Ivy Harper jolted when the phone shrieked to life. The screen flashed Gran Agnes. It was the third call that morning. She inhaled deeply, steadied herself, and pressed the green button.
Hello, Gran Agnes, Im listening, she said.
Why wont you answer, love? Grans voice carried a thin, reproachful edge. Im calling, calling!
I was stirring porridge for Poppy, my hands were full, Ivy replied, though the truth was she simply didnt want to hear another lecture about her parenting.
Those porridge complaints again! I told you children need meat. My boy Tom grew on steaklook how sturdy he is! And your Poppy is as pale as a winter ghost; the wind will blow her away.
Ivy closed her eyes and counted to five. Poppy was three, and the paediatrician had confirmed she was developing normally. Her slight frame was simply a trait from her fathers side.
We do give her meat, too. Tonight well have meatballs for lunch, Ivy said.
Good! Thats why Im calling. Ill pop over with a brothchicken on the bones, just how Tom likes it. Ill also fry some cutlets using my recipe, lest you serve those those meatballs, Gran snapped, the sarcasm dripping like poison.
Dont worry, we have everything we need, Ivy tried to defend.
Whats there to worry about? Gran wants to see her granddaughter! You wont stop me? The question hung as a trap; any answer but assent would feel like a monstrous slight.
Of course, come along, Ivy surrendered.
She ended the call and pressed her forehead against the cool window pane. Outside, lone snowflakes swirled, settling on bare branches. November had turned a bleak, damp grey.
Mum, who were you talking to? Poppy peeked from the nursery, clutching a battered plush rabbit.
Gran Agnes is coming today, Ivy said, forcing a bright tone.
Will she scold me for not eating enough again? Poppy frowned.
Ivys heart ached. Even the child sensed the constant criticism.
Gran loves you very much and just wants you strong and healthy, Ivy replied.
Poppy gave a hesitant nod and returned to her toys.
Now Ivy faced a frantic cleaning spree. Though she and Simon preferred a bohemian chaos, the flat had to sparkle for Grans visit. Otherwise shed hear, In such a hovel, germs will have a field day.
In two hours she scrubbed the floors, dusted the shelves, and even baked an apple cakethe sole culinary triumph Gran always praised.
Simon was due back by lunch. Both worked from homeSimon as a software developer, Ivy as a graphic designerbut today he had an inperson client meeting and was at the office.
Exactly at two oclock, the doorbell rang. Gran was punctual, like a Swiss watch.
Well, look whos here, my little bride! Gran, a short, plump woman with chestnut hair, swept into the flat, lugging several bags. Wheres my princess?
Poppy hesitated at the doorway.
Come here, darling! Gran has brought treats!
The girl extended a tiny hand for a kiss, a ritual Gran had taught her, insisting that girls should grow into proper ladies.
Only grownup girls get kisses on the hand, Gran said, leaning down to hug Poppy. When youre sixteen youll be handing out yours to gallants. Until then, just say hello to Gran.
Ivy rolled her eyes until Grans gaze caught her. Contradictory commands from Gran were a daily banquet.
Ill help with the bags, if you like, Ivy offered.
Yes, bring them to the kitchen. Ive prepared a lot! Tom must eat properly, not graze on anything.
In the kitchen Gran immediately began issuing orders.
Get the big pot, Ivyno, not that plastic one, a proper metal one. And wheres your bread? Do you keep it in the fridge? You cant! Itll get stale.
Ivy fetched the items with practiced patience. Six years of marriage had taught her to expect Grans unsolicited expertise.
Poppy looks very pale, Gran observed, laying out jars of homemade pickles. Do you take her for walks? Give her vitamins?
Yes, we walk daily when the weather allows, and we give her the supplement the doctor prescribed.
The doctor! Gran scoffed. What do those young medics know? In my day
Ivy sighed silently.
We used to keep children out in the fresh air from sunrise to sunset! We hardened them! Id take Tom out in any weather. Look how healthy he turned out.
Ivy remained quiet, though she could have reminded Gran that Simons father spent every winter with bronchitis and suffered chronic tonsillitis as a child.
I baked a cake. Would you like some tea? she ventured.
First lunch, then tea. And wheres Tom? Why isnt he here yet?
A click sounded as the hallway lock turned.
There he is! Gran exclaimed.
Simon stepped in, eyes widening at a pile of shoes in the entryway.
Mum? Why didnt you tell me you were coming?
How could I not? I called Ivy this morning! Gran retorted.
Ivy gave a guilty smile; shed forgotten to text Simon about the surprise visit.
Hey, Mum, Simon said, hugging Gran. How are you feeling?
Oh, the usualblood pressures swinging, my legs swell by evening. But I dont complain. We manage ourselves, no burden on anyone. The phrase was a wellworn refrain, always followed by a litany of ailments and a reminder that he visited rarely.
Lets get you dressed; lunch is almost ready. Ive been at the stove since dawn, making your favourite dishes, Simon said, shooting a guiltladen glance at Ivy.
During lunch Gran launched into stories of Toms childhood brilliance.
At four he could read! The poems he recitedlisten to him! Poppy, do you know any verses?
Poppy stared at her plate, poking with a fork.
She knows a lot of poems, Ivy intervened. Poppy, tell Gran about the bear.
I dont want to, Poppy muttered, frowning.
See, Simon? The child is shy and must be put in a playgroup to make friends, Gran blurted.
Weve agreed to wait until shes four, Simon interjected. Why rush her development?
Rushed? I gave Tom away at two, and he turned out fine! Your daughter is a delicate little fawn who eats nothing
Poppy pushed her plate away, pouting.
May I go play? she asked.
No, finish your cutlet first, Gran declared.
Finish it, sunshine, Ivy coaxed gently, though her insides boiled.
Poppy forced a bite of the cutlet.
Much better, Gran nodded, satisfied. You spoil her, you know. A child needs a regime, discipline. When I raised Tom
She drifted back into a torrent of nostalgic parenting tips.
After the meal Gran insisted on a daytime nap for Poppy.
The child must nap! Its essential. How can you break the routine? Ivy wanted to argue that Poppy no longer napped and would stay up till midnight, but Simon shook his head. It was easier to concede than to argue.
Let her lie down, at least rest a bit, he whispered to Ivy.
While Gran wrestled with the stubborn girl, Ivy brewed tea and sliced the apple cake.
Useless, Gran returned half an hour later, flustered. Shes completely slipped from my grip. In my day, children obeyed!
Ivy almost blurted, Your children were whipped for misbehaviour but she swallowed the retort.
Shes just not tired yet, Simon soothed. Mum, try the cakeIra made it especially for you.
Gran eyed the slice suspiciously.
Hope there are no artificial additives. Those shop mixes she muttered.
Its all naturalflour, eggs, apples from our garden, the ones you gave us, Ivy assured. The comment eased her.
Remember when you first married, you couldnt even fry an egg properly, Gran teased.
Ivy stayed silent, though she could have reminded Gran of her ten years of independent living and solid cooking skillsjust not the way Gran preferred.
Tom, Gran turned to her son, could you drop by next week? The bathroom tap is leaking, the cupboard light is out. Im afraid to climb a laddermight fall and break a bone. Who will I be then?
Of course, Mum, Tom said, looking apologetic. Ill be over on Wednesday, alright?
On Wednesday I have Nina visiting maybe Tuesday?
Tuesday I have an important client meeting, Tom gestured helplessly.
Fine, Ill stay with the tap then, Gran sighed. Its not the first time.
Ivy felt a familiar stingsubtle blackmail, endless reproaches.
I can go with you, check the tap, Tom offered, unable to bear another sigh from his mother.
Grans face softened with satisfaction.
Great! And while youre at it, look at the hallway wallpaper. Its been up five years; its disgraceful now.
Wheres Poppy playing? Its awfully quiet, Ivy suddenly asked.
In her room, looking at books. I told her not to scatter her toys, Gran replied.
Ivy peeked into the nursery and froze. Poppy was carefully cutting pictures from a brandnew picture book they had just bought.
Poppy! What are you doing? Ivy exclaimed.
Gran said I could cut pictures and make an album. She gave me the scissors, the girl replied solemnly.
Ivy seized the ruined bookan expensive, beautifully illustrated volume Simon had ordered online just yesterday.
This was a brandnew book! We only started reading it yesterday! Ivy protested.
Tears welled in Poppys eyes.
Gran said she hiccuped.
Ivy inhaled deeply, steadying herself.
Its okay, love. Next time you want to cut something, ask Mum or Dad first, alright? she said, soothing her daughter.
She returned to the kitchen where Gran was animatedly recounting a neighbours drama on the fifth floor.
Gran, did you give Poppy the scissors? Ivy asked calmly.
Of course! Kids need to learn handwork. We glued and cut all the time as kids. Now they stare at phones Gran replied.
But she destroyed a new book, the one we just received from the online shop, Ivy replied, fighting back.
Its just a book! Gran waved it off. The child will have a beautiful album. It nurtures creativity.
It was an expensive book, Ivy managed. We wanted to read it first.
A book is just paper. Use it for creativity, Gran retorted, turning to Tom. Tell your wife not to make a mountain out of a molehill. Its just paper!
Tom, caught between the two, said cautiously, Mum, couldnt you have asked us first?
Ah, so now I need permission to play with my own granddaughter? Who am I, an intruder? Gran snapped.
No one talks like that, Tom tried to calm her.
Yes, thats exactly what they say! Gran rose, flinging her arms. I see Im the unnecessary one here. I come, I prepare, and all I get are complaints!
Gran, no one is complaining, Ivy said, standing as well. There are limits
Limits? Gran interrupted. What limits between a grandmother and a granddaughter? I raised Tom alone! I know how to raise children, unlike some who cant even make a decent lunch!
Mum! Tom shouted, voice rising. Stop this right now!
Silence fell. Poppy peered out of the nursery, eyes wide.
Gran is shouting, she whispered.
Gran instantly softened: Come here, my golden girl. Gran isnt shouting; its just adult talk. Lets finish our album together, okay?
No, Ivy said firmly. No more cutting. Poppy will go watch a cartoon with Dad, and well talk, Gran.
Gran opened to protest, but Tom already took his daughters hand.
Shall we watch Frozen? he asked.
When they left, Ivy invited Gran to sit.
Gran, I know you love Poppy and want the best for her. Simon and I have our own way of raising her, and we ask you to respect that, Ivy said.
So Im supposed to stay silent when I see a child being raised wrong? Gran huffed, lips pursed.
You can suggest, you can advise, but you cant make decisions for us. And please, dont tell Poppy she can do things we usually forbid, Ivy added.
Like what? Gran asked, narrowing her eyes.
Like cutting books. Or skipping a nap. Or eating sweets before lunch, Ivy replied.
So I shouldnt spoil my granddaughter? Then whats the point of grandmothers? Gran mused.
I can spoil her, just within reasonable bounds, and always in conversation with us, Ivy answered.
Grans lips tightened; she began gathering her bags.
If thats how it is, Ill be off. Nothing left for me here if I cant even chat with Poppy properly, she declared.
Dont dramatise, Ivy sighed, weary. Just lets try to respect each other.
Thirty years teaching, raising a son alone, and now I must ask permission to let my granddaughter cut pictures! Gran muttered, slipping into her coat.
Simon emerged from the hallway, hearing the clatter.
Mum, youre leaving already?
Yes, love. Your wife doesnt like how I deal with Poppy, Gran replied.
Dont start, Mum, Simon winced. Shall I walk you to the tap?
Grans face brightened a little. If its not too much just bring a screwdriver; the cupboard hinge is loose.
They left, and Ivy collapsed onto the sofa. Poppy slipped in, climbing onto Ivys lap.
Mum, I wont cut books anymore, she promised solemnly. I didnt know it was wrong.
Of course, sweetheart, Ivy hugged her. Youre not at fault. Just ask Mum or Dad first if Gran suggests something, alright?
Poppy nodded, snuggling close.
Simon returned an hour and a half later, tired but satisfied.
The taps fixed, the lights in, the cupboards sturdy. Gran sends her apologies and says she wont meddle with the upbringing again.
I should believe that? Ivy teased.
Simon sat beside her, arms around her. Of course not. But at least well have a weeks peace.
They laughed. Perhaps someday the relationship with Gran would smooth out, perhaps not. For now they had their little family, their home, their rules, and they would guard them fiercely.
A week later Gran called, as if nothing had changed, offering to teach Poppy how to bake pies. Its time the girl learns the proper womans crafts, otherwise shell grow up like todays youthgood for nothing. Ivy sighed, exchanged a glance with Simon. In his eyes she read the same certainty: it would never end, but they would manage. After all, Gran truly wanted the best, even if her idea of best was far from theirs.
