Parents are forever fretting over their children. Yet, sometimes, those same children grow up and leave their mums and dads feeling confused, or even a tad let down. Such is the saga of todays matriarch and her grown-up daughters.
Barbaras Tale
Barbara raised three children: a full-time job with no holiday pay. All three have flown the nest and are now bravely adulting on their own. Her eldest son, William, is now living somewhere abroadSpain, or was it Portugal? Hes got a job, a wife, a couple of children, and a habit of only sending photos and Christmas cards. Barbara keeps every postcard, treasuring them as if they were the Magna Carta, and pulls them out for a nostalgic glance on rainy afternoons.
We do miss you, love, she writes him in careful handwriting. Could you pop by for a visit one of these days? Wed love to finally meet those grandchildren and your wife.
Barbaras middle daughter, Victoria, married an army officer. They move house more often than some people buy socks. Theyve got a daughter of their own and occasionally breeze in for whirlwind visits. Barbaras husband, David, rather likes Victorias choice in spouse. At least one of them found someone sensible, he says, half-joking.
Then theres the youngest, Charlotte. Family life never quite worked out for her. Charlotte had married, had a son, and then the husband vanished in the great going out for milk and never coming back tradition. Following Mums advice, she packed up, moved to London, and got herself a job as a seamstress in a factory, taking her son along for the ride.
One day, Barbara decided it was high time she went to see Charlotte.
Think you can cope without me for a week? Barbara asked David, eyeing him over her glasses. Id like to visit Charlotte and see how she and Oliver are getting along.
David put on a brave face and did his best not to look terrified at the prospect of fending for himself. He escorted her to the station, helped heft her suitcasesBarbara never travelled light!and waved her off.
She endured several hours in a stuffy second-class train carriage, but the excitement of seeing her daughter was enough to buoy her spirits, even if she had sore feet by the end of it. It had been three whole years since their last visit.
When Barbara rang Charlotte from the station, Charlotte sounded frazzled. Oh Mum, you shouldve called ahead! Im at work. Cant pick you up until evening.
Barbara tsked but smiled into the phone. I wanted to surprise you, darling! Ill manage, dont worry!
In the end, Barbara decided to walk herself, trailing her suitcase through rainy London streets. At the door, she was greeted by Oliver, her grandsona gangly teenager who looked uncannily like his grandfather once did, only with more hair gel.
Hello, my boy! Barbara enveloped him in a grandma-grade hug. Alright, Gran, thats enough, he wriggled free.
Why didnt you come sooner? he asked, looking half-bored, half-harassed.
Had to tidy up and set the table for you being here, he reported in the monotone unique to British teens. Mum rushed home early to cook bangers and mashshe wanted it all to look nice.
Just then, Barbaras mobile buzzedDavid, of course, wanting reassurance the house hadnt already burned down. She told him shed arrived, Oliver was helping her, and they were about to tuck into dinner, which Annasorry, Charlottehad prepared.
At dinner, while ladling out the mashed potatoes, Charlotte asked, almost suspiciously, Mum, will you be wanting one sausage, or two?
Barbara, famished after her train ordeal, eyed the meagre offerings but put on her best British stiff upper lip. Oh, just put them on the table and well see.
At last, she countedone plate, five sausages. Not quite the feast shed imagined for her visit. Barbaras mind whirred with concern: were they struggling to make ends meet? Resolutely, she decided shed slip Charlotte a bit of cash before leaving.
As they ate, Charlotte quickly asked, So, Mum, when are you thinking of heading home? Barbara bristled, trying not to show her disappointment. Dont worry, darling, I can go tomorrow if its a bother.
The next day, Barbara found herself utterly alonethe others off doing their own thing. Oliver disappeared to the neighbours, Charlotte went to meet friends, and Barbara was left to drink tea in the empty flat, watching the telly and missing home.
She packed up quietly, feeling more than a little out of place. Overhearing Oliver ask, Whens Uncle Philip coming? Weve got tickets for the football match, and Charlotte replying, Once Grans gone, was the last straw.
Barbara hoisted her luggage, swallowed her pride, and left without a fuss. Back at home, David practically danced down the street to meet her: she realised, with a wry smile, that despite devoting so much love and care to her brood, the tables had turnednow the children seemed to need her a lot less than she needed them.
