Love without borders
Ian? Tess Whitmore stared at the man next door, eyebrows raised. Youre home? I thought you were in London. Laura said youd be away for two weeks.
Just a cold, Ian Spencer muttered, slamming the door and turning to her.
Something serious? she asked, voice soft.
Nothing! he snapped, his face flushing. Cough a couple of times and they act like its a plague. Stay away, youll infect the baby! they shouted. So I came back. Laura had to foot the bill herself. She fled that night.
How long do you plan to live like this? Tess said, a hint of sarcasm in her tone. Isnt it tiring?
What do you mean? Ian frowned.
He never liked anyone prying about his family, but something broke inside him.
Rotational work!
Well, you see, Tess, Ian winced, what does that have to do with us? We dont commute for a job. This is a sort of joy for us.
Joy? she shot back. Lately you both act like youre drowning. Youre happy, but when will you stop playing the fool? Nobody will ever appreciate it!
***
Blythe Spencer, after finishing university, spent a year hunting for a job in her field. Every offer fell apart: too far away, too little pay, or simply unappealing. Her parents, Ian and Laura, kept reassuring her, insisting shed find the perfect role. Yet the dream job remained just that a dream.
At last Blythe decided to move to London. A fellow student had landed a post there and invited her to go together, saying there were more openings and it would be less frightening with a companion. Her parents frowned. They argued she could find something decent at homejust wait a bit longer. Besides, Blythe had never lived alone; she imagined the cost of a flat would be ruinous. Whose burden will that be? they asked. And for how long?
No amount of pleading, no promise to call every day, could stop her. She promised to visit often and set off for London.
She found work fairly quickly and was placed in a dormitoryno flat to rent. The idea of a dorm had never even crossed her mind.
At first Blythe came back home often, missing her family. Over time the visits became rarer, reduced to occasional phone calls. Then she fell in love.
Her romance with Londoner Charlie blossomed fast, and soon talk of marriage entered the conversation. Blythes parents were over the moon when she whispered that she was expecting a baby.
***
After the wedding, the young couple rented a flat. Charlie refused to live with his parents, which bruised them, but they kept silent. Go on, make your own way, they said. Just dont count on us.
Charlie smiled.
Im not counting on anyone!
Why? Blythe whispered to him later, alone. Those are your parents. What if something goes wrong?
Dont worry! Charlie wrapped his arms around her. Everything will be fine.
And indeed it seemed to be. The couple earned well, the pregnancy progressed smoothly, and Blythe went on maternity leave, delivering a healthy little girl. Their grandparents were thrilled, dropping by every week. Blythes own parents visited when they could; her father was a year from retirement, her mother still had five years to go.
Everything was perfectuntil Charlie lost his job. Not exactly lost; he quit, convinced a better offer awaited. The offer vanished at the last minute, given to someone else. The blow sent Charlie spiralling. He withdrew, began drinking, grew irritable, angry at the world. Soon he sank into a deep depression that required a stint in a clinic.
Blythe was torn between husband and child. Charlies demands for attention often eclipsed those of their twoyearold daughter, Violet. The motherinlaw made matters worse.
Youve abandoned my son, she snarled, refusing to see that she was living off their pension. Stop sitting at home! Hes two! Go work! Or will you live off us forever?
On whose neck? Blythe retorted, bewildered. Im on maternity leave.
Then stop loafing around! the motherinlaw shrieked. Work! Stop being a burden!
Blythe felt the sting of those words, but kept her silence. She finally confided in her own parents. Ian and Laura listened and suggested a nursery, just in case.
First, youll need time, her mother warned. And if your motherinlaw has already raised this issue, she wont back down.
But Violet is so little! Blythe sobbed. Which nursery?
We sent our own child to a crèche after a year and a half, Laura said, smiling. Look at her now!
Mum! Blythes eyes welled. So thats why you never sent me? And now you blame me for my own childs trauma?
Look, dear, Ian interjected, well help however we can.
Laura, hearing this, shrugged. What can we really do? Theyre 435 miles away!
***
Whatever happens, she said, well sort it out.
A spot opened in the nursery almost immediately. Blythe told her boss shed be back to work in a month. At the same time, Charlie finally landed a new position.
Teaching Violet to adjust to the nursery proved harder than anyone imagined. The first hour, then two, then half a daywhat sounded simple turned into a nightmare. The moment Violet saw the building, she erupted in a fullthroated scream, not a whimper. She kept screaming for a week, pausing only briefly in the changing room before the next wave of cries when she sensed her mother leaving.
Both parents tried different tactics: Charlie driving her, then both parents together, then leaving her alone hoping shed calm down. Nothing worked. Violet seemed to know they were watching, her wails echoing down the hallway.
Eventually the staff, exhausted, said:
Dont worry, this is normal. Bring her back in a few months; shell settle.
Easy for you to say, Blythe muttered as she walked home. I need to get back to work! I already applied!
I dont know, Charlie replied, but tormenting our child isnt right.
Your parents are retired! Blythe thought, a sudden plan forming. They live nearby; maybe they can take her to nursery for a while.
Ill speak to them, Charlie said thoughtfully, though Im not sure theyll agree.
Make them agree, Blythe urged.
Grandparents reminded Charlie that he should solve his own problems, yet they still offered to take turns shuttling Violet to the nursery. Miraculously, with them, she walked in calmly, waved goodbye with a tiny hand, and stayed quiet.
When it came time for the afternoon nap, Violet stubbornly refused. The staff called the grandparents; one would fly in, the other would drive. A routine quickly formed, and Violet ended up staying at the nursery only until noon.
Soon the arrangement grew heavy on Charlies parents. Both began complaining of health issues, using them as excuses to stop caring for Violet.
I need a watchful eye on that child, and Ive got blood pressure! Charlies mother moaned. My husbands back hurts you know how he suffers.
I know, Charlie replied grimly. So what do we do now? Youve trained her to leave at twelve while we work.
And you thank us for that! his mother snapped. Look how weve been left to babysit for months!
Not months, Blythe corrected. Only a few weeks, and that was your ideasending Violet to the nursery. We did it. Shed still be at home otherwise.
So were to blame?! Charlies mother leapt up. Lets get out of here; weve got nothing to do!
She snatched Charlies arm and hustled him toward the hallway.
What now? Charlie asked as the door slammed behind his parents.
I dont know, Blythe shrugged. Maybe Ill quit my job.
Thats not an option.
Then what?
Take Violet to the nursery and leave her there until evening.
And tomorrow? Youll haul her yourself? I wont be part of that!
But every kid goes to nursery!
Our child isnt every kid! Blythe shouted, tears spilling. Shes ours!
Just then her phone rang. It was her mother.
Ill be there tomorrow! Laura promised, on holiday and ready to head north. Weve got a month to sort this out.
Hanging up, Blythe clapped her hands like a child.
Mums coming tomorrow! she told Charlie. Were saved.
Brilliant! Charlie laughed, relieved. Time to get to know the motherinlaw properly.
Of course, Blythe replied, smiling. Shell have a plan for everything.
Laura indeed had a plan. She and her husband would alternate trips to look after Violet, since the inlaws couldnt.
Dont mind them, love, she advised, looking at Charlie, age catches up with you. You had strength once; now its fading.
Im not offended, Blythe said, but how will you both travel here? What about work?
Ill reshuffle my schedule, and my husband retires in two weeks. Everything will be fine. By the time he arrives, Violet will be a big girl, four years old, ready for school.
They agreed. In the morning Laura took Violet to the nursery; the child settled without a fuss. After noon, a call came: Pick her up, please.
Now, almost a year later, Ian and Laura still shuffle between their hometown and London every fortnight. Ian, retired, drives Violet to the nursery, collects her at twelve, and spends evenings strolling the streets of London, not out of love for the city but because he cant watch young people build their lives while hes stuck watching them from the sidelines.
They dont work, they dont cook, they order takeaway, they watch nasty cartoons all day, he tells Tess when they meet briefly at the building. How do they survive?
I keep myself busy, Laura sighs. I wash, clean, cook What can we do? The younger generation is a different breed. I feel sorry for Violet I cant imagine her without us.
When will she go to school? Tess asks.
I dont know, Laura sighs.
Tess had told Laura everything, hoping for support and understanding. As a former teacher, Tess couldnt grasp Lauras choices.
Are you serious? A threeyearold manipulates you, and you follow her lead? She doesnt want to nap at nursery? Leave her in the morning and shell scream for days, then calm down! Tess lectured. Youve created this problem yourselves. Your parents would have set her straight. Youre only making it worse. What will you do when she starts school? Sit at her desk? I dont approve of your methods. Think before its too late.
Later, Tess confronted Ian directly.
Ian Spencer, are you going to set your house in order?
Order? Ian echoed.
Yes. Your granddaughter is being tossed around, your daughter uses her parents without a second thought, your soninlaw dumped his responsibilities on you, and you two drift 435 miles every two weeks, yet you stand by silently.
Now youve been kicked out for daring to cough. Who did it? Your own daughter?
My daughter-inlaw, Ian replied automatically.
They respect you, apparently Have you become the helpless grandparents they lean on? Maybe its time to return the responsibility they tossed on you. Why are you so quiet, Ian? Nothing to say?
Im quiet because I dont see why you care. I never asked for your advice. Ian said, his tone flat.
Tess fell silent, and Ian, seizing the pause, added calmly:
We love our daughter and granddaughter. Our love knows no borders. We help as long as we can.
He gave a faint smile and descended the stairs. Tess stood there, her urge to argue evaporated.
She thought, *Why did I get involved? Theyll ruin the child and poison their own lives. Its none of my business.*
Is she right?
