So, youve bought a place with a mortgage? exclaimed Jean, barely able to contain her joy. Isnt that marvellous, darling? Absolutely splendid!
Larissa her daughter, bless her burst out laughing on the other end, and Jean could just make out her son-in-law muttering something in the background.
Mum, why are you shouting? The neighbours will hear
Let them! They could do with some excitement, chuckled Jean. When can I pop over for a look? Today? Tomorrow? Ill bake that apple pie the one Greg loves.
Larissa hesitated for a heartbeat.
Come round Saturday. Well have the furniture sorted by then.
Come Saturday, Jean found herself standing in the middle of a bright new living room, spinning slowly to eye up the lofty ceilings, enormous windows, and freshly plastered walls. The new build still smelled of paint with a hint of pine.
The kitchens enormous, fancy that? Larissa led Jean down the hallway. And theres a proper balcony, all glassed in. Could even park the pram out there one day.
Beautiful, Jean sighed, brushing the wall. Greg, youre a star!
Greg only shrugged, the modest soul.
Were doing our best, Mrs Beaumont.
Over lunch, Jean helped herself to a second slab of pie well, someone had to and finally said what shed been itching to all morning.
I was so worried about you two, honestly. Larissa seven months gone and you renting, with that landlady who could have turfed you out on a whim. Its just not right!
Larissa glanced at Greg. Jean caught the flicker of a frown, daughters lips pressed tight.
Mum, we managed.
Managed! Jean put down her fork. While I lay awake every night wondering how you got by. I mean, a child needs stability. A home of their own.
Greg cleared his throat and pushed his plate aside.
The mortgage isnt small, but weve worked out how to make it.
How big? Jean was immediately on alert.
Its fine, Larissa answered quickly. For London, its normal.
Jean looked at their hunched shoulders, at Greg tracing the pattern on the tablecloth like it was the Rosetta Stone, and caught a whiff of that old, familiar fear. But of course, they wouldnt admit to it.
All right, listen up, Jean said solemnly. Im going to help you. End of discussion. And Gregs parents are chipping in, right?
They have, Greg nodded. Mum says shell send what she can each month.
There, you see! Jean leant back, triumphant. Youll pull through. No ones alone in this.
Larissa forced a smile, but the worry behind it had dug in roots.
Baby Archie came along in March a boisterous, healthy giant of a boy. Jean came round every week to make stews, wash nappies, and parade her grandson in his dazzling new pram around the estate.
Life settled into its groove. Greg snagged a promotion, and soon Larissa was talking about having a second.
Two years later, Sophie arrived, and the flat rang again with childrens shrieks, toys everywhere, and yet more sleepless nights. Jean watched Larissas shining eyes and congratulated herself yes, everything was just as it should be.
Then Greg was made redundant.
Jean didnt catch wind of it at first. Larissa kept brushing her off Oh, were a bit tired, thats all. Then Jean, ever the detective, dropped by unannounced and found her daughter sobbing over a heap of paperwork.
Mum, we cant keep up, whispered Larissa. Three months behind. The bank calls daily.
Jean did her best rallied the family, scraped together every spare penny, but it was never quite enough. Gregs parents were skint too, what with Gregs dad in and out of hospital.
Six months later, the flat was repossessed.
Jean sat in her friend Olivias kitchen, unable to touch her tea.
Theyre in a one-bed now all of them. Archies four, Sophies two. No room to grow, to run about, theyre practically stacked on top of each other! Four of them in one room!
Olivia tutted and shook her head.
Oh, Jean, how awful.
I told them theyd cope. Jean dabbed her tears. I promised Id help. But what can I do? My pensions laughable, works patchy. I swore itd all work out!
You cant see the future.
Doesnt help, does it? Jean set her cup down. Doesnt make it easier for the kids. Or for Larissa.
Jean buried her face in her hands. Shed thought her daughters life had settled, but now things were worse than ever before, at least it was just the two of them in a rented place. Now there were four, all squished together.
Time shuffled on.
Larissa and Greg finally settled up with the bank, a small silver lining in this cloudy year.
What next? Jean asked.
Saving for a home again, Larissa said. Maybe something simpler this time.
So be it, Jean replied, though Larissa couldnt see her nodding. At least itll be yours.
Fast forward two more years. Archie turned six, and Jean arrived, struggling through the door with a ginormous box. Shed pored over building kits for three hours, combing half of Hamleys before she found the one with cars and a garage, just as Archie had dreamt of all winter.
Gran! Archie charged over and clung to Jean. Is that for me?
All yours, poppet. Jean planted a kiss on his mop of hair. And heres something else.
Jean pulled out an envelope, handed it over. Archie peeked inside his eyes went huge.
How much is it?
Two hundred pounds, Jean crouched to his level. You wanted a new phone, right? Heres a start for your savings. Granny will help.
Archie hugged the envelope and dashed off to wow Sophie with his treasures. Larissa lounged in the kitchen doorway, watching, but Jean barely noticed the odd look on her daughters face.
Two weeks later, Jean rang Archie. He picked up on the third ring.
Hi, Gran!
Hello, my lovely! How are things?
Brilliant! Archie gabbled. Mum bought me new clothes for the summer shorts, t-shirts, and trainers that light up!
Jeans eyebrow twitched.
And where did Mum get the money for all that?
She used the money you gave me, Archie chirped happily. She said Ill get the phone later, clothes are more important.
Jean froze, phone clutched to her ear, a heavy warmth blooming in her chest.
Put your mum on for me, love.
Shes busy.
All right, Jean mustered a smile Archie couldnt see. Speak soon, sweetheart.
Jean ended the call, staring into space for ten solid minutes. Evidently, a few lessons needed refreshing.
Early the next morning, Jean marched over to Larissas flat.
How could you? Jean fumed. That money was for Archie! For him, not you!
Larissa shut her eyes, tired already.
Mum, calm down.
Jeans voice ratcheted up. The boy wanted a phone! I gave him that money to start saving! Now youve spent the lot!
Larissas expression chilled. I did what I thought was best.
Best? Jean spluttered. Spending someone elses money on shorts?
He needed summer clothes, Larissa replied flatly. We didnt have spare cash.
And you just took it? Without even asking me? Couldnt even consult your own mother?
No, Mum, Larissas jaw set. In my home, Ill spend money how I see fit. Its not your business.
Not my business? After what happened with the mortgage? You lost your home which just shows youre hopeless with money!
Larissa paled but bit her tongue.
Now youre even taking your own childs money? Honestly! Shameful!
Go home, Mum, Larissa whispered. Please.
Jean stormed out, not even bothering with a goodbye, burning with indignation. Her own daughter, out of order, and now she was banned too! Never mind Larissa would come crawling back. Shed have to apologise, eventually.
But a month ticked by. Larissa neither called nor replied to Jeans messages.
Jean found herself once again at Olivias kitchen table, toying with a napkin.
Shes washed her hands of me, Jean muttered. My own daughter. Wont let me see the grandchildren, wont pick up the phone
Olivia topped up her mug.
And what did you say to her, that day?
The truth! Jean spluttered. That theyre rubbish with money well, they are! Who loses their house and then spends a childs gift?
Olivia was quiet, staring into the garden.
Jean, did you give that money to Archie?
Yes! It was a present.
Then it was his, not yours. You cant tell them what to do with it.
But I gave it for a phone
And they bought clothes. Summer clothes he needed, not a phone he didnt. Sometimes you do what keeps the kids kitted out.
Jean opened her mouth, but Olivia held up a hand.
And reminding them about the mortgage? Unfair. They slogged for years, raised kids, repaid the bank. And you called them hopeless.
I meant well, Jean wilted. I worry about them.
You care, Olivia nodded. But maybe youre being hurtful, not helpful. Perhaps… you could call Larissa first? Apologise?
Jean pursed her lips and looked away. Not likely. She was older, after all. And she meant only the best.
