No, you really shouldn’t travel now, Mum. Think about it the journeys long, a whole night on the train, and youre not getting any younger. Do you really need the hassle? And springs here, youll have plenty to do in the garden, my son says.
Son, why not? We havent seen each other in ages. I also want to meet your wife, get to know my future daughterinlaw a bit, Im being honest.
Alright, then lets make a deal. Wait until the end of the month, and well all come over for Easter there are plenty of days off the son reassures me.
Honestly, I was already packed and ready to go, but I believed him and stayed put, waiting for him at home.
Turns out nobody ever showed up. I called Alex a few times, but he kept letting the calls go to voicemail. Eventually he rang back, saying he was swamped and that I shouldnt keep waiting. I was gutted. Id been preparing for his arrival with his wife. Hed only been married half a year, and I still hadnt met the woman at all.
Alex, my son, I had him when I was thirty, a sort of just for me decision. I never married, so I thought Id have a child of my own. It might have been a bit reckless, but I never regretted it, even though money was always tight and we were barely getting by. I juggled several jobs just to make sure my little boy had everything he needed.
When Alex grew up he went to university in London. To support him at first, I even took a seasonal job in the Netherlands, sending him money for tuition and living costs. My motherheart was thrilled to be able to help. By his third year he was pulling his own weight, taking parttime work and, after graduation, landing a decent job. Hed pop back home maybe once a year, and I, living in Norwich, had never even set foot in the capital.
When I heard he was getting married, I started stashing away cash for the wedding about £1,700. Six months ago he called and told me the big news.
Mum, you dont need to come now. Were just getting engaged; the wedding will be later, he warned.
I was disappointed, but theres not much I could do. Alex introduced me to his fiancée over a video call. She was lovely, strikingly beautiful, and seemed well off her father was a successful businessman. All I could do was be happy for them.
Time passed, and Alex still hadnt visited or invited me over. I was itching to see my daughterinlaw and hug my son, so I packed a train ticket, homemade bread, a few jars of preserves, and set off. I rang Alex just before boarding.
Come on, Mum, why? Im at work, I cant meet you. Heres the address, just grab a taxi, he said.
I arrived in London in the morning, called a black cab, and was shocked at the fare. Still, the city looked lovely from the window, the early light making everything sparkle.
The front door opened and Eleanor, Alexs fiancée, stood there. She didnt smile or hug me, just dryly gestured toward the kitchen. Alex wasnt home; hed left early for work.
I started unloading my bags potatoes, beetroot, eggs, dried apples, marinated mushrooms, pickles, tomatoes, a few jars of jam. Eleanor watched silently, then told me it was pointless; they never eat that stuff and she never cooks at home.
What do you eat then? I asked, bewildered.
We get deliveries every day. I dont like cooking; the kitchen smells after I do, and it takes ages to air out, she replied.
Before I could process that, a little boy, about threeandahalf, darted into the kitchen.
Meet my son, Daniel, Eleanor said.
Daniel? I repeated.
No, Daniel. I dont like when people twist names, she snapped.
Right, Daniel then, I said, trying to keep the peace.
She corrected me again, insisting her name was Eleanor, not Ilona or anything else. I felt tears welling up, not just because Alex had a wife and child hed never mentioned to me, but because Id been waiting years for this day.
Then I spotted a huge wedding photo on the wall.
Oh, the wedding didnt happen? At least you have a nice picture, I tried to change the subject.
How could you think there was no wedding? There was, for two hundred guests. You just werent there; Alex said you were ill. Maybe thats for the best, she replied, scanning me from head to toe.
Will you have breakfast? she asked.
I will, I said.
She placed a cup of tea and a few slices of expensive cheese on the table her idea of breakfast. Im used to a solid morning meal, especially after a long trip, so I planned to fry some eggs and toast my homemade bread. Eleanor flatout forbade me from making eggs, citing the lingering smell. She also refused the bread, claiming they were on a healthy diet.
I felt my spirit crumble. All those years of saving, of hoping to be invited to his wedding, now turned to ash. I sipped my tea, but the silence was heavy. The boy clung to me, wanting a hug, but Eleanor waved her hands, saying I couldnt because she didnt know what I was bringing. I offered him a jar of raspberry jam for his pancakes, and she snatched it away, shouting, How many times do I have to tell you? Were on a strict diet, no sugar!
I was on the brink of tears, the tea left untouched. I slipped out to the hallway, put on my shoes, and she didnt even ask where I was going. I stepped outside, sat on a bench by the entrance, and let the tears flow. It was the saddest Id ever felt.
Later, Eleanor took the boy for a walk and tossed all my jars into the trash. No words. When she left, I packed everything back into my bags and trudged back to the station. Someone had handed me a ticket, so I managed to get a later train.
Near the platform there was a small café. I bought a bowl of beef stew, a piece of fried meat, chips, and a salad I was starving. I paid a good amount, but I thought, I deserve a decent bite after all this. I stored my bags in the luggage locker and had a few hours to wander London. The city was charming; I almost forgot my worries.
The night train didnt bring sleep, just more tears. Alex never called to ask where I was. Id hoped for a warm summer reunion, not this cold reception. Hes my only son, the one I placed all my hopes on, and it turns out I was more of a burden than a blessing.
Now Im left wondering what to do with the money I saved for his wedding. Should I send Alex the £1,700, letting him know Mum always cared? Or keep it, because he never earned it?
