Emily shivered as the phone rang sharply. The screen flashed Agnes Whitaker. It was the third call that morning. She inhaled deeply, summoned her courage, and pressed the green button.
Hello, Agnes, Im listening, she said.
Emily, why arent you answering? I keep calling! the motherinlaws voice carried a thinly veiled rebuke. Im calling, Im calling!
I was making porridge for Blythe, my hands were busy, Emily replied, though the truth was she simply didnt want another round of criticism about how she was raising the child.
Those porridge meals again! I told you children need meat. My Charlie grew on meatlook at him, strong as an oak! And your Blythe is so pale, a gust of wind will blow her away, Agnes jabbed.
Emily closed her eyes, counted to five. Blythe was only three, and the paediatrician had said she was developing normallyher slight frame was just a trait from Jamess side of the family.
We do give her meat too. Tonight shell have meatballs for lunch, Emily answered.
Good! Thats why Im calling. Ill drop by with chicken broth, bones and all, just the way Charlie likes it. Ill also make cutlets from my own recipe, because your meatballs she trailed off, the sarcasm hanging in the air as if she were offering poison.
Dont worry, we have everything we need, Emily tried to interject.
Whats there to worry about? Grandma wants to see her grandson! You wont refuse, will you? The question was a trap; any answer other than assent would seem terribly rude.
Of course, come over, Emily surrendered.
When the call ended, she pressed her forehead against the cool windowpane. Outside, rare snowflakes twirled, settling on bare branches. November lay heavy and grey.
Mum, who were you talking to? Blythe peeked from the nursery, clutching a threadworn plush rabbit.
Grandma Agnes is coming today, Emily said, forcing a bright tone.
Will she say Im not eating well again? the little girl frowned.
Emily felt a pang. Even the child sensed the relentless critique.
Grandma loves you very much and just wants you to grow healthy and strong. Blythe nodded, though doubt lingered, and returned to her toys.
Emily set to work. Though she and James preferred a creatively chaotic home, the flat had to sparkle for the visit; otherwise Agnes would surely comment that such a stall would breed germs. In two hours she scrubbed floors, dusted surfaces, and even baked an apple tartthe sole culinary triumph that Agnes always praised.
James was due back from work at lunchtime. Both worked remotelyhe a programmer, she a designerbut today he had an important client meeting and was at the office.
Exactly two hours later the doorbell rang. Agnes was punctual as a Swiss watch.
Well, look whos arrived, my daughterinlaw! the short, plump woman with chestnuttinted hair entered, laden with bags. Wheres my little princess?
Blythe timidly peered out of the bedroom.
Come here, darling! Grandmas treats are here! she called.
The girl stepped forward and offered her hand for a kiss, a gesture Agnes had taught her, insisting girls should grow into proper ladies.
Only grownup girls get kissed on the hand, Agnes said, leaning in to hug her granddaughter. When youre sixteen youll be the one extending your hand to gentlemen. Grandmothers just get a hello.
Emily rolled her eyes, though Agnes didnt see. The contradictions in her parenting advice were endless.
Agnes, may I help with the bags? Emily offered.
Sure, bring them to the kitchen. Ive prepared so much! Charlie must eat properly, not just nibble at anything.
In the kitchen Agnes began issuing orders.
Emily, fetch a big pot. Not that plastic oneget a proper metal one. And wheres your bread? Do you keep it in the fridge? You cant! Itll go stale!
Emily complied, handing over pans and plates. After six years with James, she was used to his mothers certainty about the right way to do everything.
Blythe looks so pale, Agnes observed, laying out homemade pickles. Do you take her for walks? Give her vitamins?
We walk daily if the weather allows, and we give her the vitamin mix the paediatrician prescribed, Emily replied.
The paediatrician! What do those young doctors know? In our day Agnes sneered.
Emily exhaled silently.
In our day we kept children outdoors from dawn till dusk and hardened them! I took Charlie out in any weather, and he grew healthy, the motherinlaw declared.
Emily kept quiet, though she could have reminded Agnes that James had suffered bronchitis every winter and chronic tonsillitis as a child.
Emily, Ive baked a tart. Tea?
First lunch, then tea. Everything in order. And wheres Charlie? Why isnt he here yet?
A click sounded as the hallway lock turned.
Ah, there he is! Agnes brightened.
James entered, staring at a shoe rack in the hallway.
Mum? Why didnt you tell me you were coming? he asked.
How could I not? I called Emily this morning! Agnes retorted.
Emily gave a guilty smile; she had forgotten to text James about the visit.
Hello, Mum, James said, hugging his mother. How are you feeling?
Blood pressures up, my legs swell by evening, but I dont complain. We manage ourselves, we dont burden anyone, she replied, a rehearsed line that always led to a litany of ailments.
Undress, Ill heat the lunch. Ive been at the stove since morning, making your favourite dishes, she added.
James shot a guilty glance at Emily, knowing how taxing these visits were for her.
At lunch Agnes drifted into memory, recalling how brilliant Charlie had been at four, reciting poems.
Blythe, do you know any verses? she asked.
The girl poked at her plate with a fork in silence.
She knows many poems, Emily intervened. Blythe, tell Grandma about the bear.
I dont want to, Blythe muttered, pouting.
See, James? The child is so unsociable. She should go to nursery, play with other kids, Agnes urged.
Weve decided to wait until shes four, James interjected. No need to push her.
Push? I gave up my child at two and he turned out fine! Yours is shy, eats nothing Agnes scoffed.
Blythe pushed her plate away, puffing her cheeks.
Can I go play? she asked.
No, finish your cutlet first, Agnes ordered.
Finish your cutlet, sunshine, Emily said softly, though her stomach churned.
Blythe forced a bite of the cutlet.
Much better, Agnes approved. Youre spoiling her, letting her run wild. A child needs routine, discipline. When I raised Charlie
She launched into another nostalgic tirade about proper upbringing.
After lunch Agnes insisted Blythe take a daytime nap.
A child must nap! Its essential for the schedule, she declared. Emily wanted to protest that Blythe hadnt napped in months and would stay up till midnight, but James shook his head: it was easier to concede than to argue.
Let her rest a bit, he whispered to Emily.
While Agnes wrestled with the stubborn girl, Emily brewed tea and sliced the tart.
Useless, Agnes returned half an hour later. Shes completely out of hand. In our childhood children always obeyed!
Emily almost blurted, In your day you even whipped children for misbehaviour, but swallowed the words.
Shes just not tired yet, James soothed. Mum, try the tart. I made it especially for you.
Agnes eyed the slice skeptically.
Hopefully its free of artificial additives? Those store mixes nowadays
Its all naturalflour, eggs, apples from our garden, the same ones you gave us, Emily reassured.
The comment softened her.
Look at you now, you finally learned to fry an egg, she mused, recalling Emilys early marriage days.
Emily stayed silent, though she could have reminded Agnes of her ten years of independent living and solid cooking skillsjust not the way Agnes preferred.
Charlie, Agnes said, turning to her son, could you pop over sometime this week? The kitchen tap is leaking and the cupboard light is out. Im afraid to climb a ladder and end up broken.
Sure, Mum, Charlie replied, looking guilty. Ill be there Wednesday, okay?
Wednesday? I have Mrs. Nolan visiting maybe Tuesday? Agnes suggested.
Tuesday I have a client meeting, Charlie protested.
Fine, Ill just sit with the leaky tap then, she sighed. Its not the first time.
Emily bit her lip. The same thinveiled blackmail, the endless reproaches.
I can go with you, check the tap, Charlie offered, trying to ease his mothers sigh.
Agness face brightened.
Great! And while youre at it, look at the hallway wallpaper. Im thinking of changing it after five years. Its getting untidy.
Where is Blythe playing? Its too quiet, Emily suddenly asked.
In her room, looking at books. I told her not to scatter her toys, Agnes answered.
Emily peeked into the nursery and froze. Blythe was carefully cutting pictures from a brandnew picture book theyd bought only yesterday.
Blythe! What are you doing? Emily gasped.
The girl looked up, unflustered.
Grandma said I could cut pictures and make an album. She gave me scissors.
Emily seized the damaged booka costly, beautifully illustrated volume James had ordered online just weeks before.
This was brand new! We only started reading it yesterday! she exclaimed.
Tears welled in Blythes eyes.
Grandma said she sniffed.
Emily took a deep breath, soothing herself.
Its alright, love. Next time, ask Mum or Dad before you cut anything, okay? she said, hugging her.
She returned to the kitchen where Agnes was animatedly chatting with Charlie about a neighbour on the fifth floor who had had a serious incident.
Agnes, Emily interjected calmly, did you give Blythe the scissors?
Yes, why not? Children should learn to use their hands. We used to glue and cut all the time. Now theyre glued to phones
But she tore a brandnew bookthe one we just received from the online shop, Emily protested.
Its just a book! Shell have a beautiful album. It nurtures creativity, Agnes waved off.
James, caught between them, tried to mediate.
Mum, you could have asked us first, he said gently.
Ah, so now I must ask permission to spend time with my own granddaughter? Who am I, a stranger here? Agnes snapped.
No one speaks like that, James attempted to calm her.
Yes, thats exactly what we say! she rose, Im the extra person in this house. I arrive, I cook, and all I get are criticisms!
Agnes, Emily stood as well, no one is criticizing you. There are boundaries, you know.
Boundaries? Agnes retorted. What boundaries between a grandmother and a granddaughter? I raised Charlie alone! I know how to bring up children, unlike some who cant even make a decent lunch!
Mother! James shouted. Stop this right now!
Silence fell. Blythe emerged from the nursery, eyes wide.
Grandma is shouting, she whispered.
Agnes instantly softened.
Come here, my dear. Grandma isnt shouting, just adults talking. Lets finish our album together, okay?
No, Emily said firmly. No more cutting. Blythe will watch a cartoon with Dad, and well speak with you, Agnes.
Agnes tried to protest, but James took Blythes hand.
Shall we go watch Frozen? he asked.
As they left, Emily offered Agnes a seat.
Agnes, I know you love Blythe and want the best for her, but James and I have our own parenting style. We ask you to respect that, Emily said.
So I should stay silent when I see a child being raised the wrong way? Agnes sneered.
You may suggest, advise, but dont decide for us. And please dont tell Blythe what she may or may not do, Emily replied.
What, like cutting books, or not napping, or eating sweets before lunch? Agnes asked.
So I shouldnt spoil my granddaughter? Then why are grandmothers needed? Emily sighed. They were speaking different languages.
Spoiling is fine in moderation, as long you discuss it with us, she added.
Agnes pressed her lips together, gathered her bags, and announced, If thats how it is, Ill go. Theres nothing for me here if I cant even talk properly with my granddaughter.
Dont dramatise, Emily said tiredly. Just please respect each other.
Thirty years teaching, raised my son alone, and now I have to ask permission to teach my granddaughter how to cut pictures! Agnes muttered as she slipped into her coat.
James stepped out of the room, hearing the clatter in the hallway.
Mum, youre leaving? he asked.
Yes, dear. Your wife doesnt like how Im handling Blythe, she replied.
Dont start, Mum, James grimaced. Let me take you and Ill check the tap while Im at it?
Agness face brightened a fraction.
Alright, if its not too much bring a screwdriver, theres a loose hinge in the cupboard.
When they departed, Emily collapsed onto the sofa. Blythe slipped quietly into the room and climbed onto her lap.
Mum, I wont cut books anymore, she promised solemnly. I didnt know I shouldnt.
Of course, sweetheart, Emily hugged her. Youre not at fault. Next time, if Grandma suggests something, ask Dad or me first, okay?
Blythe nodded, pressing her forehead to her mothers.
James returned an hour and a half later, exhausted but satisfied.
The taps fixed, the lights in, the cupboards sturdy. Mum sends her apologies and says she wont meddle with the upbringing again.
And I should believe that? Emily teased.
James sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her.
Of course not. But at least well have a week of peace.
They laughed. Perhaps someday the relationship with Agnes would smooth out, or perhaps not. For now they had their little family, their home, their rules, and they would guard them fiercely.
A week later Agnes called, as if nothing had changed, offering to teach Blythe how to bake pies. Its time the girl learns a proper ladys craft, she declared, or shell end up like the modern youth, good for nothing. Emily sighed, exchanged a glance with James, and both knew the cycle would continue. Yet they also knew the old womans heart was in the right place, even if her idea of right was entirely different from theirs.
