Mum’s Love for Ollie

I still recall the day Victor Hartley drove his lovely fiancée to his parents home in a modest cottage on the edge of the Kentish hills. What if they dont like me? she whispered, clutching the small handbag as they stepped onto the gravel drive. Impossible, Victor replied, smiling, youre the finest thing Ive ever known. He flung open the front door.

In the hallway stood Victors mother, Ethel Hartley, a stout woman with irongrey hair. Mother, this is Eleanor, Victor announced, introducing his bride. You wanted to present your future daughterinlaw to us, Ethel said, eyeing Eleanor with a puzzled frown. Well, here she is! Victor beamed. How curious, the matriarch murmured, but that was only the beginning of Eleanors lifelong memory of that first meeting.

Eleanor had fallen for Victor at first sight. The tall, sandyhaired young man with clear blue eyes won her over with his calm demeanor, careful thought, and genuine kindness. Though ten years separated them in age, and Victor already carried the weight of a previous marriage and a child, Eleanor readily consented to become his wife.

When they entered the sittingroom, Victors mother let out a dissatisfied sigh and turned to her son. You promised to introduce us to your bride. And here she is, Victor repeated, his grin widening. Meet Eleanor. Ethel rolled her shoulders, her lips forming a thin smile. So? she said, retreating to another room. I halfthought youd hired a housekeeper instead. Eleanor, taken aback by the cold reception, looked to Victor for reassurance. Dont mind her, he whispered, Mother simply lacks a sense of humour.

For the rest of the evening, Ethel pretended not to notice Eleanor, chattering away about Victors former wife, Margaret, a woman of striking beauty and sharp wit. Maggie used to call you every day, asking after your health, Ethel recalled, eyes shining with a nostalgic glow before she shot a haughty glance at Eleanor. She baked the most delicious piesnothing like that Ive tasted! she declared. Victor, hugging Eleanor, added, Eleanor is a wonderful housekeeper too. The sarcasm in Ethels voice made Eleanors stomach turn. Where will you live? she asked sharply. Ive turned the spare bedroom into my wardrobe, she added, so youll have to make do. Victor soothed her, Dont worry, dear, Eleanor has her own flat. He then ushered them out.

Once alone, Eleanor confessed, Im afraid I didnt win over your mother. Victor laughed, Youre exaggerating. Ritamy friends daughteris only a childhood acquaintance. My father and Sir Leonard are old business partners. Rita and I were set up as a couple when we were youngsters, and when our daughter, Ivy, was born I realised she was a poor match. She cared for nothing but shops and parties. I hoped we could part amicably and shed gladly give me her child, but she wouldnt. We fought, and Ivy stayed with her. He explained why his mother adored Rita: She was a convenient option; our families are intertwined. Mother will grow to love you, I promise.

As the months passed, Ethels disdain grew. Where she once pretended indifference, she now openly criticised Eleanors cooking, her housekeeping, and even her appearance. Do you not understand how you look beside my son? she snapped. Get a proper hairdo, some makeup, dress decently! Where does your salary go that you look so shabbily? Victor, hearing the tirade, retorted sharply, Mother, if I hear you insult my wife once more I will cut off all contact with you. I love Eleanor, and she is the most beautiful woman to me.

From then on, Ethel curbed her attacks but doubled down on praising Margaret. Meanwhile, Margaretwho had never called Victor beforesuddenly began phoning. Victor, youve stopped seeing Ivy! Shall we all get together this weekend? she demanded. You never let me see my own child! Victor snapped. But Im a mother! Margaret protested. Youll return her to her father. But you have a new wife! she replied sharply. Victor, however, defended Eleanor, Unlike you, Eleanor is caring and kind. I trust shell look after Ivy better than you ever did. He hung up, casting a protective glance at his bride.

A few days later, Eleanor stood at the doorway, a tiny girl with bright orange curls and eyes the shade of her fathers, clutching Victors hand. Shall we have tea? Eleanor suggested, her heart swelling with affection for the child. Ivy, shy at first, eventually warmed to Eleanor, and the house began to feel fuller.

Margaret, under the pretense that Ivy was bored, started bringing her over more often. One afternoon, while Victor was away, Ivy confided, My mother never talks to me. When I return, she sends me to my room and never plays with me. She clung to Eleanor, tears welling. Id love to live with you, she whispered. Eleanor, her voice trembling, replied, Id love that too, dear, but Im sure your mother wont agree. Ivy sobbed, Why not? She doesnt need me anyway! Eleanor promised she would speak to Victor, who later admitted, Rita is stubborn; she claims she doesnt want a daughter, yet she uses me to spite her. He vowed to find a solution.

Time slipped by without Victor managing to persuade Rita to hand over Ivy, even as Rita increasingly left the child with Victor. When Eleanor discovered she was pregnant, the couples joy seemed boundlessuntil Margaret stormed in with Ivy, refusing to leave. Youve betrayed your daughter by daring to have another child! she hissed, before fleeing the house.

Ivy, in tears, shouted, Youre no longer needed! and flung Eleanors hand away. Now you have your own baby! She turned and wept bitterly. Eleanor and Victor rushed to comfort her, insisting she would forever be their beloved child. Though Ivy calmed, a chill lingered between them.

When little Oliver was born, Margaret abruptly announced a holiday, abandoning Ivy to Victor. Youre doing this on purpose! Victor roared. You know Im at workwho will look after Ivy? Margaret, on the phone, sang, Darling, you wanted the child with you, why else did we have another? Their conversation broke off into static.

Eleanor, placing a gentle hand on Victors shoulder, whispered, Its all right, dear. Having Ivy with us will only help. Unexpectedly, Ivy took to caring for her brother, helping with the laundry, rocking the cradle, and later, sharing tea and chatter with Eleanor as if they were old friends. When Margaret returned, Eleanor bade a tearful farewell to Ivy.

The New Year approached, and Ethel invited Victors family to celebrate at her parents house. Suspicion gnawed at Eleanor, but Victor reassured her, Everything will be fine. Ethel, ever the actress, lavishly praised Margaret, recalling youthful days when she and Victors father were close companions. Her attention never once fell on her grandchild. Victor, his father, and even Ivy assisted Eleanor, who finally managed to eat a proper meal after Oliver fell asleep.

Later, when Victor and his father slipped away to discuss matters of men, Ethels compliments to Margaret grew louder, her laughter filling the room. The merriment startled little Oliver, who began to wail, prompting Ethel to snap, Eleanor, whats wrong with you? Your child is crying! Rita never had a child like this! Eleanor, tears streaming, fled to the nursery, hearing Ethels tirade behind her.

Im a terrible mother! Ivy shouted, her voice echoing through the house. Youre all gossiping and shopping, you cant do anything yourself! Father pays for everything, you just spend it! She burst into tears, running out, knocking over the bewildered men standing at the doorway.

Eleanor dressed the sleeping Oliver, her resolve hardening. She could not stay any longer in that hostile home. Suddenly, tiny arms reached for her. Eleanor, may I go with you? Ivy asked. My dear, who will allow it? Eleanor embraced her, tears spilling. No one will stop you, declared Victors father from the doorway. Ivy, love, you may go with Eleanor, if she wishes. Victor entered, nodding. Ill join you as well.

Soon Victor was pushing a sled through the snowcovered streets, laughing as the village girls chased after him. The memory of that winter, the bitter words, the tender moments, and the steadfast love between Eleanor and Victor lingered in my mind like the lingering scent of pine on a cold December night. The old cottage in Kent may have faded, but the story of Eleanors perseverance, the clash of generations, and the warmth that eventually blossomed between a stepchild and her new family remains a tale I recount whenever the wind rattles the shutters of my own home.