I Came for a Visit, Missed You Terribly, but Grown-up Kids Might as Well Be Total Strangers
Parents are eternally fussing over their children. Yet sometimes, its the very children youve raised who leave you blinking in bewilderment, wondering if they were swapped out for strangers at some point. Lets take a peek at how English daughters turned out in today’s tale.
The Story of a Mother
Margaret raised three children. All grown up now and off leading their own splendidly independent lives. Her eldest, Tom, moved with his brood to Spain, for a job that pays in actual euros. Every summer, he sends snapshots of beaming faces by blue pools, and postcards of paella. Margaret guards each memento like family silver, flipping through them on rainy evenings.
We do miss you awfully, love. Perhaps you might manage a visit? Wed really love to meet the grandchildren and your lovely wife, she writes in her careful hand.
Her middle child, Emily, married a soldier. They shift houses like chess piecesup north, down south, wherever the Queens business calls. Theyve a little girl whos already picking up regional accents. Sometimes, they breeze in for a cuppa and a natter. Margarets husband, John, thinks highly of their son-in-law; Our Emily chose a good man, hell tell anyone wholl listen.
Then theres the youngest, Alice, whose domestic fortunes took a tumble. Once married and mum to a boy, now single after her husband did a runner. On Margarets advice, Alice packed up, braved London, landed a seamstress gig at a textile factory, and brought her son along for the ride.
Margaret decides its time to check in on Alice and the boy.
Think youll cope a week without me? she teases John. Im popping down to see Alice, just need to make sure shes not living exclusively off toast and worry.
John gallantly lugs Margarets weighty bags to the station. Second-class carriage, packed to the gills, but she hardly mindsher hearts set on seeing her youngest. It had, after all, been three years. Three actual, calendar-flipping years.
Mum, why didnt you ring first? Alice groans, answering her mobile at work. Im up to my elbows here. Cant get to the station till tea-time at least.
I just fancied surprising you! Margaret chirps, sheepish. Have you got somewhere I can wait?
I suppose so, sighs Alice. Margaret waits as long as patience allows, then flutters off to find the way herself.
At the flat, shes greeted by her grandsontall, stoic, the spit of John in his salad days.
Hello there, love! Granny tries for a hug, but the teenager untangles himself, embarrassed.
Youre late! Alice says, wiping her brow.
I had to clean up and lay the table for your arrival. I left work early to make beetroot soup and fry off the pork chops. Classic Alicetrying, always trying.
Just then, Margarets phone buzzes. John checks in. Margaret assures him shes alive and well, saved by an amiable cabbie, and in mid-dinner that Alice has heroically prepared.
At dinner, Alice slides Margaret a steaming bowl. Fancy one chop or two? Margarets so starved she could easily down three, but she keeps her British reserve: Just put them on the table, sweetheart. Well see who can eat what.
When the chop platter arrives (five in total), Margaret eyes it and wonders if this is as special as suppers get in Alices world. Money must be tight, she muses. She resolves to press a £50 note into Alices hand before she leaves, discreet as a church mouse. Midway through the meal, Alice, never one for subtlety, asks, So when are you heading back, Mum? Well, that stings. Margaret, wounded, snaps she can leave tomorrow if shes in the way.
Next day, Margaret finds herself rattling round the flatalone. By evening, everyones locked away in bedrooms, peering into phones or laptops. Then her grandson pops round to the neighbours, and Alice vanishes with friends. Margaret, whos barely sat down, realises she is literally surplus to requirements.
Bored stiff and mighty offended, she starts packing her bags. Thats when she overhears her grandson ask, Mum, whens Uncle Tom arriving? He promised wed go see Chelsea play.
When Grandma leaves, Alice replies, utterly matter-of-fact.
Well. Thats enough of that. Margaret whisks up her suitcase and leaves without as much as a goodbye. Shes met at the station by John, whose face has never looked cheerier. Turns out, all the love and sacrifices in the world dont guarantee your adult children will need you anymoreor even notice youre there. Still, shell do it all again. Thats what mothers do, isnt it?
