A bowl of fresh fruit sat on the kitchen table like a mute accusation. Margaret Maggie Turner glanced at it once more and let out a weary sigh. From the next room the hum of the television drifted inher husband, Stephen, was glued to a fishing programme. He seemed completely unfazed by everything.
Darling, are you coming? The teas getting cold, Stephen called.
Maggie winced. He couldnt even warm the tea himself.
Im on my way, she replied, pulling a jar of jam from the fridge.
Passing the hallway mirror, she tugged at a stray silvergrey strand of hair. Time had flown. It felt as if she had only just married Stephen yesterday, yet today she was celebrating her daughters sixtieth birthday.
The thought of Gwen tightened her chest. It had been a week since theyd argued, and Gwen hadnt called. As usual, Maggie felt she was the one at fault, even though she had meant well.
On the table, beside Stephens unwashed mug, lay a simple woodenframed photograph of their weddingyoung, happy, Maggie in a lavish dress, Stephen in a formal suit. Who could have guessed that forty years later their life would be reduced to routine, halfspoken grievances and lingering resentment?
Are you still stuck in there? Stephens voice rang again.
Maggie brushed aside the memory and carried a tray of tea and jam into the living room.
Still moping over it? Stephen asked without taking his eyes off the screen.
And you look completely unbothered! Maggie snapped. You could at least have called Gwen and apologised.
For what? Stephen finally turned toward her. Because we gave her that present? Thats absurd.
Maggie set the tray on the coffee table and perched on the edge of the sofa.
It was a dreadful gift, Stephen. I know that now.
Just a regular tea set, he shrugged. A proper one, mind you. It cost us thirty pounds.
Its not about the money, Maggie sighed. You should have seen her face when she opened the box. Shed hated that set thirty years ago, yet we kept it and gave it to her for her birthday. She thought we were mocking her.
We werent mocking anyone! Stephen snapped. We simply thought it was a nice gift. Its a beautiful, almost antique piece.
Maggie shook her head. Men often missed the subtleties. The set had been a wedding gift from Stephens distant relatives. Maggie remembered young Gwen twirling a cup in her hand and saying, Mum, whats with this oldfashioned thing? It looks more like a flowerbed than a cup. Since then the set had gathered dust in the sideboard until the idea of gifting it for the anniversary emerged.
Tastes change, Stephen persisted. Vintage is in vogue now. All those hipsters are after oldfashioned stuff.
Gwen isnt a hipster! Maggie protested. Shes the chief accountant at a reputable firm. Her flat is minimalistic, not a grandmothers china cabinet.
So she could have simply said thank you and put it on a shelf, Stephen muttered. Instead she made a scene in front of all the guests.
Maggie recalled the moment. Gwen opened the box, stared silently at the set for a few seconds, then looked up at her parents.
Is this the same set from the sideboard? she asked quietly.
Yes, love! Maggie had replied brightly. Remember how you always said it was lovely?
Silence fell. Gwens face went pale.
I never said it was lovely. I could never stand it, and you both knew that.
Ah, youre exaggerating again, Stephen said, sipping his tea. A bad gift isnt the end of the world. Do we have any bigger problems?
Yes, Stephen. The biggest one is that we dont really know our own daughter. We have no idea what she likes or how she lives.
Stephen snorted. Dont dramatise. Shes just a difficult character, thats all.
Maggie opened her mouth to argue, but the phone rang. She hurried to answer, hoping it was Gwen.
Hello?
Maggie? Its Margaret, a familiar voice said. Could you drop by? Im struggling with these new tablets and the instructions are a mess.
Ill be right over, Maggie replied, hanging up.
Who was that? Stephen asked.
Margaret Ellis, my neighbour. She needs a hand with her medication.
Again with your charity runs, Stephen grumbled. Wholl cook lunch?
Maggie let out a heavy sigh. Theres a pot of soup in the fridge; just heat it up.
She slipped on a light cardigan and left the flat. The stairwell was filled with the familiar aromas of fried fish from the downstairs flat and cigarette smoke from a young couple on the fifth floor.
Margaret lived alone; the door opened immediately.
Come in, Maggie, come in, the elderly woman chirped. Ive baked a cake; lets have some tea together.
Maggie tried to decline, but Margaret was insistent. While Margaret bustled in the kitchen, Maggie glanced at the photographs on the wallMargaret with her husband, daughter, and grandchildren, all smiling.
Hows little Gwen doing? Margaret asked, setting down a tray of tea. Hows she coping after the divorce?
Shes managing, Maggie answered vaguely.
And her son? Kirill is at university now, right?
Yes, third year.
Margaret sat down, studying Maggie. You look down today. Something happened?
Maggie could no longer hold it in and poured out everything: the cursed tea set, the argument with Gwen, Stephens obstinacy.
You know, Margaret said after a pause, you need to talk to Gwen. Just you, without Stephen. Apologise honestly for the gift.
She wont pick up the phone, Maggie sighed.
Then go to her house, Margaret shrugged. She doesnt live far away.
Maggie thought it over. Why not just visit? Pride, perhaps, or fear of being called out as old, clueless parents?
Youre right, she finally said. Ill go today.
Exactly, Margaret nodded. Now lets try that cake.
Back home, Maggie found Stephen still glued to the television.
Stephen, Im heading to Gwens.
Why? he asked, surprised.
To talk. To apologise for the gift.
Youre being selfish again, Stephen snapped, turning to her. A bad set isnt a tragedy. Shell grow out of it.
It isnt about the set, Maggie said, sitting on the sofas edge. Its about us not hearing each other, not hearing our own daughter.
Fine, Stephen relented, just dont tell her I admitted I was wrong. I still think it was a good present.
Maggie only shook her head. Forty years together and the stubbornness remained unchanged.
Gwen lived in a modern block of flats in a new suburb. Maggie boarded a bus, watching the countryside rush past, pondering how hard it could be to communicate with those closest to you.
The front door opened, and her grandson, Kyle, greeted her.
Grandma? Why didnt you call before coming?
Its a surprise, Maggie smiled, handing him a bag of pastries. Is Mum at home?
Shes in her office, Kyle said, taking the bag. Come in, Ill get her.
Maggie walked into the living room. Gwens flat was sleek and minimalistbright whites, no china cabinets, no floral carpets. A completely different era.
Gwen emerged from her office, a hint of tension on her face.
Mum? Everything alright?
Nothings wrong, Maggie replied calmly. I just came to talk.
Gwen glanced at her watch. In half an hour I have a video call with London.
Ill be quick, Maggie said, sitting on the sofa. Gwen, Im sorry for that set. You were right; it was a foolish choice.
Youre apologising for the tea set? Gwen raised an eyebrow.
Not just the set, Maggie interlaced her fingers. For us not understanding you, for living in the past and missing who you are now.
Gwen sank into the chair opposite her.
Mum, its not just the set. Its a symbol that you two dont really know mewhat I love, what I do.
Exactly, Maggie whispered. We still see you as the little girl who lived with us, not the adult youve become.
Gwen sighed. The worst part is you never try to find out the real me. Over the years you never asked what music I listen to, which books I read, which films I enjoy. You just assume you know me better than I know myself.
Youre right, Maggie felt a lump rise in her throat. Parents often think their children are extensions of themselves, not separate people.
Exactly! Gwen said, a spark returning to her voice. Im partly at fault too. I never ask about your lives, your concerns. I just pop in once a month, drop groceries, and leave, as if Im doing a duty.
Were all to blame, Maggie said, a tear escaping. But its not too late to change, is it?
Not at all, Gwen answered.
What music are you listening to these days? Maggie asked.
Jazzespecially the 1950s stuff, Gwen replied with a grin. I read professional journals for work, but for pleasure Im into detective novels. Ive also started learning Spanish because I want to visit Barcelona.
Maggie listened, feeling as if she were meeting a new person. So much had been missed over the years.
And what about your love life? she ventured gently. Its been three years since the divorce
Gwen blushed. There is someone. Hes seven years younger, actually. I was scared youd think it odd.
Were oldfashioned, but not narrowminded, Maggie said, smiling. The important thing is hes a good man.
He is, Gwen nodded. He teaches history at university. Kyle likes him.
Bring him over for dinner, Maggie suggested. No more tea sets, I promise.
Both laughed.
You know, Gwen said, maybe the set isnt completely useless. Its actually a pretty piece of Provençal style. Vintage is really in demand now.
Dont try to redeem me, Maggie chuckled. It was a terrible gift.
No, really! Gwen exclaimed. Im even thinking of putting it in the cottage we bought last year. Did I tell you about that?
No, Maggie felt a sting of shame. See how much we dont know about each other?
Lets fix that, Gwen said, checking her watch. I have to get ready for my call, but come over this weekend, okay? Bring Dad too. Ill show you the cottage.
They hugged, and Maggie felt a warmth return to her heartsomething she had nearly lost to her own blindness.
On the way back, she stopped at a shop and bought a decent bottle of wine and a box of chocolates. Stephen met her at the door, his face a mix of curiosity and concern.
How did it go? he asked.
We patched things up, Maggie replied, handing him the groceries. And guess what? Gwen actually likes the set now; she wants to display it at the cottage.
See? I told you it was a good gift! Stephen laughed triumphantly.
Maggie only smiled. Let him think hed won. What mattered was that the familys peace mattered more than any porcelain.
Stephen, she said as she walked into the kitchen, did you know our daughter is learning Spanish and plans to go to Barcelona?
No way! he exclaimed. Why Spanish at her age?
Because life doesnt stop at sixty, Maggie said, pulling out two glasses. And neither does ours. Maybe we should learn something new ourselves.
Stephen looked doubtful. Like what?
Like listening, Maggie replied, pouring the wine. And choosing gifts that come from the heart, not from an old sideboard.
Agreed, Stephen raised his glass. To a new chapter for us.
The fruit bowl still sat on the table, but now Maggie looked at it differently. Even the most illchosen present can become the seed of understanding and change, if youre willing to listen.
