12September
The hallway in the old council block in Manchester was cramped and long, like a mousehole stretched out for miles. Yellowed floral wallpaper clung to the walls and the creaking wooden floorboards, installed back when the council still built the houses, gave off that familiar musty scent of boiled cabbage and the faint whiff of cats, even though no cat had ever lived in flat7.
Mum, Margaret, didnt open the door straight away. She fussed with the lock for ages, then stared at me through the peephole for another minute before finally letting me in.
Finally! she exclaimed, pulling me into a tight hug. I was sure you wouldnt come. Come in quickly, the cake is in the oven.
I shifted from foot to foot, clutching the parcel with my present.
Mum, Im really short on time, I said, trying not to sound frantic. I popped in to wish you happy birthday and then I have to dashTom is waiting in the car.
Margarets face fell instantly; joy turned to disappointment.
How can you just pop in? Ive set the table, Ive prepared everything. Eleanor from the fifth floor will be here, Harriet will bring her granddaughter. Were waiting for you. Turning sixtyfive isnt a joke.
Mum, I whispered, biting my lip, I told you on the phone that today is my fatherinlaws seventyyear birthday. Its a big banquet at the hotel, the whole family, friends, workmates are coming. We cant possibly miss it.
So Im not invited to my own birthday? she snapped, her lips pressed into a thin line. Am I worse than your fatherinlaw?
I felt the walls close in. Mum, Im not trying to be rude, I said, the words tumbling out. I offered to move your celebration to tomorrow, make it a family affair with cake and presents, but you insisted it had to be today, no alternatives.
How could I move it? she flared, hands waving. My birthday is today, not tomorrow! Eleanors already on her way and the cake is baked. What am I supposed to tell them? That my daughter prefers a strangers party to her own mothers?
The hallway grew hot. The smell of the baking cake drifted from the kitchen, making my head spinnot from the aroma, but from the relentless guilt that has chased me my whole life.
Theyre not strangers, Mum, I tried again. Theyre my husbands family. We received the invitation a week ago, before you even thought of planning anything.
A week ago! And you think I was born yesterday? she huffed, eyes flashing. A mothers birthday should be remembered every day, not only when a card arrives.
I glanced at my watch. Tom had been waiting in the car for fifteen minutes. We were late.
Mum, I really cant argue now. Here, I said, handing her the parcel. Its the electric kettle you wanted, with temperature control. And I fished an envelope from my bag, money for the new coat you eyed at The Snow Queen boutique.
She turned her back on both the gift and the envelope.
I dont want your handouts, she snapped. I need the attention of my own daughter. What kind of attention is that? You havent even brought little May to salute her own grandmother.
May has a fever, thirtyeight point five, I replied, weary. I called you this morning, told you the nanny was with her.
Nanny! Margaret shouted, waving her hands. So a nanny is acceptable, but a grandmother isnt? Do you think I cant handle my granddaughter?
Mum, what does that even I began, when a knock sounded at the door.
Eleanor, the neighbour from the fifth floor, stood there in a bright dress, a cake balanced on a tray.
Margaret, happy birthday, love! she chirped, then halted, noticing the tension between us. Oh, am I early?
Come in, Eleanor! Margaret perked up, forcing a smile. Just in time. This is my daughter, Olivia. She dropped by for a minute to wish me happy birthday and is already off to more important people.
Eleanor smiled awkwardly. Dont worry, Margaret. Young people have their own lives, their own priorities. Dont hold her back.
Exactly, Im not holding her! Margaret announced dramatically, stepping aside to open a path to the stairwell. Off you go, Olivia, so your fatherinlaw doesnt get offended. As for me Ill survive; Ive done worse.
I stood there, the parcel and envelope clenched in my hands, unsure what to do. My phone buzzed in my pocketTom was probably asking where I was.
Mum, please, I whispered, lets not make a scene in front of guests. Ill come back tomorrow with May when she feels better, and well celebrate properly, just the two of us.
The guests? Margaret raised an eyebrow. Eleanor is closer to me than any other relative. She visits, asks after my health. Some people only pop in once a month, drop a few pounds, and leave satisfied. Thats not how I want it.
Eleanor shifted uneasily, clearly regretting being caught in the middle. I think Ill go to the kitchen and set up the kettle, she muttered, slipping away.
I placed the gift on the side table, the envelope beside it. I understand, Mum. Im sorry I couldnt stay. I kissed her cheek quickly and slipped out before she could say anything else.
The stairwell smelled of damp and dust. I leaned against the wall, breathed deeply, trying to calm the storm inside me.
The phone buzzed again. I answered.
Yes, Tom, Im on my way down.
Whats taking you so long? his voice sounded impatient. Were already twenty minutes late.
Everythings the same as usual, I replied shortly. Ill explain later.
I descended the rickety stairs and stepped out onto the street. Toms old Toyota sat waiting, his fingers drumming the steering wheel.
How did it go? he asked as I buckled in.
I didnt wish Mum happy birthday, I said, fastening my seatbelt. She said Im not her daughter because Im going to your fathers party instead of staying with her.
He sighed. Again, the same old story. Maybe you should have stayed?
What would that change? I muttered, leaning back. Tomorrow shed find another reason to be upsetmy gift isnt right, May is noisy, I rarely visit. It never ends, Tom.
He started the car and we pulled away.
Do you remember last year? I said, turning the engine over. I cancelled our seaside trip to throw Mum a party. I set the table, invited her friends, and she spent the whole evening moaning because the cake was storebought, not homemade. She claimed I didnt care about her health because of the chemicals in the frosting.
I remember, Tom replied, taking a turn onto the main road. You were miserable for a week after that.
When May was born, I continued, staring out the window at passing houses, instead of helping with the baby, Mum kept critiquing everythinghow I fed her, how I dressed her, how I held her. Then she got angry that I rarely asked her to look after May.
Maybe we should see a therapist? Tom suggested, glancing at me. Together with your mum?
I gave a hollow laugh. Shed rather die than admit she has a problem. To her, a therapist is for crazy people.
We arrived at the hotel where Victor Steadmans seventyyear celebration was already in full swing. Dressed guests streamed through the glittering doors.
Here we are, Tom said, parking the car. Try not to think about Mum tonight, okay? Dads been waiting for us.
I nodded, pulling a compact lipstick from my bag, smoothing on a smile that felt more like a mask than anything else.
The ballroom was noisy, packed with smiling faces. Victor, a tall, silverhaired man with a military bearing, greeted us at the entrance.
Ah, my latecoming guests! he boomed, hugging his son first, then pulling me into an embrace. Olivia, you look radiant!
Happy birthday, Dad, I kissed him on the cheek. Sorry were late, I was held up at Mums.
His expression grew serious. How is she? Send her my best wishes. The coincidence of the dates is awkward.
Yes, awkward, I agreed, forcing a light tone. But well celebrate with her another day.
What about little May? Tom asked. Shes under the weather, right?
Just a mild fever, I said. Nothing serious, we left her at home just in case.
Victor nodded. A childs health comes first. Come, take a seat; everyones already eating.
The music swelled, waiters floated past with glasses of champagne, and guests chattered. Tom mingled, while I sat, halflistening, my mind drifting back to the cramped flat, the yellowed wallpaper, and Mums angry face.
During a lull, my motherinlaw, Tatiana, a poised woman in a navy dress, slipped into the seat beside me.
You look a bit down, Olivia, she observed. Is something bothering you?
I forced a smile. Nothing, just worrying about May. The nanny called; her temperature hasnt dropped yet.
I understand, Tatiana said gently. Kids get sick all the time. By morning itll be fine.
She paused, then lowered her voice. Victor told me about your mums birthday clash. It must be uncomfortable.
Its just a birthday, I replied, you cant move that.
She placed a hand on mine. My own mother was a difficult woman, too. Every visit shed find something to criticizehow I managed the house, how I raised my children, even how I dressed. I suffered for years, until I realised I couldnt change her, only my reaction.
What did you do? I asked, genuinely curious.
I stopped expecting what she couldnt give, she said simply. I accepted her as she was, flaws and all, and set my own boundaries. Your mum will never be the pictureperfect mother from a novel, but you can choose how to respond.
Her words settled over me like a soft blanket.
I still feel sorry for her, I admitted. Shes alone on her birthday, upset, feeling unappreciated.
She isnt alone, Tatiana reminded me. She has you, even if youre not there right now, and a neighbour who cares. She chose to stay angry, and thats her right. But you have the right to live your own life, make your own choices.
A toast interrupted us; glasses clinked, and a cousin spoke about family values and the importance of kinship. I smiled mechanically, nodding, while the image of Mums angry, solitary figure lingered in my mind.
When we sat back down, I slipped my phone out and texted the nanny: Hows May?
Sleeping. Temp 37.4°C. No worries, the reply came instantly.
I then messaged Mum: Happy birthday, Mum. I love you. Ill be back tomorrow with May as soon as she feels better.
There was a pause. I thought shed ignore me, but then my phone chimed.
Thanks for the wishes. Zinas cake was awful, full of chemicals. Yours would have been better. Love, Mum.
A small smile tugged at my lips. It was the closest thing to reconciliation Id seen from Margaret.
Whats that? Tom asked, noticing my grin.
Mum wrote back, I showed him the message. Shes almost not angry.
He chuckled. For your mum thats practically a love confession.
The evening moved onmore toasts, a few dances, a couple of silly games. Gradually I relaxed, letting the music lift the weight off my shoulders. Tatianas advice echoed: I couldnt keep blaming myself for failing someones impossible expectations, even if that someone was my own mother.
When we finally left, the night was deep and the streets quiet. The nanny called later to say May was sleeping soundly and her fever was almost gone.
Tomorrow morning well go to Grandmas, I told Tom, adjusting the blanket over Mays sleeping form. Well give her a proper celebration.
Are you sure? he asked, loosening his tie. Maybe give her another few days to stew, so she appreciates us more.
No, I said firmly. Shes my mum, flaws and all. I dont want a grudge between us. Lifes too short for that.
The next morning I baked Moms favourite honey cake, dressed May in a pretty dress, and we set off for the celebration. I bought a bouquet of white chrysanthemumsher favourite.
Margaret opened the front door the moment we arrived, as if shed been waiting. She wore a fresh dress, her hair neatly styled for the occasion.
Grandma! May shouted, leaping into her arms. Happy birthday! Look what we brought! She handed over a clumsy little box of beads shed picked out herself.
Margarets face lit up. May, I thought you were still ill!
Im fine now, the girl declared proudly. The doctor said Im a trooper.
I placed the honey cake on the kitchen sideboard and handed Mum the bouquet.
Happy birthday, Mum.
We embraced. I felt her arms pull me close, and for a moment the old resentment melted away.
Come in, quick! Margaret bustled, the tea is ready and the scones are fresh. Yesterday Zinas cake was a disasterfull of chemicals. We barely finished it.
May and I exchanged a knowing glance and a quiet smile. Mums quirks, her sharp tongue, her stubbornnessthey were all part of her. I realized that even these imperfect moments were worth cherishing, because they were ours.
Later, as we sat at the kitchen table sipping tea, I thought about how little thingslike a slice of cake or a bouquetcan bridge the gaps that years of misunderstanding create. Im still learning, but Im grateful for the chances we have to be together, however fleeting.
OliviaAs the lateafternoon light filtered through the kitchen window, I realized that despite the quarrels and misunderstandings, the simple act of sharing tea and cake with my mother was proof that love, however imperfect, still held our family together.
