A basket of fruit sat on the kitchen table like a silent accusation. Nancy Whitaker cast another weary glance at it and let out a heavy sigh. From the next room came the faint hum of the telly Stephen was glued to a BBC programme about carp fishing. He was, as usual, oblivious to everything else.
Nan, you coming? The teas getting cold, Stephen called over his shoulder.
Nancy grimaced. He couldnt even heat his own cuppa.
Im on it, she replied, pulling a jar of jam from the fridge.
She brushed a stray grey strand from her hair as she passed the hallway mirror. How quickly time flew. It seemed only yesterday shed walked down the aisle with Stephen, and now they were celebrating their daughters sixtysecond birthday well, her 60th.
The thought of Emma made her chest tighten. They hadnt spoken in a week after a spat, and Emma hadnt phoned. As usual, Nancy felt she was to blame for everything, even though she meant well.
On the table, beside Stephens unwashed mug, lay a modest woodenframed photo of their wedding. Young, beaming Nancy in a flowing dress, Stephen in a crisp suit. Who would have guessed that forty years later their life would feel like a routine of halfspoken words and lingering grievances?
You stuck there for good? Stephens voice broke the reverie.
Nancy brushed the memory aside and carried a tray of tea and jam into the living room.
What, still stewing over it? Stephen asked without looking away from the screen.
And you, I see, are as relaxed as ever! she snapped. You should’ve called Emma, apologised.
For what? Stephen finally turned, eyebrows raised. For the gift we gave her? Thats absurd.
She set the tray down on the coffee table and perched on the edge of the sofa.
It was a terrible gift, Steph. I know that now.
Just a set of china, he shrugged. Fancy, mind you. We paid thirty pounds for it.
Its not about the money, Nancy sighed. You shouldve seen her face when she opened the box. Shed already said she didnt like that set thirty years ago, yet we dusted it off and gave it to her for her milestone. She thought we were mocking her.
We werent mocking! Stephen snapped. We thought it was a lovely present almost a vintage treasure.
Nancy shook her head. Men never get the subtlety. The set had come to them as a wedding gift from Stephens distant relatives. She remembered young Emma twirling a cup in her hands and saying, Mum, this is prehistoric! All the flowers, it looks more like a garden than a tea set. Since then it had sat untouched in the sideboard, until the idea of gifting it to their daughter resurfaced.
Times change, Stephen persisted. Vintage is in now. All those hipsters chase oldfashioned things.
Emma isnt a hipster! Nancy retorted. Shes the chief accountant at a serious firm. Her flat is minimalist, not a grandmas china cabinet.
Then she could have at least said thanks and put it on a shelf, Stephen muttered. Instead of making a scene in front of the guests.
Nancy recalled the moment. Emma had opened the box, stared at the china in stunned silence, then looked up at her parents.
Is this the same set from the sideboard? she asked quietly.
Yes, love! Nancy had replied brightly. Remember how you always said it was beautiful?
The room fell silent. Emmas face turned pale.
I never said it was beautiful. I hated it, and you both knew that, she said.
So youre exaggerating again, Stephen sipped his tea. Whats the point? The gift didnt hit the mark. Do we have any other problems?
Yes, we do, Nancy said. The biggest one is that we have no idea who our own daughter is. We dont know what she likes or how she lives.
Stephen snorted. Dont dramatise. Shes just got a difficult character, thats all.
Before Nancy could answer, the phone rang. She sprang up, hoping it was Emma.
Hello?
Nan? Its Margaret, chirped the neighbour on the other end. Could you pop over? Im struggling with these new tablets the instructions are a mystery.
Ill be right there, Nancy said, hanging up.
Whos that? Stephen asked.
Margaret Brown. Ill be back in a minute; she needs help with her meds.
Again with your charity runs, Stephen grumbled. Whos cooking lunch?
Just heat up the borscht in the fridge, Nancy replied, sighing.
She threw on a light cardigan and left the flat. The stairwell was scented with fried fish from downstairs and a wisp of cigarette smoke from the young couple on the fifth floor.
Margaret lived alone; she opened the door immediately.
Come in, Nan, come in, the elderly woman babbled. Ive baked a cake, lets have tea together.
Nancy tried to decline, but Margaret was insistent. While the neighbour flitted about the kitchen, Nancy examined photos on the wall Margaret with her husband, her daughter, grandchildren, all smiling.
Hows Emma doing? Margaret asked, setting down a tray of tea. She coping after the divorce?
Managing, Nancy answered evasively.
And her son, does Kieran already study at university?
Yes, hes in his third year.
Margaret sat down, studying Nancy.
You look a bit down today. Anything on your mind?
Nancy finally spilled everything the cursed china, the fight with Emma, Stephens stubbornness.
You know, Margaret said when Nancy finished, you just need to talk to Emma. Alone. Honestly apologise for the gift.
She wont pick up the phone, Nancy sighed.
Then go to her! Margaret shrugged, as if it were the simplest solution. She doesnt live in another city.
Nancy thought about it. Why not just visit? Pride? Fear of hearing that she and Stephen had become two clueless old birds who couldnt understand their own child?
Youre right, she said finally. Ill head over today.
Good thinking, Margaret nodded. Now lets try that cake.
Back home, Stephen was still glued to the telly.
Nan, Im off to Emmas, she announced.
Why? he asked, genuinely puzzled.
To talk. To apologise for the china.
Again with your guilt trips! Stephen turned. Its just a set. Shes not ready for fine art yet.
Its not about the china, Nancy said, settling on the sofas edge. Its that we dont hear each other, we dont hear our daughter.
Fine, Stephen relented. Just dont tell her I admit I was wrong. I still think the gift was decent.
Nancy just shook her head. Forty years together and the obstinacy hadnt lessened a notch.
Emma lived in a sleek new development, a modern block of flats. Nancy caught a bus, watching the passing suburbs, contemplating how tricky it can be to communicate with those closest to you.
The front door swung open and her grandson, Kyle, greeted her.
Grandma? he asked, surprised. Why didnt you call before coming?
Just a surprise, Nancy smiled, handing him a bag of scones. Is Mum home?
Shes in her office, Kyle replied, taking the bag. Come on in, Ill get her.
Nancy walked into the living room. Emmas flat was a study in minimalism bright whites, clean lines, no old sideboards or floral wallpapers. A different era, different values.
Emma emerged from her study, a tight expression on her face.
Hey, Mum. Something wrong?
Nothing, just here to talk, Nancy said calmly.
Emma glanced at the clock.
Ive got a video call with London in thirty minutes.
Ill be quick, Nancy said, sitting on the sofa. Im sorry about the china. You were right, it was a foolish gift.
Emma raised an eyebrow. Youre apologising for a set of dishes?
More than that, Nancy clasped her hands. We never really understood you. We live in the past and miss the present.
Emma sank into the armchair opposite.
Mum, its not just the china, she began slowly. Its a symbol that you two dont know who I am, what I do, what I love.
Thats true, Nancy whispered. Were stuck in the way things used to be. To us youre still that little girl who lived with us.
Emma sighed. The worst part is you never try to learn the real me. Over the years youve never asked what music I listen to, what books I read, what films I enjoy. You just assume you know me better than I know myself.
Youre right, Nancy felt a lump in her throat. Parents often think their children are extensions of themselves, not separate people.
Exactly! Emma brightened a little. Im also at fault. I never ask what youre up to, what worries you. I just pop in once a month, drop groceries, and leave, like its an obligation.
Were all to blame, Nancy smiled through the tears. But its not too late to fix it, is it?
Not at all, Emma agreed.
Then tell me, what music are you into now? Nancy asked. And what do you like to read?
Emma laughed. Seriously?
Very seriously, Nancy nodded. Weve got twenty minutes before my call, and then Ill head out so I dont disturb you.
Alright, Emma said after a moment. Im into jazz, especially the oldschool 1950s stuff. I read professional journals for work, but for fun I devour detective novels. And Ive started learning Spanish because Im dreaming of Barcelona.
Nancy listened, feeling as if she were meeting a new person for the first time. She realised how much shed missed over the years.
And what about your love life? she ventured gently. Its been three years since the divorce
Emma smiled shyly. There is someone. I havent mentioned him because hes seven years younger than me. I was afraid you and Dad wouldnt get it.
Were oldfashioned, but not prehistoric, Nancy chuckled. As long as hes a good chap, thats all that matters.
Hes a history lecturer at the university. Smart, kind. Kyle likes him too.
Then invite him over for dinner, Nancy suggested. Well meet him. And I promise, no more china gifts.
Both burst out laughing.
You know, Emma said, maybe I was too quick to reject the set. Its actually quite lovely in a Provençal style. Vintage is hot right now.
Dont try to redeem me, Nancy shook her head. It was a horrible gift.
It really was! Emma exclaimed. Im even thinking of taking it to the country house we bought last year. Did I tell you about that?
No, I didnt, Nancy admitted, feeling a sting of shame. See how much we dont know about each other?
Lets catch up, Emma suggested, checking her watch. Ive got to prep for the call, but come over this weekend, okay? Bring Dad too. Ill show you the cottage.
They hugged, and Nancy felt something important slipping back into her life, something shed almost lost through her own blindness.
On the way home she stopped at the offlicence, bought a decent bottle of red wine and a box of chocolates. Stephen met her at the door, looking concerned.
How did it go?
Were good, she said, handing him the bag. And guess what? Emma actually likes the china now. She wants to put it in the cottage.
There you go! Stephen declared triumphantly. I told you it was a fine gift!
Nancy just smiled. Let him think hes won. The peace of the family mattered far more than any set of dishes.
Stephen, she called as she moved into the kitchen, did you know our daughter is learning Spanish and planning a trip to Barcelona?
No way! he exclaimed. Why would she need Spanish at her age?
Because life doesnt stop at sixty, Nancy replied, pulling out two glasses. And neither does ours. Maybe we should learn something new ourselves.
What, like what? Stephen asked, a hint of curiosity.
Like listening to each other, Nancy said, pouring the wine. And choosing presents with a bit of heart, not just from the sideboard.
Deal, Stephen lifted his glass. To a fresh chapter for us!
The fruit basket still sat on the table, but now Nancy looked at it with a different eye. Sometimes even the most disastrous gift can become the spark for something genuine and worthwhile.
