Spoilt Children
Youve ruined him! You indulge him in everything, and thats why he just walks all over you! Helen, you shouldnt do this! Youve spoilt the boy completely! Just as, I suppose, I did with you! Theres no one to blame but myself I was hardly perfect! Youre all spoilt children! And dont tell me youre an adult now! Youre still every bit as childish as you used to be! You have absolutely no sense of judgment and never make the right decisions! Margaret slammed the fridge door as she spoke, and jumped as the family photo magnet clattered onto the floor.
The photo had been taken last summer at a seaside resort, one she hadnt been invited to this time. For years shed holidayed with her children helping with the grandchildren, enjoying the break, and making useful acquaintances. Not this year.
Margaret found her daughters reasons for excluding her quite odd.
Mum, things are a bit tight for us this year. So its just the four of us going. Well buy you a holiday package a bit later so you can get away too. Start thinking about where youd like to go, alright?
But, Helen! What about the children? Wholl look after them?
Mum, Daniels old enough now he can look after anyone. Anna will be with me. We cant afford the hotel we usually go to, so well just have to manage. Anna really needs the sea; you know she barely even gets the sniffles the whole winter afterwards. If we cant stretch to a hotel with all the kids activities, well go what did they used to call it? Roughing it? Thats it! Well rent a flat or a cottage and look after the kids ourselves.
And I suppose theres obviously no room for me!
Margaret was not remotely pleased by the prospect. She couldnt bear the idea of going alone to a dreary spa hotel, where the only entertainment was a disco for the over-50s. And the guests there well, say no more. She far preferred a good hotel, where youd find plenty of decent fellow Brits and even a few interesting foreigners. Someone like her, with her background and her languages, deserved better.
But not this year.
Mum, you must understand! A holiday isnt just a roof over your head theres flights, food, everything else.
As if Im eating you out of house and home! Margarets hackles were up.
Oh Mum, why do I always have to spell out the obvious to you?! We literally dont have the money, okay? Id love to bring you, but we cant afford it right now. What with the work on your flat, my health problems last year, Daniels private tutor its all cost a fortune. Now we have to be really careful. What do you want me to do? Cancel the whole thing? Or take the children to the seaside? Im exhausted too! You know exactly how hard Ive worked all year! Youve seen it!
Yes, Ive seen! Ive seen what a useless mother you are! You never have any time for the kids, its all down to me and Brians mother, your mother-in-law! Picking Anna up from nursery, collecting Daniel from school, feeding them, giving them drinks, carting them to clubs and groups…
Oh, youre exaggerating, Mum! Daniel goes to football on his own. You only take Anna to ballet, and not even every day. We could have gone without those for a while, theres a dance group at nursery, but you insisted. You said she needs stimulation.
Oh, so now Im to blame? Margarets voice rose to an unkind pitch, and she clutched her chest. Youre all so ungrateful! I bend over backwards and all I get is criticism!
Mum, please Helens head was spinning. She pressed her forehead to the cold windowpane. I appreciate everything you do. But please dont throw it in my face.
Margaret wouldnt listen. She flounced out, leaving her new swimsuit behind in its bag as a melodramatic gesture of offence.
Resentment was something Margaret had mastered. She made it clear whose feelings had been hurt without so much as raising her voice or going in for dramatics. Shed simply ignore calls, refuse conciliatory gestures, and when she did at last deign to answer Helen, shed sigh heavily at her questions, her voice barely more than a whisper: Helen what does it mean if your heart stops, or barely seems to beat at all?
Helen would drop everything, rush to the countryside house where Margaret always retreated after a row to find peace, and come home completely drained. Throwing her keys on the hall table, Helen would disappear into her room, collapse on the bed still in her clothes, and cry quietly unable to understand why her mother was so cruel.
Daniel would come into the room, gently cover her with a blanket, and lay a comforting hand on her shoulder.
Mum, dont go there anymore. Granny will sulk a bit but shell come round.
Oh, Daniel. If only I could be so sure
Helen really did know what she was talking about. Shed grown up with a mother just like that sensitive, well-spoken, clever, musical, but chronically touchy. Margaret could berate her daughter equally well in English or French. It seemed to small Helen that no punishment was worse than her mothers cool, impassive, Helen, I want you to think about your behaviour. Off you go to your room, darling.
Not once under any circumstance did darling cross her lips when Margaret was in a good mood.
Though, those were few and far between. For Margaret, the glass was always half empty. Her world was built around a single idea inadequacy. Only she knew what that implied, but it seemed no one was quite good enough: not her colleagues, friends, husband, relatives, nor neighbours.
For a long time, Helen was the exception. Little Helen was the perfect child: bright, beautiful, a delight to all. By three, she was eagerly pointing at words in books; by four, shed tilt her curly head to the piano keys and say, Mummy, I can hear the music!
Margaret was proud. Her daughter never let her down, obediently went to classes, followed every request, convinced that no one in the world could know more than her mum.
Everything changed when Helen was in Year 7. The model student suddenly came home with a fail in her spelling test. Margaret was mystified. She clutched her heart, shaking her head, but didnt let Helen explain.
Youve really let me down, darling! How could you?! This is unthinkable! Go to your room!
Helen went quietly, not getting the chance to say anything. Her other granny had to unravel the mystery, finding Helen in tears, trying to scrub stains from her skirt at the bathroom sink.
Helen! Whats wrong, my love?
To her, Helen confessed about her stomach cramps in class and the confusion and fear shed felt nobody had explained that all girls go through these things at a certain age. Margaret had decided Helen didnt yet need to know about the change, and Helen, simply not knowing such questions could be asked, hadnt dared to ask anyone else. She had hardly any close friends; those girls that Margaret considered suitable certainly didnt discuss such topics. It was all about upbringing…
Margaret and her mother-in-laws long conversation changed nothing except to give Margaret a splitting headache and a grumbled pronouncement: Helen! Things like this a girl must discuss only with her mother!
But I didnt know…
Well, next time use your head! You were given a brain for a reason!
Helen was never quite sure what she was being accused of.
That was the first time Helen began to doubt her mothers perfect wisdom. It was a subtle realisation, the faintest sense that her mother wasnt infallible and that the phrase A mother always puts her child above all else wasnt necessarily true.
Disappointments followed thick and fast, and from that point on, Margaret no longer hid her displeasure with her daughter. More and more often, Helen would see her mother with her head tightly bandaged in a silk scarf a home cure for migraines. Helen soon came to know, seeing her mother glide by, lightly touching the bright band on her brow, that a row was brewing.
Margaret never lowered herself to a shouting match. Shed sink into her favourite armchair, rub her temples, and the chill in her voice could freeze the blood.
Helen! Youre destroying me
How, with what, was for Helen to guess. The offence could be anything: her wish to study medicine and continue the family tradition (which Margaret considered pointless).
You dont understand. I lived with your father so many years but saw him so rarely I can count the moments on one hand. Being a surgeon isnt a job for a woman! Leave off this silly idea!
But granny always said saving lives is a noble calling! She told me Dad dreamt of being a surgeon at school.
Never mind what granny said! Results, Helen! All that matters is the outcome! What are we left with? Im a widow. Youre a child who grew up without a father. Your father worked himself to death! You mustnt just think about your own wishes think about those around you!
Their arguments dragged on until Helen finished school and got a place at medical college. After that, Margaret barely spoke to her for half a year, responding only with a stiff yes or no over breakfast.
Her choice of a husband was the next trial. Margaret didnt approve of Brian.
You astonish me, darling! Wasnt there anyone more suitable? And Im not talking about money! Youre utterly different! Your husband hasnt a clue about Maugham, nor has he ever heard so much as a note of a Verdi opera!
Brians a good man, Mum… Helen couldnt keep quiet, though she didnt want to argue. Most importantly, he loves me.
You wont get far on just love, youll see! Itll be too late when you realise.
At the wedding, Margaret dabbed discreetly at her mascaraed eyes and repeated to anyone whod listen, Of course itll be tough for them. Theyre young, inexperienced. But Im the mother Ill help. Ill always be there!
As luck would have it, at her daughters wedding Margaret met her second husband. Brians distant cousin, retired Colonel Peter Finch, won her over with his military bearing, charm, and passable French.
Good heavens! Where did you get such a marvellous accent? Margaret flirted shamelessly, white handkerchief stuffed, forgotten, into her handbag.
My mother was a diplomats daughter, lived for years in France.
How splendid!
Peter recited French troubadour poetry in the original, valued organisation and cleanliness, and owned a spacious, well-tended country house near the city, which Margaret busied herself improving leaving Helen some peace for once.
As Mrs Finch, Margaret was happy. Peter adored her she blossomed, softened, and even greeted the birth of her grandchildren with real pleasure.
Helen darling! What delightful children! Daniel is such a clever boy so like his grandfather! And Anna what a wonder! Shes got my nose and eyes shell be a beauty!
Helen didnt argue. The change made her happy, and she truly wished her mother joy.
Despite Margarets dire predictions, Helens marriage flourished. Brian worked hard, building a relationship with Margaret in which they could agree to disagree. Much to Margarets horror, Brian insisted they take out a mortgage. Its for the best your flat is your home, but we need our own. But Helen will have her hands full with the children. You cant manage all that alone! My firms doing well. I can handle it. Helen wants to go back to work and I wont stand in her way. My mums offered to help with the children.
Ours arent the only grandchildren, Brian! Margaret, chin raised, gave her son-in-law a withering stare. Ill help with the children!
Helens dream of returning to the operating theatre came true. The family moved, life settled briefly. Then came disaster: Peter fell ill and, despite Helens and the best doctors efforts, he died, leaving Margaret shattered.
Oh, Peter, how could you? Margaret mourned. Id finally found happiness did fate have to take it away so soon?
Who exactly Margaret blamed this time remained a mystery.
After that, Margaret took solace in buying two bunches of white carnations one for each man whod brightened her days and became quite impossible to those left behind.
Helen did her best to fill the void in her mothers life: holidays, weekends, celebrations Margaret was always there, always a part of the family.
And why not? Its only right Im part of the family too! Margaret would say to any friend who dared question.
But perhaps Helen wants time alone with her husband and kids? Without your supervision?
Nonsense! Ive never controlled my child! Margaret protested huffily. Im only helping! How could Helen manage two children without me?
The problems started when Daniel grew older. Grannys scrutiny irritated him no end. He loved her, but her endless fussing exasperated him.
Daniel! Again? I asked you not to play that dreadful music so loud! How can you listen to such noise? Margaret would burst into his room, wincing in pain. Its unbearable!
The infamous silk scarf appeared, but Daniel was not as easily manipulated as Helen. He refused to complain to his parents, sorting things out with Granny his own way.
Anna! Come here! Lets sing and dance!
Seeing Anna and Daniel dancing to some rock band, Margaret was beside herself.
Daniel, I suppose, but Anna! Absolutely not! This is too much! Im calling your mum!
Better call Dad, Gran! Mum switches off when shes operating. And you know that!
Brian took his mother-in-laws outrage in his stride, and would drop her home with a smile, later singing along with Daniel, dreaming maybe his son would play for audiences wider than just their small family.
Daniels musical talent needed nurturing, Helen thought, so she decided to buy him a guitar.
Helen, dont you dare! Am I just being pushed aside?
Mum, what on earth are you saying?
I couldnt bear it! The boy needs to work, not waste time with this nonsense!
But Daniel does work hard, and you know it! And whats wrong with music? You yourself say children should develop in all directions!
I meant something entirely different, and you know it. Oh, Helen! There you go again
The arguments raged for days. Brian sided with Helen, so Margaret did her usual thing stopped answering calls, didnt open the door even when Helen showed up to check. Shed taken back her spare keys from Helen, supposedly because shed lost her own.
This time, Helens patience snapped.
If she doesnt want contact, fine! Enoughs enough! Washing up on her rare day off, Helen twisted awkwardly and her favourite mug a birthday gift from Daniel shattered on the floor.
For some reason, those colourful shards glinting by her feet were the last straw. Helen loved her mother, of course, but realised that love needed to shift so she could stop letting herself, and her children, be hurt.
Daniel! Helens raised voice so unusual called him down.
Here I am!
Have you chosen your guitar?
Am I really allowed? The look in his eyes made Helen blink back tears.
Absolutely. Which one do you want?
A bass! Mum, are you sure?
As sure as anything. Isnt that how you put it?
Yep! Whatll Granny say?
That were spoilt children Dont think about it. Get ready, were off!
To where?
To the shop, obviously! Or wherever they sell guitars?
Ill just tell Anna shell want to help me choose!
Watching her son race off, Helen smiled how many teenage boys would drag their six-year-old sister along just to get her advice?
They bought the guitar. Soon Daniels room became a proper studio: his mates rehearsed there, trying to record things using equipment Brian and other parents had chipped in for. When a short video Daniel filmed, with Anna singing along, went viral on social media, it was clear it had all been worth it.
Helen was quietly thrilled. The kids were busy, Daniel stopped bristling at every little thing. In the evenings, coming home from another day of giving hope to strangers, she hugged her children as they breathlessly poured out ideas and plans, and she knew she was doing something right.
Meanwhile Margaret waited. Every day she cleaned, cooked something special, waited for Helen to beg forgiveness as usual.
A week, then another went by. Helen didnt appear.
First, Margaret was puzzled. Then she was angry, vowing her daughter wouldnt get away with a simple apology this time. After that, she started to think.
It seemed, for the first time in her life, someone had stood firm and shown her that not everything was dictated by her will. Anyone else, Margaret would have instantly erased from her life without reflection. But Helen her daughter she loved, in her own way.
Weeks passed, then months.
Finally, Margaret realised no one was coming. This time, there would be no apologies.
It was a hard truth. She simply couldnt believe her daughter could be so heartless. Shed dedicated her whole life to Helen and her grandchildren! Did one heated word really mean the end?
Margaret, exhausted by her own drama, packed her bags for the country house, hoping for peace. But it didnt help. She wandered around, deeply lonely, unable even to admit to herself what shed done.
Summer drifted into rainy autumn. Margaret understood that waiting was hopeless.
On the day she finally gave in, she sat in her kitchen, tea in hand, watching the neighbours children splashing about in colourful wellies and raincoats. Once, Margaret had begged Peter to put up a fence, but hed insisted that his old wrought iron railings, made by a friend, were lovelier so she was always a polite audience to life next door.
Her neighbours, both university lecturers, were successful people with five well-mannered grandchildren. Watching the youngest skipping through puddles, Margaret decided shed waited long enough. One could easily spend years warming ones pride and nursing grievances but for what? Eventually it would be Helen left laying white carnations, and to what end?
The cup rattled on the saucer as she put it down. Within minutes, Margaret was reversing her car out onto the lane.
On Sunday the roads were quiet, and she made it to Helen and Brians house quickly.
Turning into their street, Margaret suddenly felt terrified. This was the first time she had to make the first move towards reconciliation, leaving her pride behind. It was such an unfamiliar feeling that she sat outside for ages, rehearsing what she might say.
But as soon as she pushed through the gate and walked up the drive, the plan vanished. The door was open. Margaret climbed the steps, planning to call out, but a loud crash from upstairs made her cover her ears.
The drums were thundering, echoing the guitars, and Margaret stared Helen was dancing around the kitchen, a wooden spoon in her hand, singing a silly childrens song at the top of her voice and stirring a big pan.
Thats brilliant, Mum! Lets film our own video! Anna clapped excitedly, stopping her attempt to set the table.
Helen put down the spoon, poured juice into the glasses, and handed two to Anna.
Here you go. You take two, Ill take two. Off we go! The lads upstairs must be thirsty.
Helen was about to go to the stairs when she froze, seeing Margaret in the doorway.
For a second, time seemed to hold its breath, as if the house was listening in.
Anna froze too, about to speak, but Helen got in first.
Mum, hello! Would you mind keeping an eye on the meat for a minute? Lunch will be ready soon. The boys are just finishing practice. Are you hungry?
Margaret nodded slowly, taking off her mackintosh.
Yes!
Great! Helen grinned and winked at Anna. Come on, dont just stand there! Havent you forgotten what Granny looks like?
Anna giggled, shaking her head. No! Granny, Ive given up ballet Mums put me in music school. Im going to sing! Daniel says Im really good!
Margaret felt tears prickle, so she bent to take the glasses from her granddaughter.
Ill carry these! I want to see Daniels guitar. Is it nice?
Its brilliant! Bright red! I helped pick it! Ill show you, come on!
Anna bounded upstairs, and Helen nodded to her mother: Go on then! Youve already taken the hardest step
Margaret nodded, and followed her granddaughter up to Daniels room. Daniel, just like his mother, greeted her with a serious, grown-up nod and showed off his prized guitar.
Something shifted.
Not everything, of course; nobody changes in a heartbeat. There would still be disagreements and misunderstandings, and Helen would still sigh to hear her mothers opinions, and Margaret would always wonder where shed gone wrong.
But one thing this family finally understood and accepted: if you want to be heard, you must learn to listen. That alone would keep them close and is there anything more important?
