Darling, today you turn thirtytwo! Im congratulating you from the bottom of my heart and giving you this little keepsake Margaret Harper, Emilys mother, hands her a pair of knitted baby booties she crocheted in a craft class. Emily’s eyes widen as she stares at Margaret. Yes, love, youre already thirtytwo. Its time to think about starting a family. Im not getting any younger, and neither are you Id love to dot my is and cross my ts with grandchildren. My friends already have greatgrandchildren on the way; Im just a lonely old lady without grandchildren.
Emily flushes. The room falls silent. The gueststwo of Margarets friends and three neighboursgaze at Margaret.
Im feeling faint, I need to lie down, Emily says, slipping out from behind the table. She doesnt want the others to see her red eyes. It hurts a young woman to hear her own mother constantly tap the clock.
The clock ticks and what of it? Why have children when the only nanny is a pensioner mother with nothing else to offer? Emily hasnt even a candidate for the fathers role, let alone anyone eager to bind themselves in marriage.
Oh, girls, I dont know what to do If you had sons, Emily might be settled. But youve all raised daughters. Its a proper oldfashioned place we have here! sighs Margaret.
Emily lives with her mother in a modest twobedroom flat in the market town of Whitby. Shes never had a serious relationship; marriage feels like something out of a romance novel. She works at the Royal Mail sorting office, hauling parcels all day, processing letters, and sitting at a terminal to hand out parcels to customers. The job leaves her back aching so often that she returns home nearly exhausted. All she craves is a bite to eat, then to collapse on the sofa, close her eyes and think of nothing.
Look at you, stretched out again Come with me to the openmic night! Youre young and prettywhy are you just lying there? Maybe well find you a bloke, Margaret protests, watching Emily sprawl like a seal on the cushion.
Mum, leave me alone. Im resting! Emily retorts.
Unlike her daughter, Margaret is a whirlwind. At seventysomething she still has the stamina for everything: concerts at the community centre, trips to the county town for activist meetings, poetry evenings with other pensioners where she reads her own verses. Shes always hurrying somewhere, urging people to help each other and stay busy. Her energy could easily have powered grandchildren, but Emily has none of it.
Margaret keeps trying to get through to her daughter, shaking the bright red booties she placed on the mantel as a birthday reminder.
Mum, enough with the shaking. Its like waving a red rag at a bull!
Emily, love, listen Youre an adult now; think about children! Id love to see grandchildren before Im gone.
Mum, Im not sure I even want to think about that. My job is hard, the pay is tinyabout £1,200 a monthmy back hurts, and honestly its just the two of us in this flat. Kids? Not today, thank God!
Exactly, Margaret sighs, but you could start living a bit differently. Stop only thinking about work and the sofa. You know how nice it is when youre with others? I was with Elizabeth the other day; her granddaughter is a clever little thing
I get it, Mum! Emily snaps. I cant just get pregnant because you want grandchildren. Id need to marry, and as you see, I have no suitors! There was one, Andy, but you sent him away!
Emily waves her hand, recalling how Ivan used to court her. A decent bloke from a welloff family, yet Margaret immediately said no: Stay at home, dont go out with boys!
So Emily stays single And then. Ivan later started dating Emilys only friend, a girl who wasnt as picky about suitors. Six months ago she gave birth to Ivans third child. Theyre doing well, happy, nobody lies on a sofa eating pies while sipping tea with four spoons of sugar.
Ivan you remember him, Margaret croons. There are other men out there, you just have to leave the house.
I should have left earlier, Mum! When I wanted to study in the city, you said I couldnt go alone, that itd be dangerous. You forced me into a tech college for a course you chose, saying technicians are always needed. I hated physics and barely made it through the second year!
You just didnt try, Margaret retorts.
Better theyd have thrown me out! Because of your meddling I ended up in the most unwanted course, just to fill a class. Why waste time on electrical engineering? Who needs that at the post office?
The post office is steady work, close to home, you can pop in for lunch! Isnt that good?
Mum! It may be a dream for some, but it doesnt inspire me.
Then youll have children
No, Mum. I wont have kids if I cant give them a decent life. I dont want my own daughter stuck in a job she hates, counting the days to retirement.
Margaret watches Emily with worry and pain, not seeing the exact moment her daughter turned from a bright youngster into a withdrawn woman.
Ive tried so hard to give you a better life, free from need! And this is your gratitude? You wont even give me grandchildren! Margaret shouts, tears flashing.
Mum, why dont you get a job yourself? Maybe youre bored because you have too much energy and nothing to do. Be a nanny, look after some kids. Then we could maybe afford a holiday by the sea. Ive never left this little town; maybe I could finally see the world, which is supposedly bigger and more interesting than the road from my house to the post office.
Margaret shakes her head.
Who would I go to?
Even Ivan! They have money, lots of kids. Go on, have a go!
Ivan? Margaret scoffs. God help me, Id never go to them. They wont take an old woman.
Try it. They dont charge for asking, Emily snorts. She knows Margaret will never volunteer to work for Ivan after shed once banished him from her life.
And so it goes.
Time passes. Margaret stops waving the booties. She throws herself into her own community work. At a seniorcitizens meeting in the county centre, the topic of youth family problems comes up, and she, for some reason, starts complaining to strangers about her daughter living without ambition, not striving for anything.
In the end I raised a weed on my own head. Now Im reaping the harvest she says bitterly.
What you sow, you reap! What did you give your daughter besides advice and nagging? A flat? Good education? A chance at a love life?
Well, what could I do for her? Margaret mumbles. My husband left when he learned I was pregnant. No one helped; I did it all alone!
Why become a mother if you had nothing to give? You didnt need to be a mum if you werent ready to support your child! Now youre cursing Grandma, wanting Emily to repeat your fateno father, no own home, a postoffice wage? Bravo, Mother of the Year!
The strangers words sting. Margaret snaps back, then falls silent and leaves, skipping the tea after the meeting.
All evening she feels out of sorts. Memories flood back: forbidding Emily to ride horses on the farm because its dangerous; refusing her a date with Ivan, calling him not serious; dictating what to wear and where to go; banning nights out with friends because drunk men are everywhere. She never let her daughter study in the city, the subject she loved, claiming it was unsafe and that shed abandon her mother.
These episodes piled up, a lifetime of under mums wing that turned love into overprotection. Emilys will was crushed, all aspirations cut off.
Margaret sighs, realizing she built this restrictive world for Emily, leaving no room for dreams. She decides its time for a change, and fast.
The next day she visits her neighbour, who knows Ivans wife, and asks if they need a nanny.
Heard youre looking for help. Their third child is a handful. You up for a bit of work? the neighbour asks.
I am. Ill take it gladly.
They hire her. The job is hard but she loves it. Three little ones, a modest £1,500 a month, and a smile on her face.
When Emily learns her mother has a job, she is surprised and relieved. Margaret no longer pesters her with endless questions; she comes home exhausted and goes straight to bed. Within months Margaret earns enough to send Emily on a holiday.
When its time to buy travel vouchers, Margaret, after thinking, purchases only onefor Emilys birthday.
Sweetheart, youre thirtythree today! I wish you a happy birthday and can tell you this: life is just beginning! Heres a voucher, go see the world, see people. Youve always been there for me; now its your turn.
Emily looks at the ticket, at her mother, stands from the table, walks over and embraces Margaret tightly.
Thank you, Mum, she says. Ill go gladly. Life truly does just start now; I have everything ahead of me.
Emily takes a proper break, returns refreshed and decides she no longer wants to be a stagnant plant. She enrolls in a bookkeeping course. Her first clients are Ivan and his wife. Their relationship improves, and they become friends. Soon other local entrepreneurs, through word of mouth, ask Emily to manage their accounts. She earns well enough to travel and enjoy a life far beyond the confines of latenight pies and TV dramas.
Three years on, Emily meets Simon. They adopt a baby from a local care home, and a year later Emily discovers shes pregnant. Let the naysayers call it a late childEmily knows theres still plenty ahead, and she no longer listens to anyone else. Everything falls into place.
Margarets own dream finally materialises. She becomes a proud grandmother of two grandchildren, a genuinely happy granny, delighted with the life she and Emily have built.
