Lucy, are you sure now is the right moment for a baby?
Margaret set down her mug and looked across the kitchen at her daughter, who had taken a seat opposite her with that halfsmile that meant she already knew something unpleasant was coming.
Mum, weve been over this before.
Exactly why were talking again. You and Daniel have only been married a year. Hes just starting to move up the ladder at his firm, youre still stuck a few rungs below senior manager in yours. Youre barely getting the ends to meet. And now you want a child
Lucy rolled her eyesMargaret recognised that gesture from when Lucy was a teenager. Back then it meant back off, now it seemed to say what do you know about this?
Everythings fine, Mum. Daniel earns well. Well manage. And theres that old saying about the rabbit and the meadow, remember?
Yes, Ive heard the rabbit story, but a baby isnt a plush rabbit you can put on a shelf when youre bored. Earns well only matters if you have a safety net. It matters when you dont have to wonder where the money for diapers and formula will come from if the company downsizes.
Margaret shrugged and turned toward the window, making it clear the conversation was over. Lucy knew her mothers silence was a weapon, a way of claiming victory. She sighed. At twentyfive, a grown woman still took every piece of advice as a personal slight.
Lucy, Im not trying to stop you, I just ask you to think. A year or two wont change anything, but a little stability will help.
I know when I want to have a baby.
The firmness in Lucys voice was such that Margaret could only shake her head. Pressing further would be pointless. Shed learned, after enough years, that sometimes people must learn the hard wayespecially when those people are your own children.
Exactly nine months later, Margaret received a frantic call from the hospital.
Mum, its a girl! Twohundred and fiftytwo centimetres long! Shes beautiful, you wouldnt believe it!
Lucys voice rang with joy, and Margaret didnt bring up that argument from a year ago. Why? The child was already born, healthy, and wanted. Everything else were details that would smooth out in time.
Or perhaps not.
Margaret visited the couple every week, bringing fruit, the occasional readymade meal. In the first months Lucy could barely find time to shower, let alone stand at the stove. Margaret helped, but kept her distanceno unsolicited advice, no comments on whether Molly should be put down at seven or ten oclock, no judging when Lucy splurged on expensive organic formula instead of the supermarket brand.
A strangers house, even if it was her daughters.
Molly grew, cooing, learning to grasp rattles with chubby fingers. Margaret watched her and felt that strange sensation of loving someone fiercely while knowing youre just a guestwelcome, cherished, yet still a guest.
Lucy blossomed in motherhood. She lost weight, though badly, from sleepless nights and constant errands. Dark circles settled under her eyes, yet she smiled the way she hadnt since school days. Margaret was genuinely happy for her.
Then, six months after Mollys birth, Lucy arrived at Margarets flat with a look that warned of a storm.
Mum, we have problems.
Margaret set a kettle on the hob, and Lucy sank into a chair, fingers clenched, staring at the table.
Were short of money. Completely.
On what?
Everything. Bills, diapers, formula, groceries. You know how pricey everything is now!
Margaret remembered trying to teach Lucy basic arithmetic a year earlier, only to be brushed off.
Daniel got a promotion?
He did, but it still isnt enough. I need to go back to work, Mum. We cant stretch this any further.
I get that.
The only problem is theres nowhere to put Molly. The nursery wont take a child under eighteen months, I called every centre in the borough. A nanny Lucy forced a weak laugh. A nanny costs as much as a second mortgage.
Margaret stayed quiet, feeling the tight knot of inevitability in her chest.
Mum, could you look after Molly while Im at work?
Lucy, I work.
But you could quit or take leave. You have unused holidays, dont you?
Margaret slowly shook her head. Lucys eyes were pleading, and for a heartbeat Margaret felt a pang of remorse at letting her down.
No, Lucy. Im not quitting my job to look after your child.
Why not? Shes my granddaughter!
Lucys voice cracked with a desperate, almost childlike edge, like a fiveyearold demanding a doll in a shop while the cash register still rang.
Because I have a life of my own. My own job. My own plans.
What plans, Mum? Youre fiftyfive!
Margaret didnt flinch. Shed long accepted that, to Lucy, she existed in a separate category Mum who, by definition, should have no personal ambitions.
Thats why I wont waste my remaining years changing diapers.
Lucy knocked her teacup off the table; tea splashed onto the tablecloth.
Youre selfish.
Perhaps.
Youre a terrible mother!
Thats possible too.
Margaret saw tears well up in Lucys eyeswhether from anger, hurt, or everything at once. Lucy never knew how to lose. As a child shed smashed chess pieces against the wall when she was losing.
The next weeks turned into a relentless loop of the same argument. Lucy called, texted, showed up at the door, each time repeating: Youre a bad mother. Youre a bad grandmother. How could you? Im your daughter. Molly is your granddaughter.
One evening Margaret finally snapped.
Tell me exactly what Ive done wrong. Why do you think Im a bad person?
Lucy paused, caught off guard.
You refuse to help!
Thats not a fault, its my choice. And when you were a child, what did I do wrong as a mother?
You you Lucy choked. You were always at work!
I was at work because I fed you, clothed you. Remember your childhood? Remember the best nursery in the town? The dresses from Childs World while other girls wore handmedowns?
Lucy fell silent.
Remember university? The tuition I covered, five long years, so youd have a proper degree.
Mum
Remember the twobed flat I gave you for your wedding? In a decent neighbourhood? The car?
Lucys cheeks flushed, a mix of shame and fury Margaret could not decode.
Thats different.
No, it isnt. As a mother I gave you everything I could, maybe even more than I should have.
And now, when I truly need help, you turn away!
Margaret inhaled deeply.
Lucy, I warned you a year ago. I said, Hold on, get on your feet. You answered that you knew when to have a baby. That was your choice.
So now you punish me for it?
No. I simply wont sacrifice my life to pay for a decision you made.
Lucy sprang from her seat, tears spilling over, her mouth twisted with barely restrained sobs.
Ill never forget how you behaved!
Perhaps. Or maybe one day youll understand, when you yourself become a grandmother.
Lucy left without a goodbye.
Two months of silence followed. Margarets calls went straight to voicemail, her messages unread. She saw Molly only in the pictures Lucy posted on social media, because Lucy never blocked her completely.
Margaret scrolled through the photos each evening. Little Molly learned to sit, then to crawl, smiled at the camera, reached for toys. She grew without her grandmothers hands.
It hurt, yes. But Margaret had no regrets about her decision.
She thought about how quickly people become accustomed to comfort, how swiftly a request morphs into a demand.
Lucy had always been that waytaking, receiving, demanding. While Margaret gave, everything was fine. The moment she said no, her mother turned into a monster.
Time would tell if Lucy eventually grasped responsibility, matured, perhaps finally reached her thirties with a clearer head.
In the meantime Margaret kept living. She went to work, met friends for drinks, planned a summer break, and waitedpatiently, without bitterness, without a desire for revenge.
Just waiting for her daughter to outgrow that childish selfishness.
She had always been patient.
