Ive already taken mine, Emma said, her voice wavering.
No, dear, Margaret snapped. You gave birth for yourselves, so look after Andrew yourself. Im not in a condition to fuss with children any more.
Mrs. Hughes, what do you mean fuss? Emma protested, flustered. Hes not even three yet, a bright, calm little boy. Im only asking you to pick him up, feed him, turn on the telly then hell just wait for us. It wont be forever; eventually hell walk on his own.
Three, seven whats the difference? A child is a child. Thats a massive responsibility! And my back, my blood pressure No, Ive already taken mine.
Emmas cheeks flushed with anger and hurt. She didnt even answer; she simply hung up.
If it had been anyone else, she might have accepted the refusal. But Margarets case was special her health failed her in the most selective ways.
All summer Margaret spent at her country cottage. It seemed to have a healing effect; in the garden her blood pressure and back pain vanished. Moreover, she managed to start a modest family business.
Listen, Emma, youll still be buying potatoes for the winter, right? Why not let me sell you mine? Margaret suggested, the picture of pragmatism. At a discount, of course just to recoup my costs. It helps you and helps me. A winwin.
The potato deal was only the beginning. Margaret also hawked apples, cherries and even eggplants. No one in the family liked eggplants, but both Emma and her husband James wanted to help the ailing, supposedly old lady.
Margarets recuperation wasnt limited to the cottage; she also dreamed of a seaside break. A year earlier shed asked for a holiday voucher to Brighton for her birthday.
I know Brighton is pricey, especially with a baby on the way, James said generously. But there are other options. I could pop over modestly. I havent taken a proper vacation in over twenty years I was too busy raising you.
They tightened their belts to please Margaret: symbolic NewYear gifts, a handmedown nightgown, a postponed visit to Emmas parents in another town mostly at Jamess urging.
At last Margarets wish came true: a week on the Brighton beach, sun and sand, and not once did her blood pressure bother her.
The relief didnt end there. James sent her a third of his monthly salary, plus occasional groceries and cash when needed.
Trouble, love, Margaret sighed one day. Looks like weve got bedbugs. Ill need an exterminator, maybe a new sofa. James, will you help? Dont leave me alone. If your father were still around wed manage, but now its just me paying the tradesman, buying a sofa, hauling the old one out I cant imagine the cost.
James did what he could, but Margaret didnt rush to repay him.
Margarets assistance always came with a price tag. Shed look after Andrew, but by evening shed hand over a bill for a park bun and a toy shed bought a toy so expensive the Thompsons could never have afforded it on their own. Their cash was already stretched thin, largely thanks to Margaret.
I couldnt say no, she sighed. He begged for that monster and even cried. I fed him, and I couldnt leave him hungry. Im on a single pension, after all. Its still cheaper than a nanny.
Logically it made sense, yet Emma felt more like a client than a daughterinlaw.
They wouldnt have bothered Margaret otherwise, but circumstances forced it. A few years earlier Emma and James bought a flat in a promising new estate, as the developer promised.
Its an outerring suburb now, James boasted. In a couple of years therell be nurseries and schools. Its all in the master plan.
Instead of a school, there was still a grassy pit. They had to look elsewhere.
The nearest primary was a thirtyminute bus ride with two changes a daunting, even unsafe, trek for a sixyearold. Yet the walk from the school to Margarets cottage was a breezy fiveminute stroll.
Naturally Emma turned to Margaret the very lady theyd been helping. She thought it sensible, reasonable, convenient. Margaret, however, declined, delivering a painful surprise that hit Emma like a punch in the gut.
What options remained? No closer school. Moving was impossible. Their parents lived too far. Quitting work? They were already scraping by.
All routes led to dead ends, until a flash of helpless resentment reminded Emma of Margarets words: Its still cheaper than a nanny. A nanny
Your mum refused to help us, Emma told James one evening. But Ive found a solution. Well cut the allowance we send her and redirect that money to a nanny.
James raised an eyebrow, then scowled. He was adamant.
You cant! I must help her she raised me. Shes alone, her years are behind her, she lives on one pension. She cant manage everything herself!
James, remember she isnt starving. She gets produce from her garden and even sells vegetables. Sometimes we take more than we need.
How much does she actually earn? Pennies! If private buyers were interested shed get far more!
Emma sighed heavily. There might have been a grain of truth, but it solved nothing.
What are you suggesting? We cant afford a nanny, and I cant quit my job. Were not asking for money, just a manageable bit of help Your mother a grown, very shrewd woman will manage. And your son? Hes already been told to look after himself. Lets follow that advice.
A long, strained discussion ensued. James spoke of duty; Emma spoke of guilt and manipulation from his mother. It was a clash of blind filial love against stark financial reality. The latter won.
James mustered the courage to tell his mother about the upcoming budget changes. Margaret reacted badly, accusing Emma of every imaginable sin, shrieking that her daughterinlaw was stealing the last crumbs from her son. Yet James stood his ground, defending Andrews interests.
Mom, you left us no choice, he said finally.
Meanwhile Emma wasnt idle. In the parents group chat she met Anna, the mum of Andrews classmate. Anna lived near the school, was on maternity leave with a second child, and happily agreed to pick up both boys after school, cook them a simple meal and look after them for a modest fee.
A month later Anna was punctual and reliable. Every afternoon Emma collected a fed and cheerful Andrew. He got along with his friend, they played and watched cartoons together. The family budget even evened out a bit: as it turned out, Margarets services cost far more than the nanny.
Admittedly, Margaret started off sulky, trying to tug at Emmas heartstrings, but she never got the reaction she wanted and eventually calmed down. Her interest in the grandson also waned.
Time settled everything. Perhaps Emma and James once let themselves be squeezed, but they did it out of love. In the end they found the strength to say no and channel their resources where they truly mattered the safety and happiness of their own child. After all, theyd had the baby for themselves, and there was no one left to look after Andrew but them.
