Mom, could you watch Max for me today? Katie asked, her voice heavy with fatigue. Ive got to pop over to the office and pick up some urgent paperwork.
Ive got a meeting with the editor at seven this evening, Margaret replied, flipping through her diary. I cant.
Come on, Mum, youre always busy! Hes your grandson, isnt he? Is work really more important than family? Katie protested, the guiltladen tone familiar as ever.
Margaret tightened her jaw. Manipulation through guilt, once more.
Katie, I warned you that having a baby with someone you barely know was a reckless move. You ignored me. Thats your choice, your responsibility, she said.
Right, Katie snapped coldly. So you dont care about me or the baby. Thanks for the support. She hung up.
Margaret had just turned fiftytwo and, for the first time in years, felt she could finally breathe. A painful divorce had once turned her world upside down. For fifteen years she raised two daughters alone, working two jobs, denying herself everything. Five years ago Michael entered her life a steady, dependable man who accepted her whole past and never demanded the impossible.
The girls grew up, earned their degrees. With Michael, Margaret bought a onebed flat for the older daughter, Katie, and a studio for the younger, Lily. Margaret finally landed a respectable post at a publishing house, enrolled in Italian lessons, and began saving for a trip to Italy a lifelong dream.
At twentythree, Katie married a stranger shed barely known, and six months later gave birth. Margaret had cautioned her about the haste, but Katie hadnt listened. Her husband turned out to be an unreliable fellow, working only offandon, money trickling in sporadically. Katie was torn between the infant and odd jobs, struggling to make ends meet. Since then, Margarets phone rang nonstop with Katies calls.
Margaret pressed her forehead against the cool kitchen window, weary of the endless demand to sacrifice herself. Katie hinted at moving back in with her parents, claiming it would make life easier for everyone, especially with the baby. Margaret refused, explaining she had her own life, work, and plans. Katie sobbed into the receiver, lamenting her lost youth.
A week later, an even more startling piece of news arrived. Twentyyearold Lily, fresh out of university, announced she was pregnant. The father was a lad shed been dating for only three months, a courier who rented a room in a hostel with no prospects. Lily rushed home, eyes shining, looking for support and celebration.
Mom, can you believe it? Victor and I are going to be parents! she exclaimed, flopping onto the sofa. Well have a little one! Isnt that wonderful?
Margaret watched her daughter, irritation building again. The same story as Katies.
Lily, have you and Victor thought about how youll raise the child? Where will you live? A studio with a baby? How will you afford everything? she asked calmly.
Lily fidgeted with the hem of her sweater. Well, Victor still has his spare room Well figure something out. Mom, youll help us, wont you? Well need you.
Margaret set her cup down a fraction harder than intended.
No, Lily. You have the right to have a baby, Im not opposed to that. But I wont be footing the bill for a young family. The flat is yours, Ive given you everything I could. Now youll have to manage on your own.
Lily sprang up, tears welling. How can you say that? Youre heartless! Im your daughter! The baby will be your grandson!
Im telling you the truth, Margaret replied. Youre both adults. Youve finished university, Victor works. If youve decided to bring a child into the world, you must shoulder the responsibility yourself. Ive done my part. I have my own life and plans.
What plans? Isnt family more important? Lily shrieked, grabbing her bag. Katies right. Youre selfish!
Both daughters united against her in the family chat, piling accusations of selfishness and coldness. Katie typed long messages about how hard it was for her, how a mother should help, while Lily added that she never imagined her mother could be so indifferent.
Michael tried to comfort his wife each evening, holding her, doing what he could. Yet the tension grew. Katie began dropping in unannounced with the baby, pushing the stroller through the front door and disappearing after a quick request: Mum, Ill be back in a couple of hours, can you look after Max?
Margaret tried to protest, but Katie was already racing down the stairs. Michael frowned but stayed silent. Lily called, tears in her voice, begging for moral support, complaining that Victor didnt understand her, that money was nonexistent, that she was lost.
Margaret felt cornered. The daughters kept demanding, demanding, demanding, as if she were an endless well they could draw from forever.
Saturday night was quiet. Michael and Margaret had planned a calm evening at home, a film and a chat about their Italy trip. A sharp, insistent knock shattered the silence.
Michael opened the door. Katie stood there, suitcase in hand, baby cradled, and Lily followed, eyes reddened from crying.
Were moving in temporarily, Katie announced without a greeting, hauling her suitcase inside. Serge will bring the rest of our things later. Well rent out my flat to bring in some money, and then I can spend more time with Max while I work.
What? Margaret froze in the hallway. Katie, what are you talking about? We never discussed this.
Whats there to discuss? Youre my mother, youre supposed to help. Who else will? Katie snapped.
Lily slipped in behind her. Mum, I need money for a cot. We have nothing. Victor earns little, I cant stay on maternity leave, I need to work.
Something inside Margaret snapped. All the months of fatigue, irritation, and hurt burst forth.
No, she said sharply, stepping forward. Katie, turn around and go home. Lily, there will be no money. Thats it.
Both daughters froze, staring at her.
Youre serious? Katie asked, rocking the wailing Max. Are you serious?
Absolutely, Margaret crossed her arms. I raised you, gave you education, bought you flats. Now fly out of the nest and make your own lives. Dont hang your children on my neck.
How can you say that? Lily shrieked. Were your daughters! Your blood!
I can because youre adults. You chose who to tie your lives to, when to have children. I warned you, I advised you. You didnt listen. This is your responsibility, not mine.
Katie shifted the baby to her other arm, bewildered and angry. Youre kicking us out? With a baby?
Im not kicking you out. You have a house, Margaret retorted, not wavering. And you have a husband, Katie. Sort out your problems yourselves.
Youre a cold selfish brute! Lily roared, stamping a foot. We mean nothing to you! All you think about is Italy!
Yes, Italy matters to me, Margaret said evenly. My plans, my life. I spent twenty years living for you. What more do you expect? That Ill babysit you and your children until Im six feet under?
The sisters exchanged a glance. Katie grabbed her suitcase, turned, and headed for the door. Lily followed. Margaret heard them descending the stairs, their voices a muffled mix of contempt and hurt.
A week passed with no calls or messages. Michael told her shed done the right thing. Yet inside, Margaret felt a knot of anxiety. Had she been too harsh?
Later she learned Katie had indeed sold her flat and moved in with her husbands parents, cramped into a twobedroom where every chore was scrutinised and any mistake met with criticism. The motherinlaw raised the grandson as she saw fit; the fatherinlaw grumbled about the lazy younger generation.
Lilys fate came through a neighbour. Shed been seen sobbing on a bench outside the block. Victor fled, taking only his belongings, leaving Lily alone, pregnant and penniless.
Margaret stood in the kitchen, weighing these revelations, torn between compassion and the firm resolve not to intervene. She had given them a solid start; how they used it was no longer her concern.
The daughters began calling again. Katie lamented her motherinlaw, crying she couldnt take it any longer. Lily wept about being completely alone, unable to cope. Margaret listened, sympathised, but offered no financial aid, only advice.
But the daughters wanted more than advice; they wanted Margaret to solve everything, to let them stay under her roof, to hand over money. Each time Margaret refused.
Michael and she finally bought tickets for a threeweek trip to ItalyRome, Florence, Venicethe longawaited getaway finally within reach. Before leaving, Margaret rang the girls. Whats wrong with you? Katie asked, baffled. What about us?
Youre grown up, youll manage, Margaret replied, eyeing the suitcase by the door. When you learn to solve your own problems and stop treating me as a freerange nanny and cash source, Ill be happy to talk as equals. Until then, grow up.
Youre abandoning us? Katie whispered into the handset. What are we supposed to do?
Im not abandoning you. You have the right to make mistakes. I have the right not to pay for them, Margaret said, pulling on her coat. Ill always be your mother, but I wont sacrifice myself for adult children and their rash choices.
Michael waited by the car. Margaret descended the stairs, slipped into the passenger seat, and inhaled a deep breath. She had finally decided she would no longer be haunted by guilt. She had given her children education, a roof, love. Shed offered guidance, but they never listened. Her mission was complete. It was time to think of herself.
She imagined her holiday beside her beloved Michaelwalking the cobbled lanes of Rome, admiring Florentine art, gliding through Venetian canals. Freedom she deserved. Everything felt wonderful.
