Irene flinched when her phone rang sharply. The caller ID read Margaret Whitfield. It was the third call that morning. She inhaled deeply, steadied herself, and pressed the green answer button.
Hello, Margaret, Im listening, she said.
Emma, why arent you picking up? Margarets voice carried a thin edge of reproach. Ive been calling all morning!
I was making porridge for Emily, my hands were full, Irene replied, though the truth was she simply didnt want to argue again about how badly Margaret thought she was raising her child.
Again with the porridge! I told you children need meat. My Jack grew up on steak and is as sturdy as an oak. Your Emily looks as pale as a ghostone gust of wind and shell be blown away.
Irene closed her eyes and counted to five. Their daughter was only three, and the paediatrician had said she was developing normally; her slight frame was a trait shed inherited from her fathers side.
Margaret, we do give her meat. Today were having meatballs for lunch.
Thats why Im calling. Ill bring you a pot of chicken broth, bonein, just the way Jack likes it, and Ill make some patties using my own recipe. Those meatballs of yours
Irene felt a cringe. The word meatballs sounded like a veiled jab, as if she were offering poison to the child.
Theres no need to worry, we have everything we need, she tried to protest.
What worry? Grandmother wants to see her grandchild! You wont stop me, will you?
In that sentence Margaret packed her whole charactershe phrased every request so that refusing would seem downright rude.
Of course, youre welcome to come, Irene finally gave in.
When the call ended, Irene rested her forehead against the cool glass of the window. Snowflakes drifted lazily outside, landing on the bare branches of the garden trees. November had turned a bleak, damp grey.
Mommy, who were you talking to? Emily peeked out of her bedroom, clutching a wellworn stuffed rabbit.
Grandma Margaret is coming today, Irene said, forcing a bright tone into her voice.
Will she say again that I dont eat enough? the girl frowned.
Irenes heart ached. Even the little one sensed the constant criticism.
Grandma loves you very much and wants you to grow up strong and healthy.
Emily didnt look convinced, but she nodded and went back to her toys.
Irene set to work cleaning. Though she and Simon preferred a creative, livedinmess, the flat had to sparkle before Margaret arrived; otherwise she would be sure to remark that it looks like a barnyard and will attract germs.
In two hours she mopped the floors, dusted the shelves, and even baked an apple crumblethe one pastry Margaret always praised.
Simon was due home for lunch. Both worked from homeSimon as a software developer and Irene as a graphic designerbut he had an important client meeting and was heading to the office.
The doorbell rang precisely at two oclock. Margaret was punctual as a British railway timetable.
Well, hello, my dear daughterinlaw! the short, plump woman with chestnutcoloured hair entered, arms full of bags. Wheres my little princess?
Emily peeked shyly from the hallway.
Come here, sweetheart! Grandmas brought a treat!
The girl stepped forward and offered her hand for a kiss, a custom Margaret insisted on teaching her, believing that girls should grow up proper ladies.
Only grownup girls get kisses on the hand, Margaret said, bending down to hug her. When youre sixteen youll be passing your hand to a gentleman. For now, a simple hello will do.
Irene rolled her eyes under her breath, hoping Margaret couldnt see. The contradictions Margaret spouted were more than enough.
Ill help with the bags, Margaret, Irene offered.
Yes, bring them to the kitchen. Ive prepared so much! Jack needs proper food, not whatever youre feeding him.
In the kitchen Margaret began issuing orders.
Fetch me a large pot. No, not that plastic oneuse a proper metal one. And wheres your bread? Do you keep it in the fridge? Thatll make it stale!
Irene calmly handed over the requested items. After six years of marriage she had learned to expect Margarets unsolicited directives.
Emily looks very pale, Margaret observed while laying out homemade pickles. Do you take her for walks? Give her vitamins?
We walk every day if the weather allows, and we give her the multivitamin the doctor prescribed, Irene replied.
The doctor! Margaret scoffed. What do those youngsters know? In my day
Irene swallowed a sigh. In my day children were kept outdoors from dawn till dusk and were toughened up. I took Jack out in any weather, and he grew strong.
She kept quiet, though she could have reminded Margaret that Simons father had suffered chronic bronchitis and tonsillitis as a child.
Ive baked a crumble. Would you like some tea? Irene asked.
First lunch, then tea. And wheres Jack? Why isnt he here yet?
Just then the hallway door clicked.
There he is! Margaret exclaimed.
Simon entered, looking puzzled at a pile of shoes by the entrance.
Mum, why didnt you tell me you were coming? he asked.
Because I called Irene this morning! Margaret retorted.
Irene gave Simon a guilty smile; she had forgotten to text him about the visit.
Hey, Mum, Simon said, hugging his mother. How are you feeling?
Pressures up, my legs swell by evening. But Im not complainingwe manage on our own, we dont burden anyone.
That line was a standard refrain, followed by a litany of ailments, a gentle reminder that his mother rarely received visits.
Lets get you changed; Ive been warming the oven for your favourite dishes, Margaret said, gesturing to the stove.
Simon cast a apologetic glance at Irene, fully aware how stressful these visits were for her.
During lunch Margaret launched into a tale of how brilliant Jack was at four, reciting poems and all.
Emily, do you know any poems? she asked.
The girl poked at her food with a fork.
She knows a lot of verses, Irene interjected. Emily, tell Grandma about the bear.
I dont want to, Emily muttered, frowning.
See, Simon? Shes so quiet, we should send her to nursery to make friends, Margaret said, waving her hands.
Weve already decided to wait until shes four, Simon replied. We dont want to rush her development.
Rushed? I gave Jack to you when he was two, and he turned out fine! Your girl is a shy little thing, barely eats
Emily pushed her plate away and puffed her cheeks.
May I go play? she asked.
No, finish your meatball first, Margaret ordered firmly.
Finish it, love, Irene added gently, though she felt a boil inside.
Emily forced a bite of the patty.
Much better, Margaret nodded, satisfied. Youre spoiling her. A child needs routine and discipline. When I raised Jack
More memories of her own parenting flooded the table.
After the meal Margaret insisted on putting Emily down for an afternoon nap.
A child must nap! Its essential for a proper schedule, she declared.
Irene wanted to argue that Emily no longer napped and would stay up till midnight if forced, but Simon shook his head, preferring peace over conflict.
Just let her rest a bit, he whispered to Irene.
While Margaret wrestled with the stubborn toddler, Irene brewed tea and sliced the apple crumble.
Useless effort, Margaret returned half an hour later. Shes still refusing. In my day kids listened to adults all the time!
Shes just not tired yet, Simon said soothingly. Try a piece of the crumble, Irene made it especially for you.
Margaret examined the slice skeptically.
Hope theres no artificial stuff in it. Those store mixes
Its all naturalflour, eggs, apples from our garden, the same ones you gifted us, Irene assured her. The praise softened Margaret a little.
I remember when you first married, you could barely fry an egg, Margaret remarked.
Irene stayed silent, though she could have reminded Margaret that shed spent a decade living on her own before marriage and was a competent cookjust not in the way Margaret expected.
Jack, could you pop over sometime this week? The bathroom tap is leaking and the cupboard light is out. Im afraid of climbing a ladder and falling, Margaret said to Simon.
Sure, Mum, Ill swing by Wednesday, he replied, looking apologetic.
Wednesday I have Nina visitingperhaps Tuesday? Margaret suggested.
I have a client meeting Tuesday, Simon protested.
Fine, Ill just stay with the dripping tap, Margaret sighed. Its not the first time.
Irene felt the familiar sting of subtle blackmail and endless reproaches.
Ill go with you to fix the tap, Simon offered, unable to bear another sigh from his mother.
Margarets face brightened.
Great! While youre at it, could you look at the wallpaper in the hallway? Its been up five years; its getting drab.
Wheres Emily playing? Its quiet, Irene asked suddenly.
In her room, looking at books. I told her not to scatter her toys, Margaret answered.
Irene peeked into the nursery and froze. Emily was carefully cutting pictures from a brandnew picture book they had bought just the day before.
Emily! What are you doing? Irene called.
The girl looked up, unflustered.
Grandma said I could cut pictures to make an album. She gave me scissors.
Irene lifted the damaged bookan expensive, illustrated volume theyd ordered online with great anticipation.
Emily, thats a brandnew book! We just started reading it yesterday!
Tears welled in the girls eyes.
Grandma said she hiccupped.
Irene took a deep breath, trying to keep calm.
Its alright, love. Next time, if you want to cut something, ask your mum or dad first, okay? she said, hugging her daughter.
She returned to the kitchen, where Margaret was animatedly describing a neighbour on the fifth floor who had a serious health scare.
Margaret, did you give Emily the scissors? Irene asked, keeping her voice steady.
Yes, why not? Children should learn handy skills. We were always gluing and cutting as kids. Nowadays they stare at phones
But she ruined a new bookthe one we just received from the online store, Irene replied, fighting back frustration.
A book is just paper, Margaret waved dismissively. At least shell have a lovely album. It nurtures creativity.
The book was expensive, Irene said, teeth clenched. We wanted to read it together first.
Dont make a fuss, dear, Margaret retorted. Its only paper.
Simon, caught between his mother and wife, tried to mediate.
Mum, you could have asked us before, he said cautiously.
Ah, so now I need permission to spend time with my own granddaughter? Who am I here, a stranger? Margaret snapped.
Nobody talks like that, Simon attempted to soothe.
Thats exactly what they say, Margaret shot back. Im the one who raised Jack alone! I know how to bring up children, unlike some who cant even make a decent lunch!
Enough, Mum! Simon raised his voice. Stop it right now!
Silence fell. Emily peered out of the nursery, eyes wide with fear.
Grandma is shouting, she whispered.
Margarets tone softened instantly.
Come here, my little treasure. Im not shouting, just speaking adulttoadult. Lets finish our album together, alright?
No, Irene said firmly. No more cutting. Emily will go with Dad to watch a cartoon, and well have a word with you, Margaret.
Margaret opened her mouth to protest, but Simon already held Emilys hand.
Shall we watch Frozen? he asked.
When they left, Irene invited Margaret to sit.
Margaret, I know you love Emily and want the best for her. Simon and I have our own parenting style, and we ask you to respect it, Irene said.
So I should stay silent when I see a child being raised the wrong way? Margaret retorted, her lips pursed.
You can suggest and advise, but the final decisions are ours. And please dont tell Emily what she cant do without checking with us first.
Like cutting books, skipping naps, or eating sweets before lunch? Margaret asked, narrowing her eyes.
Exactly. Should I stop spoiling my granddaughter? Then whats the point of grandmothers? Irene replied, sighing.
The two spoke in different dialects of the same language.
Indulge, but within limits, and discuss it with us, Margaret finally murmured, gathering her bags.
If thats how it is, Ill be on my way. Theres nothing for me here if I cant even talk to my granddaughter properly, she said.
Dont dramatise it, Irene replied wearily. Justlets try to respect each other.
Thirty years teaching, raising a son alone, now I have to ask permission to let my granddaughter cut pictures! Margaret muttered as she slipped on her coat.
Simon emerged from the hallway, hearing the commotion.
Mum, youre leaving already?
Off I go, son. Your wife doesnt like how Im with Emily, Margaret replied.
Dont start, Mum, Simon said, grimacing. Let me walk you to the car and Ill also check the tap?
Margarets expression brightened a little.
Fine, if it isnt too muchbring a screwdriver; the cabinet hinge is loose.
They left, and Irene slumped onto the sofa. Emily quietly climbed onto her lap.
Mum, I wont cut books again, she said earnestly. I didnt know it was wrong.
Of course, love, Irene whispered, hugging her. Youre not at fault. Next time, if Grandma wants you to do something, ask me or Dad first, okay?
Emily nodded, snuggling close.
Simon returned after an hour, tired but satisfied.
The taps fixed, the lights on, the cabinets straightened. Mum sends her apologies and promises not to meddle in our parenting, he said.
I should believe that? Irene teased.
Simon sat beside her and wrapped an arm around her.
Not entirely, but at least weve bought ourselves a breather for a week.
They laughed. Perhaps someday their relationship with Margaret would smooth out, perhaps not. For now they had their little family, their home, their rulesand they would guard them fiercely.
A week later Margaret called, offering to teach Emily how to bake pies. Its time the girl learns a proper ladys skill, or else shell end up like modern youthgood for nothing, she declared. Irene sighed, glanced at Simon, and saw the same resigned look in his eyesthat the cycle would continue. Yet she also saw the love beneath Margarets meddling. They would keep navigating the push and pull, because in the end, love, respect, and clear boundaries are what keep a family from unraveling.
