When Pain Speaks
“Abigail, darling, I know this is hard, but we havent got a choice. Well have to do it. We must sell the house. After the sale and the split, well only be able to afford a flat in a different area. I wish we could stay, but we just cant, Helen held her daughter’s hands, wiping tears from Abigails cheeks and her own.
The changes weighed on them unbearably.
Helen and her husband, Thomas, had lived together for nearly seventeen years. Through thick and thin, they loved each other, and any quarrels ended as quickly as they began. Helen, raised by her grandmother, learned early on the main lesson about family: Home should be warm! Let your husband feel so comfortable he never seeks solace elsewhere. Make sure everyone feels welcomehusband, children, guests, even pets. Everyone, without exception!
Helen had nodded, though as a child she hardly understood, sensing only her grandmother was passing down hard-won wisdom. Her family had been exactly like thatuntil her grandfather died saving his son and daughter-in-law from drowning in the river near their country cottage. The stream looked harmless, but only locals knew its hidden undertows. For years, Grandma Margaret blamed herself for not warning them. Helen spent years telling her grandmother it wasnt her fault, but her grandmother never listened.
When Margaret took responsibility for her granddaughter, she put her own grief aside, knowing the girl needed joy and a future, not endless mourning. Only a few times a year at the cemetery could she allow herself to break down and release the pain. Shed share updates about their lives with her lost loved ones and promise to give Helen happiness.
She gave Helen a loving home, ensured a good education, saw her married, and even held her great-granddaughter before illness took her. Helen was left with no one else.
Later, Helen realised Margaret had been right about family warmth, but she missed one thing. She was right that home must be good, but there are limits…
Serious arguments between Helen and Thomas were rarealmost always over just one thing. Its cliché, but it was his mother.
Dorothy was one of those grand Mothers. She lived by the rule: My opinion is the only right one.
Thomas had been her sixth pregnancy, and the only child she brought into the world. She poured all her affection into her only son, in her own, sometimes smothering way.
He loved her and couldnt stand up to her, just like his father couldnt. Their approach was simple: listen in silence to whatever Dorothy wanted to say, nod, and then do their own thing regardless.
Even meeting Helen, Thomas put off introducing her to his parents as long as he could, worried about what would follow. Yet he met Helens grandmother almost right away. He never explained why, and only relented when Helen confronted him:
Are you ashamed of me? Dont I deserve to meet your family? You say Im everything to you, making wedding plans with Grandma, but Ive never seen your parents!
Thomas sighed, kissed her, and said, Im just afraid youll want nothing more to do with me after you meet them.
Silly! Im marrying you, not your family!
How little she understood back then…
Dorothy scanned her up and down and only asked, My dear, what did your parents do?
Mum taught at university; Dad was a doctor. But I dont remember muchthey died when I was five. My grandmother raised me.
I see!
Dorothy said no more that evening. After a few years of marriage, Helen adopted the same silent approach her husband and father-in-law used, but it did little good. She saw how Thomas was torn trying to keep the peace, and she always tried to smooth things over. Eventually, she got tired of her efforts and simply asked Thomas to limit family visits. He nodded wearily and hugged her.
Sorry.
Things got worse when Thomass father passed. Cancer took him in a month, and Dorothy made it clear who would care for her now. Thomas understood. Hed come home late, evenings spent caring for his mother, returning only near midnight. This would have carried on if not for three-year-old Abigails rebellion. She stopped wanting to see her dad, letting him know she was hurt.
She misses you, Tom. She barely sees you, even on weekends, Helen told him gently, knowing it was hard, but that something had to change before Abigail disconnected entirely from her father.
Helen grew angry. Over a year had passed. Dorothy was perfectly capable, still working and living an active lifegoing to the theatre, art galleries, dragging her son along. Sure, a mother needs support, but to rob a child of her father? Helen could forgive lonely evenings for herself but never for Abigail.
Thomas, we have to sort this out. Your daughter needs you. And I need you, Helen said as she leaned on his shoulder. I miss you
It caused a massive row. But Thomas won the right to visit his mother only twice a week. After a while, Dorothy accepted it, or at least appeared to.
Once, at nursery, Abigail was tasked to draw her family as fairy tale characters. She brought her drawing home to finish, and after dinner, she sat for ages sketching with her tongue stuck out in concentration. When Helen, having finished the washing up and laundry, peeked into her daughters art folder, she gasped and called her husband:
Tom, you have to see this! Storms coming! Come here!
Thomas, on seeing the drawing, collapsed into laughter on the sofa. Abigail was upsetshe didnt understand why her parents were giggling so much. When she started to cry, she looked again at her drawing but couldnt see what was so funny. Dad was a brave knight, Mum was Sleeping Beauty, Grandpa was an elf, Great-Gran was an apple tree with golden apples, and Grandma well, that dragon was handsome, wasnt it? It just happened to have three heads, which was tricky and her yellow crayon broke drawing the flames. She meant to ask Mum to sharpen it, but Mum had already seen.
Abigail didnt like Grandma Dorothy. Whenever Dorothy visited, which was rare and only for holidays, Abigail wished she would leave and be locked out. She couldnt decipher adult tensions, but instinctively felt Dorothy disliked her mum, always trying to upset her. Though Dorothy spoke courteously, Mum would end up sad, sometimes even crying after she left. Abigail wanted to help, but did not know how. Once she even tried pushing Dorothy out the door, but her father picked her up and stopped her.
Your daughter is terribly brought up, Thomas! But what else could I expect?! Dorothy was scandalised by her granddaughters behaviour.
Everyone suffered that evening, but after that Dorothy rarely visited, even on holidays. Thomas decided it was best. Now they would occasionally visit Dorothy, but Abigail always tried to avoid these trips. The older she got, the more she understood. Her grandmothers rigidity suffocated her. But Abigail only truly grasped Dorothy after her father died.
Thomas was gone in a heartbeat. No one at the office had time to grasp what was happening, not even to call an ambulance. Massive heart attack. Forty-four years old…
Helen was at work in a jewellery shop when she got the call. Dropping the phone, she fainted, falling into the glass display and shattering itterrifying her colleagues. They called an ambulance, helped her up, and carefully picked glass from her hair, soothing her with tea.
The world around Helen froze. She went blank, unable to pull herself together or do much of anything. Thomass friends handled everything, quietly supporting Helen. Later, she couldnt remember who came and when, but Abigail was fed, the house in order, and someone kept placing a cup of tea or soup in her hands, taking it away only when it had grown cold and replacing it with a fresh one.
A few weeks after her husbands farewell, Helen had a dream.
Grandma! Oh, Ive missed you! Helen tried to hug Margaret, but her grandmother pulled back sternly.
What do you think youre playing at?
What do you mean, Gran?
Wheres Abigail?
Asleep, surely, in her room
Come on! Her grandmother marched her to Abigails room, pointing at her granddaughter under the duvet, weeping silently. Is that what you call asleep? Helen, snap out of it!
Helen jolted awake, unsure if she was still dreaming. But the sound of Abigails sobs told her this was real. She rushed to her daughters room.
My darling, dont cry! Im here. Ill always be here!
Abigail turned to Helen and hugged her tightly.
Thank you, Gran How could I let you go? You never left me, you were always there… Ill make things right… Ill be okay now
In the morning, Helen rose quietly and made her signature pancakes. The smell of vanilla wafted through the house. Abigail, draped in her blanket, came padding into the kitchen.
Mum?
Good morning! Helen turned, and Abigail saw she wasnt wearing the black headscarf shed not taken off, even at night. Wash your face, time for breakfast, then Ill take you to school.
Do we have to?
Helen turned down the hob and embraced her daughter.
Yes, sweetheart. Dad wouldnt want us locked away, crying day and night. He dreamed youd be happythat your life would be filled with joy. He loved you so much Helens voice caught, but she pressed on. And me, too. So, since that was his wish, thats what well do. Hurry now! I need to get to work as well.
Slowly and gently, they rebuilt their lives. Helen returned to work; Abigail started helping more at homecleaning up, attempting to make simple suppers. One evening, Abigail came home with her first passport, and they quietly celebrated with a shop-bought cake.
Look, Dad, Im all grown up! Abigail grinned, waving her passport at his portrait on the wall. Youd have pulled my hair and called me your little girl…
Helen hugged her daughter.
A week later, Dorothy showed up in the evening.
Good evening, Helen. We need to talk.
They hadn’t seen Dorothy since Thomass funeral, when Dorothy had quietly told Helen: Your fault! If it werent for you, hed still be alive! All you ever did was take, take, take He burned out so youngbecause of you!
It was only Deniz, Thomass friend, who led Helen outside and soothed her. Dont listen to her, Helen, do you hear me? Its fate and nothing more. We all have our time. Thomas loved you and Abi more than life itself
Helen clung to Denizs arm, drained, having eaten almost nothing and living on sips of water for days.
Now Dorothy sat opposite, lips pressed thin, her fury replaced by exhaustion. Helen noted her sunken eyes, pale face, and trembling hands, as Dorothy set them atop the table.
Would you like some tea?
No! I came to discuss what well do about the house.
Helen thought shed misheard.
What do you mean?
She and Thomas had built the house together. Heavily pregnant with Abigail, Helen oversaw the builders, whod fuss over the lady of the house as she came to inspect things. Thomas would laugh, saying, With you, they wont dare cut corners! Well be moved in within a month!
The day they moved in was etched into Helens memory. This was her cosy nest, loved and cared for in every corner.
Helen, those curtains are as pink as the last ones. And the fabric looks the same.
Youve no ideathe shade is different!
Such rows amused Thomas greatly and nearly drove Helen up the wall.
Now, Dorothy said, despite Helens shock and anger: she wouldnt be living there for much longer.
I wont allow it, Dorothy finally stilled her shaking hands on the table. Youll have to sell the house. Im demanding my share of the inheritance.
Inheritance?
What Im entitled to by law. And youll pay me every penny.
Neither of them noticed Abigail standing silently at the kitchen door.
Leave! Abigail shouted, fists clenched.
What was that? Dorothy turned, startled. What did you say?
I said leave! And dont ever come back.
How dare you speak to me that way? I knew you were poorly raised, but this! Who do you take after?
My dad! Abigails voice rang through the house.
Certainly notmore like your mum
Dont you dare! Never again say a cruel thing about my mum! You still think Im a little girl and dont understand, but I see everything. Please get out, and dont come back. Well choose not to see you again.
In her distress, Abigail found herself addressing her grandmother formally.
Helen pulled herself together, wrapped an arm around Abigails shoulders, and led her out.
Thank you, my love. Now go to your room; Ill sort this, she said, kissing her daughter and gently nudging her down the hallway.
Abigail left, and Helen, after a few deep breaths, re-entered the kitchen.
What was all that about? Youve turned your daughter against meI can hardly believe my ears!
I didnt. You did that yourself.
Dorothy bristled, but Helen cut her offher tone the sternest shed ever used with her mother-in-law.
Enough. Abigails right. You arent welcome here. Ill consult a solicitor and let you know. Youll get what youre owed, and after that, we part ways.
Dont get your hopes up! Dorothy snapped.
Im not hoping. Ill just see it done. I do feel sorry for you, Helens tone softened, her expression full of pity for a woman exhausted by herself and grief. Because youre alone now
None of your business! Dorothy nearly shrieked and, grabbing her bag, hurried from the house.
Abigail, hearing the door slam, found her mother at the table, head in her hands.
Mum?
Yes, darling, Helen looked up, wiping her eyes.
Shes serious? Well have to move?
I dont know yet. Well see. Hold on How come youre home? You weren’t meant to be back till later and you didnt call to say
Algebra was cancelled and Maxs mum gave me a lift. No point calling, right?
Fair enough Did you get much homework?
Talk shifted to day-to-day things, thawing the chill Dorothy had left.
Mum, why dont people like each other? Why do they get angry or hateful?
Abigail and Helen were snuggled on the sitting room sofa, glancing at a film on TVnever really watching, but using it as an excuse to chat and share.
There are many reasons. Are you asking about Grandma?
Yes. Why doesnt she like you, or… me?
I know why she didnt like me. She never approved of mefelt I was stealing her son.
Were you?
Of course not. I wanted us to be a family, to add to her world, not take away. I thought grandparents would want grandkids
But she didnt not really.
Not exactly. She was pleased when you were born. Wait! Helen left the room, returning with a finely embroidered bonnet and a crocheted baby blanket. She made these.
Abigail ran her fingers over the tiny stitches.
This must have taken ages. The detail! And the blanketso pretty. Did she crochet this? Abigail enjoyed embroidery but never managed crochet.
Yes. Look how delicate Thats not the work of someone who feels nothing. You only make things that lovely for someone youre excited for. Especially a baby.
Abigail was pensive.
So why is she like this now?
I dont really know, love. Grief, I suppose, or loneliness. Some people cant handle it. They retreat into pain and become bitter. Dont be angry at Grandma. When shes like this its pain speaking, not really her Better to pity her a little. We have each other, friends to support us. Shes got nobody.
Abigail silently stroked the blanket.
The next day Helen asked Deniz to find her a solicitor. The advice was clear: shed have to sell the housethere was no way around it. Whatever savings they had, tiny though they were, had been swallowed up by building work.
That evening, having discussed it with Abigail, Helen started looking for flats.
But Abigail had her own idea. Acting as though she was off to school, she went instead to see her grandmother.
What are you doing here? Dorothy asked, opening the door.
Abigail silently held out the baby bonnet and blanket.
Whats this? Dorothys voice shook.
Theyre beautiful. I know you made them for me.
Come in
That evening, Abigail hugged Helen while she scanned estate agent websites.
Mum!
Mmm? Helen clicked her mouse, not looking up.
We dont have to move.
What? Helen looked up, startled.
I said, we dont have to move. I talked to Grandma.
Helen stared: You did what?!
I went to see her and talked. Shes agreed to give up her legal claim.
Im not following
I told her I dont want her to be alone so I gave her a choice: either she insists on her share and I cut her out of my life, never seeing her again, or she leaves us with the house and I stay in touch.
And what did she say?
This Abigail laid a package on the table.
Helen opened it and gasped.
Gosh, thats beautiful!
Im planning to wear it at my school prom! It should fit perfectly by then.
The long, lacy gown seemed woven from frost. On closer look, Helen realised it was handmade needle lace.
Abi, do you know how much time and effort this takes?
I do, Mum I really do Shes hurting, Mum, aching from missing Dad. She cried
She cried? Grandma Dorothy?
Yes.
Helen was lost for words. They sat in silence until Helens phone, left on charge in the lounge, rang.
Hello, Dorothy.
Hello. Abigail told you about our talk?
She just did.
Then you know Im not pursuing my inheritance?
Yes. And thank you. The dress is beautiful. You have magic hands!
Dont exaggerate. Tomorrow at one, at the solicitors. Ill send the address. Ill officially relinquish my claim. Oh, and Helen
Yes?
Abigails a wonderfully brought-up girl!
Helen lingered over the dial tone for a while before returning to the kitchen to hold her daughter tight.
Sometimes pain speaks harshly, shutting doors between people. But a little kindness and understanding, even when they come from the youngest of us, can build bridges where bitterness walls us in. And so, they learned that love heals bestnot by holding on to anger, but by reaching out, even to those who have hurt you most.
