Raising a Softie
Why did you enrol him in music lessons?
Dorothy Bennett strode past her daughter-in-law, tugging off her gloves as she walked.
Hello, Dorothy. Please, come in. Lovely to see you too, replied Alice, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Dorothy barely registered the remark. She tossed her gloves onto the hallway table and turned to face Alice.
Tommy called me today, all excitedMum, Im going to play the piano! Is this some sort of joke? Hes a boy, not a little girl, you know.
Alice closed the front door slowly and carefully, fighting the urge to shout.
It means your grandson will be learning music. He really enjoys it.
Enjoys it? Dorothy snorted as though Alice had announced something outrageously idiotic. Hes only six, he hasnt a clue what he likes. Its your job to guide him. Hes a boyour familys heirand youre turning him into what, exactly?
Dorothy marched into the kitchen and flicked the kettle on, her movements full of authority. Alice followed, clenched teeth making her jaw ache.
Im raising him to be happy.
Youre raising him to be a weakling, a pushover! Dorothy planted her fists on her hips. He should be taking football or rugby! He needs to grow up to be a proper man, not some pianist!
Alice leaned against the doorframe and silently counted to five. It didnt help.
Tommy asked to play music. It was his choice. He loves it.
Loves it, does he? Dorothy waved dismissively. When Paul was his age, he was out on the green kicking a football with the lads, playing cricket! And your Tommy? Hell be playing scales? Embarrassing!
Something snapped inside Alice. She pushed away from the frame and stood toe-to-toe with Dorothy.
Are you finished?
No, I am not! Ive been meaning to say
And Ive been meaning to tell you, Alices voice dropped to a near-whisper, Tommy is my son. Mine. Ill decide how to raise him, and you need to stop interfering.
Dorothys face turned crimson.
How dare you speak to me like that?
Please leave.
What?
Alice swept past her to the hallway, grabbed Dorothys coat off the hook and shoved it into her hands.
Get out of my house.
Youre throwing me out? Me?!
Alice flung open the front door, grasped Dorothy by the elbow, and ushered her outside. Dorothy protested, tried to yank her arm free, but Alice was determined and forced her over the threshold.
I wont let this stand! Dorothy shouted from the landing, her face twisted with anger. Do you hear me? I wont let you ruin my only grandson!
Goodbye, Dorothy.
Paul will hear about this! Ill tell him everything!
Alice slammed the door shut and leaned against it, exhaling slowly, every last drop of air.
Dorothys muffled shouts lingered another minute, then her footsteps echoed down the stairs. Silence at last.
Shed finally had enoughtoo many lectures and judgments about how to feed, dress, and discipline Tommy. Paul always dismissed it. Mum means well, She’s experienced, Just let her have her say. He worshipped his mother, treating every word from her lips as gospel. Meanwhile, Alice had no choice but to endureday after day, visit after visit.
Not today.
Paul returned from work just after seven. Alice heard the deadbolt clack and knew at once Dorothy had called him. He lobbed his keys onto the console, stomped straight to the kitchen, not sparing a glance for Tommy, who was watching cartoons in the lounge.
Tommy, love, stay here, Alice knelt in front of her son, slipped on his oversized headphones, and started his favourite robots show on the tablet. Mum and Dad need to talk.
Tommy nodded and stared at the screen. Alice closed his bedroom door and went to the kitchen.
Paul stood at the window, arms folded, not turning when she entered.
You threw my mum out.
Not a question, just stating the facts.
I asked her to leave.
You shoved her out! She sobbed on the phone for two hours, Alice! Two hours!
Alice sat down at the table. Her legs ached from work, and now this.
Doesnt it bother you she upset me?
Paul paused a moment before waving her off.
Shes just worried about Tommy. Whats wrong with that?
She called our son a weakling. Our son, Paul. Hes six!
Well, she got carried away. Still, Mums right about one thing. He needs sport. Teamwork, resilience
Alice met his eyes and held them until he looked away.
In my childhood, Mum forced me into gymnastics. She decided Id be a gymnast, end of story. Five years, Paul. Five years of crying before every lesson, stretching till it hurt, starving myself for competitions, begging to quit.
Paul said nothing.
I still cant step into a gym. And Id never do that to my son. If Tommy wants footballfine. But only if he actually wants it. Not because we force him.
Mum only wants whats best
Then she should have another child and raise him her way, Alice stood up. Shes not interfering with Tommy anymore. Neither are you, if youre on her side.
Paul looked like he wanted to say something, but Alice was already gone.
The rest of the evening passed in silence. Alice tucked Tommy in and sat for ages in the dark, listening to his soft breaths.
The next two days were tense and quiet. Then, over dinner, Paul made a joke, and Alice smiledthe chill began to thaw. By Friday, they spoke normally, though neither dared mention Dorothy.
Saturday morning, Alice sprang awake. Eight oclockfar too early for a weekend. Paul snored beside her, and Tommy was surely still asleep.
What woke her?
Then she heard itthe metallic snick of a lock in the hall. Someone was opening the door.
Her heart pounded as she grabbed her mobile from the table and tiptoed out. The door swung open.
There stood Dorothy Bennett, a bunch of keys dangling in her hand, and a triumphant grin on her face.
Good morning, Alice dear.
Alice stood there barefoot, wearing a baggy t-shirt and pyjama bottoms, while Dorothy gazed down at her, as if it was perfectly reasonable to let herself in at eight on a Saturday.
How did you get keys?
Dorothy waggled them under Alices nose.
Paul brought them by two nights ago. Came right over, apologised for you being so rude. Can you imagine?
Alice blinked, trying to process the news.
What are you doing, bursting in at this hour?
I’m here for my grandson, Dorothy slipped off her coat and hung it up. Come on Tommy, quick! Grannys signed you up for football, first training sessions today!
Fury flooded Alice instantly, white-hot and blinding. She turned and stormed into the bedroom.
Paul lay facing away from her, pretending to sleepshe could see tension in his shoulders.
Get up!
Lets talk about this later
Alice flung off his duvet, grabbed his arm, and dragged him to the living room. Paul staggered, resisting, but Alice wouldnt let go.
Dorothy was perched on the sofa, flicking through a magazine.
You gave her keys, Alice said, still clutching Pauls wrist. To my flat.
Paul looked at the floor, shifting awkwardly.
Its my flat, Paul. Mine. I bought it before we got married. With my own money. How dare you give your mother keys to my home?
Oh, dont be petty! Dorothy waved away the magazine. Mine, yours Its always about you. Paul was thinking of Tommy, wanted me to spend time with my grandson, since you keep shutting me out.
Keep your nose out of it!
Dorothy gasped in outrage, but Alice only stared at Paul.
Tommys not going to football unless he chooses. Period.
You dont get to decide! Dorothy jumped to her feet. Youre nobodyjust a passing phase in Pauls life! Do you think youre special? Irreplaceable? Paul only puts up with you for Tommys sake!
Silence.
Alice slowly turned to her husband. He lowered his head. No defence. Not a single word.
Paul?
Nothing.
Alright, Alice nodded, suddenly calm. Just a passing phase, then. And the phase ends right now. Take Tommy, Dorothy. Im done being his wife.
You wouldnt dare! gasped Dorothy. Youve no right to just leave!
Paul, Alice spoke quietly, locking eyes with him, Youve got half an hour. Pack your things and go. Or Ill put you out in your pyjamasI dont care.
Alice, love, hang onlets talk
Weve talked enough.
She turned to Dorothy and offered a crooked smile.
Keep the keys. Ill change the locks this afternoon.
The divorce dragged on for four months. Paul tried to come backcalls, texts, flowers at the door. Dorothy threatened courts, social services, anything she could think of. Alice hired a good solicitor and stopped answering.
Two years whizzed by.
The schools assembly hall buzzes with chatter. Alice sits in the third row, clutching the concert programme: Thomas Bennett, age eightBeethoven, Ode to Joy.
Tommy walks outserious and focused, dressed in a smart white shirt and black trousers. He sits at the grand piano, places his hands on the keys.
The first notes fill the room, and Alice forgets to breathe.
Her boy is playing Beethoven. Her eight-year-old son, who asked for music lessons, spent hours at the piano, and chose this piece for his recital.
At the closing chord, applause explodes. Tommy stands, bows, finds Alice in the crowd, and grinswide and proud.
Alice claps along, tears streaming down her face.
She did the right thing. She put her son firstabove everyone elses opinions, above her marriage, above the fear of being alone.
Thats what it means to be a mother.
