James married at twentyfour. His wife, Emily, was twentytwo. She was the only child of a professor and a schoolteacher, the last to be born in their family. Soon after, they were blessed with two rambunctious boys, and a little girl followed a year later.
Emilys mother, Margaret Whitmore, had retired and now devoted herself to the grandchildren. James and Margaret had a peculiar relationship; he always called her by her first name and patronymicMargaret Annand she replied with a cool, formal you, addressing him by his full name. They never quarreled, but James always felt a chill in her presence. Still, Margaret never aired grievances; she spoke to him with a marked politeness and kept a firm, neutral stance between him and Emily.
A month ago the firm where James worked went bust, and he lost his job. At dinner Emily dropped her hands and said, Were not going to stretch Mums pension and my salary forever, James. Find something. Easy for her to sayfind a job! He spent thirty days knocking on doors, and not a single offer materialised.
In a fit of frustration James kicked an empty beer bottle that had rolled onto the floor. Thank heavens Margaret kept quiet, though her eyes flicked with unspoken meaning. Before the wedding hed once overheard a conversation between mother and daughter.
Emily, are you sure this is the man you want to spend the rest of your life with?
Mum, of course!
Im not sure you grasp the whole responsibility. If only my husband were still alive
Mum, stop! We love each other and itll be fine.
And the kids? Will you be able to provide?
Yes, Mum, well manage.
Its not too late to rethink, Emily. Consider his family
Mum, I love him!
Oh, if only you hadnt to bite your elbow!
Time to bite the bullet, James muttered, a sour grin on his face. Margaret stared at him as if she were watching water. He didnt feel like going home. It seemed Emily was comforting him with a forced Itll be all right tomorrow, her mother sighed in judgment, and the kids teased, Dad, got a job yet? He could barely bear to hear it again.
He wandered down the promenade, rested on a bench in the park, and as night fell drove to the family cottage they used from May to September in the Cotswolds. One window in Margarets bedroom glowed. He slipped along the garden path, the curtains trembling, and sat down, his backside landing squarely on a low stump.
Margaret peeked out, James has been gone a long time. Did you call, Emily?
Yes, Mum, the lines dead. He must be out still looking for work.
Her voice turned to ice, Emily, dont you dare speak of your childrens father in that tone!
Ah, Mum, really? I just think James is being daft, not even trying. Hes been at home on my neck for a month!
For the first time in six years James heard Margaret slam her fist on the table and raise her voice, Dont you dare speak of your husband that way! What did you promise when you married? Through sickness and sorrowto stand by and support!
Emily mumbled an apology, Mum, Im sorry. Please dont worry, Im just exhausted. Forgive me, love.
Fine, go to bed, Margaret said, waving her hand wearily. The lights went out. She paced the room, drew back the curtains, peered into the darkness, and then, looking up at the ceiling, crossed herself fervently, Lord Almighty, protect the father of my grandchildren, my daughters husband. Keep his faith in himself. Help him, O Lord, my son! She whispered and wept.
A hot knot grew in Jamess chest. No one had ever prayed for himnot his stern mother, a woman whod spent her life in the local council, nor his father, who had vanished when James was five. Hed been raised in crèches and afterschool clubs, then school, then university, where hed immediately taken a job because his mother despised idleness and believed he could fend for himself.
The heat rose, spilling into every part of him, threatening to burst out as unwanted, stingy tears. He remembered Margaret rising before dawn to bake scones he adored, simmering hearty stews, and making dumplings that were pure magic. She tended the garden, canned preserves, pickled cucumbers and cabbage for winter, and kept the house spotless.
Why had he never noticed? Why never praised her? He and Emily simply worked, had children, and thought that was enough. Or perhaps he thought it was enough. He recalled a night the whole family watched a documentary about Australia, and Margaret sighed, Ive always dreamed of seeing that mysterious continent. He chuckled, Its far too hot there; they wont let a lady in an ice suit in.
James sat for a long while beneath the window, clutching his head. At dawn he and Emily went down to the veranda for breakfast, eyes scanning the tablescones, jam, tea, milk, the children beaming with joy. He lifted his gaze and said gently, Good morning, Mum.
Margaret flinched, then after a pause replied, Good morning, Jamie.
Two weeks later James landed a job, and a year after that he booked Margaret a holiday in Australia, despite her fierce objections.
