In my twilight years, my children suddenly remembered they had a motherbut Ill never forget how they treated me
When my husband ran off with a younger woman, the children firmly took his sideafter all, he had a certain standing as managing director of a large firm. For years, they barely so much as rang me, and I was left completely on my own. Recently, my ex passed away, and wouldnt you know it, everything he owned went straight to the shiny new wife.
And just like that, the kids remembered me. Now, theyre forever popping round, but I can see straight through their Sunday smiles… Not long ago, my daughter started nudging the subject: perhaps its time I sorted out my will. Little do they know what surprise Ive got quietly tucked away for them. Theyll find out about it after Im gone.
In my twilight years, my children suddenly remembered they had a motherbut Ill never forget how they treated me
The years went on, and there I was, marooned on the outskirts of everyones lives. My children always looked at me as if I were some foreign relation invited reluctantly for Boxing Day. We might as well have spoken different languages for all the good it did.
When I split from my husband, that was the final nail in the coffin for our little family. They threw their lot in with himhe was, after all, a respected man, well known as the boss of a big business.
And frankly, it was more lucrative being on his side. And me? I was left alonea cast-off wife, a forgotten mother.
They promptly moved on, and news of their doings filtered down to me through mutual friends: jolly holidays with dad and the new Mrs, lavish dinners out, lots of plans drawn up. Meanwhile, I was rattling around my empty semi. Every bit of news stung like sitting on drawing pins.
In the end, I realised: it was time to live for myself. I headed off to work abroad for a spell. For the first time in donkeys years, I felt free as a bird.
In my twilight years, my children suddenly remembered they had a motherbut Ill never forget how they treated me
By the end of that stint, Id saved up enough to give my life a proper shake-up. Returning home, I did the place up from top to bottom and replaced my ancient telly with a proper smart one. I stashed away some money for my old age too.
All the while, my children were getting on with thingsbig weddings, bouncing babies, parties left and right. I only heard about any of it through hearsay. Then, out of the blue, word came: my old husband had popped his clogs. Hed left the lot, every last penny, to his much younger wife.
My son and daughter, suddenly penniless, remembered they had a mother after all. Their sudden nostalgia for me was almost touching.
At first, they started turning up with little gifts. Chocolates, a punnet of grapes, the odd bunch of flowerschipper as you like, asking how I was. I greeted them with a cheery face, but inside I knew full well what their real interests were.
Now, Im seventy-two. Sprightly, healthy, and quite satisfied with myself, thank you very much. But recently, my daughter started hinting againmaybe time to have a proper think about the will. A week or two later, my granddaughter turned upthe one who married last summer.
Gran, arent you lonely here on your own? she asked, with wide-open eyes of pure curiosity.
Not at all, I replied, Im as snug as a bug in a rug.
In my twilight years, my children suddenly remembered they had a motherbut Ill never forget how they treated me
But this flat is so big, she went on. Must be hard to keep tidy. Maybe my husband and I could move in? Youd have company, and we could save a bundlenot having to pay rent and all that.
I smiled. Their plan couldnt have been more obvious if theyd worn T-shirts with We Want Your Flat on them.
Who says you wont be paying? I replied sweetly. If you fancy it, Ill give you a decent rate as tenants.
That caught her right off guard. Shed clearly expected me to throw open the door and declare, Take the lotand have a biscuit while youre at it! But I had something else up my sleeve.
A few years back, you see, Id met with my solicitor and made it perfectly crystal that, when I pop off, my flat will be sold and every last pound will go straight to a childrens charity.
When my daughter found out, she flew into a rage. Phone calls, shouting, it was all terribly dramatic. Youre being unfair! she shrieked, Youre robbing your grandchildren of their future! Then my son started sidling up, softer in his approach, gently suggesting he could look after me in my dotage. But all this last-minute love left me cold.
If you were in my shoes, would you let your granddaughter move in?
