The Argument
“Charlotte, I forgive you! That row of ours was pointless. Stop sulking! We’re not spring chickens anymore!” boomed Margaret Palmer, dialling her sisters number for the first time in seven years. “Time to grow up, Charlotte! Honestly, how long can this go on”
“Sorry but whos calling? Im not Charlotte.”
The voice was definitely unfamiliar. Young, a touch brittle perhaps, but pleasant all the same.
Margaret froze mid-sentencea rarity for her.
“Darling, who are you? How have you got my sisters number?”
“Its been my number for over a year now. Im sorry, but I dont know you. And I definitely dont know the Charlotte youre looking for. Goodbye!”
Margaret, still unsure what was going on, didnt respond immediately. By the time shed gathered her wits, the dial tone was already droning in her ear. Oddly enough, she felt a stab of fear.
Convinced shed been mistaken, Margaret fetched her glasses and cross-checked Charlottes number in her battered red address booka present from Charlotte, whod always had a taste for nice things. Charlotte knew Margaret liked beautiful things too, though shed never admit it, labelling such purchases foolish extravagancies. Charlotte always spoiled her with little surprisesa handbag, a smart pen, a lovely scarf. Not much, but thoughtful. It was never Margarets way; she preferred gifts that made a statement. Bigger, grander, practically heavy with significance. Just to show how much she loved her sister!
This time, punching in the number by hand, Margaret realised disaster had crept up on her. The same voice answered as beforegentle, melodious, but unquestionably a strangers.
“Im sorry, as I said, this is my number,” the young woman sounded somewhat rattled, “Please dont ring again. Im working. I have a lesson.”
“Wait!” Margaret panicked, afraid shed be cut off again. “When can I call back? This is really important!”
“Half an hour. Ive got a break then.”
Margaret set the phone aside and brooded.
Why had Charlotte changed her number? Why hadnt she told her? They hadnt exactly been on speaking terms, but that was hardly a good enough reason to block all contact!
Margaret began to fume.
“Typical, Charlotte. Absolutely typical!” she muttered, pointlessly wiping the kitchen table (for at least the hundredth time), glancing at the clock.
She hated sitting idle. Couldnt manage so much as a minute with idle hands or an empty head. Shed always been that waybusy, brisk, quick to judge and scrupulously fair (at least in her own view). More than a few family rows and bruised feelings had resulted from it, but Margaret cared not a jot. She was in the right! So whats the problem?
Charlotte on the other hand was a different kettle of fish. Gentle, soft, hopelessly slow. Shed stare at her porridge for ages before school, forcing Margaret to dash and save them both from being late. Margaret would iron uniforms for both, plait Charlottes hair, straighten ribbonsher sister, meanwhile, would just about manage to open her eyes, standing in the bathroom, toothbrush in hand, drawing idle doodles on the steamed-up mirror.
“Charlotte, what are you doing?”
“Thinking”
“Stop mucking about! Well be late!” Margaret would fume. “Thinking, she says!”
“Shouldnt I?”
“No! Leave the thinking to someone else! You just brush your teeth and get your breakfast!”
That was how it always went. Charlotte dawdled in the rear while Margaret had already conquered Everest and come back for a ticking off session.
“What are you, moss on a rock?” Margaret chided. “You barely breathe! How can anyone live like that?”
Charlotte paid no heed to Margarets nagging. Shed look her whirlwind sister square in the eyeand smile, as if to say let her get it out.
“Margie, not everyones a firecracker like you! Youre our family pride! Dont worry about me; Im happy just taking my time.”
“Taking your time! Life will pass you by before youre ready! Move yourself!”
Charlotte was never hurt by Margarets bossiness. She understood her sisters restless energy needed somewhere to go. She figured, in time, Margaret would mellow.
How does one calm a volcano? With the sea. Loves the same; it soothes the burning, plants something gentler in the hearta palm-covered island, where before was only erupting fury.
But Margaret didnt do gentle. Her love was a blaze that burned out anything that got too close.
Shed had four husbands. The first three hadnt even made it to their first anniversary.
“Clashing personalities!” she would declare, every single time.
The fourth lasted a full three years. Still, Margaret left himeven with a baby daughter to look after, only resentment and thorough disappointment in family life flickering on the horizon.
“Men these days! Lazy, apathetic, cant be bothered! Family means nothing to them! Children dont matter! And as for a wife? She might as well be a lamp for all the voice shes given!” Margaret stormed, visiting Charlotte for a cup of tea, “How you live with your George, I cant fathom.”
Charlottes husband, George, tactfully set out mugs, scooped up his niece, and retreated: “You two talk. Ill put Harriet to bed.”
Sleepy Harriet was already nodding off, but her mum had bigger problems.
As if! Life utterly derailed again… back to the starting blocks!
“See! Neither fish nor fowl, he is!” Margaret slapped the table as soon as George had shut the kitchen door. “How can you bear it? Id die of boredom!”
“Its really rather nice, Maggie,” Charlotte smiled and slid the plate of biscuits her way, “Have a cuppa. You must be starving.”
“Ive not eaten all day!” Margaret admitted, attacking the biscuits with gusto. “I mean, seriously! Im single. Again!”
“Perhaps its time you softened a little, Maggie? Stop fighting the world. Is it really worth it? Lifes just whizzing by! Before you know it, Harriet will grow up, get married, and leave to start her own life. Thats good and right. But you? Will you be all alone?”
“Oh, Charlotte, youre hopeless! Thats not the point!”
“Then what is?”
“You cant trust anyone! Everyone lies!”
“Even me?”
“You do! You bleat on about loving George, but youre not in any rush to have a baby with him! What does that say? Theres no love there, thats what! If a womans not desperate to have a child with her beloved, she never really loved him. End of!”
Charlotte didnt respond immediately. She got up, checked the kettle, wiped her eyes, and spoke so softly Margaret almost missed it: “Sometimes, its not about wanting. Its about being able. I do want, Maggie so much. But I cant. Ill never be a mum.”
Margaret leapt up and hugged her sister, comforting her as best she could.
“Who says? Doctors? Dont listen to them! Ill find you the best! Youll be a mum yet! Youll see!”
But willingness wasnt enough. Even Margarets stubborn drive hit a wall; sometimes fate simply has other ideas.
Charlotte did become a motherjust not how shed planned. She never had her own children, but Heaven help anyone who implied Georges two (children of distant cousins whod lost both parents) werent hers. Even with Margaret, this led to their epic falling out.
“You dont need someone elses kids, Charlotte! Youll have your own!”
“Maggie, Im nearly forty! If it were possible, itd have happened by now. Besides, these are children. Where would you have them go? Care home?”
“Why should you care? George’s lot’s hugelet them deal with it!”
“Its me who wants to, understand? Me!”
“Good grief, Charlotte! Who did you inherit this stubborn daftness from?”
“Who?”
“You! So wilful and silly! Its a burden!”
“Enough, Maggie! That’s enough now!” Charlotte said, not meeting her sisters eyes and fighting away bitter tears. “Time for you to go home. Harriet is waiting.”
“Harriets at campback in a week, and heres you, springing this on me! Dont show your face for a while, alright? And don’t come begging for help if you wont listen to me!”
“Where does all this anger come from, Maggie?” Charlotte quietly called after her, as Margaret nearly sprinted down the stairs, still cross that nobody listened to her wisdom.
But there was no answer. Margaret was truly offended. She cut off all ties with Charlotte and her family: didnt call, didnt invite them over, didnt even let Harriet visit her aunt. Harriet ignored the restrictionshe adored her aunt and her instant siblings, ferrying herself round whenever she could, conveniently given they lived on the next street.
Later, George was offered a new job in a different city. After consulting Charlotte and the children, he agreed. So Charlottes family packed up and set off for pastures new, leaving their address with Harriet and strict instructions to get in touch without waiting for her mothers permission.
“You never know what life throws at you, Harriet,” Charlotte hugged her at the station. “Just rememberwere family. Well always have your back, no matter what. And take care of your mum. You know shes a tricky one. Its just us now!”
Harriet listened to her aunt. However tough things got with her mother, she tried. It was hard. Then, it became impossible.
And all because Harriet grew up and decided to get married. Margaret did not approve.
“Whos this string bean? Honestly, I wont have the likes of him here!” she barked at the sight of the weedy, bespectacled young man holding Harriets hand on the doorstep. “Couldnt find anyone better?”
Harriet didnt waste her breath arguing. She glanced at her fiancé, turned on her heel, and walked out, tuning out the shouts echoing behind her.
The beanpole, Tom, turned out to be far more impressive than Margaret thought. He was a software developer, in fact. After some thought, he suggested to Harriet that they move to Charlottes city.
“Theres better prospects there, Harriet. Ill sell my flat, well find something. Weve nothing keeping us here anyway.”
“No, not anymore,” Harriet sobbed, still nursing the memory of her mothers sharp words. “Aunt Charlotte will understand. Shes kind.”
“Good, because thats what matters. You.”
Tom was smitten with Harriet. Smitten enough to ditch everything and move wherever she wanted, if only shed never cry again. He had no family left, so his whole world had become this skinny, freckly woman with a red nose from cryingwho dreamt of their own house, a family, two kids, and a long, happy ever after.
And that was exactly what she got.
Charlotte, once she heard Margarets own daughter had fled, tried to talk to her sister, but Margaret wouldnt even pick up the phone.
“Gone running to you, have they? Fine! Dont ever call again! None of you exist to me now!” Margaret wailed down the line the one time she did answer.
“Maggie, stop!” Charlotte lost her patience. “Destructions easy; anyone can do it. But you need to think, Margaret! You drove your own daughter away, just because she chose for herself. Dont like Tom? Fine, but you arent the one marrying him. Its Harriets life! Your job is to support your child. What if things dont go as planned? Should she go to strangers for comfort? Because her own mother shut the door on her?”
“But you” Margaret once again tried to seize control, but Charlotte cut her off.
“Enough, Maggie! If you ever come to your senses and want to make peace, you know where to find us. But itll be on our terms this time. Weve had enough of your temper and your charm. Think it over. When youve got something sensible to sayring! Well wait.”
Margaret was deeply hurt. Bitter, even. She forbade herself from even thinking about Charlotte or Harriet. Clever, are they? Let them manage!
She tore up Harriets wedding invitation. Wouldnt answer Charlottes calls. The envelope full of photos Charlotte sent? Straight in the bin. She cultivated her grudge so thoroughly, there was no room left for reconciliation.
Time passed and no one reached out first. Charlotte raised her brood, helped Harriet with her first baby, while Tom and George got busy building a house for the new family.
Turned out that string bean Tom, now looking much more solid (Harriet saw to that), had a knack for all sorts, and soaked up knowledge like a sponge. George couldnt praise his new son-in-law enough.
“Youre a marvel, Tom! How do you figure all this stuff out?”
“Books and the internet, Uncle George! Anything can be learnt, if youre keen.”
Harriet was pregnant with her second when they held their housewarming. When her aunt suggested inviting Margaret, Harriet sighed.
“I do call her, Aunt Charlotte. All the time. She never picks up. And if she does, she just hangs up straight away. She wants nothing to do with me.”
“Dont cry! There now, you mustnt, you know!” Charlotte clucked, trying to console her.
“Ill try I wish she were here,” Harriet sniffled, angry with her mum and sorry she was missing everything.
But Margaret, Queen of Grudges, refused to budge. She thought, ‘Times on my side! They’ll come round, see they were wrong and come running! Ill decide whether to forgive them or not. Eventually.’
Except, somewhere, her patience wore thin. Maybe it was age, maybe something else, but on another lonely New Years Eve, she dialled her sisters old number again.
And heard that same unknown voice.
The next day, Margaret tried again, right on cue.
“Hello?”
“No, YOU listen! How did you get this number?” snapped Margaret, reverting to her slightly officious, bossy self.
“Quite simple, really. Bought a new phone, got a SIM card. If a numbers not in use, the phone company gives it to someone else.”
“Nonsense! Well, wheres my sister, then?”
“How should I know?” came the firm reply, and Margaret realised shed need to tone it down if she wanted any answers.
“This is all very odd. May I ask a favour?”
There was a pause. Then, at last: “Depends. Ask.”
“Could you make enquiries in your townIll give you my sisters details. If you could go see her, ask her to contact me… Of course, Ill cover any expenses.”
Another long silence. Margaret nearly gave up hope, when the young woman sighed, “Alright. No charge needed. Just give me the address.”
Margaret did. And then she waited. The reply, when it came, was nothing shed imagined.
“Your sister isnt here anymore. She passed away a year and a half ago. She was ill. Fought bravely for two years, but in the end… her body gave up. Her husband said hed be glad to see you, if you ever want to visit. Also”
“What?” Margarets voice was hoarse, lifeless.
“Your daughter. Shes waiting for you. And your grandchildren. Two of them. Your daughter sent you somethingwords from your sister. She wanted to tell you herself, but thought this way would be better, as you were never one for listening”
“Say it!”
“Margaret, dont be foolish. Everything you need is right here. Grow up. Its about time. We all still love you.”
The line went quiet, and Margaret sobbedfor perhaps the first time in her life, realising just how much shed missed.
“Is that all?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you”
“Dont mention it.”
The voice softened.
“Come. Youve a wonderful family and beautiful grandchildren.”
Again the droning dial tone, as Margaret sobbed like never before. The pain, sharp and total, couldnt be chased awayand, for once, she didnt even want to. She punished herself for all those years she thought her stubbornness and strength counted for more than love she could have, if only she hadnt rejected it.
She cried nearly until dawn before finally calling the one number shed never forgotten.
“Harriet”
“Mum! Hi! Weve been waiting for you!”
“Darling, I”
“Dont say anything. Just come! Well be there to meet you!”
There was something about Harriets voice that struck Margaret as odd, and only as she lugged her suitcase out did she realise what it was.
In that voice was everythingher daughters determination, Charlottes gentleness, and, most of all, the one thing Margaret had missed all her years.
Love Unconditional, with no memory of wrong or hurt. Just love. The very thing Charlotte had always known, and the very thing Margaret might finally, at long last, come to understand.
And although she was unsure of herself, Margaret held onto the hope that, perhaps, this time she would finally get it right. ©
Author: Lyudmila LavrovaShe arrived at the station with trembling hands, expecting a lone figure, perhaps polite restraint, awkward smiles. Instead, the shouts carried down the platform: “Grandma! Grandma, over here!”
Two small childrena boy with Charlottes wide eyes, a girl with Harriets wild hairran at her like a summer tide. Their arms locked around her waist, anchoring her to the present. Behind them stood Harriet, one hand lifted in a shy-wave, the other holding Tom’stall and solid now, but eyes warm and kind.
Margaret took a breath, half a sob, half a laugh, and let herself be pulled onward. Harriet hugged her close, tighter than she dared hope.
“Youre here,” Harriet whispered. “Thats all that matters now.”
Margaret held her daughter, her grandchildren, all three clinging to her like lifelines. The ache in her chest softened, pain edged out by the fragile, unfamiliar lightness of hope.
That evening, in a warm kitchen aglow with tea and stories and the childrens chatter, Tom set a plate of biscuits in front of hera plate that looked very much like the ones Charlotte loved. Margaret closed her eyes, a memory and a promise flickering behind them.
“Im sorry,” she began, but Harriet only squeezed her hand. “We know,” she said softly. “Come sit. Theres plenty of time.”
As laughter bubbled and stories tumbled over one another, Margaret found herself listeningreally listeningfor the first time. She could almost hear Charlottes laughter in the clinking of teacups and the giggling of children, a part of all of them now, woven quiet and unbreakable through every loving gesture.
Margaret smiled through tears, her stubborn heart at last yielding in the safety of the family that had always waited for her, patient as the dawn.
And that night, as she tucked her grandchildren into bed beneath quilts Charlotte had once made, Margaret whispered a promise to the shadows:
“Im home. Im ready. I wont waste another moment.”
Somewhere, in the hush that followed, it almost felt as if Charlotte answered with her gentle smile, and Margaret finally understood: some arguments, in the end, were only ever about finding your way back to love.
