Youre not her motherIm her grandmother, snapped Margaret when she saw her daughter-in-law, Emily, feeding three-year-old Lily porridge at the kitchen table.
The spoon froze in Emilys hand. Lily blinked up at her grandmother, her chewing slowing to a stop.
What do you mean? Emily asked quietly, careful not to raise her voice in front of the child.
Just what I said, Margaret huffed, stepping closer to inspect the bowl. The girl ought to have proper food, not this mushy stuff. A nice sausage and mash, thats what a growing child needs.
Margaret, Lilys still little. The doctor said porridge is good for her at this age.
That young GP from the clinic? Margaret scoffed. What does he know? I raised three children, and all of them turned out fine. Youve just had the one, and suddenly you know better than me.
Emilys cheeks burned. Lilys wide eyes darted between her mother and grandmother, sensing the tension.
Mummy, I dont want the porridge, the little girl announced suddenly, pushing the bowl away.
See? Margaret said triumphantly. Even she knows. Let me make her a proper breakfast.
Without waiting for a reply, Margaret marched to the fridge and began pulling out ingredients. Emily sat with the spoon still in her hand, torn. Arguing in front of Lily wasnt an option, but she was tired of always giving in.
Margaret, maybe just finish the porridge? I made it fresh this morning, even added a bit of apple
Apple in porridge? Margaret cut in, clattering a pan onto the stove. Fruits for eating on its own. Youre young, but really, such nonsense.
Lily slid off her chair and trotted over to her grandmother.
Nana, what are you making?
Pancakes, my love. With jam. Remember how we made them last time?
Yes! Lily clapped. Mummy, can I help Nana?
Emily nodded, clearing away the half-eaten porridge. Every visit from her mother-in-law felt like a trial. Margaret acted as though her son had no wifeas though Emily were incapable of caring for her own child.
Wheres my William? Margaret asked, whisking batter. Surely he didnt leave for work without saying goodbye to his own mother?
He left early. Big meeting in Manchesteryou know how it is.
Of course. Slaving away, my boy. And for what? To provide for his family. And some people dont even appreciate it.
Emily bit her tongue. There was no point arguing. Margaret could twist any situation into a reason to criticise.
Nana, can I flip the pancakes? Lily asked, standing on a stool by the hob.
Of course, darling. Just mind the heat.
Emily nearly intervenedLily was too young to be near a hot stovebut Margaret spoke first.
Dont fuss, Im watching. A girl should learn to cook. Wouldnt want her growing up helpless.
*Helpless.* The word stung. Emily cooked well enough, but Margaret always found faultthe roast too dry, the soup too salty, the vegetables chopped wrong.
Mummy, look, my pancakes perfect! Lily beamed, holding up a lopsided golden circle.
Well done, sweetheart, Emily smiled.
Well have it with jam and clotted cream, Margaret added. A *real* breakfast, not that slop.
Lily devoured the pancakes, her cheeks smeared with jam. Emily watched, torn. On one hand, her daughter was eating happily. On the other, it felt like another victory for Margaretproof that *she* knew best.
Margaret, maybe not so much sugar first thing? Emily ventured.
Whats wrong with it? She needs energy. Or do you want her pale and peaky?
No, but too much sugar
Oh, you and your articles, Margaret waved her off. Internet nonsense. I raised children the *proper* way, not from books. And they all turned out strong and clever.
The familiar weight settled in Emilys chest. Every decision questioned, every choice picked apart.
After breakfast, Lily ran off to play. Margaret washed up, though Emily offered.
Sit down, rest, Margaret said. Ive got this. Not like young people today, no idea about housework.
Margaret, why do you act like I dont know how to care for Lily?
Margaret turned from the sink.
Did I say that? Youre just inexperienced. Itll come. Till then, Ill help.
But Im her *mother*. Shouldnt I decide what she eats? How shes raised?
Of course you should. But Im her grandmother. And Ive more experience.
Margaret dried her hands and sat opposite Emily.
Listen, love, I dont want to quarrel. I worry, thats all. Youre young. Mistakes now haunt you later.
What mistakes?
That porridge, for one. Or bundling her up like its midwinter. Yesterday was *lovely* out, and you had her in a coat.
It was chilly.
Nonsense. Children need toughening up, not coddling.
Emily exhaled. Nothing she did was right. Too warm, too cold. Porridge, no porridge.
A wail came from the nursery. Both women hurried in. Lily sat on the floor, clutching a broken doll.
Whats wrong, darling? Emily knelt beside her.
Dollys arm fell off, Lily sniffled.
Well fix her, Emily soothed.
Or get a new one, Margaret cut in. This ones old anyway. Ill pop to the shops tomorrow, pick something better.
Thats not necessary. Lily has plenty of toys.
Plenty? Margaret glanced around. Hardly any. The Taylor girl down the road has *rooms* full.
Its not about quantity
Then what? Children need stimulation. Or are you scrimping on your own daughter?
Im not scrimping! Emily snapped. I just dont believe in spoiling her.
Ah. And then you wonder why she prefers me.
The words hit like a slap. Emily looked at Lily, whod forgotten the doll and was watching them intently.
Nana, really a new dolly? Lily asked.
Of course, poppet. The prettiest one.
Lily cheered. Emilys chest ached. Yet again, she was the mean mummy, and Margaret the fun, generous nana.
Mummy, why are you sad? Lily suddenly asked.
Im not, love. Just tired.
Ill kiss it better. Lily planted a sticky kiss on her cheek.
Margaret watched, expression unreadable.
Right, Im off, she said abruptly. Things to do.
Nana, stay! Lily whined.
Next time, pet.
At the door, Emily tried once more.
Margaret, can we talk? I dont mind help, but I need you to trust me too.
Margaret paused, hand on the knob.
Emily, you think I interfere. But Lilys my only grandchild. I want the best for her.
So do I. In my own way.
Your way lacks experience.
How can I *get* experience if you wont let me try?
Margaret frowned.
Im not stopping you. Im helping. Theres a difference.
The flat felt hollow after she left. Lily played quietly; Emily tidied mechanically. Her thoughts circled back to the same old argument.
When William came home that evening, he took one look at Emily and sighed.
Mums been here, hasnt she?
Yes.
And?
The usual. Im a terrible mother, and shes the perfect grandmother.
William hung up his coat and sat beside her.
Em, dont take it to heart. She means well.
William, I know she does. But every time, its like nothing I do is right.
Shes just old-fashioned. Set in her ways.
Theyre *my* ways with *my* child.
Of course they are. No ones saying otherwise.
She is. Constantly.
William rubbed his temples.
Emily, not this again. Mums just fond of Lily. She oversteps sometimes, but shes not *malicious*.
That doesnt make it easier. Do you know how it feels when your own child lights up for someone else?
Lily adores you.
She does. But Nanas *fun*. Nana says yes to everything.
William didnt reply. Emily realised hed never understand. To him, it was simple: his mum helped, Lily was
