Family Ties
Stop crying!
I cant, wailed Molly, her nose buried in a muslin cloth from the babys cot, sobbing her heart out.
Stop, I said! What else did she say? Eleanor rummaged stiffly through the medicine box, muttering under her breath, hunting for a bottle of rescue remedy.
She said I should leave Oliver. Molly hiccuped, gingerly taking the glass from her mother-in-law. Shaking water droplets off her dressing gown, she chattered her teeth against the rim. Take Lily and go with her. She said hell ditch me eventually, and by then Ill have nowhere to go, because shed never have me back.
And thats why youre howling like a banshee? I thought you had more sense, Moll.
I thought so too. Its not about Oliver. Its how could she say such things? Shes my mum! Why so cruel? I havent seen her in years. Why is she doing this now?
Who cares why? Eleanor rolled her eyes. The real question is something else entirely.
Like what?
Likeoh, calm yourself! No sense working yourself into a frenzy. Well figure it out, we always do!
How exactly?! Molly was practically vibrating, tears coming hot and fast.
Oh, goodness, you are a nervous wreck, Eleanor tutted, perching on the edge of the sofa; she cupped Mollys cheek with her hand. Youre not alone, love. Youve got Oliver, youve got me, youve got Granddad. There are plenty of us ready to throw a punch for you, metaphorically or otherwise.
She said Im not really family. Not blood.
Oh, is that how it works, then? Eleanor snorted. My dear, surely youve learnt something about us by now!
Molly sniffed and squeezed her eyes shut. Who should she believe?
Eleanor cocked her head, listening. Little Lilys woken up. Stay put, Ill fetch her. Drink your water and pull yourself together. Shell pick up on your mood and start bawling too. Want her crying the way you are?
No!
Then chin up! Its not the end of the world yet, is it?
Eleanor was fibbing, of course. The whole thing was a disaster and she hadnt the foggiest what to do. Oliver was away on the building site, and aside from Granddad, there was no one to confide in. No close friends yet in the village, and the women at work were known to spread gossip faster than wildfire. Youd tell one, and next thing, everyone in Hampshire would know before lunch.
Eleanor had seen firsthand how efficiently her colleagues gossipedI mean, what else do the admin ladies do when paperworks thin and deadlines are a distant rumour? They drank endless tea and hashed over everyones business.
Eleanor did her best to keep out of those chats, hence her nickname as the Ice Queenwhich suited her fine as long as they left her family be. Already, someone had blabbed about Molly being a care-leaver from the childrens home, and since then, half the village had asked Eleanor why on earth shed let one of them into her house.
But what was one of them, anyway? A kids a kid.
Not that Eleanor was a saintshed been suspicious of Molly at first. When Oliver came home declaring he wanted to marry her, Eleanor puffed up with concern.
Son, are you sure? You hardly know her! How longs it been? A month?
Four, Oliver muttered, mopping up tea hed spilt on the table. Sorry, Mum. Ill get a cloth. I keep forgetting you want the good one.
Leave it for now. But you havent answered: why keep Molly a secret?
I was worried youd react just like this. But Mum, shes wonderful! Truly, youll love her, you just have to meet her.
There wasnt much Eleanor could say. She didnt want to know anything about this pale, heavy-fringed girl looking out gloomily from a phone photo. Was it a bad picture, or was she always so miserable-looking? But Oliver was beaming, happier than hed been since his dad passed away. That hadnt been an easy year.
Oliver had only really got to know his dad, Tom, properly during those last two years. Before that well, Eleanor didnt like to remember. Years lost, nerves frayedfor what? All thanks to one person: Toms own mum, Eleanors mother-in-law.
Eleanor, back then, had been naive as they comea coddled, beloved, only child. She was just seventeen when she met Tom. After a year of lovesick rendezvous, they told their parents they were getting married.
Her own mum was too ill to protest. Her dad hadnt a clue.
Both parents died, one after the other, in the next two years. In that time, Eleanor married and found out she was expecting. Dad lived just to see little Oliver born; Mum only knew shed have a grandchild, but never got to meet him.
Oliver was a frail baby, but no wonderEleanor was run ragged, caring for her parents herself. Tom helped, ignoring his mothers protests:
Thats not your trouble, Tommy! Theyre not family, you owe them nothing. Why should you be nursemaid after work? Youre not made of metal!
Neithers Eleanor, Mother.
Youre my child, she isnt. Your welfare comes first.
Eleanor heard some of these chats directlyher mother-in-law wasnt one to mince wordsand Tom filled her in on the worst bits, which he always regretted. Words, after all, are like splashes of burning oil: they leave a trail and a scar, and no matter what balm you pourchilds laughter, a morning kissit often still hurts.
Shed tried to brush off her mother-in-laws cutting attitudea habit of assuming the sun shone from her own backside, thanks to her job title and the sturdy grammar school diploma on her wall.
Ill make your life hell, mark my words. My son deserves better.
Whats wrong with me, exactly?
Who are you, really? No degree, no job. Meek as a church mouse. He should be with someone with more influence. Someone smart.
What sort of person?
Oh, dont bother trying. Someone intelligent, thats all!
But weve got a baby.
So? Kids and wives are replaceable; you only get one mum. Youll get child support, but dont expect anything else.
Were not even thinking of splitting up!
Thats for now. Wait and see, dear. Dont push your luck.
In the end, she and Tom split up when Oliver was only three.
It was a crushingly classic tale: Toms mums birthday, an old flame from school, a dim kitchen. Sent by her mother-in-law to fetch something or other, Eleanor found nothing but hushed voices and Tom comforting the woman. Maybe it was harmless. But Eleanor, stressed and young, filled in the blanks. No wise shoulder to lean on, and that was that.
That same night, Eleanor traipsed back to her parents empty, haunted flat. Dropped her bag, unwrapped a grumpy little Oliver, sat by the front door and bawled. Then, late at night, she started scrubbing everythingcurtains, floors, memoriesuntil it really belonged to her again. In the morning, she took Oliver to the post office and sent a telegram to Granddadher last living relative.
He didnt arrive right away. He had to sell up his farm in Yorkshire before making a move, but it took time.
Eleanor, in that waiting, secured her divorce, enrolled Oliver in nursery, and found a cleaning job in the next block, pondering her next move.
The question evaporated when Granddad, Michael Evans, finally rang the bell.
Youll go back to school.
Granddad! On what money?
My pension, one. Ill get some worktheres always a post for a caretaker. Plus a tin of savings. Well manage.
Wholl take you on?
Caretakers and janitors are always wanted. Im no dandy. Are you? Well cope. Nowdecided what you want to be?
Ill do accounts training. Been good at sums all my life, and its a decent trade.
Courses are grand, but a university degrees better yet. Think about it.
So she did, eventually finishing an open university degree in accounting, and, flourishing her degree at Granddad, nearly crushed him with a hug.
Planning to be orphaned now, eh? Throw your old granddad to the wolves?
Oi! Dont be daft. Where would I be without you?!
You and your cheek! If I could manage another five years, Id love to see you and Oliver settled. After that, I could rest easy.
Stop nattering, Granddad, before Oliver overhears! Am I still a nobody?
Granddad peered over his glasses, blinking. Youd do well not to listen to silly people, love. I know whats made you fret. Its nonsense! People arent nobodies. No one is. Is Oliver a nobody? If Id called him that, what would you say to me? So there. You did your bestyou just didnt get all your paperwork in on time. But youre a grand mum, and Olivers a wonderful boy. Heart of gold, just like you were at his age. So dont ever let anyone push you aside. People judge by their own muddle. Pay them no mind. Round here, we say, No sense, like being a bit broken inside. Treat them like theyre patients. You, meanwhilelive your life! Listen to me, perhaps, but nobody else. Got it?
Got it. And I do mean itwhat would I have done without you?
By the time Oliver was in Year Six, Granddad was getting restless.
Ill head home. The house cant stand empty so long. Youll cope, youre hardly children anymore. But Eleanor
Yes?
If you ever get the itch to marry again, think three times. Olivers a sensitive boy. Bring him to me if you must. Well have a talk.
Oh, Granddad, Im not changing anything.
For now. Who knows what lifell throw at you?
After he left, Eleanor mused on it all. Tom didnt do much fatheringsent birthday cards, paid child support on time. Not that his mother let Eleanor forget.
Hes got a new family. Two children.
Three, actually.
Eleanor, you were never the brightest!
Not everyone can be, eh? Are we done? Goodbye.
Learning to fend off barbs like these wasnt easyand Eleanor never understood why people bickered when they could just get on and be happy.
Eleanor, youre a wonder! Granddad would chuckle. Some people just love a scrapothers carry bread, not a stick. Youre bread. Learn, while Im here.
So she did, skidding through her own errors and others nastiness or kindness. She tried, mostly successfully, to build the life Granddad wanted: with sense.
Her greatest lesson came when, one day, a plump woman with ruddy cheeks and two girls hanging off each hand, so like Tom, turned up at the door.
Hello, Eleanor. Im Irene, Toms wife. Could we chat?
They did, for hours, and after that, Oliver got his dad backand two sisters thrown in for good measure.
Nothing left to split, Eleanor. Weve got children, you and I. I used to listen too much to my mother-in-lawhow rotten you were, and what a difficult boy Oliver was. But then it hit meshell say the same of my daughters if they dont please her. Its not fair for a boy to grow up without a dad. Toms lovely but too tied to his mum. I want my girls to have someone to rely on. If youll allow it, their big brother could be a good thing. Theyre good girls, you knowkind, like their dad. What do you say?
What could she say? She talked to Oliver, shrugged, and let life roll on.
A year later, Toms mum passed away, and the household finally felt at peace. Irene cared for her till the end, but, privately, was relieved when shed gone.
Oh, Eleanor! I wouldnt want people to sigh with relief when I’m gone. Not crying or remembering fond wordsjust relief. How do you avoid that?
Irene, youve already avoided it. I, for one, will definitely cry for you.
Oh, you soft old goose! Irene fished a tissue from her handbag. Still, I feel sorry for her. I keep trying to recall something good. She loved my girlsclumsily, maybe, but she tried. Not entirely lost, then.
Eleanor never forgot that conversation.
So, when Oliver, telling her about Molly, leaned back beaming so tenderly it was like a third lamp had been switched on in the old kitchen, Eleanor knew: every lesson shed learned about life would be tested now. How she treated this unfamiliar girl would mean everythingnot just for herself, but for the son shed raised.
It got easier after shed met Molly properly. A skinny wisp of a girl, nervous as a wet sparrow, hiding behind Olivers shoulder.
Come in, Molly, dont be shy. I dont bite.
Im not scared!
Her voice wavered enough that Eleanor nearly chuckledif youre so fearless, why are you trembling like a leaf and fighting with your scarf?
Made that yourself?
I did. My Aunt Rose taught me, at the childrens home. She was the matron, and shed show anyone who wanted to learn. She was wonderful. She loved us, really.
So, you grew up in a childrens home?
Yes! Is that a problem?
The little sparrow Molly bristled, but Eleanor worked quickly to reassure her:
Not at all. We all take different paths. Dont mind me askingI just want to know more about you.
Why?
Well, if youre to be my daughter-in-law, it helps to know a bit more. Olivers told me some, but its better from you. Whatever you feel comfortable sharing.
Alright
Molly peered up from under her hair, wary, and Eleanor tried not to gaspwhat a bundle this was! What was she meant to do with a gift so precious and fragile?
That evening, Molly said very little, answering only direct questions, and shying away from the breadbasket; it struck Eleanor as oddhow polite and gentle she was, considering her upbringing. Much later, Eleanor learnt the true story.
By then, the kids were married, and Eleanor, used to having Molly under her roof, actually quite liked it. Granddad approved instantly, cautioning Eleanor not to sweat the small stuff.
Shell come good, you watch, give her time. But let her come to you.
That time came sooner than Eleanor expected.
Coming home from work, she slipped on the bus steps and ended up hospitalised with a broken leg. She was furious with herself, refusing visits and help.
No need for you lot to fuss! The foods fine and the nurses take care of everything.
I know what hospital cares like, said Molly, unpacking home-cut fruit and containers. Spent plenty of time there as a child. Let me feed you, then Id best be offonly two lectures today so Ill be back soon.
Thats when their relationship changed. Bit by bit, Eleanor discovered more about Mollyhow, despite everything, she was astonishingly gentle-hearted.
My mum was put in prison when I was a toddler.
For what?
Theft, and I dont really know what else. She got six years.
And your dad?
Never knew him. There was a gran, but she refused to take me. Said she couldnt cope.
Was she too ill?
Nojust didnt get on with Mum. Or maybe she just didnt want the bother. I was too little to understand. People took me away. At first, I didnt get what was going onkept waiting for Mum to come Aunt Rose said I used to cry all the time, refused to eat or play with the other kids, not for ages. Eventually, I got used to it.
Did your mum keep in touch?
She wrote. I couldnt read, but someone else did for me. She promised to come back for me. Id sit on the big windowsill and watch the gates for hours, hoping shed turn up. But she never did. I was seven, then eight, thensixteen. Still nothing. Just letters: she missed me, wished she could come. But she never did.
Did you ever find out why?
Shed started another family. Molly sliced her apple, gaze downcast. Ive got a sister.
Oh, Molly I dont even know what to say.
You dont have to. I was angry for years. Couldnt forgive her for leaving me. That girl was her daughter, and I was nobody. Not even a name.
Eleanor shuddered, felt goosebumps. Wasnt that the very phrase shed heard from her own mother-in-laws lips so many years ago?
Dont ever say that! Eleanor snapped so sharply Molly dropped her knife. Sorry, I didnt mean to startle you. Ive heard those words myself. I know how much they sting.
Who from?
Ill tell you another time. What happened next?
She finally visited, when I started college. I was so happy, thought everything would change. But it didnt. She said I couldnt live with themit would be awkward. I didnt know what she meant, and I was too embarrassed to ask. I barely remembered herhow could I have forgotten my own mother?
You were eighteen months old, Molly! No one remembers that far back.
She made it sound as if I should. As if I had a duty to remember how she once nicked a loaf of bread to feed me.
Did she really do it for you? Eleanors anger was building.
No idea. Does it matter? Shes my mum. Ive got no one else.
That jabbed at Eleanors heart, but she bit it back. Poor kid. After all that, she hadnt turned bitter or spiteful. She was tougher than she looked.
Eleanor only saw how tough when, after Molly and Oliver had married, Mollys motherGlendaturned up out of the blue, promising to make their lives a misery.
The first visit was short, and Eleanor wasnt sure what Glenda wanted.
Just popping by to meet the family. Were in-laws now, arent we, dear? Shall we celebrate?
Raising her glass, Eleanor set it down immediately, prickly all over. Something wasnt right, and she couldnt say what.
Funny how life works out, eh? One minute youve got a little girl, next youre a granny! Mind you, itll do her goodshell see what its like to bring up a tot, how hard it is. And thanks? Dont hold your breath! Kids never appreciate what mums do. They think lifes just handed to them.
Eleanor said nothing, listening to the rambling. In the kitchen, Molly was dashing to and fro, getting more miserable each time she passed.
Thankfully, Glenda left the next day, after a whispered chat with Molly and a nasty look at Oliver.
Molly, after disappearing to her room, emerged by evening. One look at her puffy eyes and Eleanor knew shed been in tears for hours.
Whats up, Moll?
Nothing! Im fine, Mrs Evans. Dont worry.
Hah, the more you say youre fine! Eat something, youll swoon at your exam tomorrow and give everyone a good laugh!
Molly only managed a wan smile, twisting her fork. Not really hungry.
You need to eat! Off you go. Tea?
Please
Time passed.
Before Lilys birth, Eleanor suggested selling up and moving to be near Granddad in his Sussex village.
The old house is sturdy; Ill live with Granddad, you two can have your own one nearby. Hes flagging but refuses to give up the beehives or orchard. Good school, nurserys fineyoull both find work easily.
Ollie and Molly agreed after a bit of discussion.
Lovely. Its easier when the familys together.
Then circumstances took a turn. Granddad convinced them to move into his house while he shifted to the new annexe.
Im mostly out at the hives anyway. You all stay here, with Eleanor. The annexe is big enough for me. You can build on the plot next door when youre ready. No rush.
Deal done.
Glendas second visit lasted longer and, in the space of three days, everyone rowed with everyone else. Molly and Oliver had words, Oliver with his mother-in-law, and Eleanor nearly threw Glenda out bodily when she spotted her plonking a greasy bit of bacon into baby Lilys mouth.
Glenda! What the devil are you doing?!
Oh, it never hurt any of mine!
Snatching her granddaughter, Eleanor stalked back to Molly.
This wont do. Mothers make the rules about their children. Ask before deciding anything.
Oh, dont pretend you do! Glenda snorted.
Of course I do.
Oh Eleanor, dont kid yourself! As if youd ever take instructions from a slip of a girl living under your roof. Where does she get off? Have you put her on the deeds yet, or are you planning to sling her out?
Maybe you should go, Glenda. And while youre at it, why are you really here?
I want alimony, of course.
What? Eleanor nearly missed her chair out of shock.
Whats owed, by law. I bore Molly, now she must look after me! My husbands on benefits, Im barely fit, and my younger daughters almost of age. Theres a lot to pay for.
And you think Molly owes you this?
The law says so! Im still her mother, so she must!
And what about what you owe her? Eleanor didnt bother hiding her outrage and clapped her hand over her mouth, so as not to wake Lily. Right, Glenda, pack your bags. Molly isnt giving you a penny!
Well see. Glenda narrowed her eyes, smoothing her expensive hair. Think youre so clever? But shell never call you Mumdont delude yourself. Im her mum. Youre just the mother-in-law. Itll never change.
Well see about that, Eleanor said, rattling the crockery. Off to bed with you. Ive made up the sofa.
Cheers! Glenda swept up the crumbs and stomped away.
Eleanor washed up, downed two glasses of cold water, and swore to herself Molly would never have to go through this again.
Next morning, Glenda dragged Molly out to the hallway for a hushed talk. By the time Eleanor was awake, Glenda had goneleaving chaos and tears behind.
After a speedy conference with Molly, Eleanor grabbed her phone and stepped outside for a chat.
Granddad! You alright?
Still breathing, thanks.
Dont say that!
On with the chores. You sound all wound up.
We need a word.
Whats happened?
How much do we have stashed?
A week later, Eleanor vanished north and returned two days after, ushering Molly into the scullery for a serious chat.
Ive bought you back.
Sorry? Mollys eyes went wide as saucers.
Your mum wont trouble you again.
I dont understand. Is that true?
The hope in Mollys voice made Eleanor toss aside niceties and, for the first time, pull her in for a proper squeeze. Just as she would have with Oliver.
Its true, darling. She wont return. Shes taken the money and scarpered. Now, well talk to the solicitor and gather the paperwork. I did a bit of digging at your old childrens home, you know.
What did you find? Molly nestled closer, wondering if she liked being hugged like this.
I found out your mum never once paid your child support. So, we have a good shot at seeing you off the hook for obligations to her.
Why give her money then? Molly pulled away slightly to study her face.
Because nobody gets to upset my children in my house. She wouldnt have let go otherwiseshed have kept badgering you. Enoughs enough!
Molly heard only two words: my children. She froze, then whispered:
Your children?
Oh, Molly, you are daft sometimes. Who do you think you are to me now? Youre my child, same as Oliver. Havent I managed to warm you enough for you to stop feeling like an outsider? If not, Ive done no better than my old in-law.
Not true! Youre a wonderful mum! Molly shook her head so fiercely that Eleanor burst into tears and laughter at once.
Then call me thatif you dont mind, love. Im tired of Mrs Evans! Makes me sound like the headmistress.
Thank you… Molly squeezed her eyes shut, little sparks dancing under her eyelids. Then, opening them, calm and certain, she finally said it, just as shed always wanted: MumMolly opened her mouth, but the words stuck so heavy and warm in her chest she could only nod, cheeks flushed. Eleanor, recognizing the answer, pulled her closer.
From somewhere down the corridor, Lily let out a screech followed by a gurgle of baby laughter. Granddads slippers shuffled in the doorway, his voice raised in mock complaint: Hows a man to make tea if the scullerys a sniffling puddle?
Eleanor shushed him sweetly. Molly let out an unsteady giggle, drying her face on Eleanors sleeve.
Granddad winked at her. All right there, lass?
I think so. Yes. Imbetter, Molly managed.
He reached over, patting her shoulder with his large, work-rough hand. Braver than you know. Were proud.
Lily crawled in, flapping her little arms, all gummy grin and tufted hair. Olivers voice came from outside, calling Teas up! in his bright, tired way.
Molly looked around: at Granddads smile, at Lily crawling gleefully between Eleanors legs, at Eleanor herselfbeaming, blotchy, utterly undignified. In that moment, it was clear: there were no more outsiders here.
So Molly reached out, one arm around Eleanor, the other scooping Lily up to her hip, and stepped into the kitcheninto the noise, the warmth, the scent of toast and life and fighting and forgiveness.
Whatever old ghosts lingered beyond the wallswhatever cruelties had been spoken, whatever debts weighed in other ledgersinside this kitchen, this morning, the ledger was wiped clean.
Eleanor poured tea, Granddad sliced his bread in the old way, Oliver kissed Molly on the forehead, and Lily banged her spoon with wild delight.
Family, after all, was never about blood. It was bread, not stick; arms open, not fists closed. And as Molly satsafe, claimed, contentshe realized, for the first time in her life, this was what it meant to be home.
