Our mums, well… not the best
Abigail, youve left your wet towel on the hook in the bathroom again, havent you?
Helens voice floated down the hallway just as Abigail stepped through the door after work. Helen was there, arms tightly folded, fixing her daughter-in-law with that steely gaze of hers.
Its drying there, Abigail replied, kicking off her shoes. Thats what the hooks for.
In proper homes, towels go on the heated rail. But I suppose you wouldnt know, Helen sniffed.
Abigail walked by without answering. Twenty-eight years old, two degrees, manager at work yet somehow, every single day, she was getting told off for something as trivial as towels.
Helens eyes followed her with open disapproval. That silence, that way she acted like she was the queen of the castle. Fifty-five years had made Helen a good judge of people, and she hadnt liked Abigail from the start. Cold. Arrogant. Jonathan needed a warm, homely wife, not some sort of statue.
Helen watched. She noticed. She remembered
Harry, tidy your toys up before tea, please.
Dont want to.
I wasnt asking if you want to. Tidy them up.
Six-year-old Harry sulked but started gathering up the scattered soldiers. Abigail didnt even look over, just kept chopping vegetables.
Helen, watching from the lounge, saw it all. That chilliness no smile, no gentle word, just orders. Poor little boy.
Nana, Harry whispered, climbing into her lap after Abigail disappeared to the bedroom to put laundry away, why is Mum always cross?
Helen stroked his hair. It was a golden opportunity.
You know, sweetheart Some people are just like that. They dont know how to show love. It is a shame, really.
Do you know how?
Of course, darling. Nana loves you so much. Nanas never cross.
Harry snuggled in closer, Helen smiled.
Every time they were alone, she added a pinch more to her little portrait of Abigail careful, slow.
Mum wouldnt let me watch cartoons today, Harry grumbled a week later.
Poor thing. Mummy is strict, isnt she? Sometimes I think shes a bit too strict. Dont you worry, you can come to Nana. Nana always understands.
He nodded, soaking up every word. Nana was kind. Nana understood. But Mum…
You know, some mums just dont know how to be gentle. Its not your fault, Harry. Youre a brilliant boy. The problem is your mummy just isnt very good.
Harrys hugs got tighter. Something cold and confusing started to grow inside him whenever he thought about Mum.
After about a month, Abigail began to notice something felt off.
Harry, love, come here, give me a cuddle!
He pulled away.
I dont want to.
Why not?
Just dont.
He dashed off to Nana. Abigail was left in the middle of the playroom, arms outstretched. Something had shifted in their little world, and she had no idea when it happened.
Helen watched from the hall, lips curled in satisfaction.
That evening, Abigail tried again.
Sweetheart, are you cross with me? she asked Harry gently on his bed.
No.
Then why dont you want to play with me?
He just shrugged, his eyes distant, guarded.
I want to be with Nana.
She let him go. All she felt was a heavy, numb ache settling in her chest.
Jon, I dont recognise Harry anymore, Abigail confided to her husband late one night, after everyone was in bed. Hes avoiding me. Its never been like this.
Oh come on, love. Kids are just like that, moody. Today its one thing, tomorrow another.
Its not a mood, Jon. The way he looks at me, like Ive done something terrible.
Youre overthinking. Mum probably just spends more time with him. Hes attached.
She almost protested, but hed already returned to his phone.
Meanwhile, Helen told Harry as she tucked him in on those long evenings when his parents worked late, Your mummy loves you, but in her own way a cold, strict way. Not all mums are kind, you see?
Why? Harry whispered.
Thats just how it is, darling. But Nana would never hurt you. Nana will always protect you. Not like Mummy.
Those words sent Harry to sleep, and every morning, his eyes looked at Abigail with a little more distance.
Soon he started showing his preferences openly.
Harry, lets go to the park? Abigail reached out.
I want to go with Nana.
Harry
With Nana!
Helen grabbed her grandsons hand with a triumphant smile. Oh, stop fussing, cant you see he wants to be with me? Come on, Harry, lets get you an ice lolly.
They left. Abigail stared after them, her chest tight. Her own son was turning away from her, choosing Helen, and she just couldnt understand why.
That night, Jonathan came to find her in the kitchen. Abigail was hunched at the table, endless tea gone cold, staring at nothing.
Ill have a word with him, I promise.
All she could do was nod. Shed no words left.
Jonathan sat beside Harry while he played in his room.
Harry, tell Daddy why dont you want to be with Mummy?
Harry looked away, mumbling, Just dont.
Thats not a reason. Did Mummy upset you?
No
Then what is it?
Harry stayed silent. He couldnt explain what even he didnt understand. Nana said Mummy was mean, cold. So it must be true. Nana wouldnt lie.
Jonathan left, none the wiser
Helen, meanwhile, was plotting her next move. Abigail was already deflated she could see it. Just a bit more, and the upstart would pack her bags. Jonathan deserved better. A real wife, not this ice sculpture.
The next day, seeing Harry in the hall while Abigail showered, Helen bent down to whisper, You know Nana loves you more than anyone, dont you?
I know.
And Mummy well, Mummys not so great, is she? Doesnt hug you or cuddle you, always cross. My poor boy.
She didnt hear the footsteps behind her.
Mum.
Helen spun round. Jonathan was in the doorway, his face white.
Harry, go to your room, his voice was low, but Harry scarpered.
Mum, I I heard everything.
An awful silence stretched between them.
Were you Were you turning him against Abigail? This whole time?
Im only looking out for him! She treats him like a prisoner!
Are you mad?
Helen stepped back. Her son had never looked at her like that before disgust.
Jonathan, please
No. You listen. He stepped closer. Youve been poisoning my boy against his own mum my wife! Do you realise what youve done?
I was trying to help!
Help? Harrys terrified of his mum! Abigails beside herself! Thats your idea of help?
Helen stiffened.
Fine. Shes not right for you. Cold, harsh, heartless
Enough!
The shout jolted them both. Jonathan was breathing hard.
Pack your things. Today.
Youre kicking me out?
Im protecting my family. From you.
Helens mouth opened and closed. In her sons eyes there was no debate, no forgiveness.
Within the hour, shed left. No goodbyes.
Jonathan found Abigail in the bedroom.
I know why Harrys changed, he said quietly.
Abigails eyes were red as she looked up.
My mum. She shes been telling him youre mean, that you dont really love him. Shes been twisting him against you all this time.
Abigail froze, then breathed out shakily.
I thought I was losing my mind. That I was a terrible mum.
Jonathan hugged her close.
Youre a wonderful mum. I dont know what got into my mother. But she wont come near Harry again.
The weeks after were tough. Harry asked after Nana, puzzled, not understanding why she was gone. His parents spoke to him gently, patiently.
Love, Abigail brushed his fringe from his forehead, what Nana said about me it wasnt true. I love you, very much.
He looked at her, uncertain.
But youre mean.
Not mean, just strict, because I want you to grow up into a good person. Being firm is a way of loving you, too, do you understand?
He was silent for a long time, thinking.
Will you give me a cuddle?
Abigail cuddled him so tightly he burst out laughing.
Bit by bit day by day the real Harry came back. The Harry who wanted to show his mum his latest dinosaur drawing. The Harry who nodded off while she hummed lullabies at bedtime.
Jonathan would watch them playing in the lounge, thinking of his mum. Shed rung once or twice, but he never answered.
Helen was left alone, in her own flat. No grandson, no son. All shed wanted was to save Jonathan from the wrong woman and shed lost both of them for it.
Abigail rested her head on Jonathans shoulder.
Thank you for fixing things.
Im sorry it took me so long to see what was right in front of me.
Harry came charging into the lounge, clambered onto Jonathans knee.
Dad, Mum, can we go to the zoo tomorrow?
It turned out, life was finding its rhythm again.
