The ringtone on my daughter-in-laws phone changed my mind about helping the young couple find a flat
I live alone in a lovely one-bedroom flat right in the heart of London. My husband passed away five years ago, and not long after, my aunt left me another two-bedroom flat in a less fashionable but still pleasant neighbourhood on the citys edge. Ive been renting that one out to a tidy, responsible young couple, and each month I pop round to collect the rent and make sure everythings in order. For two years, I never had a single complaint about them.
When my son got married, he and his new wife, Emily, decided to start their own life from scratch. They rented a flat themselves, saving diligently towards a deposit for a mortgage. I never stood in their way, though quietly I planned to hand over the second flat to them in timelet them make it their own, decorate, renovate, or even sell if they wanted.
A year after their wedding, they had a son of their own, and the arrival of my grandson only made me more certain: I should get the paperwork sorted so my son would have the flat properly in his name. But just last week, I changed my mind.
It all came about after my sixtieth birthday. Id decided to celebrate in style, mostly for myself, hiring a private room at a nice restaurant in Soho and inviting friends and familyincluding, of course, my son and Emily.
Emily and I usually get along well enough. Shes a passionate person, and sometimes her temper flares upin my direction, toobut I put it down to her youth and dont hold grudges. Still, what happened that night, right in front of all my friends, made me see her in a new light.
My son and Emily brought their son along to the party. The lively, bustling restaurant wasnt really the place for a little one, so Emily told me up front that theyd probably head home after an hour. I understood, of course.
When it was time for them to leave, Emily suddenly couldnt find her phone. I trailed around as she searched, then decided to ring her number to help her out.
The guests noticed us fussing about, and things grew a bit tense and quiet. At that exact moment, from somewhere on the window ledge, erupted an angry growl, barking and howlingthe unmistakable sound of a dog. Everyone stopped and stared. Emilys face turned bright red as she rushed to the window, grabbed her phone and hurriedly switched off the call.
The people Id known for ages shot glances from her to me. To smooth things over, my brother quickly put on the music and started another toast in my honour, but as they say, the mood was ruined.
All evening, I caught guests whispering, clearly discussing Emilys unique ringtonefor my number, no less. The next day, I asked my son for an explanation, assuming surely hed heard it before, but he simply shrugged it off as nothing important.
Since then, I havent been in touch with them. Ive put the idea of gifting them the flat well and truly on hold, at least until things change between us. All Id want is a simple apology from my son and Emily. If, in their eyes, Im like a barking dog, well, thats their right. But in life, respect and kindness go a long way. Sometimes, how we choose to label others reveals more about us than about themand bridges, once burned, arent easily rebuilt.
