Stop sticking your nose in, this is my life, Emily snapped, eyes flashing. You lie around on the cash, while Im scrambling through holes! Youre a grandmother now, a mother! Cant you actually help once in a while?
The absurdity was that at that very moment Emily was sitting at the kitchen table of her mothers house. Margaret had thrown together a quick but decent spread: ham and cheese sandwiches with thick slices of cheddar and smoked salmon, fresh rolls from the corner bakery, and a bowl of fruit grapes, pomegranate, mandarins. No exotic pineapples or exotic berries, but the guest was being treated properly.
Her grandson was watching cartoons in the lounge in a tiny new onesie that Margaret had bought just a few days before.
Emily, dont ruin the comedy, Margaret replied, clearly annoyed. Im the one who shoes the boy, dresses him, drives him to his earlyyears classes, even buys his medicines. He lives entirely on me. And youre still never satisfied?
Well, its your grandson, isnt it? Who else? Dima and I cant even figure out where the next pound is coming from. Mortgages, council tax, utilities, nursery fees After that the money thats left barely covers a loaf and a packet of spaghetti.
And what does that have to do with me? Did I take out the loans for you? Or force you to have children? Did you sell the flat because of me? You told me not to meddle, so I stayed out of it. Now you think I owe you something?
Mum! Emily frowned. Look at how we live! I cant even do my own manicure because Ive run out of polish! My boots are falling apart; if I step in a puddle my feet are drenched, I catch a cold. Dima has only one decent shirt left. Were not living, were surviving. And you decide to start schooling me now! Its easy for you, you eat smoked salmon for breakfast every day!
Margaret listened, lips pressed together. Yes, perhaps she was partly to blame she loved a little too fiercely. But a problem like this isnt solved with money; its solved by facing the consequences.
Emily, havent I given you enough in life? the woman said, narrowing her eyes. You had everything. You wanted a touchscreen phone when everyone still used button phones you got it. You asked for a mink coat we bought it. I gave you a home. Youre no longer a little girl; you have to fend for yourself now.
Emily puffed up in hurt and turned away, just like when, as a child, shed been denied a new toy because there was no room left in the house.
Margaret recalled the days when little Emily would dash around the flat in a new tracksuit studded with sequins. Her room had a brandnew computer, and somewhere in the wardrobe lay a box with a camera a Christmas present. Emilys wishes changed faster than the pounds exchange rate. One week she wanted to be a photographer, the next a hairdresser, then an actress. Margaret could barely keep up, opening her purse and signing her up for extra lessons.
Let the girl enjoy herself. You only have one childhood, her husband, David, would say with a grin.
David had been in the army, a respected figure in the town, and his earnings meant the family never missed out. Margaret also worked, more for the love of it than the money. She could have stayed at home, but she preferred being out there, useful to the community.
I want to try crocheting wool! Emily declared one day after watching a YouTube video.
So Margaret took her to a craft shop, handed her a basket, and within half an hour it was brimming with yarn.
Other parents might have given only a couple of skeins and the cheapest needles, but Margaret believed wholeheartedly in her daughters development. They had the means, so why not?
Emily would cling to each new hobby with enthusiasm, then abandon it a few weeks later for something else. Margaret found it puzzling, yet she trusted that Emily was merely testing herself. Emily, meanwhile, grew accustomed to getting whatever she wanted with a snap of a finger.
Then David died, leaving Margaret alone. She mourned, but at least she had a solid footing under her feet. Hed left her a substantial estate. The interest from his savings could have kept her comfortable, yet she kept working until health problems forced her to stop.
Emilys conscience was clear. She paid for her mothers studies in London, bought a onebedroom flat in a new development, and did a full renovation. After that, Margaret decided shed ticked all the boxes for being a good mum. Ive given her everything she needs to start. Ill help while she studies, then shell manage on her own, she resolved.
But things didnt go as planned.
Emily was just starting her second year when she announced she had a boyfriend. Dima, too, owned an iPhone not the newest model, but it was his and had no cash to his name. Both sets of parents were welloff, and the lads sported cocky smiles and a total lack of domestic skills.
Emily, finish your studies first, Margaret urged after Emily introduced Dima. If you want to live together, go ahead, but dont rush. Get a qualification, stand on your own two feet, then think about starting a family.
Mum, stay out of it, Emily snapped, brow furrowed. This is my life.
And Margaret really did stay out of it. Still, life turned out very different from what Emily expected.
At first everything was bright and pleasant. They lived in Emilys flat. Margaret covered all the bills and gave a bit of pocket money for food and clothes. The young couple only had to enjoy life, bingewatch series and stay out until dawn.
Dima soon dropped out of university, saying he saw no point.
I enrolled because my parents wanted me to, he said. Its just a waste of time. I wont follow that path.
Then Emily quit her studies too. It wasnt for the same lofty reasons, though.
Mum, Im pregnant, she said over the phone one day. Dima and I have already decided. Ill give birth. Ill probably take a short break from work and then see what happens.
Emily Margaret sighed, covering her face with her hand, then held back. Do what you like, if youre set on it.
Will you help us? Emily asked, hopeful.
Ill help my grandson. Youre adults now. Youve got more than I did at your age. Manage yourselves, Margaret replied, though inside she felt a knot tighten.
A silence hung.
Right everythings clear with you.
Emily hung up.
There were tantrums, manipulations, subtle probing. Emily complained about a broken fridge, a wornout coat, low iron levels from poor nutrition. Margaret only responded to the last, and that too solely because Emily was pregnant and nursing.
The boy shouldnt suffer because his parents are daft, she muttered, hauling grocery bags.
Then Emily dropped another bombshell.
Weve decided to sell the flat and get a twobedroom, she said.
Emily think it through. The baby will be with you for a while.
No, Mum. Weve decided. We still want a wedding, a honeymoon, something proper.
Margaret clenched her teeth but didnt intervene.
Money slipped through their fingers. The wedding, the banquet, the photo shoot, the latest iPhones, laptops, a holiday in Turkey, the deposit on the mortgage The young couple even took out loans.
The mortgage payments ballooned. The debts kept piling up. Soon Emily was complaining that she didnt have enough to get through the month.
Margaret fed the grandson everything he needed formula, baby food, nappies. For the past six months hed been living with her.
Dimas now an operator and a parttime courier. Im going to freelance too; well make it work. Can you take little Jack for a bit? Emily asked.
Margaret agreed, but only to that extent. The child had everything. As an adult she could only offer good advice, which they were unlikely to heed.
Emily stared out the window for a while, then turned to her mother.
If you dont help, Ill take Jack, she threatened. And youll never see him again.
Margaret only laughed, though a chill ran through her.
Fine, go ahead. Lets see how quickly you get the sack and what youll live on. At least youve got money for nursery fees, love of the year?
Emily huffed, breathing heavily, unable to argue. In a few days shed have to return to Margaret with an outstretched hand: another bill looming.
You had everything. Im not to blame for you blowing it all, Margaret continued. And you want to drag Jack and me down with you. No. Youre adults; figure it out yourselves.
Emily didnt finish her sandwich. She stood, turned, and headed for her coat. Margaret, of course, didnt try to stop her.
When the door shut behind Emily, Margaret slipped quietly into the lounge. Little Jack slept on the sofa, clutching a plush owl pillow. She switched off the TV so the boy wouldnt wake. Id move mountains for him, she thought, but for the two of them let life be the teacher.
