An Ungrateful Son: A Tale Worse Than That of a Stranger

Ungrateful son is worse than a stranger, they say, and Mary Whitaker, an eightyfouryearold grandmother, was sitting on the bus stop just down the road from her little terraced house, wondering what on earth shed do next. Beside her on the bench lay a cloth bag and a shopping sack that held almost everything she owned.

Ritas kicked me out, not a soul to mind her, she muttered to herself. She told me straight off Off you go, old bird, dont bother us any more.

Just three years earlier everything had been cosy. Mary, her daughter Nancy, her grandson Oliver with his wife Natalie, and their little boy, Marys greatgrandson Arthur, were all sharing a threebedroom flat.

Things started to crumble when a new accountant, Rita, arrived at Olivers office from the city. No one knew why shed moved to their sleepy village, but they gave her a room in the local hostel and a job. It sounded like a decent setup, but Rita wasnt content to settle. She started eyeing the men around her and set her sights on Oliver. Married? As the saying goes, a wife isnt a wall.

One April evening Oliver came home from work, packed his things and said his goodbyes, looking only a little dazed. Im only fortyfive and I finally get what real life and love are supposed to feel like, he told Rita.

Natalie kept quiet. She waited until Arthur finished his school exams, then she started making plans of her own.

Well move to town, Arthur needs to get into university, and well live in my parents old house. Its been empty for three years, but well fix it up. If we cant do it ourselves, my brother will lend a hand. Ill get a job at the school pretty quickly, she said.

She packed in two days, her brother drove up with a van, they loaded everything and left. Arthur gave his greatgrandma a tight hug.

Dont miss me, Grandma, Ill be back, he promised.

He visited twice while Nancy was still alive. After Nancy passed, Oliver and Rita moved into the flat and Arthur never turned up again.

Life got dreadful for Mary. Rita began imposing her own rules. At first she was shy, inviting Mary to the table and feeding her the same dishes she made for herself and Oliver. Then she ordered Mary not to leave her room:

Your crumbs are everywhere in the kitchen, its easier for me to tidy your room once a week than to mop the floors three times a day here.

From then on Rita would spoon out oatmeal, barley porridge or plain rice pudding for Mary, who would eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner, washing it down with empty tea cups.

A few days later Rita announced that her son would be arriving in a week. She and Oliver were debating where to get him a job after a stint in a detention centre nobody would offer him just any position.

The next morning Oliver went to work, and Rita told Mary:

Heres the address of the care home. Go there and thank me for not throwing you out onto the street.

She thrust a slip of paper into Marys hand and slammed the flats door shut.

Mary shuffled to the bus stop, but beyond that she was lost her eyesight was poor, she couldnt read the address. A young man was standing nearby, so she asked:

Kindly, read the address for me and tell me which bus I should take.

He looked at her and replied:

What are you doing, Mummy Mary? Arthurs come round, hes looking for you. Ill give him a ring straight away.

Within five minutes Arthur was hurrying over. It turned out that Natalies former neighbour had called the previous day, saying Rita wanted to send Mary to a residential home. The neighbour had worked as a carehome assistant before retiring, so Rita had asked her for the address. When Arthur heard this, he rushed back to the village to collect his greatgrandma.

He grabbed Marys things and said:

Ill get you to town in a taxi, treat you like royalty. Mums already got a room ready, and the gardens blooming with apple trees its gorgeous!

When Rita and Oliver learned that Arthur was taking Mary to the city, they were pleased. Their joy was shortlived. While sorting through the paperwork they discovered that Mary had been the rightful owner of the flat from the start, and her late husband had a lifelong right to live there. So Rita and Oliver had to move back into the hostel.

Mary sold the flat and handed the proceeds to her greatgrandson, so he could buy a place in town. Prices in the county seat were higher, so he could only afford a onebedroom flat, but it was in a brandnew building with plenty of space. He was planning to get married, so at least the young couple would finally have a roof over their heads.