Olivia, youve spoiled Daisy so much, shes nine and cant even mop the floor, Nan said, folding her arms in the kitchen. Youll never learn, love. Look at that stain, its right therewhats the matter with you? Your dad at your age
What are you doing, Margaret? I asked, my tone already bracing for a storm.
Im raising your child since her own mother cant, Nan replied, eyes sharp. Raise her properly, dear, we werent always like this.
***
Just a week ago Id taken Daisy away from Nan and told myself it was the last time Id set foot in her house. No explanations, no long talks, no endless justificationsjust that it was over.
When I arrived to pick Daisy up that Saturday, she was standing in the kitchen with a damp rag, her schoolbooks still untouched in the hallway. Nan was already scolding:
Did you even wipe under the fridge? What a messwhere do your hands grow from?
Daisy was sniffling, wiping her nose with the back of her hand and smearing the grime across her cheek.
Whats going on here? I stepped into the flat, feeling my anger rise.
Oh, love, Nan turned, her voice free of any guilt, Im just teaching Daisy the basics. Her father cleaned the whole house when he was seven! And your pampered little princess cant even pick up a cloth!
I slipped a jacket on Daisy, buttoned it up, grabbed her schoolbag and headed for the door. Nan followed us into the hallway, shaking her head.
Olivia, behave like a grownup, will you? she snapped. A girl should know how to
I stopped at the doorway and said, Daisy wont be coming back.
And we were out.
At home, Daisy clung to my stomach and sobbed for a solid twenty minutes. I stroked her hair, wondering how Id ever put up with the weekly trips, the constant critiquesYou dress her wrong, You feed her wrong, Youre not raising her right
I endured it because Daisy adored her Nan, and those visits gave me the only escape I had: a quick trip to the salon, a coffee in a cosy café with a book, just a few minutes alone.
When I finally saw my nineyearold again, fresh tears in her eyes, she asked, Mum, are we really not going to Nans any more?
Not for a while, love, I said, trying to sound calm. Because it has to be this way. Nan will have to learn her lesson too.
James came home late that night, finding Daisy already asleep. He sat opposite me, his face saying the whole storyMum had already called.
Olivia, whats happened? he asked, his voice tight. Mum was crying on the phone She says youve banned Daisy from seeing her.
Exactly that, I replied. Why?
I could have gone on about the floors, the tears, the tenyearlong lecture from Nan about how to live. But I was too tired. Explanations felt like excuses, and I wasnt at fault for anything.
I just decided so, I said simply.
He looked at me, baffled.
***
For three days James kept trying to persuade me, Nan kept callingthough I never answered. Daisy asked every evening where Nan was. The pressure built. Had I overreacted? Was Nan really just trying to teach her something useful, and Id blown it out of proportion?
On the sixth day James tried to whisk Daisy off to Nans without telling me. I got home early from work; they were about to leave. Daisy was already in her jacket, James with the house keys in hand.
Where are you off to? I asked.
James blushed. Olivia, its just a little visit Mum apologised, shes shes understood.
Daisy, go to your room, I said quietly.
She darted past me, and it was just the two of us.
If you drive her to your mothers now, you can stay there yourself with your things, I said, looking James straight in the eye.
He fell silent, then dropped the keys on the side table.
Youve lost it, he muttered.
Maybe, I admitted.
On the seventh day Nan called herself. For some reason I actually answered.
We arrived at Nans flat at two in the afternoon, after school. Daisy raced up the stairs, clearly excited. I walked slowly, not quite sure what I was bracing for.
Nan opened the door, looking deflated, a little wilted. She hugged Daisy, planted a kiss on her forehead and whispered, My sweet grandgirl
On the kitchen table sat Daisys favourite scones with clotted cream, still warm from the oven. Nan sat Daisy down, poured tea, and didnt mention the stained jumper or the dirty elbows at all.
I sank into an armchair with a mug of coffee, thinking, finally, this is it. Nan might be a bit unorthodox, but at least shes trying.
We spent the next two hours there. Nan never raised her voice, never handed me a golden rule. She just sat beside her granddaughter, listening to Daisy babble about school, friends, the new teacher.
When Daisy disappeared into the bathroom to wash her hands, it was just Nan and me left in the kitchen. She seemed unsure where to go with herself, but we needed to talkjust the two of us, no James, no Daisy, no witnesses.
Ive spent my whole life ordering people around, Nan said suddenly. My husband listened, my son listened and now Im scared to speak, afraid youll take Daisy away again. I feel useless.
I never meant to hurt you, I replied. I just needed you to understand where Im coming from.
She lifted her eyes to mine. I get it. Its terrifying, living like thisweighting every word, watching every step
How long have I lived like that? I snapped back. Every visit Im terrified of another jab. And Daisydid you even see her face with that rag? Nothing changed
Then a thought struck me: maybe were alike. Both of us fear losing controlher over the whole family, me over my daughters upbringingjust on opposite sides of the same fence.
Ill still bring Daisy over, just like before, I said slowly. But if she comes home and tells me she spent the afternoon mopping the floor instead of doing homework or playing, well have a month offno debates.
Nan nodded quickly, a flicker of fear in her eyes.
Alright, love, she said. Alright, dear.
I poured myself some tea. And if you have any questions about Daisys upbringing, ask me directly. Dont drag my daughter into it.
What? You want me to ask? she looked at me as if Id spoken in another language.
Yes. If you think Im doing something wrong, tell me. Ill think about it.
She smirked. Think? You wont start raising her your way again?
Maybe I will, I admitted. But at least well be honest with each other.
Daisy burst out of the bathroom, hair plastered to her face, dripping.
Nan, can I stay the night? she pleaded. Please!
Nan and I exchanged a looknot as enemies, but as two women who love the same child and are trying not to trample each other in the process.
Sure, I said. But tomorrow Ill pick her up at eight, and there will be no floorwashing. Just remember, shes not supposed to shed any more tears in this house.
Nan promised, a shy smile tugging at her lipsstill a little crooked, but a smile nonetheless.
Daisy squealed with joy, clinging to Nan. The next morning I arrived right at eight. Nan was waiting by the window, gave me a wave, and I thought, maybe this weird truce will hold after all.
