Why on earth would he need such a grandmother?
The woman you are! First you asked us to bring the grandson for the whole summer, weve already set the calendar, and now you say dont bother? What are we supposed to do?
The phones speakers thundered with the daughterinlaws protest. Margaret held the smartphone a few inches from her ear, the volume low enough that every word rang clear without the need for speakerphone.
Beatrice, your plans are your own problem. You never consulted me, and now
Youre the one who coaxed us into taking Sam to you! the daughterinlaw snapped. Honestly, I dont get you. What kind of grandmother are you? You cant even keep a grandchild for a night, let alone drive him to the country house. Youve never brought him any berries, you just haul crates into your house! Why would he need a grandmother like you when theres a perfectly normal one elsewhere?
Margaret winced, pressed a free hand to her heart and exhaled in short bursts. She caught the hidden meaning in those words: either give up the boy, or youll never see him again. A thinskinned blackmail.
Beatrice had a point if you stripped away the emotions and looked at the facts, but she was turning the whole situation upside down.
The cottage Margaret once dreamed of taking Sam to was hardly a holiday retreat. The toilet was a pit in the garden, the shower a bucket of water under the summer sun. The garden berries she grew were bitter enough that she never ate them. A rusted grill, the one she and her first husband used to roast meat, sat beside a plastic table and mismatched chairs. Simple, perhaps a little shabby, but in Margarets mind it felt cosy in a homely, unpretentious way.
When Andrew, her son, announced he wanted to visit the cottage with his beloved, Margarets anxiety rose. Shed only known Beatrice from a few polite gatherings: pretty, wellkept, selfassured, with a veneer of spoiled entitlement. The young woman looked down on everyone, as if she were constantly appraising. At their first meeting she prowled through Margarets house without invitation, like an inspector. Margaret was put off immediately, yet she obliged, giving the girl a tour of her collection of porcelain figurines and family photo albums.
Andrew, the ideas lovely but are you sure Beatrice will like it? You grew up here, you know the place. Beatrice, I think, isnt used to such rustic charm, Margaret warned gently when her son beamed with weekend plans.
Ill explain everything to her. Shes actually been saying she wants a break in the countryside. And look at this beauty its all ours.
Margaret sighed, choosing not to argue. She feared people would think she didnt want them there. Better to refuse outright.
She spent two days preparing: tidying, baking pies, rummaging the cellar for those special treats reserved for rare occasions. A knot of dread twisted in her chest, but the anticipation of a joyful reunion eclipsed the bad omens.
From the first moment, however, things fell apart. Beatrice emerged from the car in a white dress and skyhigh heels, glanced around, and narrowed her eyes with disdain. Her face darkened instantly.
This is a toilet, or what? she asked, poking the ground with a finger.
Well yes. Its outside, but its clean, just like any proper one, Margaret replied, forcing a smile.
Ah, a fullbody communion with nature, then, Beatrice replied sarcastically.
The nightmare deepened.
Its like being thrown back into the Stone Age, she complained to Andrew. Did you really grow up washing yourself in a bucket? There are so many mosquitoes you might as well stay in the car! And the smell
Its just the neighbours chickens, the man shrugged.
Beatrices outcry was so loud Margaret heard every syllable. The woman felt out of place, as if shed never invited Beatrice in. Shed prepared, waited, and received a spittingintheface.
Maybe shell get used to it, Margaret thought. The bride and her son lived far away, a days drive apart, so they had planned to stay the whole weekend.
But Beatrice lasted less than a day. When a mosquito landed on her again, she swatted wildly and stalked back to the car.
Thats it! Either you take me home or Ill call a cab. You cant live like this! she snapped at Andrew.
Andrew offered no protest. He hurriedly said goodbye to his mother and clumsily backed away from Beatrice.
I didnt think it would be that hard for her he muttered, embarrassed.
Margaret tried to blame it on habits and unfamiliarity. She herself struggled to adapt to the new routine, but she didnt throw tantrums or slam doors. The choice, after all, was Andrewsto live with this woman or not.
Six years later, Beatrice and Andrew were married, with a son named Sam. Their contact with Margaret never really clicked, yet she still hoped to build a relationship with her grandson. They lived in different towns, but she believed desire would find a way.
Beatrice, could you bring Sam over to me? Margaret asked one afternoon. Ive got a garden, a river nearby, fresh air a years worth of vitamins in the soil.
Where would you bring him? To this squalor? Hed be better off staying at home, the daughterinlaw snorted. You can send the vitamins any way you like. You bragged about having more cherries than you could handle. At least you could have met once over the whole summer.
Her words cut to the bone, but Margaret didnt argue. It would be a ridiculous task to haul a crate of cherries all day in the heat for a pampered city girl. She wanted a chance to be with Sam, after all.
That was last year. This year, everything had shifted.
Margarets life now consisted half of hospital wards, drip bags, and endless clinic queues, the other quarter of strict medical restrictions. Shed just undergone heart surgery, and the doctor told her she must avoid the heat and heavy lifting.
Take this seriously, the doctor warned. Your heart needs protection. No strenuous activity, just gentle walks.
The most painful part was that Andrew never visited, even when she was in hospital. They chatted on the phone, and that was the end of it. Margaret saw her friend Victoria more often than her own son. Victoria, in fact, had been the one to keep Margaret afloat financially. When Victoria learned the cottage was now offlimits for Margaret, she proposed a plan.
Listen, why dont I talk to them? They want a summer break, but their holidays are pitifully short, and a seaside holiday is pricey these days. Ill sort something out, no strings attached. Itll be good for you and them.
Margaret accepted eagerly; every penny mattered now.
As Margaret regained her footing, Beatrice finally matured. When the young couple finally made plans, the oncefilthy cottage lost its relevance.
Beatrice, I suggested this a year ago, Andrew said. Plans are wonderful; I had my own ideas for the summer, but life had other ideas. The cottage now belongs to other people, I cant go there, I just had surgery.
Just had surgerywhen exactly?
Two months ago.
Two months and people are already training for marathons! Youre lucky you can just sit at home in your pension. Some have to work too, Beatrice retorted. If you cant take Sam to the cottage, take him to yours.
To an apartment? From one city flat to another? Whats the point?
The point is we can finally have a proper holiday! Weve never had a day alone with Sam since he was born. You kept shouting you wanted to see your grandchild. Here, take him!
Beatrice, do you even hear me? A child needs constant care, and Im barely managing around the house.
Its just laziness, admit it, the daughterinlaw pressed.
Margaret hung up, exhausted. The argument had become a hollow, draining echo. She was alone; if she fell ill, would Beatrice ever come to look after her? Of course not.
That evening Andrew called, apologising for Beatrices behaviour and gently asking if there was any chance they could still take Sam to her. The request made Margaret feel like a child, hurt and ready to weep.
Andrew tell me honestly, did you tell Beatrice Id had surgery? she demanded. How could you let her put the grandchild on me without even asking?
Andrew stammered. A heavy silence hung between them, choking Margaret.
Mum I said you were unwell. I didnt know it was that serious.
Unwell didnt know. Those words crashed over me. He didnt seem to care how I felt. He didnt even try to understand when I told him I could barely climb a flight of stairs.
Right, Margaret replied, the words flat.
Three days of oppressive quiet followed, each hour feeling heavier than the last. It seemed that by refusing to help the young couple, she had become invisible; even Andrew stopped texting in the evenings, stopped asking how her day went.
On the fourth day, Victoria called, perfectly timed.
Fancy a break at your cottage? My folks wont be there this weekend. Cool day, we could sit and chat, she suggested.
Lets do it, Margaret agreed, feeling the claws of loneliness scraping at her.
They brewed tea, opened the box of Victorias biscuits, and talked. Margaret poured out everything.
Oh, what can I tell you You know how it is. They have their own lives now. Dont tear your heart apart, live as you can. Im here for you, at least. Maybe youll find an old chap to keep you company in the evenings, or finally give yourself some peace. Health is precious, you must guard it, and you wont get any peace from them.
Margaret sighed, drawing the biscuit box closer. The ache in her chest remained, but she finally knew she was doing what she could. She wasnt bending to others whims at the cost of her own health. Life, with its soaring highs and crushing lows, kept moving, even if they left her behind.
