Lifes easier without you now, said her son when Eleanor Whitmore came to make amends.
She stood on the threshold of his flat, a bunch of chrysanthemums in hand, her legs trembling beneath her. In Maxwells eyes, there was neither joy nor surprisejust exhaustion and a hollow indifference.
Max, she murmured softly, may I come in?
Silently, he stepped aside. Eleanor walked into the hall and glanced around. Everything had changed since her last visit. The walls were repainted in pale grey, the furniture was new, even the air smelled differentfresher, without the lingering trace of her perfume or hand cream.
Its lovely in here, she ventured.
Charlotte did most of it, Maxwell replied curtly.
From the kitchen came the clatter of dishes. Her daughter-in-law was preparing supper, just as she always did at this hour. Eleanor knew her routine better than her own.
Wheres little Oliver? she asked, thinking of her five-year-old grandson.
Asleep. Its late.
The faintest note of reproach laced his voice, but Eleanor caught it. Yes, she *had* come late. She had spent hours walking around their block, gathering her nerve. Three times she had approached the building, only to turn back.
Max, we need to talk, she said.
Her son led her to the sitting room and sat across from her, hands folded in his lapclosed off, guarded.
Go on.
Eleanor set the flowers on the coffee table and drew a deep breath.
I came to apologise. For everything between us. I know I was wrong.
Mum, Maxwell shook his head, weve had this conversation before.
No, we havent. Weve shouted. Weve blamed each other. Weve slammed doors. But weve never *talked*.
Charlotte walked in from the kitchentall, slender, her short hair slightly tousled, weariness in her face. When she saw her mother-in-law, she froze.
Good evening, Charlotte, Eleanor greeted.
Hello, came the stiff reply.
An uneasy silence fell. Charlotte exchanged a glance with her husband, and he gave a nearly imperceptible nod.
Max said you wanted to talk, Charlotte said, perching on the edge of the sofa. Were listening.
Eleanors heart clenched. There they sat, a united front, while she felt like an outsider being humoured.
I know I was wrong, she began slowly. I meddled. I criticised. I gave advice where it wasnt wanted. I thought I was helping, but instead
You made it worse, Maxwell finished for her.
Yes. Much worse.
She remembered the wretched day everything had finally shattered. Oliver had fallen ill, his fever spiking. Charlotte had wanted to call the doctor, but Eleanor had insisted on her old remedyrubbing him down with spirits.
I did it for Max, and he turned out fine, she had argued.
Mrs Whitmore, thats dangerous with a fever this high, Charlotte had tried to explain.
What do *you* know? Ive more experience than youve had birthdays!
Charlotte had called the ambulance anyway. The doctor had sided with herthe remedy could have harmed the boy. Eleanor hadnt admitted fault then; instead, she had accused Charlotte of disrespect.
You think Im a fool? shed shouted. You believe Id harm my own grandson?
Mum, enough, Maxwell had cut in. Charlottes right. Times change. Medicine changes.
Oh, so now your wifes word means more than mine!
That row had ended with the door slamming behind her. Four agonising months of silence had followed.
I was wrong that day, she said now, meeting Charlottes gaze. You were right to call the doctor. And I… I was just afraid of becoming obsolete.
Obsolete? Maxwell frowned. Why would you think that?
You married. You had a child. Charlotte manages the house, works, cares for Oliverall perfectly well. And I… I was used to being the most important person in your life. When I realised I wasnt, I clung to any shred of influence I had left.
Charlotte remained quiet, studying her hands. Maxwells brow furrowed as he weighed her words.
Mum, you *do* understand a man cant stay tied to his parents forever?
I do. Now, I do.
Eleanor pulled a handkerchief from her bag and dabbed her eyes. The tears had come unbidden, though shed promised herself she wouldnt cry.
These months without you were unbearable. I thought of Oliver every day, fretted over him. I spotted you at the shops a few timeswanted to approach, but didnt dare.
Oliver asked about you, Charlotte said quietly.
He did?
Yes. Last week, he drew a picture and said, This is for Gran. I didnt know what to say.
Her throat tightened. Her grandson remembered her. Missed her.
May I see him? Tomorrow, when hes awake?
Charlotte looked at Maxwell. He shrugged.
Dont know, Mum. Well need to think about it.
Think about *what*?
Whether history will repeat itself, Maxwell explained. Youve apologised, and thats good. But has anything really changed? Do you still believe you know whats best for us?
The question took her aback. *Had* anything changed? Had she truly learned, or was she just lonely?
I wont interfere again, she promised.
Mum, youve said that before.
This time I mean it.
Charlotte stood and moved to the window, gazing out at the lamplit street where teenagers loitered.
Mrs Whitmore, she said without turning, do you know what happened after our last argument?
No.
Max barely spoke for three days. Oliver cried, asking why Gran didnt visit anymore. And II felt guilty, even though I knew Id done right.
She turned to face Eleanor.
I thought Id broken your family. That Id come between mother and son.
That wasnt true, Maxwell cut in. Charlottes done nothing wrong.
I know, Eleanor nodded. The fault was mine. My stubbornness. My refusal to accept that my children had grown.
She rose and approached Charlotte.
Forgive me. For all these years. For my blindness. For failing to see what a wonderful wife and mother you are.
Charlotte lowered her eyes. Tears glimmered.
Ive been harsh too. Not always kind.
You had every right to defend your family.
They fell silent. Outside, the streetlamps flickered to life. From a neighbouring flat, the muffhered sounds of a television drifted through the walls.
Max, Eleanor said at last, tell me honestlywhat did you mean when you said life was easier without me?
Her son lifted his gaze, pain etched in his features.
The truth, Mum. It *is* easier. No one second-guesses Charlottes choices. No one redoes her housework. No one lectures us on how to raise our child. The flats been… peaceful.
Each word struck like a blow, but Eleanor steeled herself. She needed to hear this.
So what now? Should I stay away entirely?
I dont know, he admitted. I want to believe youve changed. But I cant go through that again.
She sank back into the armchair. It felt like standing trial, pleading for a place in their lives.
I understand your hesitation. Im not asking you to forget the past. Perhaps we could start slowly? Ill visit occasionallybriefly. If you see me overstepping, tell me plainly.
And you wont take offence? Charlotte asked.
I will. But Ill try to see its justified.
Maxwell and Charlotte exchanged another glance. Something unspoken passed between them.
Alright, he said finally. Well try. But there are conditions.
Name them.
No unsolicited advice on raising Oliver. No remarks about how we keep house, what we eat, what we wear. And if we ask you not to interfere in something, you dont.
The terms were strict but fair.
Agreed.
One more thing, Charlotte added. Warn us before visiting. Were not always prepared for guests.
Of course.
Another silence settled. The tension had eased, but true reconciliation was still distanttoo much hurt lingered.
May I come by tomorrow afternoon? Eleanor asked tentatively. Id love to see Oliver.
Come at three, Maxwell relented. Well be back from the park.
She rose to leave. A weight had lifted, yet something still pressed heavily on her heart.
Mum, Maxwell called as she reached the door.
Yes?
Im glad you
