I still cannot work out what to do. My son has always taken his wifes side even when she is plainly wrong.
Im at my wits end, said Margaret Whitmore, now sixty, her voice trembling with tears. My son, Michael, always, absolutely always defends his wife. Whatever happens, whatever I say, he merely waves his hand and says, Mum, dont worry, Emma will sort it out. Shes not foolish. He always finds an excuse for her, even when she is clearly in the wrong.
Emma, Margarets daughterinlaw, is twentyeight. She and Michael are raising a oneyearold son, Billy, in a modest flat they bought on a mortgage in York. Emma is on maternity leave; Michael is the sole breadwinner. They live, as the saying goes, within their means tidy, without extravagance, yet never short of what they need.
But Margaret cannot stomach Emma at all.
When Michael first brought her home, I was stunned, Margaret recalled. Long, fake nails, a tattoo on her neck, a short skirt, heels that looked ready for a runway. And those glossy lips you could tell shed had work done. I thought he was joking. How could my son seriously date such a frivolous, to put it mildly, sort of woman?
A month later they were married. By Margarets account, even the wedding was a display leather skirt, glittering top, stagemakeup. Michael was happy, and Margaret resolved to keep her mouth shut and simply watch.
At first she barely spoke to her daughterinlaw, phoning her son only a couple of times a month to ask how they were getting on. Everything changed a year and a half ago, when Emma gave birth to their grandson, Billy.
I turned up the second day after they were discharged, and what do I see? she said. Emma with fresh manicured nails. I told her, Emma, have you lost your mind? Thats dangerous for a baby! She replied, Everythings under control, Ill manage. I went to Michael and he said, Mum, stay out of it. This isnt your business. And its always been that way. Whatever I say, I get the reply, Dont interfere.
Margaret tried to educate her daughterinlaw with suggestions, remarks, reproaches, but all she received was indifference. Emma was not the type to make excuses.
Whenever I visit, the house is a mess. I say, Emma, make some soup for Billy. Michael works. She answers, Mike doesnt eat soup. How can that be? Hes had it before! Its just laziness. If she cooked properly, hed have both soup and borscht.
She also tried to reason with her son, but Michael always rose to defend his wife.
Mum, stop nagging. Were fine. Emma is a good mother.
A good mother? Margaret snapped. She never puts the phone down! I havent seen her without a gadget. Shes scrolling through Instagram even when the child is right there.
The final straw happened on a childrens playground.
I knocked on their door and heard nothing. I thought they were out. I walked to the little park by the house and, sure enough, Billy was digging in the sandbox while Emma sat on a bench, eyes glued to her phone. I got closer and saw Michael standing by the railing. Suddenly the boy rushed to me, grinned, and shouted, Grandma! Meanwhile Emma didnt even turn. He bolted onto the road! Its a quiet street, but you never know what might happen.
Thank heavens, she whispered, voice shaking, there was no car at that moment. I grabbed Billy, ran to Emma, and she sat there like shed been stunned. I said, If you dont put that phone away this instant Ill smash it on the pavement! Are you a mother or what?
Emma sprang up, snatched Billy, and fled. The child wailed, reaching for me, but she slammed the door shut and never opened it again.
I called Michael and told him everything as it happened, Margaret continued. He said, Mum, youve gone too far. Calm down. Emma can handle it. How could he say that? I saw it all with my own eyes! He didnt believe me. Now neither of them talks to me. They dont answer my calls, they wont open the door. Its been a month. I have no idea what shes been saying to him. All I want is for my grandson to be safe.
Margaret wonders now:
Maybe hes right? Maybe I should have kept quiet? But I cannot stay silent when a childs safety is at stake. Im a mother, Im a grandmother.
Now she is a lonely woman with a dead phone, and the son she raised has taken his wifes side forever.
