Mum Only Wanted to Help
Did you hear? Ruths got her second grandson now! said my mother-in-law, topping up Emmas tea. A boy, eight pounds six. Healthy little thing, and so chubby.
Emma nodded, warming her hands on the mug. In Margaret Walkers flat, it was always a touch coldshed never waste a penny on the heatingbut the table was always heaped with plates of fairy cakes, homemade shepherds pie, and salads. It felt less like popping in for tea and more like attending a wedding.
And you and James, Margaret went on, sliding a bowl of jam closer, when are you finally going to make me happy? Emma, how long do you intend to put it off? Youre not getting any younger. James is thirty-one, youre twenty-eight. This is the time! I really thought Id have grandchildren by now, but you two keep saying Well wait, well wait…
Mrs. Walker, its just that these arent easy times, Emma replied gently, careful not to offend. Were saving for a flat. Its just not possible to juggle a baby and a mortgage together. Surely you see? Best to buy our own place first, then think about children.
Margaret brushed away her words as if shooing a bothersome fly.
Oh, youre worrying too much. Have a baby and everything else will fall into place. When Peter and I started, we only had a bedsitroom for three of us, eighteen feet across if that! And look, we managed to raise James, and get him to university. With all your planning, youll wait till retirement to have a baby.
Emma took a sip of tea to buy herself a moment. Februarys sky outside was a dull grey, raindrops trickling down the glasscould have been rain, could be melting sleet. In the sitting room, the wall clock ticked steadilyMargarets reminder of her own mothers house.
Thats just not how things work now, Emma said, setting her cup down. Times have changed. Rent, bills, food, nappies, the doctor Wed drown in debt.
Ill look after the little one! Margaret leaned in, as if her offer erased everything. You only need to give birth. Ill take care of the restwalks, feeds, night-time changes.
Emma felt a knot of frustration tighten inside her; not anger, exactly, but irritationdull and stubborn.
I want to raise my child myself, Mrs. Walker. I dont want to go back to work three months after giving birth. Those first years are the most important.
Margaret pursed her lips and turned to the window, offended. Emma knew this routinenow Margaret would go quiet and clatter about with the crockery, letting Emma know just how much her heartless words had stung.
Emma finished her tea and stood up.
Thank you for everything, but I should be getting back. James asked me to be home by seven.
Her mother-in-law nodded, eyes averted. Emma got dressed, pecked Margaret on the cheekcool, formaland left.
In the taxi, she pressed her forehead to the chilly window and closed her eyes. Tower blocks, billboards, people in padded jackets glided by. Margaret simply didnt understand that times had moved on. You cant just have kids and hope for the best. Children are a responsibility. Emma wanted her future child to have everything: their own room, a good school, clubs after class. And for that, you needed a home. A real home. One of your own.
Two months passed…
Emma cooked roast chicken and potatoes for dinnerJames loved a simple, filling meal. Margaret had rung the night before and invited herself over, saying they needed a word. Emma wasnt worried; usually Margarets chats meant recipe tips or complaints about the neighbours.
But when they sat down and Margaret gently pushed her plate aside, Emma tensed.
Remember Aunt Joanmy mums cousin? Margaret scanned their faces. She passed away last month. At last, some peace.
James nodded. Emma vaguely remembered meeting Aunt Joan once at some family gathering.
Well Margaret straightened herself, and Emma knew something significant was coming. Shes left me her flat. Two bedrooms. Needs a bit of doing up, but its a solid place, in a lovely old brick block.
James let out a low whistle. Seriously? Mum, thats amazing!
Margaret raised her hand. Wait. I want to put that flat in both your names.
Emmas fork halted halfway to her mouth.
But on one condition, Margaret stared straight at her, unblinking. You give me a grandchild. Or a granddaughter, I dont mind which. A babyand the flats yours.
The silence around the table was thick enough to hear the drip in the kitchen from the wonky tap.
Margaret barely let the echo settle before pressing on, words tumbling out as if she feared interruption.
You dont need to save anymore, see? The flats ready and waiting! And all your savings can go on the babya pram, cot, clothesgoodness, it all costs a fortune these days! But now, you dont have to worry about a mortgage.
James looked at Emma, waiting for her thoughts. And Emma realised she couldnt argueit really was only the home holding them back from having a baby. Now, with a single signature at the solicitors, that hurdle was gone.
We agree, Emma placed her hand over her husbands. We did want a baby, reallywe were just waiting for the right time.
Margaret beamed as if shed been handed the keys to a new life herself.
A year passed…
Ben was a month old. Emma was rocking him in the bedroom, humming some nonsense lullaby, when she heard the front door click. She stepped out into the hall, clutching her son closer.
James, what are you doing back so early?
It was Margaretbags in hand, broad smile as if she owned the place.
Emma stopped in the doorway.
Mrs. Walker? How did you get in?
Margaret lifted her hand and jingled a key with a tacky plastic daisy.
I kept a copy, just in case. You never know if you might need help and dont answer the door.
Emma swallowed back the words that sprang to her lipsnot the moment. Ben had just fallen asleep, and a row would wake him straight up.
Margaret marched straight into the kitchen, tutting at a couple of dirty mugs in the sink.
Whats all this, Emma? Unwashed plates, crumbs? She rattled open the fridge. And what is there to eat? Yoghurt and cheese? Jamesll be home soon, how will you feed him?
Emma cradled Ben closerhe squirmed, but didnt wake.
Ive had the baby all day, Mrs. Walker. He only wants to be heldcries as soon as I put him down.
Margaret was already making for the nursery, Emma trailing after her, helpless to stop her. Margaret inspected the changing table, the shelf of bottles, with narrowed eyes.
You havent set this up right at all. These muslinssurely you dont use those? Far too rough for a babys skin!
Theyre flannelsoft ones.
I know soft, thank you! I raised James, didnt I? Margaret pursed her lips. Youre at home all day, Emma. Whys the place in a state?
Emma nodded at Ben, asleep on her shoulder.
Thats why.
Nonsense, Margaret brushed her off. I used to cook, clean, wash, look after Jamesall by myself. Managed it, didnt I?
She left an hour later, having rearranged bottles, refolded linen, and leaving Emma feeling trampled flat.
That evening, when James got in, Emma waited for him to finish his meal before sitting opposite.
James, we cant go on like this. Your mum comes and goes as she pleases, shes got her own key. Im exhausted as it isno sleep, up to my eyesand now her constant checks.
James shrugged.
Mums only trying to help, Em. She means well.
When will she transfer the flat to you?
James hesitated.
Shes in no rush. Says it doesnt matter whose name its inwe live here anyway.
Emma gripped the table so tightly her knuckles went white.
Another three months passed…
Margaret became a fixture. Shed let herself in whenever she fancied, criticising everythinghow Emma fed, bathed, dressed Ben before a walk. Each visit ended with a sermon or silent sulk over Emmas ingratitude. Emma complained to James, but he just shrugged: what could he do? Its his mum.
One night, Emma snapped. After Margaret left, she pulled out a suitcase.
She packed her things. Then Bens clothes, nappies, bottles, favourite soft toys. James stood silently in the doorway.
Em, where are you going?
To my mums.
Oh, come off it. Youve just had a rowlet it blow over.
James, Emma zipped the case and turned to face him. Either your mother hands over her keys and stops coming in, or Ben and I are leaving. Your choice.
He was silent, staring at the suitcase, at their son, at Emma. Then he slumped onto the sofa and buried his face in his hands.
Emma waited. Five seconds, ten, fifteen.
He didnt move.
She called a cab and left.
He rang the next day. And the day after. And every week for a while. Each time, he promised to talk to his mum, each time he begged her to come back. But he never took the keys, and Margaret remained the undisputed matriarch of the flat they were supposed to have been given.
The divorce went through six months later. Child maintenanceordered by the courts, since James was in no hurry to pay.
Emma moved in with her mum, back to her old room with its faded floral wallpaper from her childhood. Her mum helped with Ben, looking after him so Emma could workfirst part-time, then full-time. It was tough, so much tougher than shed imagined motherhood would be.
But at night, when Ben fell asleep cradled in her arms, his small nose nestled into her shoulder, Emma knew she would cope. She had tofor his sake.
If his father had proved too weak to stand up for his own family, shed just have to be strong for both of them.
