What a puzzling lady you are! First you invited your grandson for the whole summer, wed already mapped everything out, and now you say dont bring him? What are we supposed to do?!
The phones speaker throbbed with the daughterinlaws outrage. Gillian held her smartphone just a breath from her ear, so every word rang clear without the need for speakerphone.
Emily, your plans are your own business. You never consulted me, and now
You were the ones who urged us to bring Sam to you! the daughterinlaw snapped. I cant make heads or tails of you. What kind of grandmother are you? You cant take your grandson in, cant drive him to the cottage. Youve never once delivered berries, only hauled boxes to your place! And why should he have a grandmother like you when theres a normal one elsewhere?
Gillian winced, exhaled in short bursts, hand pressed to her heart. She caught the undercurrent: either bend your knee and take him, or youll never see him again. Low, sly blackmail.
In the cold light of fact Emily had a point, but she turned the whole situation upside down.
It all began with the cottage Gillian once wanted for Sam. It was primitive: the toilet was a tin outhouse, the shower was a summer bucket. The garden grew berries shed never eat. A rusted grill where shed once roasted meat with her first husband, plastic chairs and a wobbly table. Humble, but to Gillian it felt homey in its own simple way.
When Andrew, her son, announced he wanted to visit the cottage with his girlfriend, Gillians nerves tightened.
Shed only met Emily in passingpretty, wellkept, selfassured, with a hint of spoiled entitlement. She surveyed everything from a lofty perch as if grading it. At their first meeting the future daughterinlaw roamed Gillians house uninvited, a sort of inspector. Gillian didnt like it, but she obliged, giving her a tour of her figurines and family albums.
Andrew, thats a nice idea but are you sure Emily will like it? You grew up on that cottage. I think Emily isnt used to such rustic charm, Gillian warned gently as her son shared his weekend plans with bubbling enthusiasm.
Ill explain everything to her. Shes always said she wants a country break. And look at that beauty its all yours.
Gillian sighed, but kept quiet. She feared theyd think she didnt want them.
She should have said no outright.
The next two days Gillian was a whirlwind: cleaning, baking pies, hauling out the secret pantry supplies kept for special occasions. Anxiety gnawed at her, yet the promise of a happy reunion eclipsed the dread.
From the first moment, things went awry. Emily stepped out of the car in a white dress and skyhigh heels, glanced around, and squinted with disdain. Her face darkened instantly.
Is this a loo? she asked, pointing with a finger.
Well yes. Its outside, but its tidy, just like any proper restroom, Gillian replied, forcing a smile.
Ah, true wilderness immersion, I see Emily muttered sarcastically.
It got worse.
This is dreadful it feels like weve slid back to the Stone Age, she complained to Andrew. Did you really wash yourself in a bucket all your life? There are so many mosquitoes you might as well stay in the car! And the smell
Thats just the neighbours chickens. Nothing to worry about, Andrew shrugged.
Emilys complaints rose to a shriek, and Gillian heard every word. She felt exposed, as if shed never invited Emily at all. Shed prepared, shed waited, only to be met with a spittlesplash.
Maybe shell get used to it, Gillian thought. The couple lived far away, a days drive, and had planned to stay the whole weekend.
But Emily didnt last a day. After another mosquito bite, she flailed her hands and headed back to the car.
Thats it! Either you drive me home or Ill call a cab, she snapped at Andrew. No one can live like this!
Andrew didnt argue. He hurriedly said goodbye to his mother and awkwardly backed away from Emily.
I didnt think it would be so hard for her he muttered, embarrassed.
Gillian tried to chalk it up to habits and unfamiliarity. She herself struggled to adapt to the new routine, but she didnt throw tantrums or slam doors. It was Andrews choice, after all, to live with her.
Six years later Emily and Andrew were married, with a son, Sam. Gillians contact with her daughterinlaw never warmed, yet she still clung to the hope of a relationship with her grandson. They lived in different towns, but desire, she believed, would find a way.
Emily, could you bring Sam over? Gillian asked one afternoon. Ive got a garden, a river nearby, fresh air. He could soak up a years worth of vitamins.
Where would you take him? To this… sanitary nightmare? Better let him stay at home, Emily huffed. You can send the vitamins anyway. You bragged about having more cherries than you knew what to do with. One summer visit would have done the trick.
The sting was enough to bring tears, but Gillian didnt argue. Explaining to a pampered city girl that hauling cherries all day in the heat was a folly was absurd. Neighbouring children grew up in the same conditions and adapted. She simply wanted to see her grandson, after all.
That was last year. Awakening came this year. In twelve months everything had shifted.
Now Gillians life was half hospital wards, drip lines, and endless clinic queues. The other quarter was strict medical limits. Shed just emerged from surgery, and the doctor forbid her to go outside in the heat or lift anything heavy.
Take this seriously, the doctor warned. With your heart you must stay under a dome. No stress, no heavy loads, only gentle walks.
The worst part was that Andrew never visited Gillian, even when she lay in the hospital. They called, but that was all. Gillian saw her friend Violet more often than she saw her son. In fact, Violet had been the one to rescue her financially. When Violet learned that the cottage was now offlimits, she suddenly offered:
Listen, why dont I speak to them? They want a summer break, but their holiday allowance is peanuts. And the seaside is pricey these days. Im not doing it for gratitude, love, you know? Itd be good for you, and theyd get a bit of a country escape.
Gillian accepted gladly. In her condition any penny helped.
And just as she was getting on her feet, Emily finally softened. When the young couple made plans, the cottages griminess ceased to matter.
Emily, I suggested this a year ago. A year! Plans are wonderful; I too had ideas for this summer, but life had other plans. The cottage now belongs to other people, I cant go, I just had surgery.
When was recently? Emily pressed.
Two months ago.
Two months is when people start marathon training! You have to pull yourself together. Youre lucky you can sit at home in a retirement flat. Many have to keep working, Emily jabbed. Cant you take Sam to the cottage? Just bring him to your place.
To an apartment? From one city flat to another? Whats the point?
The point is we could finally have a proper break! Weve never had a day alone with Sam since he was born. You were shouting that you wanted to see your grandson. Here, finally, you can!
Emily, are you hearing me? A child needs constant care, and Im barely able to crawl around the house.
Its just laziness, admit it, Emily snapped.
Gillian hung up, drained. The argument felt endless, merely wearing her down. She was alone; if she fell ill, would Emily really come to look after her? No.
That evening Andrew called, apologising for Emilys behaviour and gently asking if there was any chance of taking Sam to his own home. The plea made Gillian feel like a child again, wounded and humiliated.
Andrew tell me honestly, did you tell Emily Id had surgery? she asked, voice trembling. How did you know everything and still leave my grandson to me without asking?
Andrew fell silent. Seconds stretched, his quiet choking Gillian.
Mum I said you were ill. I didnt know it was that serious.
Ill. Didnt know. The words crashed into her. He seemed indifferent to her condition, never probing when she explained she could barely climb a flight of stairs.
I see she managed.
Three days of oppressive silence followed. It seemed that by refusing the couple help, she had become irrelevant, forgotten. Even Andrew stopped texting in the evenings, no longer inquiring about her day.
On the fourth night, Violet rang, perfectly timed.
Fancy a break at your cottage? My kids wont be there until the weekend. Itll be cool, we can tea and chat, she suggested.
Lets do it, Gillian replied instantly, a cats claws scratching at her heart, yearning for any company.
They brewed tea, opened a box of pastries Violet had brought. The conversation flowed, and Gillian poured out everything.
Oh, what can I say You understand, dont you? They have their own lives now. Just dont tear your soul apart, live as you can. At least youve got me. Maybe youll find an old chap to share evenings with, Violet smiled. Or finally devote yourself to yourself. Health is precious; you wont get anything but nerves from them.
Gillian sighed, nudging the pastry box closer. Inside her, a storm still brewed, but she finally knew she was doing right. She wouldnt bend to others whims, she wouldnt sacrifice her health for anyones expectations. It was hard, the daughterinlaw had turned away, her sons indifference burned, yet life, with all its rises and falls, went on even without them.
