A wicker basket of fruit sat on the kitchen table like a mute accusation. Nora Whitfield glanced at it once more and let out a weary sigh. From the adjoining room the low hum of the television drifted in her husband, Edward, was glued to another programme about angling. It didnt seem to bother him in the least.
Nat, are you coming? The teas getting cold, Edward called over his shoulder.
Nora grimaced. He could barely warm his own cup, let alone the tea for two.
Im coming, she answered, pulling a jar of marmalade from the fridge.
Passing the hallway mirror she absentmindedly smoothed the few silver strands at the nape of her neck. Time had flown; it felt as if shed just married Edward yesterday, and now they were celebrating their daughters sixtieth birthday.
Thinking of Emily made Noras heart tighten. They hadnt spoken in a week; the argument still hung between them, and as usual Nora felt she was at fault. She had only wanted the best for her child.
On the table, next to Edwards unwashed mug, lay a modest woodenframed photograph of the two of them on their wedding day young, smiling, Nora in a flowing dress, Edward in a smart suit. Who could have guessed that forty years later their lives would have settled into a routine of halfspoken words and lingering resentments?
Are you still stuck in there? Edwards voice rang again.
Nora brushed the memory aside and carried a tray of tea and marmalade into the living room.
Still moping over it? Edward asked without looking away from the screen.
Youve got no problem at all, do you? Nora retorted, unable to hold back. You should have called Emily, apologised.
For what? Edward finally turned to face her. For the present we gave her? Thats absurd.
Nora set the tray down on the coffee table and perched on the edge of the sofa.
It was a terrible gift, Eddie. I know that myself.
A plain tea set, he shrugged. It was expensive, mind you. We spent about thirty pounds on it.
Its not about the money, Nora sighed. You should have seen the look on her face when she opened the box. She hated that set thirty years ago, yet we kept it and gave it to her for her anniversary. She thought we were mocking her.
We werent mocking anyone! Edward snapped. We thought it was a lovely gift its almost a vintage piece, after all.
Nora shook her head. Men often miss the subtleties. The set had been a wedding gift from distant relatives of Edwards family. She remembered a teenage Emily turning a cup over in her hands and saying, Mum, this is prehistoric! All the flowers it looks more like a garden than a teacup. The set had sat untouched in the sideboard ever since, until the idea of gifting it to Emily resurfaced.
Times change, Edward persisted. Vintage is in vogue now. All those what do you call them hipsters love oldfashioned stuff.
Emily isnt a hipster! Nora shouted. Shes the chief accountant at a serious firm, and her flat is minimalist, not a grannys cabinet.
Then she could have simply said thanks and put it on a shelf, Edward muttered. Instead she made a scene in front of all the guests.
Nora recalled the moment Emily opened the box, stared at the set in silence for a few seconds, then looked up at her parents.
This is that set from the sideboard? she asked quietly.
Yes, love! Nora had replied brightly. Remember how you always said it was beautiful?
The room fell quiet. Emilys face paled.
I never said it was beautiful. I could never stand it, and you knew that, she said.
Thats an exaggeration, Edward sipped his tea. A bad gift isnt the end of the world. Do we have any other problems?
Yes, we do, Nora said. The biggest one is that we dont really know our own daughter what she likes, what she lives for.
Edward snorted. Dont dramatise. Shes just a difficult character.
Nora was about to argue when the phone rang. She hurried to answer, hoping it was Emily.
Hello?
Nora? Its Margaret, said a familiar voice on the other end. Could you pop over? I need help with these new tablets the instructions make no sense.
Ill be right there, Nora replied, hanging up.
Who was that? Edward asked.
Margaret James. Ill be over for a bit; she needs a hand with her medication.
Again with your charity runs, Edward grumbled. Wholl make dinner?
Nora let out a heavy sigh. Theres a pot of soup in the fridge, just needs reheating.
She threw on a light cardigan and left the flat. The lift lobby smelled of fried fish from the neighbours below and tobacco from a young couple on the fifth floor.
Margaret lived alone; the door opened immediately.
Come in, Nora, come in, the elderly woman chirped. Ive baked a cake, lets have some tea together.
Nora tried to decline, but Margaret persisted. While the neighbour busied herself in the kitchen, Nora glanced at the framed photos on the wall Margaret with her husband, her daughter, her grandchildren, all smiling.
Hows little Emily doing? Margaret asked as she set a tray of tea down. Holding up after the divorce?
Managing, Nora replied evasively.
And her son, Jamie? Hes at university now, isnt he?
Yes, third year.
Margaret settled beside her and studied Noras expression. You look sad today. Something happened?
Nora could no longer hold it in and poured out everything the cursed tea set, the fight with Emily, Edwards stubbornness.
You know, Margaret said when Nora finished, you need to talk to Emily, just the two of you. Admit you were wrong about the gift.
She wont pick up the phone, Nora sighed.
Then go to her place, Margaret shrugged. She doesnt live far away.
The thought lingered in Noras mind. Pride? Fear of hearing that they had become two clueless old folk who couldnt understand their own child?
Youre right, she said finally. Ill go today.
Good, Margaret approved. Now lets try that cake.
Back home, Nora found Edward still glued to the television.
Edward, Im heading to Emilys, she announced.
Why? he asked, puzzled.
To apologise for the gift.
Again with your rightful gifts! Edward turned to her. A set she didnt like isnt the end of the world. She just doesnt have an artistic eye yet.
It isnt about the set, Nora said, sitting on the sofas edge. Its that we dont hear each other, that we dont hear our own daughter.
Fine, Edward conceded, unexpectedly. Just dont tell her I admitted fault. I still think the set was a fine gift.
Nora only shook her head. Forty years together and none of that stubbornness had faded.
Emily lived in a new suburb, in a sleek highrise. Nora caught the bus, watching the passing countryside, thinking how hard it can be to communicate with those closest to you.
The front door opened and her grandson James stepped in.
Grandma? he asked, surprised. Why didnt you call first?
Just wanted to surprise you, Nora smiled, handing him a bag of scones. Is Mum at home?
Shes in her office, James replied, taking the bag. Come on, Ill get her.
Nora walked into the living room. Emilys flat was a mix of admiration and melancholy for Nora modern, minimalist, bathed in pastel light. No sideboard of crystal, no floral wallpaper. A different era, different values.
Emily emerged from her study, a tight line across her brow.
Mom? Whats wrong?
Nothing, Nora said calmly. I just came to talk.
Emily glanced at the clock. I have a video call with London in thirty minutes.
I wont be long, Nora settled onto the sofa. Emily, Im here to apologise for that tea set. You were right it was a foolish idea.
Youre apologising for a teacup? Emily raised an eyebrow.
More than that, Nora clasped her hands. For not understanding you, for living in the past and missing who you are now.
Emily sank into the armchair opposite her.
Mom, its not just the set, she began slowly. Its a symbol that you dont really know me, what I love, what I live for.
Thats true, Nora whispered. Were stuck in memories of you as the little girl who lived with us.
The worst part, Emily continued, is you never try to learn who I am now. Youve never asked what music I listen to, which books I read, which films I love. Youre convinced you know me better than I know myself.
Youre absolutely right, Nora felt a lump rise in her throat. Parents often think their children are extensions of themselves, not separate people.
Exactly! Emilys tone softened. Im also at fault. I never ask what youre interested in, what worries you. I just drop by once a month with groceries and leave, as if Im doing a duty.
Were all at fault, Nora smiled through her tears. But its not too late to change, is it?
Not at all, Emily agreed.
So, tell me, what music are you listening to these days? Nora asked. What are you reading?
Emily laughed. Seriously?
Very seriously, Nora replied. We have about twenty minutes before my call. After that Ill head back and wont intrude.
Alright, Emily said, thinking. Im into jazz, especially the 50s stuff. I read professional journals for work, but for fun I devour detective novels. Ive also started learning Spanish because I want to visit Barcelona.
Nora listened, feeling as though she was meeting a new person. She realised how much she had missed over the years.
And your love life? she ventured gently. Its been three years since the divorce
Emily smiled shyly. There is someone. Hes seven years younger than me, which I was afraid youd disapprove of.
Were oldfashioned, but not out of touch, Nora said. What matters is hes a good man.
He is, Emily nodded. He teaches history at university. James likes him.
Bring him over for dinner, Nora suggested. No more tea sets as gifts, I promise.
They both laughed.
You know, Emily said, I was wrong to reject the set. Its actually beautiful, a lovely Provence style. Vintage is quite valued now.
Dont try to excuse me, Nora shook her head. It was a terrible gift.
It really was, Emily agreed. Im even thinking of putting it on the garden shed. We bought a plot last year, didnt I tell you?
No, Nora felt a sting of shame. See how little we know about each other?
Lets catch up, Emily said, checking her watch. I have to get ready for the call, but you must visit this weekend, and bring dad. Ill show you photos of the cottage.
They hugged, and Nora felt something vital return to her life something she had almost lost through her own blindness.
On the way back home she stopped at a shop, bought a decent bottle of red wine and a box of chocolates. Edward met her in the doorway, his face a mixture of curiosity and concern.
How did it go? he asked.
We made up, Nora said, handing him the bag. Emily even likes the set now; she wants to put it in the garden.
There you go! Edward exclaimed triumphantly. I told you it was a good gift!
Nora only smiled. Let him think he won. The real victory was that the familys peace mattered more than any teacup.
Edward, she said as she moved toward the kitchen, did you know our daughter is learning Spanish and plans to go to Barcelona?
No way! he replied, startled. Why would she need Spanish at her age?
Because life doesnt end at sixty, Nora said, pulling out two glasses. And neither does ours. Perhaps we should learn something new ourselves.
What, like what? Edward asked, skeptical.
Like listening to each other, Nora poured the wine. And choosing gifts with heart, not from the sideboard.
Deal, Edward raised his glass. To a new chapter in our lives.
The fruit basket still sat on the table, but now Nora looked at it with fresh eyes. Even the most awkward gift can become the seed of something genuine and lasting. The lesson was clear: true generosity lies in understanding and hearing the people we love, not in the price tag of what we give.
