Twins?! burst out Mrs. Irene Ashton, unable to quite mask her dismay.
She made a herculean effort to hide her indignation, but subtlety had never been her forte. Alice knew perfectly well that expecting a drop of genuine warmth from her mother-in-law was about as likely as spotting the Loch Ness monster in Oxford Street. Mrs. Ashton had never warmed to Alice, always seeing her as a poor choice for her precious son. Most of Alices friends thought it was the other way round Ivan was rather basic for such a bright woman.
Alice was, in fact, thoroughly pleasant and well-educated: shed finished university at twenty-three, and landed on her feet working in a network of private clinics. Yes, she hailed from a smallish northern town, but her dad ran a local business and her mother lectured at the university. In short, no one in their right mind could call her uncultured or unpolished. Not, of course, that any of this swayed Mrs. Ashton, who still pegged her as a bit plain.
Well, congratulations! What joy! Twice the joy, in fact! muttered Mrs. Ashton, with the grim enthusiasm of someone congratulating an ex on their lottery win.
She had no intention whatsoever of participating in this joy. Alice had a rough pregnancy, threatened with miscarriage and, when that settled, premature labour. She spent most of her time on medical leave, in and out of hospital. Ivan came by nearly every day, but his mother, who lived two bus stops away, never dropped by.
She even skipped the twins triumphant exit from hospital. Ivan begged, but she was a no-show for the infamous first forty days.
Its unlucky! What if I bring them a bug? When theyre fit, Ill introduce myself as Granny, she proclaimed.
Three months on, and Alice ran into her mother-in-law outside Tesco. Mrs. Ashton plastered on a smile that would have cracked if she tried any harder and asked, through gritted teeth:
So, how are my girls then?
Alice returned a genuinely sunny smile.
Out for a stroll! The prams a monster, but what can you do? Fresh air’s good for them!
Mrs. Ashton nodded, clearly angling to scarper, when an old acquaintance, Mrs. Gail Potter, bustled over with her trolley, waving.
Irene! Lovely to see you! Oh heavens, are these your granddaughters?
Yes, Gail dear… My treasures!
Alice remembered Mrs. Potter and gave her a shy hello.
Two at once! Alice, how did you manage? Youre so tiny!
Shes our heroine! Mrs. Ashton chimed in.
Alice stared at her mother-in-law in amazement. A minute ago, Irene was on the verge of fleeing and now she was performing the doting granny for Gail. The two older ladies twittered away, proclaiming that twins were a blessing and that Irene was an indispensable help. Alice heard startling new fables of her own domestic bliss none of them remotely true. Mrs. Potter, finally remembering she had banking to do, scuttled off.
Thirty precise seconds after Gail left, Mrs. Ashtons beneficent smile melted away; with a curt goodbye, she hastily withdrew.
That evening, Alice relayed the tale to Ivan, her husband, who merely shrugged.
Alice, thats my mum. She didnt bother much with us, and yet she told everyone she helped with my homework until midnight in reality, she watched soaps and never touched my school diary. Supposedly she took my sister Lena on endless walks for her health, but shed spend her time doing her hair and make-up, while I supervised Lena. Dont take offence seriously.
Alice had heard these stories a thousand times, yet still found herself gobsmacked when she starred in one of Mrs. Ashtons little dramas.
***
The years rolled on, but Mrs. Ashtons attitude towards children and grandchildren remained unchanged. Then came misfortune: getting out of a Black Cab, Irene managed to break her leg. A sudden, diabolical inspiration struck.
Ill live with you for a bit! she announced to Alice and Ivan.
The couple exchanged a look; each could see the oncoming disaster, but neither dared refuse.
Thus began their domestic nightmare. They relocated to the nursery, while the wounded duchess took over their bedroom. Mrs. Ashton became, essentially, a third child: meals prepared, cleaning, assistance in the bath, urgent procurement of Milk Tray and Rich Tea from the shop.
The twins, two and a half, started nursery so Alice could attempt a part-time comeback at work. Mornings were a battlefield of crocodile tears and resistance from the girls, torn away from their duvets and propelled out to face the world.
One day, just as they were leaving, Ivans phone rang.
Mum? Why are you calling? Youre next door!
I cant get up, Ive broken my leg…
Mum, you have a crutch…
Oh, pipe down, Ivan! What I need to say doesnt require standing.
Mum, go on, quickly…
I really cannot live with all this racket each morning. How is anyone expected to sleep while you two thunder round, slamming doors, and your children never stop squawking?
Ivan turned scarlet and stormed to his bedroom door, flung it open, and roared:
If you want sleep so badly, how about we just leave the twins with you? Yeah?!
Mrs. Ashton was instantly silenced. Not long after, she bid her sons hellish household farewell before even the cast came off. Ivan wasn’t sad, but Alice, inexplicably, was racked with guilt. As if she was to blame for Ivan standing up to his mother. But what on earth else could she have done?
***
On Fridays, Alice worked half-days. Shed collect the twins at noon, treat them to something tasty, and theyd snuggle up for a film. This particular Friday was no exception: cushions strewn about, projector on, Disney queued until the doorbell clanged.
On the doorstep stood Mrs. Ashton, clutching little Peter, Lenas boy, by the hand.
Mrs. Ashton, is everything alright?
Lena needed me to mind him til the evening, but Ive urgent errands. Can you watch him for an hour and a half? Please!
Alice blinked. Peter was six months younger than her daughters and thankfully quiet, so she crouched, smiled, and asked:
Fancy hanging out with us, Pete?
He shyly nodded. When Alice looked up, Mrs. Ashton had already vanished to the lift.
When will you be back?
Two hours maximum!
She peeled off, without even a wave to her grandson or daughter-in-law.
***
Ivan turned up at seven, raising an eyebrow at the sight of his nephew decimating fish fingers.
Alright, mate! Come to visit? Wheres Lena?
The lad smiled. Alice sighed. She hated being the flashpoint for family scandals, but what could she do? You cant exactly edit out the chorus from a song.
Your mum dropped him off… just for an hour or two. Then she disappeared on errands…
And, ah, exactly when did this hour or two start?
Just before two oclock…
Wheres Lena?
I didnt message her… Didnt want to land Mrs. Ashton in trouble. Lena trusted her with Peter, after all.
Ivans face reddened impressively.
Alice, youre too nice… But this is daft! Did my mum even say where she was going?
Alice shook her head. With increasing irritation, Ivan rang his sister. Lena promised she’d come over as soon as she could.
***
It was nearly half eight. Kids were playing, while Alice, Ivan and Lena nursed teas in the kitchen.
Are we really going to just wait for her? The children ought to get to bed…
One late night wont kill them. But we do need to have this out with Mum.
As Ivan finished, the bell rang again. Alice answered.
Right, Ill take Peter now! proclaimed Mrs. Ashton, all business.
Alice swallowed. At that moment, Lena and Ivan appeared.
Mum, have you completely lost your marbles?
Is that any way to speak to your mother?!
Mum! Dont start! I left Peter with YOU, not Alice… What exactly do you think youre playing at?
Mrs. Ashton laughed.
Oh, whats the difference, Lena? She already has two. She copes beautifully. Besides, I had things to do!
Ivan stepped forward:
Mum! What things? Do you have any idea how entitled you sound? Did you even ask her?
For heavens sake, what is there to ask?
Ivan tried again:
Where were you?
At this, Lena started to giggle hysterically.
Well, first, our dear mother quite clearly went to the hairdressers her hair was longer this morning. Then, clearly, straight to the nail salon her varnish was red this morning and now its pink…
Mrs. Ashton blushed but was stumped for a retort.
Arent you ashamed? Ivan pressed.
She said nothing just glared at her offspring.
The one time youre actually asked to help, you dump your grandson on my wife?! Maybe she wants a manicure too! Maybe shed like a cut and blow-dry!
At this, Mrs. Ashton swelled with indignation, cheeks turning puce. When words failed, she resorted to an old favourite: putting everyone else in their proper place.
Good grief, Ivan! What does she need with a haircut or nails? Shes always been a frumpy nobody from some godforsaken town! Always has, always will.
A stunned silence, then an ear-shattering:
Get out!
Ivan more or less bundled his mother out the door with one movement, slammed it firmly, and let out a long breath. Looking up, he saw Alice in tears. Both he and his sister hurried to comfort her.
It hurt, but at least Alice saw she wasnt the only one disregarded by Mrs. Ashton her own children didnt fare much better. Oddly, this was comforting. It meant it was never really about Alice at all; some people simply cannot see the worth in others, no matter how hard you try.
From then on, contact with Mrs. Ashton dwindled. Ivan and Lena helped her now and then with practical bits but Mrs. Ashton was no longer a day-to-day part of their lives. She sulked over their betrayal, but before long, the longing to remain the matriarch drew her back, and she extended a brittle olive branch. As before, the twins received little actual help.
Only once did Alice, scrolling WhatsApp, spot Mrs. Ashtons status adorned with photos of all three grandchildren and the caption: Happy Grandparents Day to All Whove Raised Their Grandchildren! Alice couldnt help a bitter smirk, and later that night Ivan and Lena roasted their mum mercilessly over dinner. Alice knew she shouldnt laugh but really, who could blame her?
