My son is not divorcedhes still living with his girlfriend, though between us, he may as well be a spectator in his own life. Every time I try to visit, my daughter-in-law insists I declare, in no uncertain terms, how much money Ill be bringing, otherwise she wont let me set eyes on my grandson.
They tied the knot two years ago. I didnt take to this young lady straight away. She had the kind of eyes that sized up everyone elses luck and hands that always seemed to reach out for something extra. The ink on the marriage certificate was barely dry when she started in, suggesting that I should downsize my lovely three-bedroom flatsell up and give half the proceeds to set them up properly. According to her, it simply wasnt right for a grown man not to own his own place.
Weve argued about this before, because firstly, I also have a daughter, and, frankly, why on earth should I flog my home just to satisfy my daughter-in-laws aspirations? The children had every advantageeducation, a step up in lifethe rest, well, they should manage on their own wits, just as my late husband and I did.
My daughter, for example, is still unmarried, works hard, and took out a mortgage to buy her own flat. For a while she stayed with me, letting her place to make the payments easier, but now shes got her independence. My son, on the other hand, honestly, hes hopeless. He never stands up for himself, just repeats whatever she says. No interest whatsoever in moving in with meapparently, it would be beneath their royal status to even consider it.
Sharing a flat with her wasnt exactly the future I dreamed of, but I would have put up with it if it meant the kids could save for a deposit. As for selling or gifting them anything? Not happening. When Im gone, the flat will be split between the two of themwhat they do then is their business.
I told my daughter-in-law all this, and I didnt sugar-coat it. She had the nerve to say, Isnt it a bit much for you to rattle around in a three-bedroom on your own, Mum? The cheek! I asked my son to have a word, but he just mumbled something to his shoes.
Sometimes I wonder whose child my son really is. The rest of us are a right battle-hardened lot; hes the odd one out, like a beached seal. Honestly, I suspect his wife married him out of pure desperation.
Since that little chat about the flat, my daughter-in-law and I have barely spoken. My son calls now and then but never visitsit seems shes banned it. Then, one day, he calls to let me know Im to be a grandmother. I was properly chuffed; first grandchild and all that. I wanted to make amends, bought a gift and a cake, and showed up ready for a truce, only to be greeted with a snide jab about how their son would be born in someone elses flat, like a stray. And that old argument about the flat came up again.
So, the peace offering fell flat. I wasnt about to quarrel with a pregnant woman, so I made myself scarce. Honestly, if someones thick, theres no curing it. That was itdidnt see her again before the birth. To top it off, my own health decided to compete for attention, and I was in and out of the GPs. Nobody even rang me when the baby arrived; I found out a week later when my son finally deigned to call.
He invited me round, andno sooner had the phone call started than I got the distinct impression that presents wouldnt cut it this time; they only wanted cash. Best just bring money next time, Mum, was the in-law’s helpful summary. Well, its not every day you become a grandmother, so I cracked open the savings and brought a nice, crisp envelope on the appointed day.
She opened the envelope at the door, pulled a face, as though ten grand was loose change. Not a word, but I could see shed expected something that jingled a bit harder. The baby, by the way, was beautifullooked just like his dad, including the nose. I didnt stay long, made my way home, and that was that. Never invited back. I didnt push itbabies need routine, after all.
Three months later it dawned on me: no one would call if I didnt. So, I rang my son and asked for a visit, brought a little present for my grandson, and a cake for tea.
My daughter-in-law met me at the door, took the gifts, gave me the look, and then said, Actually, after last time, I thought wed made it clear. Dont bother with the charity shop tat, just bring money for the child.
So, whatthe fee for seeing my own grandson is what, precisely?
What do you think? Were renting because of you. My husband’s the only one working, and youve done nothing for your grandson. Least you can do is contribute to his upkeep.
I could feel my blood pressure rising. My son stood there, not a peep out of him, blinking away as though this was perfectly normal.
That was it for me. I turned around and left. Im not about to pay for the privilege of grandmotherhood, thank you very much.
We havent spoken in nearly a year now. The phone doesnt ring both ways. Then, just last week, my son called to remind me its my grandsons birthdaywould I please pop round and oh, not to forget the gift (but really, just cash). The amount requested? Lets just say its what I earn in a month.
Didnt go. Cant go, actually, because I dont have that sort of money. Ive made my peace; apparently I have neither a grandson nor a son. If my son really cared, he wouldnt let his wife blackmail me for a visit. Let them paddle in their own little pond.
I might just have a think about my will toomake sure neither my soft-hearted son nor his greedy wife can get their paws on my flat, not even a doormat, after Im gone.
