I dont know what to do. My son always sides with his wifeeven when shes wrong, the sixtyyearold June Thompson says, tears trembling in her voice. Mike, my son, always, absolutely always defends his wife. No matter what happens, no matter what I say, he just waves his hand and says, Mum, dont worry, Harriet will sort it out. She isnt foolish. He always finds an excuse for her, even when she is clearly in the wrong!
Harriet, Junes daughterinlaw, is twentyeight. She and Mike are raising their oneandahalfyearold son, Paul, in a rented flat they bought on a mortgage. Harriet is on maternity leave; Mike works the whole time. They live, as the saying goes, within their meanscarefully, without extravagance, but never short of necessities.
June, however, cannot stomach Harriet at all.
When Mike first brought her home, I was shocked, June remembers. Long, fake nails, a tattoo on her neck, a short skirt, heels that looked as if they belonged on a runway, and those glossy lipsobviously done up. I thought he was joking. How could my son seriously date someone so frivolous, to put it mildly?
A month later they were married. By Junes account, Harriet turned up at the ceremony looking provocatively boldleather skirt, sparkling top, stagemakeup. Mike was happy, and June resolved to watch silently, to not interfere.
At first she barely spoke to her daughterinlaw, calling Mike only a couple of times a month to ask how things were. Everything changed a year and a half ago, when Harriet and Mike welcomed their songrandson Paul.
I arrived on the second day after they were discharged, and what do I see? June says. Harriets nails are freshly done. I tell her, Harriet, have you lost your mind? This is dangerous for a baby! She replies, Everythings under control, Ill manage. I go to Mike, and he says, Mum, stay out of it. This isnt your business. And thats the pattern. Whatever I say, I hear back, Dont interfere.
June recalls trying to educate her daughterinlaw with advice, remarks, reproaches. Harriets response was always indifferent. Harriet never apologises, June says.
I drop by, and the flat is a mess. I say, Harriet, make a soup for the boy. He works. She answers, Mike doesnt eat soup. How can he not? Ive fed him! Shes just lazy! If she cooked properly, hed have both soup and borscht.
June tried to talk to Mike, but Mike always rose to shield his wife. Mum, stop nitpicking. Were fine. Harriets a good mother.
A good mother? June exclaims. She never lifts her head from the phone! I havent seen her without a gadget in ages. She scrolls through Instagram even when the baby is next to her.
The final straw came at a playground.
I knocked, knocked, and heard nothing. I thought they were out. I walked to the little park by the block and saw Paul digging in the sand, while Harriet sat on a bench, eyes glued to her phone. I got closer, saw the boy standing by the fence. Suddenly he ran toward me, grinned, shouted Grandma! and Harrietshe didnt even turnran onto the road! Its a quiet street, but you never know what might happen.
Thank heavens, Harriet whispered, voice shaking, there were no cars at that moment. I snatched Paul, ran to Harriet, and found her sitting as if in a trance. I said, If you dont put that phone away right now, Ill smash it on the pavement! Are you a mother or what?
Harriet leapt up, grabbed Paul, and fled. The child cried, reaching for me, but she slammed the door in my face and never opened it again.
I called Mike, June continues, told him everything as it happened. He said, Mum, youve gone too far. Calm down. Harriet can handle it. How can he say that? I saw it all with my own eyes! He doesnt believe me! Now they both ignore me, dont answer calls, dont open the door. Its been a month! I dont know what she told him, but I just want my grandson safe.
June wonders: Maybe hes right? Maybe I should have kept quiet? But I cant stay silent when a childs safety is at stake. Im a mother. Im a grandmother.
Now she is a solitary woman with a turnedoff phone, and the son she raised stands forever on his wifes side. Always.
