The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions
“Yes, I know youre not obliged! But hes your own flesh and blood! Would you really leave the boy without warm clothes in winter? Alex, is this what I raised you to be?” his mother pressed.
The phone lay on the table. After a few family rows, Alex had learned his lesson: when his mum called, it was best to put her on speaker and let Lydia hear everything. Otherwise, shed pick them off one by one.
“Lydia, were not refusing to help,” Emily countered. “But if youre struggling with Oliver, let us take him. Weve spoken to Annashe doesnt mind.”
Lydia went quiet for a moment, weighing her options: shed the burden or keep her grip on her daughter. The latter won.
“Youve no idea what youre asking for! What youre meddling in!” Lydia scoffed. “Youve never raised a child, not even a kitten. Youre both at work all daywholl look after him? Think kids grow like weeds? They need care, attention, love!”
“I understand that,” Emily said calmly. “But if it comes to it, wed manage. Id quit. Consider it maternity leave instead of Annas.”
“Oh, and how will you live, then? Rolling in it, are you?”
“You always said my wages were peanuts. Wed manage without those peanuts.”
Lydia fell silent. Alex exhaled wearilyEmily was still new to the family, but he was sick of the pressure.
“Fine. Giving me ultimatums now,” Lydia finally hissed. “Go on, then. Youre young, foolishyouve no clue what youre getting into. Im the one trying to help, taking the weight off you. But keep digging your heels in. Just knowwhile youre playing heroes, that boys freezing and ill because of you.”
With that, she hung up. Emily sat beside Alex, squeezing his shoulder, and thought back to how it all began.
…At first, Lydia had seemed kind, welcoming, if a bit headstrong. Shed greeted Emily with open arms long before she was her daughter-in-law. Her tables groaned under feasts, and shed send them off with bags full of groceries.
She weaved herself into Emilys life fastcalling daily, checking if Alex was treating her right, inviting her over. Once, she even pulled strings to get Emilys mum into a private hospital. Emily had been grateful.
But shed noticed things too. Miss a call or cut a chat short, and Lydia became someone else. Weeks of cold silence, clipped tones, waiting for apologies.
“Too busy for me now, are we?” Lydia would sulk.
Emily laughed it off, but the “care” felt suffocating.
Lydia had a daughter, Anna, who left Emily uneasy. The girl rarely smiled, flinched at loud noises, and always retreated to her room. Emily put it down to her agesixteen, awkward around adults.
“Whats Anna into?” Emily had once asked before Christmas. “Im stuck on what to get her.”
“Nothing,” Lydia snapped. “Glued to her phone all day. Never happy, never grateful. Useless…”
Thats when Emily knewsomething was rotten. Her own mum would never speak of her that way.
Later, she saw how Lydia favoured her over Anna. Sweet to Emily, then screeching at Anna over unwashed dishes. Wrong friends, wrong clothes, wrong music. And that was just the surface.
No surprise Anna married at eighteenless for love, more to escape.
“That stupid girl!” Lydia had raged. “Tied herself to that runt. Thinks happiness is out there? Hell dump her in a month!”
With Anna gone, Lydia turned full force on Emily and Alex. Advice, surprise visits, demands for grandchildren. The works.
“Emily, why not leave that shop? They pay pennies,” Lydia once said. “I could get you something better.”
By then, Emily knew: say yes, and shed owe Lydia forever.
“No thanks, I like my job. The girls are lovely.”
Lydia stiffened, lips pursed.
“Suit yourself. Just trying to help you up. But if youre happy scraping byfine.”
About Anna, Lydia was half-right. The marriage lasted eighteen months, not one. Long enough for a baby.
Anna and Emily werent close, but one day, Anna cracked. She asked for advice, then broke down.
“Hes never home,” Anna sobbed. “Says hes at mates, but Im not daft. Hes raised his hand at me too.”
“Anna, you need to leave.”
“And go where? Back to Mum? No thanks. Ill take my chances here.”
That said it all. Anna would endure anything rather than return.
Soon, her husband left her anyway”not ready for family life.” Meaning: hed found someone else.
But the baby stayed. Anna moved back in with Lydia, and the nightmare resumed. Lydia called her worthless, a failure, doomed to poverty. Still, she cared for Oliver while Anna worked.
Then Anna snapped. One day, she packed up and fled, leaving Oliver behind.
“Id take him, but where?” she admitted to Emily later. “Im crashing at a mates. I need to sort myself out first. Get therapy. Mum used to wind me up so badId never hurt Oliver, but when he cries, and Im already…”
While Anna healed, Lydia turned to Alex and Emily. Demanded they help with Oliverher health was failing, money tight.
Emily watched and knew: Oliver couldnt stay. Anna was still broken by Lydias “love.” Alex never spoke of it, but he bent too easily.
Yet he suggested taking Oliver in. He just couldnt tell Lydia. Too scared, or too sure it was pointless. Emily, though, believed they could do it.
“Anna, do you want Oliver going through what you did? Youre his mum. Take him from Lydiabring him to us. Well look after him till youre back on your feet.”
“Easy for you to say. She wont just hand him over.”
“Write to social services. There must be a way.”
“Even they cant fix her. But youre rightI wont let her crush him too.”
So Anna plotted. She pretended to return home. Lydia, playing the martyr, took her in. Two weeks later, Anna took Oliver “for a walk” and brought him to Emily and Alex.
The fallout was nuclear. Lydia threatened, rallied relatives, neighbours, even the police. But she failed. Anna ended up in hospitalnervous breakdown. Everyone was shaken, but relieved: the worst was over.
Emily quit to care for Oliver. No regrets. Alex earned well; theyd already talked kids. If Anna reclaimed him, fine. If nottheyd gained a son.
…Five years on, Anna worked as a call handler, sharing a flat with a friend, finally at peace. No more shouting, no more control.
“Mum Emily, look what me and George built!” Oliver beamed, pointing at a wobbly tower of blocks.
He lived with Anna now but spent weekends with Emily and Alex, convinced he had two mums. He adored his little cousin, George. Emily always bought toys for bothshe couldnt leave Oliver out, not after what theyd saved him from.
Theyd cut ties with Lydia. At first, shed sent venomous letters, then vanished. Rumor had it: her money dried up, her hangers-on fled.
Sometimes Emily pitied her, alone now. But watching Oliver and George play, she knewthered been no other way. Lydia wanted puppets, not a family. Now her “deserters” built their own happiness, leaving the past behind.
