Why on earth would he need such a granny?
Youre a fascinating woman, Mrs. Hartley! First you invited our son to stay all summer, we made the whole calendar, and now you say dont bring him? What are we supposed to do?
The phones speaker crackled with the daughterinlaws outrage. Gillian held the smartphone a short arms length from her ear, the volume turned down so the words came through clearly without shouting.
Ethel, your plans are your business. You never consulted me, and now
You were the one who begged us to bring Sam to you! the daughterinlaw snapped. I dont get you at all. What kind of granny are you? You cant take your grandson in, you cant even drive him to the cottage. You never sent him berries, you just haul boxes to your place! Why would he need a granny like you when theres a perfectly decent one at home?
Gillian grimaced, exhaling in short, ragged bursts, hand pressed to her chest. She understood the subtext: either let us have the boy or youll never see him again. A low, underhanded extortion. In factual terms Ethel was right, but she turned the whole situation upside down.
It all started with the cottage Gillian had once hoped to take Sam to. It was primitive: the toilet was an outhouse, the shower a bucket of water in summer. No fresh fruit to offer, just a battered grill where she and her first husband once cooked meat, plastic chairs and a wobbly table. Simple, modest, but to Gillian it felt cosy in its own unpretentious way.
When Andrew, her son, announced he wanted to bring his girlfriend for a weekend at the cottage, Gillians nerves tightened.
Shed met Ethel before, only superficially. Beautiful, wellkept, selfassured, with a hint of spoiled entitlement. She looked down on everything and everyone as if she were appraising them. At their first meeting the future daughterinlaw wandered through Gillians house without invitation, like an inspector. Gillian disliked it then, but she obliged, giving Ethel a tour, showing off her collection of porcelain figurines and family photo albums.
Andy, the ideas nice but are you sure Ethel will like it? You grew up at that cottage. Ethel, I think, isnt used to such rustic charm, Gillian warned, her voice cautious as her son rattled off his weekend plans with enthusiasm.
Ill explain everything to her. Shes always said she wants a country break. This place is perfect all ours, Andrew replied.
Gillian sighed, choosing not to argue. She feared people would think she didnt want them there.
She should have said no outright.
For two days she prepared: cleaning, baking pies, retrieving from the cellar those special treats saved for rare occasions. Anxiety gnawed at her, but the anticipation of a happy reunion eclipsed any foreboding.
From the first moment, however, things went awry. Ethel stepped out of the car in a white dress and highheeled sandals, glanced around, and narrowed her eyes with disdain. Her expression darkened instantly.
Is this a lavatory or what? she sniffed, pointing a finger.
Well yes. Its outside, but its clean, just like any proper place, Gillian replied with a strained smile.
A real communion with nature, literally, Ethel said mockingly.
It only got worse.
Its barbaric like weve been dropped into the Stone Age, she complained to Andy. Did you really wash yourself in a bucket as a child? There are so many mosquitoes I cant even step out of the car! And the stench
Its just the neighbours chickens. No big deal, Andy shrugged.
Ethels rant was so loud Gillian heard every word. She felt humiliated; she hadnt invited Ethel. Shed gone to such lengths, only to be spat on.
Maybe shell get used to it, Gillian thought. The daughterinlaw and her son lived far away, a days drive, so theyd planned to stay the whole weekend.
But Ethel didnt last a day. After another mosquito bite, she swatted at the insects and marched back to the car.
Enough! Either you drive me home or Ill call a taxi. This place is uninhabitable! she shouted at Andy.
Im sorry, I didnt expect it to be this hard for her, Andy muttered, hurriedly saying goodbye to his mother and awkwardly waving after Ethel.
Gillian tried to chalk it up to habit and unfamiliarity. She, too, struggled to adapt to the new way of life. She didnt throw tantrums or slam doors; that was Andys choice, after all.
Six years later, Ethel and Andy were married with a son, Sam. Gillians relationship with her daughterinlaw never blossomed, but she still hoped to bond with her grandson. They lived in different towns, yet she believed a chance would arise.
Ethel, could you bring Sam over? Gillian asked one afternoon. I have a garden, a river nearby, fresh air. He could get a years worth of vitamins here.
Where? To this sanitation nightmare? Hed be better off at home, Ethel sneered. You could just send the vitamins. You brag about having so many cherries you cant even store them. We could at least meet once all summer.
The comment cut Gillian to the bone, but she didnt argue. It was absurd to haul a basket of cherries through a sweltering day. Neighbouring children visited under the same conditions and adapted quickly. All she wanted was time with her grandson, after all.
That was last year. Then everything changed.
Gillians life became half hospital visits, IV drips, and endless clinic queues. The other half was under strict medical restrictions. Shed just had heart surgery, and the doctor ordered her to stay indoors in the heat and avoid lifting anything heavy.
Take this seriously, the doctor warned. Your heart needs protection. No strenuous activity, just gentle walks.
The hardest blow was that Andy never visited, even when she was in the ward. They spoke on the phone, but that was it. Gillian saw her friend Val once a week, and it was Val who had helped her financially. When Val learned the cottage was now medically unsuitable, she offered a solution.
Listen, I can talk to them. They want a summer break but the budgets tight, and the seaside is pricey. Im not doing it for thanks, just because I understand. Itll give you a breather and them a decent getaway.
Gillian accepted gratefully; every penny mattered in her condition.
Just as she was starting to get back on her feet, Ethel finally came around. As soon as the young couple made new plans, the cottages lack of sanitation suddenly seemed irrelevant.
Ethel, I suggested this a year ago, Gillian said. Plans are greatI had my own for this summer, but life had other ideas. I cant go to the cottage now; I had surgery two months ago.
Two months? People start marathon training then! Youre lucky you can sit at home and retire. Some still have to work, Ethel retorted. If you cant take Sam to the cottage, just bring him to you.
To an apartment? From one flat to another? Whats the point?
The point is we get a break! Weve never had a day alone with Sam since he was born, and youve been shouting you want to see your grandson. Here, finally, you can.
Ethel, are you even listening? A child needs constant care, and I can barely move around my own house.
Its just laziness, admit it, Ethel pressed.
Gillian snapped the phone shut. The argument felt pointless, draining her. She was alone; if she fell ill, would Ethel ever come to tend her? Of course not.
That evening Andy called, apologising for Ethels behaviour and gently asking if there was any chance he could still take Sam to stay with them. The request made Gillians eyes fill as if she were a little girl hurt by betrayal.
Andy did you tell Ethel Id been operated on? she blurted. How could you know everything and still leave the grandchild with me without asking?
Andy hesitated, silence hanging heavy.
Mum I said you were ill, but I didnt realise it was that serious.
Ill, he said. I didnt know. The words hit Gillian like a blow. He seemed indifferent to her pain, never really trying to understand how even climbing a second floor now exhausted her.
Right, she whispered.
Three days of oppressive silence followed. It felt as though, having refused the couples help, shed become invisible, forgotten. Even Andy stopped texting in the evenings, stopped asking about her day.
On the fourth day, Val called, perfectly timed.
Shall we pop over to your cottage? My folks wont be there until the weekend. Itll be a cool day, we can sit, chat.
Yes, Gillian replied immediately, a knot of loneliness loosening. She needed someone near.
They brewed tea, opened a box of pastries Val had brought. Conversation flowed, and Gillian poured out her story.
What can I say you understand. They have their own lives now. Dont tear yourself apart, live as you can. Im here for you, at least. Maybe youll find an old chap to share evenings with, or finally give yourself a chance. Health is precious; protect it. You wont get anything from them but stress.
Gillian sighed, nudging the pastry box closer. Inside, pain still lingered, but she finally knew she was doing the right thingno longer bending to others whims at the cost of her own wellbeing. Life, with all its highs and lows, would go on, even without them.
