Youre irresponsible, Mum. Go have babies somewhere else.
Leah was only seventeen when she rushed into marrying Stephen. Straight out of school, and just a month later she was walking around with a ring on her finger and a bump that grew so quickly the neighbours whispered, Well, it must be a shotgun wedding, no doubt about it.
She had a little girl they named Grace, and Leah moved into Stephens mums flat. Even though his mother, Margaret Holmes, actually lived in a different flata few bus stops awayshe still felt it her duty to supervise every detail of their young married lives. The flat was big, three bedrooms, high ceilings, and old-fashioned furniture Margaret had bought decades ago, and Leah always felt like a guest there, someone who only came for a visit but for some reason had stayed on for years.
Leah doted on Grace. Nappies, little vests, sleepless nights, her first tooth, her first wobbly steps, her first Mummythose moments broke Leahs heart with a sort of fierce tenderness. But Grace grew up with not only her mum, but also her grandma Margaret, who dropped in practically every day, and with her aunt RuthStephens older sisterwho lived there too, in the little box room next to the kitchen. Ruth was five years older than Stephen, with tight hair always up in a bun, and she had the kind of pinched expression you get from constantly smelling something unpleasant. Both Margaret and Ruth were frightfully proper women. The sort of women who had firm ideas about the right way to live, bring up children, make a shepherds pie, wash clothes, and treat your husband.
Leah, why on earth do you let Stephen go down the pub with his mates? Margaret would ask, lips pursed with disapproval. My husband, may he rest in peace, always came home after work. I set the ground rules from the startfamily comes first.
Leah kept quiet, because arguing with her mother-in-law was utterly pointless. One look from Margaret could squash any debate. And then Ruth would chime in:
Just mind Grace is growing up right, Leah. Ive brought her some books. Age-appropriate. Kids these days, honestly, but it all comes down to the mother.
So Leah watched, and Grace read the books Ruth supplied, went on museum trips with Grandma, and had private English lessons Margaret insisted on. All in all, she grew into a bookish, serious young thinga chip off her grandmothers block, everyone said.
Stephen, Leahs husband, was quiet, almost invisible, an engineer at a local factory who enjoyed a pint with the lads and watching the football on telly after work. Leah loved him in that familiar way love changes after a decade togetherafter all the fights and all the arguments have come and gone, theres nothing left but honesty and comfort. Stephen loved her too, just not in a grand, dramatic waya cup of tea in bed, or a cooked breakfast while she slept in. That was his way.
Margaret treated her son like a child who never quite grew up, and she didnt hide it. Shed say, right in front of Leah:
Stephen, cant you show a bit of backbone? You shuffle about like a shadow. Your wife must look at you sometimes and wonder if youre a man or still a boy.
Hed just lower his shoulders. Later at night, Leah would lie beside him in the dark, stroke his hair, and whisper, Dont listen to them, love. Youre wonderful. Youre the best. Stephen never said anything back, just sighed deeply and drifted off. Leah would stay awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking how odd it wasyou can love your husband dearly and still not be able to protect him from his own mother, not when youre scared and not when the flat isnt yours, not when you always feel like a guest here.
When Grace was nearly thirteen, Margaret Holmes got very ill. Pancreatic cancer. She didnt cry when she heard the diagnosis, just pressed her lips together tighter and went to make out her will. She left her own two-bedroom flat in the city centre to Ruth, and the three-bedroom place where Leah lived with Stephen and Grace went to Stephen. It all seemed fair enough in Margarets mind.
But then life threw in something nobody expected. Three weeks after Margaret signed her will, Stephen was coming out of work as usual, heading for the bus stop, when a car hit him at a crossing. The young woman driving had simply been distractedso it said in the report. Leah heard about all this from Ruth. She rang, voice trembling and cracked:
Leah, Stephens gone. Car accident. Ambulance came but it was too late. You have to come to the morgue to identify him.
Leah couldnt remember how she got there or how she signed the papers, looked at her husbands face, or got home again, staring out of the window the whole way. Grace had stayed the night at her grans. Leah got home and sat on the sofa until morning, not sleeping a wink.
Margaret outlived her son by just two months. The doctors said it was the cancer, that the treatment hadnt worked, that her body was just too weak. Leah thought that maybe Margaret simply didnt want to go on once Stephen was gone. However fierce shed been, however critical, he was still her boyand when he died, something inside that iron woman broke. She faded quickly into a tiny, shrunken shadow of herself, just staring at nothing from her hospital bed. Before she died, she had the solicitor brought round again to rewrite her will. The three-bedroom flat that should have gone to Stephen was now left to Grace, her granddaughter.
Its for Grace, the dying woman whispered to Ruth, sitting by her side. Youll get your own place, just like we agreed. Look after Grace, make sure she doesnt go astray, turn out silly like her mother. Leahs nice, but shes weak. Grace needs some proper guidance.
Ruth just nodded, without a flicker of surprisehard as her mother, and just as resolute.
So in the end, Leah stayed alone with Grace in a flat that now belonged to her daughter, thoughsince Grace was only fourteenLeah was her legal guardian and could use the flat for the time being. For the first few years Leah didnt even think about all thatshe was too busy just getting on with things, keeping up with work, raising her daughter, carrying the weight Stephen used to help her with all by herself.
Five years passed in a blurwork, bills, never-ending juggling just to make sure Grace had everything other girls her age had: nice clothes, a mobile, tutors. Leah never complained, really; she wasnt in the habit. She just got on with things. When Grace got into a good university on a scholarship, Leah was more proud than shed ever been. All those struggles were worth ither daughter got an education, a bright future. Grace had started working part-time herself since her second yeardoing translations, teaching Englishthanks to Grandma and Aunt Ruth, whod made those lessons happen early on.
And just as things finally seemed to have settled, just as Leah felt she had room to breathe and maybe, for once, think about herselfshe met Alec. It was random, in a bus queuehe helped her carry her heavy shopping bag, they got chatting. Turned out, Alec worked in the building next to hers, was thirteen years older, had two grown-up kids, and a wife who was wheelchair-bound after a stroke five years before. Alec looked after her.
Im no hero, he confessed on their third meeting, sitting beside Leah on a park bench, his hand over hers. I just cant leave her, you know? After so many years together, and shes the mother of my children. But He sighed. Id almost forgotten what it felt like to want anything, to look forward to anything, to be happy. With you, I remembered.
Leah understood. She was thirty-eight, and at that age, you know theres no such thing as storybook romance anymore. You settle for what life actually offers.
She didnt tell Grace straight away. At first, she covered upa work meeting here, dinner with a friend there. But Grace, clever and observant, noticed: her mums smile came more often, her eyes were softer. One evening, as Leah reached for a new dress shed bought just for Alec, Grace eyed her closely.
Mum, is there someone? she asked, blunt as ever. Youre treating yourself, wearing perfume, buying new dresses. Come on.
Leah flushed and fumbledit was awkward, she felt just like a teenagerbut she explained everything. Alec, his wifes illness, and that she genuinely had feelings for him.
Grace listened, her expression growing colder and more closed off. When Leah finished, Graces voice was calm, steadybut so frighteningly adult, so much like Margarets, it sent goosebumps down Leahs arms.
Mum, do you realise what youre saying? Youre admitting youre seeing a married man. My motherthe woman whos always gone on about honesty and right and wrongnow running around with another womans husband. Are you listening to yourself?
But, Grace, you dont understand Leah began.
I understand everything. Youre lonely, you want warmthIm not stupid. But there are limits, Mum, there are boundaries. Married men are off limits. Youre not a teenager to get mixed up in something like this.
It stung, and Leah crieda part of her blamed it on Graces youth, her black-and-white view of the world, where theres only right and wrong and no shades in between.
After that, she kept seeing Alec in secretat a mates cottage when he was away, or a flat Alec would rent for a night. Leah knew it was no fairytale, but she treasured every minute together.
I sometimes feel I dont have the right, Alec would say, lying beside her in a cramped borrowed room. The right to you, to happiness. I sit by her bed, look at her, and think, what would people say if they knew? Its wrong, yeah?
Of course its wrong, Leah admitted. But I dont care. Who am I to judge you?
Youre good, he murmured, kissing her shoulder. The best thing thats happened to me. Ill never leave youI promise. Whatever happens, Ill always be here.
And Leah believed him, because after five years of total loneliness, it felt wonderful just to hope.
But then, when Leah realised she was pregnant, it was as though the ground fell away beneath her feet. At first, she didnt believe it. She bought three tests. Then she went to the GP, had some bloods done, and the doctor told her matter-of-factly, Youre pregnant. Still very early, about six weeks. Theres a heartbeat. Everything looks healthy.
Leah left the surgery, sat outside on the bench, and started cryingafraid, happy, desperate, hopefulall at once.
She didnt know how to tell Alec. She spent days worrying how to break the newswould he be pleased, or terrified, or try to talk her out of it? She knew him well enough to guess hed panic. Not because he was a bad man, but because hed be scaredof change, responsibility, of his complicated life falling apart around him.
But more than Alec, Leah dreaded telling Grace. She kept putting it off, waiting for the right moment, until eventually one night, when Grace came back from Aunt Ruths, Leah sat her down at the kitchen table and just blurted it out.
Grace, theres something I need to tell you. Im pregnant.
Grace froze, mug halfway to her mouth.
From the married man? she whispered.
Alec, yes. Hes the father.
I knew it, Grace gave a crooked, joyless smirk. Are you out of your mind, Mum? Youre thirty-eight. You work two jobs. Ive just started uni and now, just when were managing, you decide to have another baby? With a man who cant leave his disabled wife and offers you nothing?
Grace, dont Leahs voice trembled. Its my life. My child. Im not asking your permission.
Well, dont ask for it, Grace got up, face white and drawn, her eyes glittering. But lets make something clear. In this flatmy flatyoure not about to start having more kids. This is my home. Grandma left it to me, not to you.
Leah felt the blood drain from her face. She stared at her daughterthe child shed given birth to at eighteen and raised through sacrifice, endless work, and countless sleepless nightsand suddenly she saw a stranger. Standing before her was a young woman with Margarets face and Ruths voice, the same as the women whod always seen Leah as little more than a tolerated lodger.
Grace, how can you say that? Leahs hands were shaky as she tried to steady herself against the table. This is our home. I raised you here
You only lived here because Dad was alive, Grace interrupted. Once he died, Gran couldve thrown you out, but she kept you for my sake. But the flats always been mine, Mum. Understand? Mine. I wont chuck you out, Im not heartless. Youll always have a roof over your head. But dont think you can bring another mans baby here. If you want a family, go and get a place with him.
Grace, how can you be so cruel? Leah sobbed openly. I had you at eighteen
You had me because you didnt think it through, Grace snapped. And now youre repeating it all over again. With a man whose wife is disabled. What if he runs off and leaves you? Then whatjust you and a baby, only this time youre nearly forty and knackered as it is. Im not helping, Mum. Ive got my own life.
So you dont want to help me? Leah stared at her daughter, pain and disbelief etched across her face. Grace looked away for a moment, but only a second.
Youre my mother. I love you. But I wont be your nanny. If you want to play happy families, thats on youbut not here. I want to live my own life, not pick up the pieces from yours.
Youre turning into your aunt, you know, Leah breathed out. And your gran. So proper and cold. Im nothing to you but a stray, right? Living in your flat because you were kind enough to let me.
Oh, Mum, dont be dramatic, Grace flinched. I love you. You can always live here. But just you. No men, no kids. This is my place, and Ill decide who lives in it. If you want a baby, thats your choice. But not in my flat.
Hes your brother or sister! Thats your family! Leahs voice was breaking.
No, Grace shook her head, and for the first time, tears pricked her eyesbut Leah couldnt tell if they were real. Its your babynot mine. I wont be responsible. My lifes just starting, unis just beginning. I want to study, work, live.
Leah slumped into a chair, her legs giving way. She looked at Grace through tears, seeing her arms folded across her chest, lips set tightso like Margaret, so like Ruth, so impossibly distant.
If your dad had outlived Grandma, half this flat would have been mine, you know, Leah choked. I was his wife; if hed lasted two more months
But he didnt, Grace cut in, hard. And Grandma wrote what she thought was right. She gave it to me, not you. Dont you dare bring up inheritance again! Dont ruin her memoryshe saw what youre like. Reckless, always making poor decisions. You got pregnant at eighteen, and now at thirty-eight youve done it again. If the flat had gone to you, youd have thrown it away, just like everything else. Im not going to do that. Grandma trusted me.
She trusted you, Leah echoed, and something snapped inside. The thread tying her to Grace, that unconditional love, finally broke. Youve become just like her, Grace. Just like Margaret. And youre righthere, Im nobody. Im only here because you allow it. Im just a lodger you tolerate.
Oh, Mum, stop the theatrics, Grace sighed like a weary adult. No ones asking you to leave. But you have to understand I wont adjust my life for your choices. I wont help with the baby, I wont split the flat, I wont play happy families. Youre a grown womansort yourself out. Go to Alec. Let him take responsibility. Hes the fatherits on him.
He cant. Leah blurted the truth out before she could stop herself.
There you go. Graces old, cold smile. Leah looked away, not wanting to see it. You know youve landed yourself with a man who cant do anything for you. Neither family, nor home, nor a decent future. And you want me to share my space, to babysit his child while you keep running off with him? No, Mum. Not happening.
Im not asking you to babysit, Leah whispered. Just to understand. To let me stayjust me and my baby. Pleasedont kick us out.
Im not kicking you out, Grace repeated. You can stay here. But only by yourself. If you have this child, youll have to find somewhere else. Im giving you until the babys bornfind a solution. But I refuse to let this place become a crèche because of your choices.
Leah got up slowly, went to her room, closed the door, and curled into a ball. Everything inside her crumbledthat invisible cord between mother and child, that love shed taken for granted even when Grace became a grown-up. It was gone, leaving a black hole sucking up the memories of Graces first smile, first step, first word; cuddling up to cartoons; five-year-old arms wrapped around her neck, whispering, Mummy, I love you most.
Im not a mistake, Leah whispered into her pillow, but her voice was so faint, even she barely heard it. Im not a mistake. Im your mum.
But by then, the music was already thumping through the wallGrace had turned the telly up loud. She was already moving on, unfazed.
Leah lay in the darkness, not quite sure why, but she reached for her phone. She called Alec. He picked up quickly, answering quietly from his wifes bedside.
Alec, she said flatly. Im pregnant. And I need a place to live. Can you sort itflat, money, so I dont have to work for at least the first year? Just be honest.
Leah heard him catch his breath. Then he started stammering, like a guilty schoolboy: Leah, come on I cant talk about this right now, you know my situation. The wife, her care, the bills My kids lend a hand, but life is so hard now. Id love to help, but I cant just leave her, you know? And the rent these daysits madness. I cant afford to keep you, not on my own. I wont abandon you, Ill help as much as I can, but only a little here and there
Only a little. Got it.
Leah, wait, lets meet up and talk it through. Well figure something out, yeah? There must be a way
She hung up, not even bothering to say goodbye. Put her phone aside, shut her eyes, and just lay there listeningto the hum of the fridge, a distant dog barking. As the sky began to lighten, Leah got dressed silently, picked up her bag and NHS card, and slipped out. At the surgery, she waited almost two hours, staring at nothing and not crying. When the same GP whod scanned her last week asked, Well, shall I start your booking in? Leah replied, steady and calm: No. I want a termination.
The GP just sighed and made a note. Leah stepped outside, took a shuddering breath of cold morning air, and finally, properly, weptface buried in her handswhile women with bumps and prams walked by, not even noticing her.
