Why does he have such a granny?
What a lively lady you are! First you asked us to bring the boy for the whole summer, we even drew up a schedule, and now you say dont bring him? What are we supposed to do?!
The phones speaker crackled with Ethels indignation. Margaret held the handset a short arms length from her ear, so the words came through crystalclear even without the speakerphone.
Ethel, your plans are your burden. You never consulted me, and now
But you were the one who coaxed us into bringing Sam to you! the daughterinlaw shot back. I cant make heads or tails of you. What kind of granny are you? You wont take your grandson to stay, you wont even drive him to the cottage. Youve never brought a basket of berries, just hauled crates of junk to your own house! Why should he have a granny like you when theres a perfectly decent one elsewhere?
Margaret grimaced, pressed a free hand to her throat and exhaled in short gasps. She understood the subtext: either bring the boy over, or never see him again. Thinlyveiled blackmail.
Ethel wasnt wrong about the facts, but she turned the whole thing on its head.
To begin with, the cottage Margaret had once hoped to use for Sam was far from luxurious. The toilet was a simple outhouse, the shower a summeronly affair, and the gardens strawberries were more for show than for eating. There was a modest charcoal grill where she and her first husband had once toasted meat, a few plastic chairs and a small table humble, but, in Margarets eyes, quaintly comfortable.
When Andrew, her son, announced he wanted to bring his sweetheart to the cottage, Margarets nerves prickled.
She knew Ethel only superficially a pretty, wellkept woman with a hint of spoiled entitlement. Ethel looked down on everything and everyone, as if constantly weighing them. At their first meeting she had walked through Margarets house without invitation, like an inspector. Margaret disliked it then but obliged, giving the girl a tour of her collection of figurines and family photo albums.
Andrew, its a nice idea but are you sure Ethel will like it? Its one thing for you you grew up at that cottage. Ethel, I think, isnt used to such rustic charm, Margaret warned gently when her son shared his weekend plans with enthusiasm.
Ill explain everything to her. Shes always said she wants a country break. And look at the scenery its all hers.
Margaret sighed, but she didnt argue. She feared people would think she didnt want to host them.
She might as well have refused outright.
Margaret spent two full days preparing: tidying, baking pies, pulling out the special larder provisions saved for only the rarest occasions. Her heart thumped with anxiety, but the anticipation of a joyful reunion smothered the bad omens.
From the first minute, things went awry. Ethel stepped out of the car in a white dress and highheeled sandals, glanced around, and narrowed her eyes disdainfully. Her face fell instantly.
Is this a loo or what? she sneered, pointing a finger.
Well yes. Its outside, but its clean, just like a proper one, Margaret replied with a strained smile.
A true communion with nature in every sense Ethel retorted sarcastically.
It only got worse.
Its like the Stone Age, she complained to Andrew. Did you really bathe in a bucket as a child? There are so many mosquitoes you might as well stay in the car! And the smell
Its the neighbours chickens, nothing to worry about, Andrew shrugged.
Ethels cries were so loud that Margaret heard every word. She felt humiliated. She hadnt invited Ethel; she had spent weeks preparing, only to be met with a verbal spit in the face.
Maybe shell get used to it, Margaret thought. The daughterinlaw and her son lived far away, a days drive, so they intended to stay the whole weekend.
But Ethel didnt last a day. After another mosquito bite, she swatted wildly and stalked back to the car.
Thats it! Either you drive me home or Im taking a taxi, she snapped at Andrew. No one can live like this!
Andrew didnt argue. He hurriedly said goodbye to his mother and slipped out of the car with Ethel.
I never imagined it would be so hard for her he muttered, embarrassed.
Margaret tried to chalk it up to different habits and a lack of adaptation. She herself struggled with the rustic life, yet she didnt throw a tantrum or slam doors. It was Andrews choice, after all, to live with that woman.
Six years later, Ethel and Andrew were married, and they had a son, Sam. Contact with the daughterinlaw never blossomed, but Margaret still clung to the hope of a bond with her grandson. The distance between towns made visits rare, but she believed desire would find a way.
Ethel, could you bring Sam over to me? Margaret suggested one afternoon. I have a garden, a river nearby, fresh air. He could gobble up a years worth of vitamins.
Where would you bring him? To this squalor? Hed better stay at home, Ethel huffed. You could send the vitamins anyway. You brag about having more cherries than you know what to do with. At least youd see each other once a summer.
The words cut deep, but Margaret didnt argue. It would be ridiculous to ship a basket of cherries through a scorching day, and the neighbours children were used to similar conditions. She just wanted a moment with Sam, after all.
That was last year. Then everything changed.
Now Margarets days were split between hospital wards, drip bags and endless queues at the clinic. A quarter of her life was ruled by strict medical limits. She had recently undergone an operation, and the surgeon told her to avoid heat and any heavy lifting.
Take this seriously, the doctor warned. With your heart, you must stay under a protective umbrella. No strenuous activity, just gentle walks.
The most painful part was that Andrew never visited her in the hospital, not even once. They only spoke on the phone, and that was the end of it. Margaret saw her old friend Valerie more often than she saw her own son. Valerie had, in fact, bailed her out financially when the cottage became medically inadvisable. When Valerie learned of Margarets new restrictions, she offered:
Listen, shall I speak to them? They wanted a summer break, but their holiday allowance is laughably small. The seaside isnt cheap these days. Ill sort something out, no strings attached. It would be good for you and for them to have a countryside escape.
Margaret gratefully accepted; any penny helped in her condition.
Just as she began to stand on her own again, Ethel finally softened. When the young couple made plans, the dilapidated cottage no longer mattered.
Margaret, I suggested this a year ago. A year! Plans are wonderful; I had my own for the summer, but life had other ideas. The cottage now belongs to other people; I cant go there, especially after my recent operation.
When was recent?
Two months ago.
Two months is when people start training for marathons! Youve got to pull yourself together. You can sit at home on your pension, but many still have to work, Ethel persisted. Cant you take Sam to the cottage? Just have him stay with you.
To an apartment? From one city flat to another? Whats the point?
The point is that Andrew and I could finally get a break! Weve never had a day alone with Sam since he was born. You kept shouting that you wanted to see your grandson. Heres your chance!
Ethel, are you even listening? A child demands constant care, and Im barely managing my own house.
Admit youre just lazy, Ethel pressed.
Margaret hung up, exhausted. The argument had become a hollow echo, draining her spirit. She was alone; if she fell ill, would Ethel ever come to tend her? Of course not.
That evening Andrew called, apologising for Ethels behaviour and gently asking if there was any way he could still bring Sam over. The request made Margarets eyes well up, as if she were a small child hurt by a word.
Andrew be honest, did you tell Ethel Id had an operation? she demanded. How did you let her pin the grandson on me without even asking?
Andrew fell silent. Seconds stretched, his quiet choking Margarets breath.
Mum I said you were unwell, but I didnt know it was that serious.
Unwell. Not known. Those words crashed over Margaret like a cold wave. Her son seemed indifferent to her suffering, never really trying to understand that even climbing a second flight of stairs now left her breathless.
I see she managed to say.
Three days of oppressive silence followed. It felt as though, having denied the young couple help, she had slipped out of everyones memory. Even Andrew stopped sending nightly messages asking about her day.
On the fourth day, Valerie called just in time.
Fancy a visit to your cottage? My folks wont be there until the weekend. Itll be cool, we can have tea, she suggested.
Lets do it, Margaret answered immediately; her heart felt like a cat clawing at the inside of her chest, desperate for any company.
They brewed tea, opened the box of pastries Valerie had brought, and talked. Margaret poured out everything.
I cant tell you much you already know. Their lives are their own now. Dont tear yourself apart, live as you can. At least you have me. Who knows, maybe youll find a gentleman to share evenings with, Valerie smiled. Or finally focus on yourself. Health is precious; you wont get it back from anyone else.
Margaret sighed, pulling the pastry box closer. Inside, a mix of grief and relief settled. She knew she was doing the right thing not sacrificing herself to meet others expectations, not bending to whims that threatened her health. Life, with its highs and lows, would go on, even if those people turned away. Even without them, she would keep on.
