Sit with the child, youll have to, youre a grandmother after all, theyd said.
Lucy, are you sure now is the right moment for a baby?
Eleanor set down her tea cup and turned to her daughter, who had taken a seat opposite her with a look that seemed to anticipate something unpleasant.
Mum, weve been over this before.
Exactly why we keep revisiting it. You and James have only been married a year. Hes just starting to climb the ladder at his firm, while you havent even reached senior manager at yours. Youre barely keeping the bills paid, and now you talk of a child
Lucy rolled her eyes a gesture Eleanor recognized from her teenage years. Back then it meant back off; now it seemed to say what do you know?
Everythings fine, Mum. James earns well. Well manage. Besides, theres that old saying about the rabbit and the meadow, remember?
Yes, Ive heard the meadow tales, but a baby isnt a plush rabbit you can put on a shelf when you tire of it. And earning well only matters if you have a safety net. Well also means not having to wonder where the money for nappies and formula will come from if someone is made redundant.
Lucy shrugged and turned toward the window, her posture declaring the conversation over. Eleanor knew this tactic Lucy believed silence equated to victory. Eleanor sighed. At twentyfive, a grown woman still took every bit of advice as a personal affront.
Lucy, Im not trying to forbid anything youre an adult. Im just saying, think it over. A year or two wont decide everything, but a bit of stability would help.
I know when I want to have a child.
The certainty in those words was so blunt that Eleanor could only shake her head. Pressing further would be pointless. Shed lived long enough to understand that sometimes people must learn from their own bruises, especially when those people are your own children.
Exactly nine months later Lucy called from the maternity ward.
Mum, a girl! Twopointfive metres, one hundred and fiftytwo centimetres! Shes beautiful, you cant imagine!
Lucys voice rang with joy, and Eleanor never once brought up the argument from a year earlier. Why? The baby was already born, healthy and wanted. All the rest were details that time would smooth out or perhaps not.
Eleanor visited every week, bringing fruit and the occasional readymade meal. In the first months Lucy could scarcely find time to shower, let alone stand at the stove. Eleanor helped, but kept her distance, offering no unsolicited advice, never commenting when the granddaughter was put to bed at seven or ten. She didnt wince when Lucy chose pricey organic formula over the standard brand.
A family that isnt yours feels like a shadow, even when its your own daughters.
The little Emma grew, cooing, learning to grasp her rattles with chubby fingers. Eleanor watched her and felt a strange sensation: to love someone so fiercely yet know you are merely a guest. Welcome, desired, but still a guest.
Lucy blossomed in motherhood. She lost some weight from sleepless nights and endless errands dark circles settled under her eyes, yet she smiled in a way Eleanor hadnt seen since school days. Eleanor was genuinely happy for her.
Then, six months after Emmas birth, Lucy arrived with a face that warned the conversation would not be pleasant.
Mum, weve got problems.
Eleanor seated her at the kitchen table and set the kettle on. Lucy clasped her hands and stared at the countertop.
Were short of money. Completely.
On what?
Everything. Council tax, nappies, formula, food. You know how pricey things are now!
Eleanor remembered calculating the same figures a year before, when shed tried in vain to teach Lucy basic arithmetic.
Has James got the promotion?
He has, but its still not enough. I need to work, Mum. We cant stretch this any further.
Understandable.
Its just that theres nowhere to place Emma. The nursery wont take a child under eighteen months, and Ive called every crèche in the borough. A nanny Lucy forced a weak smile. A nanny costs so much itd be easier not to work at all.
Eleanor stayed silent. She saw where the conversation was heading, and that realization tightened something inside her.
Mum, could you look after Emma while Im at work?
Lucy, I have a job.
But you could quit, or take leave. You have some holiday days left, dont you?
Eleanor shook her head slowly. Lucys hopeful eyes made Eleanor feel a pang of guilt for refusing, almost a moments remorse.
No, Lucy. I wont quit my job just to watch your child.
But why? Shes my granddaughter, Mum!
Lucys voice trembled with a mix of demand and childish pleading, like a fiveyearold in a shop begging for a doll while the cashier says the payday isnt for another week.
Because I have my own life. My own work. My own plans.
What plans, Mum? Youre fiftyfive!
Eleanor felt no sting from the bluntness. Shed long accepted that, in Lucys eyes, mother occupied a special category that forbade personal ambitions.
Thats why I wont waste the rest of my years changing nappies.
Lucy shoved her cup so hard the tea splashed onto the tablecloth.
Youre selfish.
Perhaps.
Youre a terrible mother!
And thats possible too.
Eleanor saw Lucys eyes well up whether from anger, hurt, or both, she could not tell. Lucy never knew how to lose gracefully; even as a child shed slammed chess pieces against the wall when she was losing.
The following weeks became a relentless replay of the same argument. Lucy called, wrote, visited, each time repeating: youre a bad mother, youre a bad grandmother, how could you? Im your daughter. Emma is your granddaughter.
One afternoon Eleanor could bear it no longer.
Tell me exactly what Ive done wrong. Why am I suddenly the bad one?
Lucy froze, not expecting that turn.
You wont help!
Thats not a fault, its my choice. And where was I a bad mother when you were growing up?
You you Lucy choked. You were always at work!
I was at work because I fed you and clothed you. Remember your childhood? Remember the best nursery in the city? The dresses from Childrens World while other girls wore handmedowns?
Lucy stayed silent.
Remember university? The feepaying one, mind you. I toiled for five years so you could get a decent degree.
Mum
Remember the flat I gave you for your wedding? Twobedroom, good area? The car?
Lucys cheeks flushed, either from shame or anger Eleanor could not tell.
Thats different.
No, it isnt. As a mother I did everything I could, perhaps even more than I should have.
And now, when I truly need help, you turn away!
Eleanor inhaled deeply.
Lucy, I warned you a year ago. I said, wait until youre on your feet. You answered that you knew when to have a child. That was your choice.
And now? You punish me for it?
No. I simply wont sacrifice my life for it.
Lucy sprang up, tears brimming, her lips trembling.
Ill never forget how you behaved!
Perhaps. Or perhaps, one day, youll understand when youre a grandmother yourself.
Lucy left without a goodbye.
Two months of silence followed. Eleanor called Lucy let the calls go to voicemail. Messages remained unread. The only glimpse Eleanor had of Emma was through photos on social media, because Lucy never blocked her outright.
Eleanor scrolled those pictures each evening. Little Emma learned to sit, then to crawl, smiled at the camera, reached for toys. She grew without her grandmother.
Was it painful? Yes. But Eleanor did not regret her decision.
She thought how quickly people grow accustomed to comfort, how swiftly requests become demands.
Lucy had always been that way. She took, she accepted, she demanded. While Eleanor gave, all was smooth. The moment she said no, the mother turned into a monster.
Time will tell if Lucy ever learns to shoulder her own choices, to mature, perhaps by her thirties.
Meanwhile Eleanor kept on with her life. She went to work, met friends, planned a summer holiday, and waited. Patiently, without bitterness, without a desire for revenge.
She simply waited for her daughter to outgrow that childish selfishness.
She had always been patient.
