Hedgehog
Not again! Helen read the message in the parents WhatsApp group for the nursery, then tossed her phone onto the sofa with a sigh, her lips pursed in frustration.
Whats up, Mum? Molly glanced up from her exercise book, her pen twirling absently between her nimble fingers.
Another competition! Im getting thoroughly fed up of all these. Who on earth comes up with them? And, to cap it off, everything has to be in the day after tomorrow. Tomorrow Im on the night shift. When do they expect us to find the time?
I could do it? Molly nudged her algebra book aside. My homeworks nearly done, apart from algebra, but Ill crib that off Sarah tomorrow, anyway. I didnt get a word of this question; maybe shell explain it.
Helen shook her head, her tone gentle but firm. No, love, you stick to your own work. Your grades are on the edge as it is, and tests are next week.
But what about Jamie will be upset again. Remember how he cried last time, when every child got a certificate except him? And hed done his all by himself
Which is precisely why his went unnoticed! Helens voice grew sharp, brow furrowed with annoyance. As if all the rest have Tracey Emins and Henry Moores at home. And if you ask me, these competitions are done by the parents, not the children. No way a five-year-old knocks out what I saw last time. But, dyou know, thats not even what annoys me most.
What then?
The way the teachers all insistedwith a straight facethat these masterpieces were the kids own. You shouldve seen them! Most grownups would have trouble doing half as much
Molly folded up her revision notes, a glint in her eye. Mum, why does everyone just put up with it? Doesnt anyone ever say enoughs enough? Like when I was in Year 1, and one of the mums just stood up and said what everyone was thinkingeither let the children do it themselves, or bin these projects.
When your Ms. Thompson disowned your class? Helen snorted with a fond smile at the memory.
Molly laughed, a sound bright as sunlight. She practically did! You should have seen everyones faces. Then Mrs. Brown took over and said from now on wed do everything ourselves, and only ourselves. She gave an earful to Claire when she brought in a knitted toy her mum had made. She just praised it at first, then told everyone to bring yarn and a crochet hook for the next lesson, remember?
Oh, thats why I was running round the neighbours so late for a spare ball of wool? I remember all right!
Exactly! She sat Claire down and asked her to knit a circle. Of course she couldnt. Ended up with the only F in the class. Honestly, Mum, you didnt remember?
Its all so long ago, said Helen softly, suppressing a rueful smile.
Really, these competitions should give the certificates to the parents, not the kids. Would stop the little ones being so hurt. Dyou want a cup of tea? And Ill read Jamie his bedtime story?
Helen got up, breathing long and deep, letting her daughter wrap her in a hug. She kissed Mollys temple. Youve grown so tall, Moll! I cant just kiss the top of your head anymore. Youre just like your father
A shadow flickered in Mollys eyes as she gently slipped from her mothers arms. Dont, Mum. I dont want to talk about him.
And we wont. Put the kettle on, and Ill make a call. Youve given me an idea.
Helen drew her close once more before nudging her softly towards the kitchen.
Off you go!
Watching that straight back disappear down the hallway, Helen was struckas everby the strangeness of genetics. She herself was curvy, fair-skinned, her son Jamie taking after herblond and sturdy as an oak. Molly, though, was all slim lines and grace, the image of her fathers mother. Her mother-in-law had once been a ballet dancer. Not a star, just a swan at the back, but her posture was impeccable, her discipline formidable. And difficultgoodness, how she could argue. But Mollys nature was nothing like hers; Molly shone with a warmth that softened people, even when they took advantage of her kindness. She collected waifs and strays, and the house never seemed free of some lost animal she was nursing back to health.
Only one creature stayed on for gooda battered old tomcat, found one biting January, when even schools closed for the cold and Jamie was housebound with a cough. After seeing her mother off to her shift, Molly started making lunch, only to discover there wasnt a single onion left. The shop was just next door. She left strict instructions for Jamie to sit tight with cartoons and dashed out. On the way back, at their own doorstep, she slipped on the icy step and landed hard, right in the gaze of a pair of large golden eyes. The cat was massivejet black, with clumsy tufts, patches of baldness, and runny eyes. Its face was so full of resignation that Molly brushed away her tears and asked:
Its freezing, isnt it? Want to come inside?
The cat said nothing, just curled his frozen paws closer.
Too heavy to lift, she opened the door, Come on. Its warm inside, and weve got milk.
He stared up at her, hope long since gone from his gaze. She was so moved, she knelt on the cold step. Dont be scared. Please Come with me. I need you too.
The cat listened in silence, then pressed his enormous head into her hand and got to his feet.
Thats it! Molly grinned, excited, ignoring her aching back. Jamies noisy, but hes kindwont hurt you.
Helen simply shook her head at the sight of the sorry thing when she got home the next day.
I doubt hell last long, Moll
But at least, Mum, hell be warm?
Helen had no more fight in her. She went to work by habit, kept the house running, tried to care for the children, but it felt as though she moved through treaclesticky, slow, pointless. Everything except Molly and Jamie, who kept her afloat.
Her husband hadnt left immediately; he hung about for over a year, torn between two families. Not that Helen welcomed himshed given up on that long agobut he insisted he was staying for the children.
You dont much want me, thats obvious. But the kids still love me.
They lived apart, though the flat was big enough. Molly understood more than she let on, never questioning when Helen moved in beside her. Helen knew he already had a new son, younger than Jamie. Shed seen his new partneryet another blonde, parading a fair, stylish little boy. She couldnt compete if shed wanted to. Feeling lost, Helen once walked home through the park instead of getting the bus. It was a mild, dry autumn. For the first time in months, she breathed in the cold, kicked the golden leaves, tried to dwell on something other than what shed do with her life now. Half an hours stroll soothed her more than all her sleeping tablets. She even laughed as she watched a cheeky squirrel taunt a baffled dog on a lead, its owner a tall, distinguished-looking man.
So her husband would look, one day, but with another woman at his side, not her. The future shed always dreamed ofweekends in the garden with grandchildren, sea trips, getaways to the hillsgone.
And then, she saw him, walking arm-in-arm down the path with his new family.
Life, Helen thought bitterly, sometimes writes its script so theres no dodging the ending. She just stood there, watching as her now-officially-ex played with the little boy. Then, eyes dry, she turned and left the park, finally resolute.
That same evening, Helen packed up his things. Without argument, without tears, she said softly, Its time for you to go.
He might have protested, but Molly came out and, voice steady as an echo, repeated, Go, Dad.
When the door closed, Helen sank down the hallway wall, exhausted.
Mum? Are you all right? Mollys face peered anxiously down.
Helen closed her eyes a moment. Then she whispered, Stick the kettle on, Moll. Id love a brew.
The childrens reactions differed. Jamie was still younghe didnt really miss his dad, whod rarely found time for him. For Molly, though, it was a real trauma. Quietly she bore it, so as not to distress her mother, but many nights she lay awake trying to find faces in the shifting shadows on her ceiling, until at last sleep claimed her.
She grew jumpier, short-tempered, often on the verge of tears. Helen took her to a counsellor, but it did little. It was only once their feline friendnow named Winston, courtesy of Jamiemoved in for good that things improved. He was still a rather alarming sight at times, turning up silently in rooms and making Helen jump.
What are you doing up? shed grouse, as he settled quietly nearby.
He never purred or fussed for attention, just kept her company with golden-eyed patience. Talking to him in whispersso as not to wake the kidsbecame a kind of therapy. She could voice her fears, her anger, her regrets over the loss of everything she called family. He never flinched, just listened.
When Molly grew calm again, Helen wondered if she, too, had found comfort in Winstons silent company. If youre thinking of rehoming him, Im against it, Helen announced, as if in passing.
In a year, Winston went from threadbare to plump and glossy, the archetypal housecat. When her friends asked about her love life, Helen laughed, Ive already met the perfect manpatient, listens to all my midnight rambling, dotes on the kids, eats little, and never leaves socks everywhere. What more could I ask?
Dating again wasnt on her mindshe felt broken, all hinges jammed, just getting by for the childrens sakes.
With Molly, nursery days were a blur of parties and new frocks. Jamies was differentnew staff, and the parents committee was brimming with endless energy. Helens ex, when she finally threw him out, declared shed only see child support after a court battle, and not to count on him for a penny more in the meantime. He knew her salary barely ran to feeding the children respectably. Hoping shed come crawling for help, he was mistaken. Helen took a second job, tiring but worth it, if it freed her from begging. The only cost: timethere was now even less of it, and Jamies little problems were harder to squeeze in.
At first, the crafts were manageablea paper hedgehog here, a cut-out card there. Molly helped, but Jamie insisted on doing his on his own. Yet each project, his would end up at the back of the shelf, ignored. Eventually, Helen was called out in front of all the parents and soundly scolded by the teacher, leaving her cheeks burning with shame. Only the outrage of other parents cut the lecture short. Back in her seat, Helen vowed not to ever attend another meeting.
Lets calm down, please! Mrs. Wainwright, the teacher, tried to soothe the indignant parents. Our children are our future! If we dont invest time and love now, itll be too late later. If you cant spare thirty minutes for your childs craft, what sort of parent are you? She went on about togetherness and bonding, but Helen tuned out, daydreaming of sitting at home, sipping tea with Winston beside her, listening as her children chattered obliviously. That, she decided, was time spent well.
When the meeting ended, Helen slipped out, ignoring the chairwomans calls.
Hel, Ill call you later!
Helen nodded, determined to mute the group chat forever.
The parents meeting was a week ago, and today a new competition message arrived. This time, Helen, unexpectedly, was furious. Enough! If this was a childrens competition, then let the children do itand if it was for parents, the same! A swift chat with three other mums and a dad had them agreeing: time for a little revolution.
The next weeks celebration was the perfect opportunity. Helen felt lighter than she had in months. If it didnt work, well, no matter; from today shed never let herself or her kids be dismissed again.
Jamies project, as ever, languished in the back corner of the display shelf. Helen walked over, shifted the ambitious parental efforts aside, and lifted Jamies handmade hedgehog to pride of place in the centre.
Helen, what are you doing? Mrs. Wainwright asked, bewildered. The exhibition is starting soon.
I want everyone to see Jamies projectwhich he made himself. Just straightening the label. Helen nudged the others aside, set Jamies hedgehog front and centre.
Mrs. Wainwright flushed but didnt dare move the hedgehog again. Jamies jaw dropped to see his own craft up there for all to see. He bloomed with pride when he overheard someone say how good it was.
The hall filled with parents and children, the usual flurry of costumes and last-minute hair bows. Eventually everyone assembled for the show, and Helen, catching a grin from Varvaras father, followed Jamie down to the ground floor.
The concert was delightful; Jamie recited his poem perfectly and danced a waltz with his friend Ava. Helen noticed his fine sense of rhythmperhaps dance classes could be worth a try. But Mrs. Wainwright soon called the meeting to order and began the prize giving. The little ones whod had adult help at home, as always, swept the top spots. Jamie and his cohort, whod worked unaided, got nothing.
And now Mrs. Wainwright wrapped up, but Helen rose.
Now, if the parents committee dont mind, weve a few words. Some parents smiled knowingly. Helen walked to the stage, taking from Sarahs mum a stack of certificates, and from Lizzies mum a box of lollies.
First, thank you to our teachers for organising everything and always pushing uschildren and grown-upsforward! she announced. Three cheers, everyone!
The room responded, better each time. Then Helen added, But wed also like to recognise those boys and girls who worked just as hard and didnt get a prize. If you hear your name, come up!
She read off the names, handing out certificates and a sweet to each delighted child. Laughter replaced sulking, and the mood brightened.
And finally Helen continued. Now, we want to give a certificate to those parents with the most impressive work!
The parents with the golden hands were called up, puzzled but grinning, and handed a certificate and a lollipop.
Sarahs mum whispered, Helen, what on earth
Shh! You werent the only winner, Helen winked, and more sweets were handed out.
Later she heard that the double display caused a storm of debate among the staff. While theyd been watching the concert, another shelf had appeared, covered solely in childrens unassisted work, with a big sign, hand-written by Molly: I did it myself!
At home, Helen helped Jamie with his shoes and they hurried out, eager to share the story with Molly.
Mum?
Yes, sweetheart? Helen glanced at Jamie clutching his new certificate.
If I got a certificate, does that mean my craft was good?
Of course! You heard what they said, didnt you? It was the bestbecause you did it yourself. Not even Molly helped this time.
But my hedgehogs a bit wonky
Well, thats what makes him yours.
Jamie fell quiet, pacing out Helens stride, then looked up again.
Mum, are you proud of me?
Helen stopped, letting Jamie skid forward, then caught his hand and kneeled to face him.
Im very proud. Proud you did it yourself, that you didnt whine and beg for help. Proud you see how busy I am, and that you help me. I know it was you who did the washing up last night, not Molly. Thank you for that. Im proud youre growing up to be a proper man!
Whats a proper man? Jamie asked, puzzled.
Helen smiled, considering. I thinkits someone who tries to solve his own problems, but is always thankful for help. Someone who knows all jobs are for everyoneif someone needs a hand, you help, like you did while Molly worked. She got her chemistry test done brilliantly because of you. In life, its all about timeusing it well.
How?
Ill tell you another day. Dyou know what I think? Helen stood, taking his hand.
What?
Weve all earned a little treat, dont you think?
Definitely!
So, cake?
Yes, please!
Later, with mugs of her favourite thyme tea, Helen watched her two children laugh in the kitchen, Winston curled contentedly nearby. How simple it was to make these small people happyjust by letting them know how important and valued they were.
Shed mute the nursery group chat, ask Lizzies mum for proper updates, and theyd swap secret grins at all the confused faces from that days prize-giving.
In two years, Jamie would enrol at cadet college, his wonky hedgehog still sitting on the kitchen shelf next to a fancy teapot Molly would bring Helen from university in London.
And, when the house was quiet bar Winston, Helen would be at a loss at first. But life had other plans and shed meet someone newPeter Alexander, a portly, kind-hearted man, utterly unlike her first husband. With him, shed find all the peaceful late-blooming love shed dreamt of: family barbecues with her beloved roses and getaways by the sea. Most importantly, Peter would cherish her children as his ownteaching Helen, finally, that love comes in all shapes and ages. When Molly returned on holidays, shed watch her mother and Peter stride hand-in-hand through the park, like youngsters again, kicking up autumn leaves and feeding the squirrels, then home for a pot of strong, fragrant tea, sharing quiet moments where words werent needed at all. Because sometimes, the heart is heard best in silence.
