Do you honestly think Ill be cooking for your mum every day?
Do you honestly think Ill be cooking for your mum every single day? protested the woman.
And how longs this supposed to last, then? Charlotte clattered the frying pan down on the hob, making the old kettle jump. Do you think Im your mothers personal housekeeper? Two months with not a single days break! Her fingers whitened against the wooden spatula, all the pent-up frustration trembling through her voice.
Edward hovered in the doorway of the kitchen, unsure whether to step in. His wife stood at the cooker, the sizzle of beefcakeshis mums favouritesharp above the quiet. The aroma of frying meat and onions mingled with a tension that pricked at his skin, or maybe it was just the heaviness of the words about to spill.
Charlotte, whats got you so upset? he asked quietly, trying his calmest tone. Mums just used to home-cooked food. She cant handle all that frozen stuff, you know that
I know! snapped Charlotte, dropping the spatula loudly on the worktop. I know everything! The blood pressure, the special diet, the so-called balanced meals But why am I running circles in here every evening, like a hamster in a wheel? I have my own job as well!
Dusk was draping itself over the October sky outside. Shadows of the ancient apple tree sprawling below the kitchen window danced restlessly across cupboard doors, strange witnesses to the row. Edward glanced, almost out of habit, at the clocknearly time for his mother to come back from her walk.
Maybe we could get a cleaner? Just for a bit? he ventured, though he knew Charlotte didnt like the thought of strangers in their home.
She gave a sharp, bitter laugh. And pay her with what, exactly? The savings we stash for the mortgage? You know how much your mums pills cost each month.
Charlotte turned back to the oven, hiding her eyes in the dish towel. Three months ago, after Margarets minor stroke, it was Charlotte whod insisted she move in with them. Now she realised she could never have guessed how completely their lives would be upturned.
The front door banged shut in the hallway. Light stepsMargaret was back from her evening stroll. Charlotte dabbed at her eyes quickly and began sliding beefcakes onto plates. Edward still hadnt moved into the kitchen, frozen near the doorway, lost for words and action.
A hush fell, broken only by the clink of crockery and the dying hiss of the fryer.
Mum, how was your walk? Edward hurried into the hall, desperate for any distraction from the thick air in the kitchen. More and more, he noticed himself dodging disputes, hiding behind long hours and urgent emails.
Margaret stood before the hallway mirror, unravelling her scarfher late husbands last birthday gift to her. Her knuckles, once nimble on the sewing machine, now fumbled stiffly with the knot. The tremblinguninvited, worsening with each dayhad appeared after her stroke.
Oh, it was lovely, dear Edward, she tried to smile but managed only a pale curve of lip. Theyve cleared the leaves in the park. Do you remember jumping in them as a boy? Id scold, Youll catch your death out there, stop it! And youd just laugh
She half-leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. The pallor and sheen of sweat on her brow didnt escape her sons anxious gaze.
Im afraid my blood pressures acting upI mightve walked too far.
Ill fetch your tablets! Charlotte called from the kitchen, brisk despite her frustration. Years working in a surgery had taught her never to take health lightly, no matter the mood.
No need to rush, Charlotte, said Margaret from the bench, fishing a silver blister pack from her pocket. I come prepared these days, a regular little secret agent. Never leave home without my helpers
Her gaze drifted to a yellowed photo on the wallher and her husband on their wedding day. How the years seemed to stretch and curl, unimaginable that she should become an old weight around her son’s neck.
Edward dashed to the kitchen for a glass of water, almost upending a wilting vase. As he rounded the counter, he searched for Charlottes eyes, but she busied herself over the pan, the fried smell now sickening her; she realised shed not eaten all day, running on work, errands, and worries.
Whats for tea, then? Margaret lingered at the kitchen doorway, sniffing. Still making those beefcakes? You shouldnt make so much trouble for me, pet. Id be happy with a bit of soup.
Its fine, Mum, Charlotte stabbed at a beefcake, the fork scraping bitterly. You like them. I remember.
Something in her voice made Margaret halt mid-step. Years as her sons mother-in-law had given her an ear for tension; tonight, the notes were stretched and thin as a snapped string.
Slowly, the old woman made her way to the table, clinging to Edwards arm. She placed her napkin carefully on her lap as she always had, a habit from her teaching days. Edward slid her plate and glass before her, fussing with the chair legs.
You know, Charlotte started, then faltered as Margaret paled, words pulsing painfully in her head. Lets just eat in peace.
At the table, silence grew heavy. Only the ticking of the grandmother clock in the cornerpassed down from Edwards own grandmothermarked the moments as they crawled. Margaret only picked at her meal, glancing slyly between son and daughter-in-law. Lately, shed caught these worried looks, heard truncated quarrels, noted the change in air whenever she entered a room.
Perhaps I shouldnt have come here, she thought, swallowing the bitter taste of regret. But aloud, she only said, The beefcakes are delicious, Charlotte. Almost as good as my own mother made
I cant do this any more, Charlotte said, voice trembling as her fork clattered down. I just cant.
The clock thundered. Margaret froze, her spoon hovering, and Edward flushed, dreading the words he knew were coming.
Every day, its the same old pattern, Charlottes voice was low, growing steadier with every word. Up at six, at work by eight. At lunch, running to Boots for prescriptions, home to do the big shop, then cooking, cleaning Whens my life start? When do I get a rest?
Darling Margaret began.
Im not your daughter! Charlotte shot to her feet, her chair banging the wall. You have a sonhe can cook for you! Im finished. Do you hear me? Worn out!
Edward lifted a hand to placate her. Charlotte, please
Whats so awful about what I said? she cried, voice nearly shrill. Youre always at work, and Im supposed to split myself between the surgery and this house? Your mum, your job!
Margaret set her spoon down, hands trembling even more. Im nothing but a burden I can see how tired you are, Charlotte. How angry. Every night, I hope Ill have the strength to manage alone.
Mum, dont Edward tried to wrap her in a hug, but she gently pulled away.
No, Edward, let me say my bit. Margaret straightened, the teacher in her briefly reappearing. Forty years I worked in schools, you know what I learned? To listen. And I hear you, Charlotte, when you cry in the bathroom. I see your shaking hands at night.
Charlotte stood rigid, gripping the counter till her nails ached, tears streaming down.
I was young too, once, Margaret continued. I longed for my own life. Then my mother-in-law fell illten years, I cared for her. Every day blurred by chores, meals, jabs and drops. My husband was at work, my child still little I thought Id go mad.
Why are you telling us this, Mum? Edward mumbled, glancing desperately between the women.
Because youre wrong, Edward. Wrong to heap this load on Charlotte. Tomorrow Ill phone social services for a helper.
And how will we pay her? Charlotte murmured, refusing to turn.
Ill use my pension. We can let the old flat, thatll help.
Edward watched the two most important women in his life, suddenly feeling like an awkward teenager. All this time, hed silenced the realities with overtime and emails.
No, he said, standing straighter. No helper. And were not letting the flat.
But how will began Margaret.
Tomorrow, Ill talk to my manager about working from home three days a week. Edwards voice was firm. We can take turns with tea. Mum, youll have to show me how you make those beefcakes.
Margaret looked astonished, blinking. Of coursebut will you manage?
You know, men can cook too, Charlotte managed, half-laughing for the first time that evening. Just dont let him put curry powder in everything, remember that time?
At least it was something different! Edward grinned as the tension loosened.
Ill see to the tidying up, Margaret said, a sudden brightness in her voice. Dont ask me to lug the hoover round, but I can dust, put things away, and goodness knows, Ive ironed enough shirts in my day.
Mum Charlotte turned to the table at last. You really dont have to
But I want to! The old glint of the teacher was back in Margarets eyes. Its dreadful, watching telly all day. At least this way, I can do my bit.
She laughed suddenly, clapping a hand over her lips. Forgive me, you two. I saw how worn out you were and kept silent. I was afraid Id say the wrong thing.
Forgive me, too, Charlotte heard herself say, kneeling at her mother-in-laws side and pressing her head to Margarets knees, as she used to with her own mum. I said terrible things I was so angry.
Margaret ran her fingers gently through Charlottes hair, tears spilling over her own cheeks. So heres the plan: Edward, youll do tea on Tuesdays and Thursdays
And every other Saturday! added her son.
And every other Saturday, agreed Margaret, smiling. Ill do the cleaning. And you, Charlotte she lifted her chin gentlyyou mustnt ever keep quiet when things get hard. Were family, after all, arent we?
The old clock ticked steadily on the wall, the beefcakes lay cooling now, and outside, the last faded rays of October sun slipped away into the dreaming night. For the first time in months, warmth crept quietlystrangely, beautifullyback into the heart of the house.
