herself. If Amy sulked, Margaret apologised first. When Amy was cross, Margaret simply bore it.
You dont understand me at all! teenage Amy would shout, slamming her bedroom door.
Im sorry, darling, she murmured, watching her daughter storm away.
And then, suddenly, Amy was grown.
At twenty-two, Amy brought a young man home.
This is Simon. Were getting married, she declared, absolutely certain.
Margaret looked at this quiet, polite young man and wondered what her beautiful, spirited daughter saw in him.
Amy, do you do you love him? she ventured gently.
Amy shrugged.
I suppose so. Its not the point, Mum. Hes got a flat, he worships me, and I I just want to live my life at last.
She tossed it out so casually, as though she was talking about moving to another street, not marrying.
But you havent even tried living on your own. To find out what you want yourself
Mum, enough! Amy cut her off. I know what Im doing.
The wedding was modest. Amy never even asked for help with the dressjust bought a simple one from the first shop.
Its only the formalities that matter, shed said.
Margaret watched the day from the sidelines, swallowing tears. Her little girl now a stranger.
After the wedding, Amy moved out and hardly visited. Margaret called now and then.
Amy, sweetheart, how are you? Will you pop by?
No time, Mum. And what for?
Its just I miss you
Oh, dont start. Youve got the telly, havent you?
Their conversations grew shorter, Amys tone ever colder. Yet Margaret always hoped.
Shed set the table for two, just in case Amy dropped by. Every holiday, she bought imaginary gifts for grandchildren she didnt have. Every day, she peered out the window, half-expecting to see her daughter walking down the street towards home.
But Amy didnt come.
And now, five years on, she was at the door.
Can I come in?
And Margaret, forgetting every past hurt, reached out as if to catch a last glimmer of light in her lonely old age.
***
Those first days were almost blissful.
Each morning, Margaret would put the kettle on, make sandwiches just like Amy liked as a child: just a hint of butter and ham, lightly warmed in the pan.
Mum, honestly, you dont need all this fuss, Amy protested, but still ate with gusto.
They made stew following the family recipe, watched black-and-white filmsa weak echo of times beforeand Amy even hugged her goodnight for the first time in years.
Sleep well, Mum, she said softly, kissing her mothers cheek.
Margaret would fall asleep smiling.
But on the third day, a change came.
The phone rang.
Margaret, its Jane, came the familiar voice. How are you? Fancy a natter over some tea?
Yes, come by! Id love that! Margaret replied, suddenly animated.
But as soon as she put the phone down, Amy frowned.
Who was that?
My friend Jane. We sometimes have tea together
Mum, you know what people are like these days, Amy sighed. The minute they see an elderly woman on her own, theyll want to take advantage.
Oh, dont be silly, Janes an absolute treasure!
They all areuntil you see their true colours, Amy replied, cool as ever.
Jane never called round that day.
The next afternoon, Amy started tidying up.
Mum, who keeps phoning you? she asked, noticing the hushed voice Margaret used.
Oh the lady next door, Mrs Stevens
The nosy one who always pops over? Must think theres something to gain here, Amy sneered.
Amy, really, dont say things like that!
Mum, youre too soft. The worlds cruel.
Not wanting to argue, Margaret stopped answering her friends calls.
***
Later, Amy stepped out onto the balcony, sliding the door shut behind her. Margaret watched her quietly, seeing her daughter light a cigarette, clutch her phone, and begin speaking sharply and animatedly.
No, Simon, I havent changed my mind! Margaret caught scraps through the glass.
Do you realise how long Ive waited? Shell be gone soon anyway Its mine by rights! Thats it, nearly sorted!
Margaret turned away, sighing. Young people, always something, she thought sadly.
The next afternoon, while Amy was at the shops, the phone rang.
Hello? Margaret said, not recognising the number.
Mrs Evans? Its Simon.
Her son-in-laws voice sounded strained, as if it was hard to speak.
Simon! Hello. Is something wrong?
I I dont know how to say this He paused, exhaling. You deserve to know. Amy she didnt just come back for a visit.
What do you mean?
She shes making sure you havent signed your flat over to anyone else. She wants to be sure shell inherit it after Well, after youre gone.
Silence.
Margaret didnt cry. She didnt shout. She simply stood there, the worlds colours drained away.
I I tried to talk her out of it, Simon continued quickly. She said shes owed it. That youre in her debt, for life…
Why why are you telling me this? Margarets voice was barely a whisper.
Because its not right, he said more firmly. I love her, I do. But this is going too far.
***
When Amy came back, Margaret sat quietly at the kitchen table, staring out.
Mum, whats with the long face? Amy set the bags down.
Simon rang.
Amy froze, her face tight.
What what did he say to you? her voice suddenly shrill.
Everything.
Amy was silent for a long moment. Then her face twisted in anger.
He had no right! Its between us!
And me? Margaret stood. Didnt I have any right to know?
You might have guessed! Amy snapped. Did you think I just came here to get all sentimental?
Silence.
Go, Margaret said quietly.
What?
Go. And dont come back.
Amy opened her mouth, as if to protest, but turned sharply, slammed the door, and was gone.
Just like five years ago.
But this time, Margaret didnt watch her leave.
She simply closed her eyes and, for the first time in years
Let herself stop waiting.
She stopped setting a place for two at dinner. She threw out the faded photographs, the smiling child who no longer existed. She even redecorated the loungefresh, light wallpaper, free at last of the past.
***
Margaret, its Jane. Can I come round?
The voice over the phone was warm, yet hesitant.
Yes, pop in, Margaret replied, and, for the first time in ages, there was no fatigue in her voice.
Jane arrived holding a freshly baked apple tart, and immediately sensed the change.
Its all looking new in here, she remarked, placing the tart on the kitchen table.
It was time, Margaret smiled, pouring the tea.
And how Jane hesitated. How are you?
Im living, Margaret answered simply. Then, after a pause: Im living well.
Jane looked at her friend for a long moment, then hugged her closefondly, like family.
Come by tomorrow, well make dumplings. And Saturday, lets go to the theatre. Ive got a spare ticket.
Margaret nodded. For the first time in years, she realisedthere are people who care, not out of duty, not out of gain. Simply because you are you.
Sometimes, letting go of waiting for the ones who have left allows us to open our doors to those who truly cherish us.
