I still recall those days as if they were a faded tapestry hanging in the attic of my mind. It was after the birth of our little Maud, and the hospital in London had finally released Victoria and her baby into our modest cottage in Oxfordshire. Christopher, my husband, came to meet us with his parents and his motherinlaw, and we all gathered around the kitchen table for a brief welcome. The guests left within an hour, leaving the two of us and our newborn alone.
True to his habit, Christopher flopped onto the sofa and turned the set on, while I set about cleaning the kitchen that had somehow turned into a battlefield during the four days I was away. When I finished, I fed Maud, and as soon as she drifted off I thought I might steal a nap in the nursery. The day was already too hectic to allow any rest.
Before I could close my eyes, a firm knocking rattled the door. Stepping out of the nursery, I saw a small party already gathered in the hallwayJean, Christophers older sister, her husband, and two of Jeans friends, whom I barely knew.
Brother, weve come to congratulate you! Jean boomed, laughing. I remember you as a tiny whelp, and now lookalready a father yourself! The rest clapped Christopher on the back, embraced him, and peppered him with kisses.
Jean, could you keep it down? Maud has just fallen asleep, I whispered.
Nonsense, a baby that young cant hear a thing! Come, set the tabletheres cake and some fizzy drinks, Jean declared, taking charge of the spread.
I laid out the remnants of the meal wed had with my parents. It looks rather scant, Jean remarked with a sigh.
My apologies, I replied, we werent expecting guests. Id just come from the hospital, and Christopher has been holding the fort in my absence.
The girls, dont argue! Ive ordered three kinds of pizza, so no one will go hungry, Christopher announced, trying to smooth over the awkwardness.
The visitors lingered until about nine oclock, when I finally told them I needed to bathe Maud and put her to bed. As they departed, Christopher muttered under his breath,
Victoria, you could have been a bit more courteous. They came to celebrate us, yet you spent the whole time attending to the baby and even shooed most of them away at the end.
What could I have done? I snapped back. It was my first day out of the maternity ward. If they wanted to bring a present, even a cheap rattle would have sufficed.
He sighed, From today on, the child is the priority in this house. Maud needs a routine, and for the next three months I ask you not to invite any more guests.
If I want to see my friends, Ill have to do it elsewhere, I replied firmly.
A month passed. Christopher was at work, and I kept Maud at home. She was a tranquil little thing, and I managed the household chores, though I gave up the ambition to prepare elaborate meals. Simpler fare was enough, and Christopher never complained.
Life settled into a steady rhythm until a problem emerged from my motherinlaws side of the family. Lydia Anderson, Christophers mother, decided that the solution lay with her own mother, Catherine, an eightyyearold widow living in a remote village about a hundred miles from York.
Grandma Kate lived in a modest thatched cottage, water drawn from a well, firewood stored in the barn, and the garden stretching across a tenacre plot she tended herself. Her soninlaw and grandchildren only helped with planting and digging potatoes, which they ate throughout winter.
That winter, Granny Kate fell ill with a bad cough and could no longer work the garden. Lydia insisted that Victoria and Maud be sent to the village for the summer to lend a hand.
At first I thought you were joking, I told her, you cant just whisk a newborn away to a place without proper facilities.
Youre not expected to carry the water yourself, Lydia replied. Theres a cart that can hold two fortygallon barrels. You could load it and bring it to the well. Its a simple task, and you could also tend the garden a bit.
Ill buy the vegetables from the market in Leeds, thank you, I shot back. Let Jean go; she doesnt work either.
She has two children, Lydia countered.
And what about me? Do you think I have none?
Jeans children were five and three years old, needing constant care. And Maud? Lydia pressed. She can be fed, placed in her pram, and left while you run your errands.
I have to take Maud to the doctor every month for checkups and vaccinations, I reminded her.
You could just avoid the clinic, Lydia said dismissively. The childs healthy enough; extra visits only increase the chance of catching something.
In the end, Lydia ordered me to go. No one else is needed. My mother raised all three of my children; I never stayed long on maternity leave.
She added that Grandmother Kate deserved the help, but she owed nothing to anyone else.
On a Friday morning, Christopher reminded me, Did you pack your things? Were heading to the village tomorrow.
No, I replied sharply. Ive already told your mother Im not going. And certainly not with Maud. If she falls ill, what am I to do? Walk a hundred miles back to the city? The village you speak of doesnt even have a bus service, let alone a shop. The nearest store is in the adjoining hamlet.
Then you expect me to jog two miles with a baby just to buy bread? I laughed bitterly. I dont know whether you need Maud or not any more.
When your mother suggested I should be lugging fortygallon barrels, you stayed silent. How could I lift a barrel when I weigh only fiftyseven kilograms?
Just dont fill the barrels to the brim, Christopher suggested, trying to end the dispute. If Mum said you must go, then youll go. No one else. Father will arrive by ten tomorrow and take you both. Pack today, then.
I called my own parents before I started packing. My mother, a former paediatric nurse, was aghast. You cant leave a child under one year unattended. Threemonthold babies need constant monitoring; a year later, you still need specialist visits! she exclaimed.
My father, ever the quiet type, simply helped load the car.
We drove to my parents house, where Maud slept soundly. When Christopher returned from work and found the house empty, he immediately guessed where wed gone. He rang my phone several times that evening, but I let it go to voicemail.
Later he came by himself, his face a mixture of confusion and frustration.
Did they send you to the mines? he asked, halfjoking. To the countryside for fresh air? Youve caused a whole mess over a foolish notion.
Yes, I created the problem myself, I replied, but it began two years ago, the day we married. I was taken by your tall, broadshouldered, kind demeanor, never seeing the boy behind the charming façadeyour mothers obedient son.
He pressed, And you wont ever come home?
I wont, I said quietly. Home is where you feel safe, loved, protected. You never became that protector for me. Live with your mother if thats what you want.
Six months later we finally separated. The memory of that summer, of the well, the empty cart, and the stubborn pride that kept us apart still lingers, a reminder of how family, duty, and stubbornness can twist the simplest of lives.
