Your mum thinks Emmas a bit fragile, Tom finally mutters. She needs more help because she doesnt have a husband. And I suppose everythings steady with us, isnt it
Steady? Vera whips round. Tom, Ive put on fifteen kilos since the baby. My backs killing me and my knees sound like Rice Krispies. The doctor said if I dont get healthier, I wont be able to lift Oliver this time next year. I need to go to the gym, twice a week for an hour and a half. But youre always at work, your shifts are all over the place. Who am I meant to ask to watch Oliver? Your mum isnt interested in her grandsonshes got her granddaughter!
Tom has nothing to say.
Shes rightwho, then?
Vera rests her forehead on the cold windowpane, watching as her mother-in-laws old Vauxhall Corsa crawls out of the driveway.
The little red tail lights blink one last time, then disappear round the corner.
The kitchen clock reads exactly seven oclock.
Judith Bennett has spent precisely forty-five minutes with them.
In the lounge, Tom tries to entertain their one-year-old son.
Little Oliver is turning the wheels on his plastic dump truck, glancing occasionally towards the door thats just shut behind his grandma.
Shes gone? Tom pokes his head into the kitchen, rubbing the stiff muscles in his neck.
Shes flown, corrects Vera, not bothering to look up. Said Oliver was fussing from tiredness and she didnt want to knock his routine.
He did squeak a couple of times when she picked him up, Tom tries to smile, but it looks pained.
He squeaked because he barely recognises her. We havent seen her for three weeks, Tom. Three!
Vera turns abruptly from the window and starts stacking dirty mugs in the sink.
Oh, dont start, Vera Tom makes a move to hug her, but she sidesteps, reaching for the washing-up liquid. Mums justshes used to Lydia now. Shes four, shes easy.
Its not that shes easy, Tom. Shes more interesting to your mum, thats all.
Lydia is Emmas daughter. And Emma, of course, is her favourite child.
And the rest of uswell, we dont matter at all.
Last Fridayalmost identical situation.
Judith popped in just for a minute, dropped off a cheap, rattly toy for Oliver, then started eyeing the door.
Tom barely got out that he was working onsite Saturday. Would his mum mind watching Oliver for an hour or two, so Vera could nip to Boots and Tesco?
Oh, Tom, I simply cant! Judith gasped, hands fluttering. Lydia and I have tickets for the puppet theatre, then Emma wants her for the whole weekend. Poor girl works so hardshe needs some time to herself.
Toms sister Emma raises Lydia alone, though alone is a stretch. While Emma finds herself and cycles through boyfriends, Lydia spends weeks at Grannys place.
Judith collects her from nursery, takes her to ballet, splurges on expensive coats and knows all the dolls by name.
Did you see her status? says Vera, nodding at the phone lying on the table. Look what your mum posted.
Tom reluctantly picks up the phone, scrolling through the gallery.
Photos flash by: Lydia with an ice-cream, Lydia on the swings, Judith and Lydia making Play-Doh models together on Saturday night.
Caption: My everything, my joy.
She spent the whole weekend with them, Vera bites her lip so she doesnt cry. Ours? Ten-minute pit stopyet over there, its some picture-perfect fairytale.
Tom, Olivers only one. Hes her grandson. Your son. Why doesn’t she care for him?
Tom is silenttheres nothing to say.
He remembers, quite suddenly, how his mother called him in the middle of the night last month because her tap was leaking everywhere, and off he dashed across town to fix it.
How he paid off her payday loan when she bought Emma a new phone for her birthday.
How every weekend in May he slaved away on her allotment while his sister and her little girl sunned themselves on the patio.
Lets ask Mum once more, Tom suggests limply. Ill talk to her. Ill explainits medically necessary, not just a whim.
Vera says nothing. She knows it wont change a thing.
***
The conversation happens on Tuesday evening.
Tom switches his phone to speaker so Vera hears everything herself.
Mum, hilook, thing isVeras been told by her doctor that she needs to go to the gym because of her back.
Oh Tom, whats wrong with a few exercises at home? Judiths voice is chipper, Lydias laughter in the background. Stop eating so many pastries, thatll help your back!
Mum, thats beside the point. The doctors prescribed training sessions and massage. Could you watch Oliver Tuesday and Thursday, 6 to 8 pm? Ill come to get you and bring you home.
Silence.
Tom, you know my routine. I fetch Lydia from nursery at five, then its after-school clubs, then we walk in the park. Emma works late, she depends on me. I cant just drop my granddaughter because Vera wants to prance about on the treadmill!
Mum, Olivers your grandson too. He deserves your attention. You see him once a month!
Dont start all this. Lydias a girlshe needs me, she loves me. Olivers just a baby, he doesnt understand yet. When hes older, well bond. Right now Im busy, were just about to do some painting. Bye!
Tom slowly places the phone on the table.
Did you hear that? My son must qualify for her attention? Wait till hes senior enough before shell so much as blink?
Tom, I knew shed say this
I knew the day we left hospital. Vera flies into angry tears. Your mum was two hours late to collect us because she just had to buy Lydia new tights!
Tom, I dont care if she thinks Im lazy or overweight. I care about Oliver. Hell grow up and ask, Mum, why is Granny Judith always with Lydia and never with me? And what can I say? Your Aunt is the golden child, and your dad is just a cheque book and unpaid builder?
Tom paces the kitchen for a good ten minutes, then he stops abruptly.
Right. Remember the kitchen redo we were planning for Mums birthday?
Vera nods.
Theyve spent half a year saving for a surprisenew cabinets, a builder lined up, even a discount agreed. Enough money to pay for Veras annual gym membership at a top centre, trainer included.
No more kitchen, then. Toms voice is firm. Ill cancel the order tomorrow.
Youre serious? Vera looks astonished.
Completely. If my mums got enough time and energy just for one granddaughter, she can sort her own problems. Or let Emma do itshe can fix her pipes, haul her potatoes, pay her debts. Well hire you a nanny for the gym slots.
***
Next morning, Judith Bennett rings herself.
Tom, love, I was just thinkingyou said youd stop by this week to look at my oven extractor? Its packing up, smoke everywhere. And Lydias missing you, keeps asking, Wheres Uncle Tom?
Tom, at his office desk, closes his eyes.
In the past, hed have leapt up, checked B&Qs closing time, plotted a dash home.
But now
I cant come, Mum, he says calmly.
What do you mean, you cant come? Judiths voice instantly goes sharp. But what about my extractor? Ill choke to death!
Ask Emma. Or her new boyfriend. Ive got a lot on nowwere focusing on Veras health, so my spare times all set aside for our family. Ill be with Oliver.
Because of that nonsense? his mother scoffs. Youd blank your mother because your wife throws a strop?
Im not blanking anyone. Just setting priorities, like you do, Mum. Yours are Lydia and Emma. Mine are Vera and Oliver. Seems fair enough.
You cheeky devil! Her outrage nearly bursts the speaker. After all Ive done! I raised you, made a man out of you! And now this?
Oh really, Mum? Helping Emma with my money? Letting her take breaks while I worked your allotment? By the way, the kitchen makeover we were planningIve called it off. Were spending on a nannysince Olivers own grandma is too busy for him.
Three seconds later, his mothers voice explodes through the line:
How dare you! Im your mother! I gave my life for you! That wife of yours has brainwashed you! Lydias practically an orphanshe needs love! And your Oliver, he wants for nothing! Why should I love him? My heart belongs to Lydia, shes my darling!
Ungrateful! Dont you dare call me againor darken my doorway!
Tom hangs up quietly.
His hands shake a little, but for once his chest feels light. He knows that row is just the start. His mother will ring Emma, and shell start firing off furious texts, calling them selfish and cold-hearted. Therell be tears, curses, attempts at guilt-tripping.
And so there are.
That evening, Veras waiting on the doorstep, already fully briefed from a five-minute voice note in which poisonous viper was the mildest insult.
Are you sure were doing the right thing? she whispers after theyve settled Oliver and sat down to dinner. She is still your mum.
A mother should love all her children and grandchildren, Vera. Not just pick favourites and use the rest. I pretended not to notice for yearsjust her way, I told myself. But the minute she said she didnt care about your health or Oliver because she was busy with Lydia
No. Enough.
**
The row drags on for weeks.
With no more handouts, both Emma and their mother bombard Tom and Vera with callspleading, insulting, demanding, even guilt-tripping them as son and brother.
The couple stands firm, ignoring calls and texts.
Then, two weeks later, Emma shows up at their door.
Shes shouting before its open, calling Tom a spineless, ungrateful idiot, demanding he pays their mothers bills and coughs up for groceries and medicines.
Tom quietly closes the door in her face. Hes done being the dutiful son. Enough is enough.
