Emily Clarke jumped when her phone rang so abruptly. The screen flashed Margaret Hughes. That was the third call from her motherinlaw that morning. Emily took a deep breath, mustered some courage and hit the green button.
Hello, Margaret, Im listening, she said.
Emily, why arent you picking up? Margarets tone was laced with reproach. Ive been calling you nonstop!
I was making porridge for Poppy, my hands were busy, Emily replied, even though the truth was she simply didnt want to hear another lecture about how she was raising her child.
Those porridge meals again! I told you kids need meat. My James grew up on steak look how sturdy he is! And your Poppy is so pale, one gust of wind and shell blow away, Margaret scolded.
Emily closed her eyes and counted to five. Their little girl was only three, and the paediatrician said she was developing just fine. She just had a lean build a family trait from Jamess side.
We do give her meat, too. Todays lunch will be meatballs, Emily managed.
Good, thats why Im calling. Ill pop over later with some chicken broth, bones and a batch of my special meat patties. Your meatballs cant compare, Margaret bragged.
Emily winced at the sarcasm; it sounded as if she were offering the child poison.
Theres no need to worry, we have everything, Emily tried to protest.
Worry about what? Your grandmother wants to see her granddaughter! You wont refuse, will you? Margarets question left no room for a negative answer.
Of course, come over, Emily surrendered.
She ended the call and rested her forehead against the cool window pane. Snowflakes drifted lazily outside, settling on bare branches. November in London was damp and grey.
Mum, who were you talking to? Poppy peeked from the bedroom, clutching her wellworn rabbit plush.
Grandma Margaret is coming today, Emily said, forcing a cheerful tone.
Is she going to tell me I dont eat properly again? the little girl frowned.
Emilys heart ached. Even the child sensed the endless criticism.
Grandma loves you very much and just wants you to grow up strong and healthy, Emily replied.
Poppy wasnt convinced but nodded and went back to her toys.
Now Emily had to tidy up. She and James liked a creative mess, but before Margaret arrived the flat had to sparkle. Otherwise shed get a comment about your place looking like a pigsty, inviting germs.
In two hours she swept the floors, dusted, and even baked an apple crumble the only thing shed ever managed to impress Margaret with.
James was due back from work around lunchtime. They both worked from home hes a software developer, she a graphic designer but today he had an important client meeting and had to go into the office.
The doorbell rang exactly at two oclock. Margaret was as punctual as a London bus.
Well, look whos here, my dear daughterinlaw! the short, round woman with chestnutcoloured hair entered, laden with bags. Wheres my little princess?
Poppy shyly peered out of the hallway.
Come here, sweetheart! Grandmas brought treats! Margaret cooed.
The girl slipped her tiny hand forward for a kiss a habit Margaret insisted on, believing girls should grow up as proper ladies.
Only grownup girls get kisses on the hand, Margaret declared, pulling Poppy into a hug. When youre sixteen youll be the one offering a hand to a gentleman. Until then, just say hello to your grandma.
Emily rolled her eyes, just out of sight of Margaret. The contradictions in her advice were enough to drown in.
Margaret, may I help with the bags? Emily offered.
Yes, dear, take them to the kitchen. Ive prepared so much! James needs a proper diet, not whatever hes been sniffing around.
In the kitchen Margaret immediately turned commanderinchief.
Emily, fetch the big pot. Not that cheap plastic one, a proper metal one. And wheres your bread? You store it in the fridge? You cant! Itll go stale!
Emily handed over the items patiently. After six years together shed learned that Jamess mother always knew best.
Poppy looks rather pale, Margaret remarked, arranging jars of homemade pickles. Do you take her for walks? Give her vitamins?
Yes, we walk every day if the weather allows, and we give her the multivitamin the doctor prescribed, Emily replied.
Doctors! What do those youngsters know? In my day Margaret began, already nostalgic.
Emily sighed inwardly. In my day we kept kids outside from dawn till dusk and toughened them up! Id take James out rain or shine, and he grew strong.
Emily stayed silent, though she could have reminded her that James had suffered from winter bronchitis and chronic tonsillitis as a child.
Emily, Ive made a crumble. Tea?
First lunch, then tea. And wheres James? Why isnt he here yet?
Just then the hallway lock clicked.
There he is! Margaret exclaimed.
James stepped in, looking bewildered at a mound of shoes by the door.
Mum? Why didnt you tell me you were coming? he asked.
How could I not? I called Emily this morning! Margaret scolded.
Emily gave a guilty smile; shed forgotten to text James about the visit.
Hey, mum, James said, hugging Margaret. How are you feeling?
Oh, the usual blood pressure spikes, my legs swell by evening. But I dont complain. We manage ourselves, no burden on anyone, Margaret replied, as usual, turning a simple health update into a litany of ailments.
Get changed, love, Im heating up lunch. Been at the stove since morning, making your favourite dishes, James said, casting a sympathetic glance at Emily.
Emily knew how stressful these visits could be for her.
At lunch Margaret launched into stories about Jamess childhood.
By four he was already reading! Hed recite poems youd swear by. Poppy, do you know any poems? she asked.
Poppy poked at her plate with a fork, silent.
She knows a lot of verses, Emily stepped in. Poppy, tell Grandma about the bear.
I dont want to, the girl muttered, pouting.
See, James, shes so shy. We should send her to nursery, let her make friends, Margaret suggested.
Mom, weve already talked about that, James interjected. We want to wait until shes four. No need to rush.
Rushing? I handed James over when he was two, and look how he turned out! Your Poppy is a little shy thing, never eats enough Margaret retorted.
Poppy pushed her plate away, lips pursed.
May I go play? she asked.
No, you finish your meatball first, Margaret ordered.
Finish up, love, Emily encouraged gently, though inside she was boiling.
Poppy forced a bite of the meatball.
Much better, Margaret said, satisfied. Youre spoiling her, letting her run wild. A child needs routine, discipline. When I raised James
She drifted back into a monologue about her own strict upbringing.
After lunch Margaret insisted Poppy take an afternoon nap.
A child must nap! Its essential for a proper schedule, she declared.
Emily wanted to argue that Poppy no longer napped and forcing her would ruin her nights sleep, but James shook his head. Better to agree than to fight, he whispered.
Just let her rest a bit, he said to Emily.
While Margaret wrestled with the stubborn toddler, Emily brewed tea and sliced the crumble.
Useless, Margaret returned half an hour later. Shes completely out of hand. In our day we never had a child who didnt obey!
Emily almost blurted, In your day you even whipped kids for misbehaving, but held back.
Shes just not tired yet, James soothed. Mum, have a bite of the crumble Emily made it especially for you.
Margaret inspected the slice skeptically.
Hopefully no artificial stuff? Those shop mixes nowadays
Its all natural flour, eggs, apples from our garden, the ones you gave us, Emily assured.
That eased Margaret a little.
I remember when you first married you couldnt even fry an egg properly, she teased.
Emily stayed quiet, though she could have reminded Margaret that shed been on her own for a decade before marrying and could cook just fine just not the way Margaret was used to.
James dear, Margaret said, leaning toward her son, could you pop over next week? The kitchen tap is leaking and the cupboard light has gone out. Im terrified of climbing a ladder and breaking my hip. Whos going to help me?
Sure, Mum, James said, looking apologetic. Wednesday work for you?
Ive got Nina visiting on Wednesday maybe Tuesday?
Ive got a client meeting Tuesday, James shrugged. Cant help.
Fine, Ill deal with the tap then. Its not the first time, Margaret sighed. Nothing new.
Emily clenched her jaw. The same thinveiled blackmail, the endless rebukes.
Ill go with you, check the tap, James offered, trying to defuse the tension.
Margarets face lit up. Great! And while youre at it, have a look at the hallway wallpaper its been up for five years, looks shabby.
Wheres Poppy playing? Its awfully quiet, Emily suddenly asked.
In her room, looking at books. I told her to tidy up her toys, Margaret replied.
Emily peeked into the bedroom and froze. Poppy was carefully cutting pictures from a new picture book theyd just bought.
Poppy! What are you doing? Emily gasped.
The girl looked up, unfazed. Grandma said I could cut pictures and make an album. She gave me scissors.
Emilys heart sank. That book was a pricey, beautifully illustrated volume theyd ordered online just the day before.
Poppy, thats a brandnew book! We just started reading it! Emily exclaimed.
Tears welled in the childs eyes. Grandma said she sobbed.
Emily took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. Its okay, love. Next time you want to cut something, ask Mom or Dad first, alright?
She returned to the kitchen where Margaret was chatting animatedly about a neighbour on the fifth floor whod had a serious health scare.
Margaret, Emily interjected gently, did you give Poppy the scissors?
Yes, why not? Kids should learn to work with their hands. We used to glue and cut all the time. Now everyones glued to phones Margaret replied.
But she ruined a brandnew book the very one we just received from the shop, Emily said, fighting back frustration.
Books are just paper. Shell have a lovely album. Itll spark her creativity, Margaret waved it off.
James, caught between the two, tried to mediate. Mum, could you have asked us first?
Ah, so now I need permission to spend time with my own granddaughter? Who am I, a stranger in this house? Margaret snapped.
No one says that, James tried to calm her. We just have a few boundaries, thats all.
Boundaries? Margaret raised her voice. What boundaries between a grandma and a granddaughter? I raised James on my own! I know how to bring up children, unlike some who cant even make a decent lunch!
Mum! James shouted. Enough, right now!
Silence fell. Poppy peeked out of the bedroom, eyes wide.
Grandmas shouting, she whispered.
Margaret instantly softened. Come here, my sweet. Grandma isnt shouting, just talking. Lets finish our album together, okay?
No, Emily said firmly. No more cutting. Poppys going to watch a cartoon with James, and well talk, Margaret.
Margaret tried to argue, but James already had his daughters hand.
Shall we watch Frozen? he suggested.
As they left, Emily invited Margaret to sit down.
Mum, I know you love Poppy and want the best for her. James and I have our own way of parenting, and wed appreciate it if you respected that, Emily said.
So Im supposed to stay silent when I see a child being raised the wrong way? Margaret retorted, puckering her lips.
You can suggest, you can advise, but the final decisions are ours. And please, dont tell Poppy she cant do things we normally forbid, Emily added.
For example? Margaret asked, eyes narrowing.
Like cutting books. Or napping. Or having sweets before lunch, Emily replied.
So I shouldnt spoil my granddaughter? Whats the point of a grandma then? Margaret huffed.
Emily sighed. They were speaking different languages.
You can spoil, just in moderation, and discuss it with us first, she said.
Margaret pursed her lips, started gathering her bags. If thats how it is, Ill be on my way. Theres no point staying if I cant even have a proper chat with my granddaughter.
Dont dramatise it, Emily said wearily. Just, please, lets respect each others space.
Thirty years teaching, raising my son alone, and now I have to ask permission to let my granddaughter cut pictures! Margaret muttered, pulling on her coat.
James came out of the hallway, hearing the commotion.
Mum, youre leaving already?
Im going, love. Your wife isnt happy with how Im handling Poppy, Margaret replied.
Dont start, Mum, James grimaced. Let me give you a hand with the tap?
Margarets face brightened a touch. If you dont mind just bring a screwdriver, the cupboard hinge is loose.
When they finally left, Emily collapsed onto the sofa. Poppy slipped onto her lap.
Mum, I wont cut books again, the little girl promised solemnly. I didnt know it was wrong.
Of course, love, Emily hugged her. Youre not at fault. Just ask Mom or Dad next time, okay?
Poppy nodded, snuggling into her mother.
James returned about an hour and a half later, tired but satisfied.
The taps fixed, the lights back, the cupboards sturdy. Mum sends her apologies and says she wont meddle with our parenting any more.
And I should believe that? Emily teased.
James sat beside her, pulling her close. Of course not. But at least weve got a breather for a week.
They laughed. Maybe someday things with Margaret would smooth out. Or maybe not. For now they had their little family, their home, their rules and theyd protect that, come what may.
A week later Margaret called, as if nothing had changed, offering to teach Poppy how to bake pies. Its time the girl learns some proper womanly skills, she declared, convinced Emily and James were raising a lazy modern child. Emily sighed, exchanged a glance with James. He knew this would never end, but theyd manage. After all, Margaret did mean well just not in the way they needed.
