MUM, ITS ONLY FOR A YEAR! I NEED TO SELL YOUR THREE-BED FLAT TO PAY OFF MY BUSINESS DEBTS OR IM DONE FOR. LENA AND I WILL RENT SOMEWHERE FOR NOW, AND WELL FIND YOU A LOVELY CARE HOME. FRESH AIR, COUNTRYSIDE, DOCTORS ON HAND AFTERWARDS ILL BUY US A LARGE HOUSE AND BRING YOU TO LIVE WITH US. I PROMISE!
I knelt before Mum, burying my face in the faded, threadbare dressing gown that still smelt faintly of her lavender powder. My shoulders shook, betraying all the anxiety I carried. Mum Margaret Evans looked down at my thinning brown hair with such sadness it chilled my heart. Shed heard that tone before: when I blamed someone else for the broken window in Year 2, or when I left my pregnant first wife. Her intuition screamed, Dont trust him! Hes lying! But she was my mother.
All right, Simon, she said quietly, her wrinkled hand stroking my hair. If itll save you Do what you must.
Packing didnt take long. Lena, my wife, bustled around, meticulously wrapping the crystal in newspaper and tucking it into boxes.
Oooh, Margaret, whats the point of keeping these old photo albums? Theyll just gather dust, you know! The care home must be kept spotless, Lena called out.
Theyre my memories, dear, Mum replied firmly, clutching the heavy velvet-bound album to her chest.
Well, if you say so! But that thing wont fit in the bedside drawer.
The Golden Autumn Care Home was clean but coldly institutional. The corridor stank of disinfectant and boiled cabbage. Mum shared her rooma simple one with two twin bedswith a nearly blind old lady who endlessly called for someone named Cathy.
Well, Mum, Ill be off now, I said, pecking her lightly on the cheek, not quite meeting her eyes. Ill pop in every Saturday, promise!
Mum stood at the window and watched as I got into my car. She thought she saw me sigh with relief as I pulled away.
I managed two visits that first month, bringing oranges and cheap ginger biscuits she couldnt chew. The following month, just once (Busy at work, Mum, you know how it is.). Then the visits petered out entirely. Eventually, only short phone calls: Im fine, Mum. Just swamped. Love you.
Mum never complained. She would sit on one of the armchairs by the lounge window, gazing hopefully at the entrance.
Youre wasting your time, Margaret, said Linda the cleaner one afternoon, mopping the floor with tired hands. Loads of waiters herewhole wards full. Dumped like empty bottles, then forgotten. Did you sign the flat over to him?
He promised hed bring me home… Hes just in a spot of bother
Yeah. They all are, love. But none of em lacks the nerve.
A year passed. The supposed deadline came and went.
Mum rang my mobile.
The number is currently unavailable.
She kept trying all week. Silence.
Eventually, she asked Linda to ring Lena from her own mobile.
It rang for ages. And then, Lenas cheerful voice: Hello! Hello?
Lena its Margaret.
A heavy silence.
Oh. Margaret? Why are you calling from a different number? Simon cant come to the phone now, were were abroad at the moment.
Where?
Turkey. Were having a bit of a breakSimon was exhausted from all the paperwork!
Paperwork? My heart nearly stopped. What paperwork?
Oh We finally sold your flat, got a cracking deal, bought ourselves a new place right in the centre. Its being renovateddesigners everywhere, dust everywhere, wouldnt do your lungs any good
But but the debts?
Oooh! The lines breaking up! Got to dash, Margaret, well ring when were home!
The call ended abruptly.
Mum let the phone fall gently to her lap.
There were no loan sharks. No life-or-death threats.
Only my desire to live comfortably, here and now. At the expense of her home. Her life. She was discarded like the battered old sofa that no longer fit the designer renovation.
I finally showed up after three more monthsbrowned by Turkish sun, bulkier, and in a sharp new leather jacket.
The head nurse had phoned.
The care home smelt of medicine. Her bed, by the window, was perfectly made. No one in it.
On her bedside table lay the velvet photo album and a sealed envelope.
The matron, a weary man with exhausted eyes, silently handed it to me.
She asked me to make sure you got this.
Out in the hall, I tore it open.
My dearest Simon,
I knew everything. Right from that moment you knelt down. I could see you were lying. But I signed the papers not because I was a silly old woman, but because you are my son. And if your happiness meant stepping over your mother, I lay down so you could cross with ease.
I hold no grudge. I only hope your children, when they grow up, dont treat you the same way you have treated me. But they will, Simon. Children dont learn from what we say, but from what we do.
Ive left the keys to the cottage with Linda the cleaner. Shes got three little ones and no home. You dont need it nowyoure a rich man.
Take care. Your Mum.
I crumpled the letter, my throat hot and tight.
I wanted to cry, but no tears came. Only bitterness.
Whats the point of this melodrama? I muttered at the empty corridor. Id have brought her home later. Eventually.
I stepped outside and slid into my sparkling new Range Rover.
My mobile buzzed. It was my ten-year-old son, Harry.
Dad, are you coming? You promised to take me to the cinema!
On my way, Harry, Im coming.
Dad, is it true we put Granny Margaret in that care home so she wouldnt get in the way?
I froze, gripping the wheel.
Who told you that?
I heard Mum telling Aunt Jill on the phone. Dad when youre old, will I have to put you in a place like that? So youre not in my way?
I caught my face in the rearview mirror.
For the first time, I felt truly afraid.
Later never comes, and we always pay for it in the end.
I started the engine, but the radio now sounded like a funeral march for my own old age.
Moral:
Children mirror us. What we do to our parents, we should expect back from our own children. The boomerang never misses, and the return blow always hurts more than we imagined. Cherish your parents while you can. Houses can be bought. Conscience and the warmth of loving hands can never be replaced.
Could you ever forgive such betrayal?
