Socks
Oh, my darling! My lovely boy! Goodness, why are little children so sweet? Margaret exclaimed, beaming with pride at her grandson as the camera flashed.
We celebrated little Edwards six-month birthday in style. There were entertainers, balloons, and a huge gorgeous cake. Grandma and Grandpa truly went all out. I didnt entirely support the idea myself. Dont get me wrongI did appreciate how much my parents wanted to make both of us happy. But just as it always was in childhood, noisy parties wear me out quickly. Apparently, Edward takes after me, as not even half an hour in, he began howling. I scooped him up and took him inside. Shutting the windows tight, I sat down with Edward in the armchair, and within minutes, hed fallen asleep.
My poor darling. These sort of celebrations arent for you yet.
Margaret came upstairs, birthday present in hand.
Is he sleeping?
Hes shattered. Mum, I told you its too much for him this early.
Oh, never mind! Hell get used to it. Sweetheart, we can afford these parties for our beloved grandsonwe waited long enough for him! Look what Ive got! Isnt it the loveliest thing?
The sound of rustling wrapping paper made Edward stir, and he twisted restlessly.
Mum, not now, please? I got up and paced the room, gently rocking my son.
Oh, I spent ages picking this out and you dont even care? Mum huffed, setting the box on the table.
Dont be like that, Mumof course, I care! Im sure its wonderful, I said with a conciliatory smile. Could you bring me a drink though? Im parched!
Then put him down and come get it yourself.
Hell wake up.
So what? Come back out and join the party!
If he wakes right now, hell scream the house down for ages. That cant be best, can it?
Emily, children need discipline from the very beginning! What do you mean, hell cry? Well-mannered children dont cry.
Her words made me flinch, but I continued pacing, rocking Edward as smoothly and steadily as a dancer. Well-mannered children dont do things adults dislike. And well-mannered girls? We must be perfect in every way. Back straight, chin up, first position! And never a word in protest!
Im going back to the guests. You sort the baby and come down. Its simply not done for the hostess to vanish.
Cover for me, please, Mum.
Margaret left and I sat back down, keeping Edward pressed close. How much Id had to go through before this little boy appeared
I was born into what people call a respectable family. My grandfather was a fellow of the Royal Society and my grandmotherone of the leading surgeons in London. Father followed the family tradition into medicine. I never quite understood how such a clever, confident man became so utterly moulded by Mums wishes. Margaret was far removed from academia. She struggled through university, then stashed her degree in a drawer and set about finding herself a husbandor rather, my grandmother, Elizabeth, set about finding one for her. Gran was excellent at such things. My parents met at one of Margarets parents landmark anniversaries, and the rest was history. Sparkling, vivacious Margaret quickly enchanted Andrew, and a grand wedding soon followed, after which the happy couple were gifted a co-operative flat by the family. I arrived two years later and was soon in Grans sole domain. She managed the nanny, picked my every extracurricular: two languages, ballet, and a private music tutor.
A child should be admirable in every way!
My weekends were spent under Grans stern guidance at museums and in the theatre. My parents were rarely seen. Father always worked, and Mum only had time for a quick kiss before flying off to her next party.
Elizabeths drilling paid off: I got into the conservatoire, then was accepted into a well-known London theatre. My career was taking shape when I fell in love with my future husband, Peter. No one in my family except Dad approved.
Heavens! What a misalliance! Gran moaned, clutching her forehead. My dearest, think for a moment! Why him? What will you find to talk about? He can barely string two words together!
Gran, most people would struggle to keep up with you, I replied, legs tucked under me, which in any other situation would have earned a severe telling-off. But today, Grans mind was elsewhere.
And whats that meant to mean? She fixed me with an incredulous look.
I mean, few could measure up to your standardsintellectually or otherwise.
Gran eyed me, frowning.
And I want to sayPeter isnt just someone I fancy. I love him. And you cant say that love isnt what drives real art, right?
Art, schmart! How will you make a life with him?
For a long time, I hope. And as happily as possible.
Against all odds (and with no shortage of guilt trips), I defended my right to choose. Looking Peter in the eye, I said yes with certaintyand that was that. For Peter, I was some ethereal, fragile goddess that miraculously stooped to dwell in his world. And yet he sensed both my strength and my vulnerability. He wanted to wrap me up and shield me from the world.
I dont have much to offer just yet. But Ill do everything to make you happy. What I can do is love you.
Those were the only words I ever truly needed. At last, someone who wanted me just as I waswithout conditions. No more endless requirements, no more striving to measure up.
It wasnt an easy journey. Peter had no connections, no family fortune. His father died young, and he was brought up by his mother, Helena lifelong primary school teacher and later, a deputy head. Her unfailing faith saw him through the best universities, which he finished brilliantly. She sold her larger flat, gave him the difference, and thus launched his first business. Clever and capable, Peter saw the business flourish, and within ten years it was one of the best in its field. My own grandmother, once so critical, finally recognised Peters talentsespecially after our son was born.
I longed for a child desperately. No, I never wanted to be great or famousjust happy in the simplest sense. But nature had other ideas. Years of medical appointments, two surgeries, endless nothing. I cried into my pillow at night, not wanting to worry my husband, fearing I was cheating him of being a dad. When I finally told him my planto let him gohe laughed in disbelief.
Sorry, Emily! Sorrybit of a nervous reaction! Peter pulled me close. You silly womanI love you, not some crowning achievement! Youre my worldwhy cant you see that?
Tears of relief and dread mingled. Accepting that a child wasnt for me was one thing; living with it was much harder. Mum would only stoke the fire, sighing over her friends grandchildren. Friends asked us along to birthday parties and Id spend ages picking out presents, overcompensating. Gradually, the ache faded. I stopped spying on the playground mums and eventually opened a small ballet class.
I need something to do or Ill go mad!
Peter didnt really understand but Helen quietly intervened.
Peter, have you any idea how hard this is for her? She adores you, and for a woman in love, giving her man a child is the greatest happiness. She needs your supportjust let her do what she likes. Please.
Understood, Mum.
He found the place himself, and I nearly burst with joy at the bright, airy studio. Setting it up, recruiting, teachingall this distracted me. The first signs I missed, blaming them on general tiredness.
Emily, if you dont want to answer, just say, Helen asked gently over coffee. Are you expecting?
My reaction was almost hostilemy rawest nerve. Why ask now?
I apologise! It just seemed
It just seemed wrong! I stood, but nearly collapsed into the armchair again, the room spinning. Normally, Id love the tempting pastries in this local cafe, but food now turned my stomach.
Helen calmly ordered some water and soon handed me a little box.
No need to guess, is there?
Waiters smiled indulgently as two women wept and danced together minutes later, joy written plain on their faces. Something wonderful had plainly happened.
Edward was born strong and healthy, giving the doctors some serious stress.
A dancer, then? the paediatrician joked.
Yes, indeed.
Handsome little chap.
Are you surprised?
A little! Its usually trickier, but hes a stunner. Well done, Mum!
Mornings, now, I woke up frightened by how happy I felt, as though fate wouldnt allow it.
Youre not alone, love. Theres two of us now, Peter said softly, admiring his son, swaddled in a bonneted blanket Mum had chosen for the occasion.
The day we brought Edward home was a nightmare. Despite Peters protests, Margaret ran the show. Photographers swarmed, friends and relatives cheered outside the hospital. The house was packed with guests and food.
Standing, aching and exhausted, I whispered, Mum, why the fuss?
Are you joking? she cried in honest shock. This is tradition! Its a celebration! Im over the moon!
I saw it was utterly pointless to argue and trudged upstairs, dreading the crush awaiting me. Not everyone had even made it to the hospital.
Darling, these are our closest people!
Catching Helens eyeshe winced in sympathyI nearly collapsed as the guests just kept coming.
Let me borrow the new mum and baby for a bit, Helen finally interjected, linking her arm through mine. We have important chat to attend to.
She nodded at Peter and led me upstairs to our bedroom.
Lie down. Ill sort you out, then you can have a shower. Hungry?
I nodded wearily as Peter settled Edward into his crib, though I fretted.
I ought to be downstairs.
Who says? Theyll cope. Youve already done your ten minutes.
Relieved, I lay down, watching Helen bustle about. Suddenly, all I wanted was deep, dreamless sleep. I curled up as she fussed.
Sleepy? Here, have a nap. Ill keep an eye on everything.
For Edward My voice trailed off as sleep took over. Edward, as it happens, was also the name of Peters grandfather.
Margaret, coming up soon after, was rather put out to find me napping rather than entertaining guests.
And what do you call this?
It means your daughter is a nursing mother and needs rest. Our boy is depending on her milk, Helen replied.
Oh, its fine! I never nursed Emily two days in my life and lookfit as a fiddle! Margaret threatened to barge in, but Helen cut her off.
Lets toast our new grandmotherhood in private, shall we? Weve waited so long! Tell meis it better to be called Granny or by our names?
Peter softly closed the bedroom door and thanked Mum silently. His relationship with Margaret was difficult. She was only too keen to take the privileges of a son-in-law but seldom the opinions. Easy-going as I was, I knew his patience with her was thin. With Dad, he got on at once, but with my motherwell, you can change your house, not your volcano.
I woke ninety minutes later in confusion, but Edwards wiggling and the laughter downstairs brought me back. After feeding him, I waited for Peter and finally took a much-needed shower. Sitting at the window, tucking into the delicious soup Helen had whipped up, I peppered her with questions about looking after babies.
I know the hospital showed me thingsbut its all so overwhelming. Im scared! I said, laying down my spoon.
Eat, and stop worrying! Children are much tougher than we think. And youre his mum. Just let go of your fearsitll come naturally. When I had Peter, there was no one to help or advise. I managed. Of course, there were mistakesbut who doesnt? Just remember, no one knows your child as you do. Trust yourself. I know it sounds tritebut trust me, its true. Just try.
Time proved Helen entirely right. I soon learned the ropes. While I never lost every fear, I definitely stressed less.
The first six months flew. Helen would come round a couple of times a week, inevitably ending up tidying or getting dinner started. At first her fussing bothered me, but she brushed my protests aside.
Emily, this time is so brief. Soon hell be running rings round you. Savour itenjoy every new smile and discovery. Im still fit enough to hoover and cook, so let me.
Mum began appearing less but made a spectacle of every visit.
Emily, just look at this pram I found! Marvellous, isnt it?
Mum, but our pram is lovely!
No! Its not even close! Pack his things, were off to test it in the park!
She refused to call Edward by his name for months.
Wherever did you find that? Couldnt you have picked something better? Edward! So plain!
Mum, its royal! Whats the problem?
He has to live with it! Thats my problem! The boys at a good private school will mock him!
Then well go to an ordinary school, Mum! Dont you think parents should choose their childs name?
No. Your gran named you. I would have picked something else.
Well, at least I got to choose my sons. No regrets here.
Mum would snort, scoop her grandson, and parade with him in the swanky pram as if he were her own. It thrilled her when strangers mistook Edward for her own child. In the village, though, people soon realised the truth and those walks stopped. Now she pops in for coffee, pecks her grandson on the head, and whizzes off again.
Ill be Granny-Fun! she insists, leaving another bright toy behind.
We all settled into our roles in the family, each in our place.
The celebration Margaret put on for Edwards half-birthday nearly started a family row.
Later, I smiled at my stirring son and reached for the box Mum had brought. A beautiful silver rattle made me gasp.
Edward, look how lovely!
He turned the sparkling toy in his hands, flashing his first tiny teeth.
And what did Granny Helen give you? I opened the package Helen had left earlier.
A white suit, hand-knitted by her, so soft and delicate that I pressed it to my cheek without thinking.
And socks! Look at these, my clever boy! Granny made them just for you!
Margaret entered then, exclaimed with delight, Goodness, how exquisite! Is it some designer piece?
No, Helen knitted it herself.
She tutted, turning the little cardigan over in her hands.
Couldnt she come up with anything better? Its his first milestone! A shop would have done grand. Honestly, such stinginessunbelievable!
Mum!
What? Am I wrong?
Embarrassed, I glanced at Helen, whod paused in the doorway and undoubtedly heard everything. She gave me a small nod, set down the compote shed brought, and slipped quietly out. Edward was getting cranky, and by the time Id calmed him, Helen had already left.
Peter, that was awful! Im so ashamed!
But you didnt say any of that. Why should you be?
I should have stopped her. Its not on!
Dont worryMums a wise woman, she took it the right way.
I planned on fixing things, but Helen herself smoothed everything over, declining to discuss it at length.
Emily, pleaselet it go. Im not in the slightest bit offended.
But it felt as though something had broken, however imperceptibly. I wanted desperately to fix it.
One day, alone with sleeping Edward, a sharp pain doubled me up. I rang Peter, but he was unreachable, probably in a meeting or site visit. My father would be in theatre at the hospital. I called Mum.
Hi, darling! Hows everything? Hows my boy? We havent caught up since the party, have we? Wasnt it a hit!
Mum
No need to thank me! Grannys job! Ohhang on, call waiting! And she hung up. Several tries later, the line remained busy.
The pain was excruciating. I rang for an ambulance, then Helen.
Emily?
Please The room spun, and I knew Id faint. Edward
Helen had never run so fast. Still in slippers, she grabbed her bag and dashed out into the street.
Do you value your life?! the taxi driver shouted, swerving to a halt.
Please, my daughters in trouble. Quick as you can!
Hop in!
She clung to her bag as the taxi sped through the streets.
Dont worry, thirty years driving, not one crash. Well make it.
The ambulance beat her by a minute, but she met them at the door.
Here, here! she waved, leading the paramedics in.
I came round minutes later.
Were taking you in, Miss.
Why, where?
Its necessary. Dont be scared. Ill look after Edward, Peters on his way.
The surgery went well. But Dad insisted I stay in hospital to recover.
This is no joke, love! Edward needs you healthy and strong!
Back home, I hugged my son tight and called my mother.
Mum?
Emily! How are you?
Not great. I need your help.
What can I do?
I need you to stay with us for a bit. I’m not allowed to lift and Edward will need caring for.
Of course! But, well, I wasnt expecting this. My holidays already booked; the flight’s in two days and the tickets non-refundable. Ive looked forward to this trip for ages!
I shut my eyes, cut the call, and resigned myself: Id have to manage alone. Tiredly, I lay down, longing for the pain to subside. The doctors said it should have by now, but the stitches still throbbed.
I woke to someone moving about.
Oh, didnt mean to wake you! Helen had Edward in her arms, smiling gently. Hungry? I made your favourite soup, theres jelly and fresh scones. Ill hand Edward to Peter and bring you a tray. If its all right with you, Ill stay a couple of weeks until youre back to your best.
At that, I burst into tears.
No, dont, my dear! said Helen, wiping my eyes. The doctor said positive emotions are key now! Lets focus on what matters. Look what we have to show you.
Helen set Edward on the floor and, seeing he was steady, softly let go of his hands. Instantly, my tears dried as I watched my baby toddle toward me. I scooped him up, looking gratefully at Helen.
Therenow those are happy emotions! Lets get you some food. Youll need all your strength soon, because before you know it that little boy will be running, not walking.
If theres one thing Ive learnt, its that family is made in actions, not showy gifts or grand parties. The simplest thingsa pair of hand-knitted socks, a helping hand when youre at your lowestmean the world. And at the end of it all, love is felt most in those quiet, steadfast moments.
