Sarah got married at twenty, and by twenty-two, shed had her one and only child. She wasnt exactly maternalchildren did nothing for her mood, to be honest. When her son arrived, Sarah and her husband promptly entrusted him to his grandmother. They managed to send her a bit of cash each month (a hearty £100, more or less) and continued living life as they pleased.
Two years passed, and the son returned homegrandma had sadly passed away. Sarah was irritated by her sons presence. She packed him off to nursery, determined to see him as little as possible, and later sent him off to primary school. There, the poor lad was mocked mercilessly.
Reading and writing were mysterious arts to him. The teachers tried to summon his parents for a chat, but Sarah was always too busy. One day, her husband did pop along to the school. The teachers, seizing the moment, spilled the beans about their son’s misbehaviour. That evening, after the dreaded parents meeting, the boy was given a telling-off (and a whack) with a belt.
When the boy finished secondary school, Sarah had him start work at a local factory. There, he met his future wife. The factory, in a generous bout of benevolence, handed the young couple a flat. With grandchildren in tow, Sarah remained supremely uninterested.
Sometimes shed post a few pounds to the grandchildren for Christmas or birthdays, but that was about it. Eventually, the time came for Sarah to retire, and she fancied a proper shindig. Naturally, her son would have to organise it. Ive transferred you some money, use your bank card. Go with Mary and get the food and some jewellery. The party will be at yours. Sure, mum. The son and his wife packed their children off to the countryside to keep them out of the way. They then hustled and bustled to prep for the party.
When all was set, Sarah arrived. She smiled, content. Lovelynow, off to the kitchen with you. The guests are arriving, someone needs to meet them, and Ill sit with you after everyone leaves. Son and daughter-in-law dutifully headed to the kitchen, as instructed.
The guests feasted, guzzled, and danced until dawn. After everyone had left, Sarah breezed into the kitchen and announced, Theres one slice of cake left. Split it between yourselves. Im not feeling wellwere heading off. Cant sit around for a chat now. Her son was utterly mortified.
A week later, Sarah rang him, Son, Im going into hospital for surgery. Bring me some thingsIll send you a list. Sorry, mum. Mary and I are off to Spain for holiday. Call dad. Goodbye. And so, at long last, Sarah learned the hard way that the world wasnt her personal stage.
