Ungrateful People
Come on! Alice, I cant hear you! my dad loomed over the little girl, while she clung anxiously to the pocket of my wifes dressing gown.
Darling, say thank you to Daddy! He got you such lovely skates, look at them! Laura gently stroked our daughters plaits, murmured encouragement. Your father really tried, sweetheart! Will, what a star you are, such a thoughtful gift Laura shot a furtive glance my way, noticing my furrowed brow, the way my face had turned ashen. Hes about to shout again Hell start yelling at Alice Why wont she just say it?! Is it really so hard to say that silly thank you? she bit her lip, troubled.
Well I told you, youve raised a little wolf! Not a hint of gratitude in her, nothing! muttered Aunt Agatha, my fathers cousin, standing at the bathroom door. Like mother, like daughter two bloody princesses! The worlds supposed to bend for them, is it? Will breaks his back to give them a good life, running himself ragged, and those two vipers, both of them! They ought to kiss your feet, living in the capital and all
By then Agatha had disappeared into the bathroom, turned on the water to drown out any reply Laura might have, undressed and, groaning as she swung her leg over the tubs edge, sank under the steaming streams, still muttering about Lauras supposed faults. With her lips pursed and jaw stuck out, she really did look like one of those cantankerous old bulldogsprized show dogs forced to share a home with mutts.
Agatha isnt easy. Shes the distinguished, honoured, model for the young, a veteran of industry. Long ago she came up from Yorkshire, a plain lass, with Blundens poems stuffed in her suitcase, two pairs of stockings, run-down shoes, two jars of raspberry jam, and a hearty helping of ambition. The jam and her ambition got her into uni; her winsome face and sharp, stubborn character made her first among equals. Soon Agatha was the student unions most formidable reppassing judgment on whod be shamed for a hasty wedding or rowdy birthday in the pub, who should be praised for a banner well-done.
Youd better be grateful, Callum, that we let you off with a warning. We could have thrown you out of university altogether! she rapped her palm on the lectern, berating the lad whod smuggled in foreign records. Who do you think youre emulating, Callum? Shameless! Thank the collective now for giving you a chance!
Agatha adored naming and shaming, dragging things to light, opening everyones eyes. That tight, warm satisfaction would twist in her chest, blood would rush to her head, hands grew hot as she clenched her little fists.
She was known across her course as The Hammertough as they come and unswervingly, almost painfully, principled. If a student got married without telling the Hammer, shed drag them before the meetingdemand answers about the groom, how the collective hadnt been consulted, or why there was such a rush. Wasnt the bride expecting? Did it matter why someone got in a scrap? Nothe main point was to make an example!
Hooligan! Count yourself lucky youve still got your student card, that we forgave you, that we even say hello! I cant hear your gratitude! Agatha would trill from the dais, while before her, hunched or half-grinning, stood a repentant young face. If the thank you took too long, Agatha would go furtherthreatening consequences far grimmer than expulsion. She knew all about her fellow students families too; could dig up whod been in prison, who drank, who was divorcedthe political line.
Agatha used information skilfully and always expected gratitude in return.
The poor soul unlucky enough to land in her crosshairs would always submit in the endthanking her for leniency, admitting fault, promising to mend his or her ways.
And that was when The Hammer felt closest to euphoria. People thanked her. She deigned to forgive; shed turned everyone against the black sheep, given someone another chance, been treated to a resounding thank you for her trouble.
It had to be loud, clear, echoing across the auditorium, bouncing from wooden panels and crashed back from the ceiling in a rain of Tha tha thankank you!
I cant hear! What was that? shed mock.
Enough already! Hes apologised, hes done! the union secretary, little Sarah, would tug Agathas sleeve. What are you tormenting him for?
Torment?! He needs to understand the opportunity weve given him! Let him learn to live right! shed push Sarahs hand away. I still cant hear your thanks! shed shout at the penitent one.
He would repeat it, louder, Agatha would nod majestically. She loved that momentit made her feel regal, as if saying, Go on then, Ill let you livejust dont slip up again. She condescended, forgave, handed back dignity.
That was Agatha through and throughalways after gratitude, not through good deeds but sheer authority. Then along came Laura Woven her web round Agathas grandson, Will, and pressured him into marriage. Will fell for her, they wed. Young couple lived under Agathas roof, comfortably enough, yet Laurashes flawed, cant be grateful! And the little girls just as bad!
Alice, I cant hear you! Will repeated wearily, tossing the black hockey skates onto the floorboards. Was it for nothing that I crossed half of London to find your size? Do you even know how much I have to do?
Will, dont. Were both grateful, truly. Even Alice is, just she was dreaming of figure skates white ones
Laura stroked our daughters head, then hugged her, feeling the little shoulders tremble.
Go on, my duck, do your homework, wont you? she gently nudged Alice to the door.
Alice darted towards her room but Wills tone stopped her.
And whats this, Alice? Come back here and say thank you to me. Thats what decent, well-mannered people do. Laura, why are you teaching her to be ungrateful? You should always appreciate kindness!
Yes, Will learnt that early on. Agatha drove home the basics of normal life from his earliest, muddled childhood. He had to thank his gran and his mother (Agathas daughter, Maria) for everythingjust for being born, in fact. Maria could have had an abortionback then she was supposed to accompany her husband abroad, and a baby would have spoiled everything. Agatha insisted her daughter keep him.
If you have a child, your husband will dote on you. If he leaves, youll still be well-off, Agatha told her daughter through tears.
Marias husband, half Czech, adored children, called them the point of life, the only reason to open your eyes each morning. He never shirked responsibility, always did what his mother-in-law and wife wanted, but Agatha always found something to criticise, always forced him to feel guilty, beg forgiveness and thank both her and Maria for not getting rid of Will years ago.
Say thank you, shed prod son-in-law again and again, that Will was even born! He put Maria through agony, cost her so much blood, and she still raised him and loves your boy. You men, you dont get itwomen suffer, give birth in pain, nurse and rear the child.
So by Agathas logic, Will wasnt even Marias own sonhe was only her husbands, while his mother suffered his presence.
Agatha once had a husband too, but that ungrateful man left her to be a widow when Maria was a child of seven. And Maria, therefore, owed her mother a thank you for raising her single-handedly, for putting her through school and university.
Maria has lived abroad for ages nowdivorced, but her ex still supports her. Will, left behind in England, was more or less raised by Agatha. She endured, gave him a chance, made a man out of himall through pain and great effort, of course.
He learnt the lesson of gratitude to perfection. His education, his home, even the sheer chance to existall because of The Hammer. The amount he ate as a hungry teenager! Agatha slaved over the cooker though her energy and health were hardly what theyd been. Still, she endured, offered a chance to live, moulded a true gentleman.
Thank you! leapt from the boys mouth automatically, rapid-fire, clearit stopped Gran from getting angry and earned a precious hour out with mates on the estate (for which he later had to say thank you too).
Now Laura too was expected to see how much sheand all of themowed to Agatha and Will.
When Laura Orton entered Wills life, he was nearly done with university, and shed transferred in, coming down from Durham halfway through her degree.
We met in the corridor by the admin office. Laura, holding documents, didnt know if she should knock, wait for the secretary, or just push the door. She stalled, nerves on edge.
Shall I help? I offered.
Yes well, its just Laura blushed, not meeting my eyes.
Come on then! I took her by the elbow, decisively.
After that we met often, walked about together. I never took her home, never spoke of Agatha. Laura first met her right before the weddingand was appalled by the effect the great woman had on her grandson: Will shrank at every sound of her footsteps, her breathing.
You indulge Alice! Will snapped at Laura. She ought to say thank you for every little thing done for her!
Will, you just dont understand She was hoping for something else. You brought boys hockey skates, but she shes a girl, darling!
The girls will laugh at me! Everyone has white figure skateswhy do I have these? Give me my old ones, Dad! Ill skate in those! Please!
Alice, what do you think youre doing?! Wills jaw jutted outnot unlike Agathas at her worstmaking him look almost bulldoggish. I went out of my way. There wasnt your size in white. This is whats available! Either take these, or you dont skate at all! Youre too young to lay down conditions! Be grateful youre even allowed out, with grades like yours!
I I Alice stammered, sobbed, shaking. I wont wear them. I wont skate at all. Take them, Dad!
She kicked the skates away and ran, slamming the door behind her.
Alice loved skating, truly. Money wouldnt stretch to lessons so she did tricks on the local patch of ice behind our flats.
Say thank you theres even an ice rink by your home, and youre allowed out to use it! Agatha would inform her sternly.
Alice waited keenly for Saturdays and would rush off to play with her mates. But shed outgrown her skates, and for so long we just couldnt afford new ones. Mum and Dad had both promised. We waited on payday. Finally her father produced those clumpy black hockey bootsnothing like the dainty, white ones the others had.
Alice was growing upshe wanted to feel pretty, to float on the ice like Jayne Torvill, wanted laced-up boots that felt like a second skin, to notice the boys watching her.
But nowwhat was the point?
The door to the bathroom banged open. Out came Agatha, trailed by clouds of steam, towel on her head, thick old navy dressing gown wrapped tightly. Face at first relaxed, but quickly contorting in fury.
She folded her arms, glared at her grandson, then at my wife.
Well? Go and give the little minx a good telling off! She shows no respect for you, Will. And you, Laura, you indulge her. If she cant be grateful for her fathers time and effort, pull her up a bit, teach her! Go on!
Laura looked helplessly to me, then at The Hammer.
For what? For the skates? For crushing her dream? Willsurely there were none her size anywhere in the whole of Sports Direct or John Lewis? Why buy those, knowing your daughters a skater, not a hockey player? Why?
My gaze dropped to the floor.
There werent any others. You should have gone to look yourself. Whats your problem? I muttered.
Agatha smirked, went to Will, patted his shoulder.
See, my boy? This woman isnt as grateful as you once thought. Shes teaching your daughter the same! Laura, her voice went syrupy and slow, in my experience, a girl struggling at school shouldnt be wasting her time with silly pursuits like figure skatingshe should be focused on her studies. Youre spoiling her. Youre frankly unfit as a parent. The little skating drama was our doingwe wanted to put a stop to Alices running off to the ice. No proper skatesproblem solved. And the bonus you gave us for Alices skates? I spent it wisely. Ive ordered her an encyclopedia. Shell read it. Well quiz her. Well make a proper person out of her. Just dont interfere. And show some gratitude. Just say thank youthatll do fine.
What?! Laura was advancing, fists clenched. You spent our money?! My money? By what right do you decide whats best for us? Will, how could you let this happen? Dont you have a mind of your own? This is madness! Agatha, read the encyclopedia yourself and give me my money back! Ill find a better use for it! Lauras voice rang out bold and strangely triumphant, not the least afraid of Agathas growing rage. I am grateful that we live under your roof, grateful you help with Alice when I have to work, grateful you found me a good doctor years ago when I was carrying Alice, and for the extra groceries you brought when we were struggling I thank you for many things, but that doesnt mean I must become a mute relic. Your type of gratitude is a form of humiliationfor you, a thank you means subjugation, enslavement, as if you own the person. But you dont!
Enough, Laura! Enough! Will snapped suddenly. He looked not at his wife, but at Agatha, chest puffed, face red, gearing up to do what shed always donecrush anyone who opposed her. Laura, youre wrong! Gran is a good woman! Just say thank you and lets end this! Just stop it!
He was terrified, my poor Will, that Agatha would become dangerousstart speaking in that slow, venomous way about him, about Laura, about his mother Maria, that ungrateful figure. About Alice, who was growing less and less like the obedient girl that Agatha demanded.
As a boy, when he resisted giving thanks for things Agatha forced on himan engineering set instead of a bike, a treatise on steel durability instead of a book of stampsshe would punish him, teach him gratitude. The Hammer wielded the belt with skill. He would grit his teeth, eyes squeezed shut, and when all was over, mutter,
Thank you, Gran Agatha, for making me a man
Now Will feared shed pull that old army-buckle belt out again, as it still hung in her wardrobe. Shed brandish it; the humiliation would sting. Will could do nothing. Nothing. He owed her everything, or so shed made him believe.
Im not saying another word, Will, Laura shook her head. Ive thanked enough. I do all the cooking, cleaning, laundry, pay the rent for this flat, and dont need anyone to fetch Alice from school anymore. We dont depend on Agatha now.
But youre living on my property! Ungrateful thing! Sneaky, spiteful viper! Agatha screeched, her voice breaking. Will! Oh, who have you brought into my house, my house! Let her go! She poisons us with her rotten ideas. Out! Out!
Agatha slumped on Wills arm, shaking, gasping for breath, hair falling from her towel in stringy waves over gaudy gold earrings.
Who have you brought? Let her go. I cant bear a snake around me! She corrupts us, corrupts Alice. Out!
Alice emerged, wide-eyed. Laura nodded grimly.
Pack your things, sweetheart. Were leaving, my wife said.
Mummy Alice began to sob. What about Daddy? Are we just leaving like this? Is it my fault?
Alice suddenly realised shed be branded bad, ungrateful, a blight on society. She was terrified to be bad.
If youre bad, Alice, youll end up an outcast! Agatha would warn her when alone. You must always stick with the best, toe the line. Remember, if I ever turn my back on you for your badness well, youll die. The world will trample you. Bad people get sent to prison or even the firing squad!
Mummy, dont! Please dont go! I want to stay! Ill be good, I promise! And you must be good too! Alice clutched at her mothers hands. You must stay! Gran, thank you for loving us! Thank you! Daddy, Ill wear these skates, really! I love them! Well behave, I promise!
Ill go all the same, Alice. You can visit me if you want, Laura said softly. Was it harsh? Yes. Alice wouldnt cope alone, but Laura needed to show her you dont have to live in misery.
Where are you off to, then? Youve nothing! Agatha laughed. Going back up north? No ones waiting for you! Or will you sleep rough? Goodstay, Alice. Let your mother go. Go on!
Lauras flat back in Durham was long since sold. The money bought Will a car, the restAgatha put in the building society. Laura protested but Will only said Agatha had once taken her in, invited her from halls, treated her like family. How could she grudge the money after such kindness? She should be grateful!
In London, Laura had friendsbut their tiny flats barely held themselves.
Alice, you remember Aunt Sophie? Ill go to hershes in Bromley. Shes got a little house, remember? If you want, you can visit.
Stay, Mummy! Please stay! Alice wouldnt let go, pressed her mothers hands to her face. Mummy!
No, darling. I cant live where gratitude means servitude and humiliation. I stopped saying thank you from the heart a long time agothey wring it out of you by force, even for the things that dont deserve it. Youre big now, Alice, you choose whether to stay or come. I love you, always.
They both wept, kneeling together, suitcase zipped up at their side.
Will watched as wife and daughter walked across the courtyard. Soon, theyd turn the corner and hed lose sight of them. Perhaps forever
Aliceyour own daughterhas betrayed you, grandson. Shes just as ungrateful, just as cold as her mother, murmured Agatha behind him. Suppers ready. I. Made. Supper. What do you say?
Thank you, Will said, rubbing his face, heading to the kitchen.
It was strangely empty at the round table. There was always barely room for one more plate, but now even the big soup tureen, the decanter of squash, and the party slices of cold meat looked lost, as if celebrating nothing.
Eat up. Wellwhat do you say for this lovely supper? Agatha demanded, jaw out, eyes wide. Ive freed you of that burdendidnt even have to throw them out, they left on their own! I could see how hard it was for you with them here I never liked Laura, she added through a mouthful of bread. People like herwe used to sort them right out in meetings, picked through every last flaw, made them see sense. Some repented, thanked us for opening their eyes. The stubborn ones ended up shovelling coal, too late then to say thank you. Eat, Will, eat.
But shes my wife, Gran And I love her and Alice
Love, then! Your mother loves me, too, over there abroad. Thats fineat a distance its easier to see. Youll thank me for taking the shackle off. Well find you a new wife, one born grateful. And thats enough! I never want to hear Lauras name again! The Hammer slammed her fist on the table. If you keep whining, Ill make you so wretched youll hate yourself. And the belts still hanging in my wardrobe.
Another blow echoed. The tureen rattled, the squash vibrated silently. Outside, a crow cawed, bobbing on a branch as though bowing deeply to Agatha, thanking her for having graced the world with her presence
Your husband is weak, Will, muttered Sophie, as she poured Laura a cup of tea, honey and lemon already added. Drink. Youre shaking. And dont argueIm right.
Laura shook her head, wincing. She was exhausted. All the way over shed comforted Alice, promising Daddy would visit. They waited ages for the bus out to Sophies place in Bromley. By the time they arrived, Laura was barely holding it together for Alices sake.
Hes only like that when Agathas about. Shes like a pythonshe hypnotises him; all his backbone crumples. With her, hes a boy again, obedient, grateful. You have to thank her for everythingfor making you small, for her approval. Life is like a permanent committee meeting; shes chairman, were always on trial. She decides what we owe her, listens for gratitude. And yes, we lived under her roof, but that made it worse. She insistedNo need to spend money, well all fit nicely together! Then demanded gratitude for it! Its crazy.
Well-behaved, Sophie mimicked. You needed to do what you felt, Laura, be natural! I bet you couldnt even argue thereyou always had to be grateful! No life at all! So whats so great about Will, then?
When Agatha went to her spa breaksshes often away nowadaysWill would change entirely! Suddenly warm, open, bold. It was as if a tree inside him stood up tall. Hed even laugh! But never with Agatha there. If we so much as smiled, shed say we were ungratefulshe had aches and pains, and we Lord, ten years of that! Ten years!
Never mind. Thats done with. Well live differently now. Drink your tea, have a bun. And dont thank me, Laura! Sophie grinned. Just relax.
Oh but its a pleasure to thank you, Sophie. I truly love you Laura choked up.
The Easter holidays came round. Alice didnt go to schoolshe played out in the snow, built snowmen, played with Sophies dog Daisy. Sophie was on sick leave, kept an eye on Alice, while Laura commuted into town, bringing back treats in the evening. The three of them would gather at the table, joking and laughing loudly, sipping tea and sharing stories. Sophies dad sent her a pot of wild English honey, greenish as fir needles, thick and slow, syruping in the cup and filling the air with the scent of moorland heather.
Well go north this summer to see Dad, Sophie suggested. Alice will love it, and you could use the fresh air, Laura, you wander about like a ghost, frightening the neighbours! Help yourself! She lay a plate of pancakes on the table. Shrove Tuesdays gone, but I havent spoilt you yet! Daisy! Daisy, stop pestering Alice, shell give you some after.
That evening, they sat out on the porch, armchairs draped with blankets. Daisy flopped her head on Lauras lap, groaning contentedly as her ear was scratched.
Maybe Im wrong? Laura shrugged, sighing. One ought to thank easilyespecially Agatha, shes family, after all. Yet I find her so hard to thank.
Well, you know what they saya good turn is its own reward. When gratitude is demanded it becomes a trade, not a virtue. Your Agatha doesnt just do good, she imposes it, whether you want it or not, and expects gratitude for her trouble. Hang on, someones at the gate Sophie whispered, alarmed. Oi! Whos there? Ill phone the police!
No need for the police. Its me, Will. Laura, can I talk to you?
Daddy! Daddy! Alice flew off the steps, Daisy circling, tail wagging madly.
Sweetheart, here, for youout of season, but Will handed Alice a box. Insideoh yeswhite skates with gold script.
Alice froze, then leapt round her fathers neck.
Thank you, Daddy! Thank you! Aunt Sophie, look! The girl raced off inside, and Laura, smiling, met Will at the gate.
Will. I wasnt expecting you
Didnt want to risk the doors being shut, Laura. Were moving, you hear? Found a flat to letmight buy one later. And sheAgathatold me to be grateful now that Im free, that were better off together, no one in our way. Says Laura came from nothing, and to nothing shell return. Shes even drawn up divorce papers on my behalf, booked the courts for Friday, told me not to contest custody. What do you say to your dearest grandmother? she asks, with that look I snapped, packed up, came straight to you. Laura, I dont want a divorce. I love you, you hear? Im not going to any court! He faltered, looking up from beneath his brow. Do you?
Laura murmured something and melted into his embrace.
What are you lovebirds waiting outside for? Get in here, lets put the kettle on! called Sophie.
Agatha, wandering her empty flat, sat up straight and wiped her sweaty hands. It had been a long time since shed been rattled like this. She dialled, waited ages for someone to pick up.
Laura? Its Agatha. Id like to come over on Saturday, wish Alice happy birthday. Would that be alright? I hope its not an inconvenience?
She panted, grimacing, as if suffering heartburn. It pained her to ask. She used to command, direct, demandbut never ask, never beg!
Now she felt the humiliation. There was a risk, too, that Laura would say no.
When she ordered, she was seldom refusedher voice struck like a sledgehammer, nobody dared cross Agatha.
Slice me three hundred grams of best ham. Not that one, its off. Let me through, Ill go first. Give me your seat, now. Bring my bags up, third floor,thats how she spoke, never any other way
Hello, Mrs Morton, came Lauras quick reply. Were away for the weekend, so
Laura! I want to see my great-granddaughter! Say thank you The Hammer launched back in, but Laura had already hung up.
She phoned again.
Fine, just Im Im sorry, she spat it out. Maybe I could just meet you on Friday, give Alice her present?
Thatll be fine. Come about five, well meet in a café. Will will be there, too.
Thank you, Laura. I appreciate you letting us meet, even occasionally, Agatha said steadily. Laura never knew, but The Hammer was reading those words off a slip of paper. She still found them hard to say aloud, but she was practising, in that lonely flat, whispering them night after night, waiting, hoping for Will to ring. She missed him terribly. She missed Laura and Alice too. The Hammer was getting old, sentimental evenfinding herself on the verge of tears.
Diary entry, closing thought:
I look back at these weeks and realise how deeply the need for gratitude runs in our familyand how easily it turns from a virtue into a trap. What I learned, almost too late, is that true gratitude is never forced, never demanded, never used as a chain. When its freely given, spoken simply and sincerely, it binds hearts closer than any thank you wrung out by threats or guilt. I hope I remember that the next time someone does something for meor I for them.
