The hallway in the old council block on Oldham Road was as narrow and long as a rabbits burrow. Yellowed floral wallpaper clung to the plaster, and the creaky wooden floorboardsstill the original 1970s laminategroaned under every step. A faint scent of boiled cabbage lingered, mingling with the imagined smell of cats, though no cat had ever lived in flat7.
My motherinlaw, Margaret Thompson, didnt open the door right away. First she wrestled with the ancient lock, then lingered a moment longer, peering at me through the peephole before finally pulling the door inward.
Finally! she exclaimed, pulling me into a hug. I was sure youd never come. Come in, Ive got a cake in the oven.
Emily shifted nervously from foot to foot, clutching a small parcel.
Mum, Ive got barely any time. Im just popping in to wish you happy birthday and then Im off. Vickys waiting in the car, I said.
Margarets face fell instantly; delight turned to disappointment.
So you just pop in? Ive set the table, baked a cake, everythings ready. Eleanor Parker from the third floor is coming, Aunt Valentina with her grandchild. Were all waiting. A 65th birthday isnt a joke.
Mum, Emily bit her lip, I told you on the phone. My fatherinlaws 70th is being celebrated tonight at the Hall. Its a big banquet, the whole family, friends, colleagues. We cant miss it.
So you think you can skip my birthday? Margaret pressed her lips together. Am I less important than your fatherinlaw?
Dont say that, Mum, Emily said, feeling cornered. I suggested we move your party to tomorrow, keep it familyonly with cake and gifts. But you stuck to today, and thats that.
How can I move it? My birthday is today, not tomorrow! Margaret flailed her arms. Eleanors already promised to come, and the cake is baked. What am I supposed to tell them? That my own daughter prefers strangers parties to her own mothers?
The hallway grew stuffy. The aroma from the kitchen made Emilys head spin, or perhaps it was the relentless guilt that had haunted her forever.
Theyre not strangers, Mum. Theyre my husbands family. We got the invitation a week ago, before you even thought of a party.
A week ago! And you think I was born yesterday? Margaret snapped. A mothers birthday should be remembered every day, not only when a card arrives.
I glanced at my watch. Vicky had been waiting in the car for fifteen minutes; we were already late.
Mum, I really cant argue now, I said, handing over the parcel. Its the electric kettle you wanted, with temperature control. And heres the envelope£50 for the coat you eyed at Winter Wonderland.
Margaret snapped the parcel and the envelope back at me.
I dont want your handouts, she retorted. I want the attention of my own daughter. What attention? You didnt even bring little Milly to wish Grandmother.
Millys got a fever, thirtyeight point five, Emily said wearily. I called you this morning, told you the nanny would stay.
A nanny? Margaret hissed. And Grandmother is no good? You think I cant look after my own granddaughter?
Mrs? I started, but Margaret cut me off.
The knock at the door announced Eleanor Parker, the neighbour from the third floor, impeccably dressed and cradling a cake.
Margie, happy birthday, love! she chirped, then winced at the strained looks on our faces. Am I early?
Come in, Eleanor! Margaret brightened, waving us in. Just in time. Meet my daughter, Emilyshes only here for a minute to wish me happy birthday before she darts off to more important people.
Eleanor forced a smile. Dont worry, love. Young folks have their own lives. No point holding them back.
Im not holding anyone! Margaret retorted, stepping aside to clear a path to the exit. Go, Emily, go. Let your fatherinlaw stay happy. As for me, Ill survive.
Emily stood there, gift and envelope clenched, unsure what to do. My phone buzzed in her pocketVicky was probably wondering where I was.
Mum, please, Emily whispered, lets not make a scene in front of guests. Ill come back tomorrow with Milly once shes better, and well have a proper family celebration.
Guests? Margaret raised an eyebrow. Eleanor is closer to me than most relatives. She checks in, asks about my health. Some people only pop in once a month, drop a few pounds, and are satisfied. Shes not like that.
Eleanor shifted uncomfortably, obviously regretting being a witness. Ill go put the kettle on, she muttered, retreating toward the kitchen.
Fine, Emily said, placing the kettle on the side table and setting the envelope beside it. I understand, Mum. Im sorry I cant stay. Happy birthday.
She planted a quick kiss on Margarets cheek and slipped out before another harsh word could be spoken. In the stairwell, the air was damp and dusty. Emily leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath.
Her phone buzzed again. She answered.
Yes, Vicky, Im heading down now.
Whats taking you so long? his voice was impatient. Were already twenty minutes late.
Everything as usual, Emily replied briefly. Ill fill you in later.
I descended the squeaky stairwell and stepped outside. Vickys silver Toyota sat at the pavement, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel.
Hows it going? he asked as I buckled in.
Didnt wish Mum Happy Birthday, I said, tightening my seatbelt. She said Im not her daughter because Im going to my fatherinlaws party instead of staying with her.
He sighed. Another twentyfive minutes of drama. Maybe you should have stayed?
What would that change? I muttered, leaning back. Shed find another excuse tomorrowgift not right, Milly too noisy, me never visiting. Its a neverending loop, Vicky.
He started the engine, and we pulled away.
Remember last year? I began. I cancelled our seaside break to throw her a party. I set the table, invited her friends. She spent the whole evening complaining the cake was storebought, not homemade, saying I didnt care about her health because commercial cakes are full of chemicals.
I remember, Vicky said, turning onto the main road. You were miserable for a week after that.
And when Milly was born? I continued, watching the city blur past. Instead of helping with the baby, shed nagYoure feeding her wrong, youre not holding her right, youre singing offkey. Then shed be upset because I barely asked her to look after Milly.
Maybe we should see a counsellor? Vicky suggested, glancing at me. Together with your mum?
Shed probably scoff at that. Shed rather die than admit she has a problem. To her, a therapist is for lunatics.
We arrived at the grand hotel on Deansgate where Victor Stevens, my fatherinlaw, was holding his 70th birthday banquet. Guests in evening dress streamed through sparkling doors.
Were here, Vicky said, parking the car. Try not to think about Mum tonight, okay? You know how dear Dad was waiting for us.
I nodded, fishing out my lipstick to freshen up, forcing a smile. A celebration is a celebration; no one should see me upset.
Inside, the ballroom buzzed with chatter. Victor, a tall silverhaired gentleman with a military bearing, greeted us at the entrance.
There you are, my late arrivals! he boomed, hugging his son first, then me. Emily, you look smashing!
Happy birthday, Dad, I said, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. Sorry Im lateMum held me up.
His expression hardened. How is she? Send my regards. Its funny how the dates line up, isnt it?
Awkward as ever, I replied, trying to sound casual. Well celebrate with her another day.
And Milly? Victor asked. Vicky mentioned shes under the weather.
Just a temperature, I said. A slight cold, nothing serious. We left her at home just in case.
Right, childs health comes first, he nodded. Come, find your seat. Everyones already gathered.
The room filled with music, waiters gliding with drinks, guests laughing. Vicky settled in, but I could only halflisten, my mind drifting back to that cramped hallway with its yellow wallpaper, where Margaret was probably still griping about my disloyalty.
During a lull between toasts, my motherinlaws sisterinlaw, Tania WhitakerVickys motherglided over, elegant in a navy dress.
Emily, you look a bit down, she said gently. Anything on your mind?
Nothing, really, I forced a grin. Just worried about Milly. The nanny called, her fever hasnt dropped.
I understand, Tania replied. Kids catch colds all the time. Shell be fine by morning.
She lowered her voice. Vicky told me about your mums birthday clash. It must be uncomfortable.
Its a birthday, you cant move it, I sighed. Mums a complicated person.
I get it, Tania said, placing a hand on my arm. My own mother was difficult. Whenever we visited, shed find something to criticizeYoure a poor housekeeper, a bad mother, you dress wrong. I suffered for years. Then I realised I couldnt change her; I could only change how I responded.
How? I asked.
You stop expecting her to give you what she cant, she answered simply. Accept her as she is, flaws and all, set your own boundaries. Your mum will never be the pictureperfect mother from a novel. Shell complain, feel slighted, manipulate. Thats her choice. Yours is how you react.
I mulled over her words, the truth in them sharp but useful.
I still feel sorry for her, I admitted. Shes alone on her birthday, upset.
Shes not alone, Tania reminded me. She has a friend. She chose to be upset, and thats her right. But you also have a right to your own life, your decisions, your priorities.
A toast interrupted us, glasses clinking. Vickys cousin shouted something about family values and the importance of kin.
I smiled mechanically, nodding, while the image of Margarethurt, angry, solitaryplayed behind my eyes. When the crowd sat down again, I slipped my phone out and texted the nanny: Hows Milly?
Sleeping. Temp 37.4°C. No worries, the reply came instantly.
I sent another message to Margaret: Happy birthday, Mum. I love you. Ill be back tomorrow with Milly as soon as she feels better.
A few minutes passed with no reply. Then the phone chimed.
Thanks for the wishes. Zinas cake was awfulfull of chemicals. Yours would have been better. Love, Mum.
A small smile tugged at my lips. It was the closest thing to reconciliation Margaret could muster.
Whats good? Vicky asked, noticing my grin.
Mum texted, I showed him. Shes almost not angry.
He snorted. For your mother, thats practically a love confession.
The evening went ontoast after toast, dancing, a few cheeky games. I gradually relaxed, even found a sliver of enjoyment. Tanias advice sank in: I couldnt keep blaming myself for never meeting anyones impossible expectations, not even my own mothers.
We left the hotel late. The nanny called later to say Milly had slept soundly and her temperature was nearly normal.
Tomorrow morning well go to Grandmas, I told Emily as I tucked the sleepy child into her crib. Well give her a proper birthday.
Are you sure? Vicky asked, loosening his tie. Maybe give her a few more days to stew, so she appreciates you coming.
No, I said firmly. Shes my mother, flaws and all. I dont want a lingering grudge. Lifes too short for that.
The next morning I baked her favourite honey cake, dressed Milly in a pretty dress, and we set off for the celebration. On the way I bought a bouquet of white chrysanthemumsMargarets favourite.
Margaret opened the front door as soon as we arrived, as if shed been waiting. She was wearing a fresh dress, hair neatly done for the occasion.
Grandma! Milly shrieked, flinging herself into her arms. Happy birthday! Look what we brought you!
She handed over a clumsily wrapped box of beads shed picked out herself.
Margarets face lit up. She lifted the little girl into her arms.
Milly, I thought you were ill!
Im fine now! the child beamed. The doctor said Im a trooper.
I placed the honey cake on the side table and handed Margaret the bouquet.
Happy birthday, Mum.
We embraced, and I felt her arms tighten around me, the old tension easing, if only for the moment.
Come in, quick, Margaret bustled. Teas ready, scones are fresh. Yesterday Zinas storebought cake was dreadfulfull of chemicals. We barely finished it.
Emily gave me a knowing glance, and we both smiled. It was just another ordinary day, but now it felt warm rather than bitter. Mum is still Mumquirky, demanding, and occasionally hardheartedbut those moments together are precious because they dont last forever.
