THE FAMILY?

The memory of that winter still haunts me, though the years have softened its edges. It began when my daughter, Poppy, burst into the sittingroom, breathless with panic. Mum, call James at once! All three of the little ones have a fever and are wailing. I cant get them to the clinic alone. Her voice trembled, and I felt my own heart tighten.

I tried to steady myself, but the telephone lay heavy in my hand. My fingers fumbled for Jamess number amidst a list of contacts: three sick grandchildren, Poppy alone at home, and my husband Robert, stuck at his shift. The situation was desperate. I pressed the dial and waited for the first, second, and third rings before James finally answered.

Hello, Mother, he said briskly.

James, dear, were in a bind, I began, choosing my words as carefully as I could. Poppy called. All three of the babies are ill and need to see a doctor right away. Her husband is at work and cant get leave. Could you drive them? It shouldnt take long.

A tense silence fell. In the background I could hear the soft rustle of his evening.

Mother, today is Emilys birthday, James sighed. We booked a table at the inn two weeks ago. The journey to the house is a long one, and we wont make the reservation in time. I cant help.

My grip on the receiver tightened until my palm was slick with sweat. James, the children are sick! Your nieces! Poppy cant manage three temperamental little ones by herself. They need a doctor now!

I understand, Mum, James replied with an even tone, his voice flat as a stone. But we have plans. We cant cancel everything. Perhaps you could call a taxi, or you and Robert could manage it yourselves. Whats the problem?

I sank into a chair, my legs giving way beneath me. Roberts at work! I snapped, the restraint breaking. I cant possibly look after three ill children on my own! Cant you understand something so simple?

You know I cant, James said sharply. Its not my problem. The children are Poppys responsibility. Shell have to sort it out herself.

The words struck me like a blow. How can you say that? This is your family! Your sister! You cant just turn away a relative in need!

I said I cant. Were preparing to go, sorry, he cut off, the line humming with the sound of his hurried departure.

The brief beeps of the phone lingered in my ears as I stared at the screen, stunned. My hands trembled, and I dialed again, hoping for a different answer. The line remained silent. A hot, burning anger rose inside me, fierce and unforgiving.

Desperate, I called my daughterinlaw, Sarah. Hello, Margaret? she answered promptly.

Sarah, love, I said, trying to keep my voice calm despite the surge of emotion. Why wont you ask James to help? Theyre his nieces, theyre ill! Poppy cant do it alone. You understand, dont you?

Sarah exhaled softly, her tone almost indifferent. Margaret, its the parents job to look after their children. Theres a cab, an ambulance if needed. The little ones arent infants any more. Poppy is an adult; shell manage.

Her words felt like a cold wind, sharper than Jamess refusal. Do you even realise how impossible it is to ferry three sick, fussy toddlers in a taxi? I cried, my composure finally cracking. Theyre tiny! Poppy cant do it by herself!

Its her children, Margaret, Sarah replied, her voice flat. Weve planned our own evening. We wont ruin it for others problems.

Anger surged again, louder than before. Then perhaps you and your future children can just keep your distance! I shouted, slamming the handset down.

Days drifted by like fog. James and I stopped speaking. I tried not to dwell on the incident, yet the hurt festered, a constant ache. At night I lay awake, replaying the conversation over and over. How could my own son behave so coldly? Had I failed as a mother? Had I raised a heartless man?

Robert attempted to talk to me, but I brushed him aside, determined to sort out the mess alone. On the fourth day, patience gave way to resolve. I decided I must see James facetoface, to look him in the eye and demand an answer.

When I arrived at his modest cottage in the outskirts of York, Sarah opened the door, surprise flashing across her face before she stepped aside. I entered without even shedding my coat.

Wheres James? I demanded sharply.

Hes in his room, Sarah said, nodding toward the hallway.

I pushed the door open. James looked up, his eyes flickering with something fleeting before his expression hardened.

Mum, whats wrong? he asked, raising an eyebrow.

How could you? I shouted, my voice cracking with four days of pentup fury. How could you refuse help to sick children, to your own sister? I never raised you to be selfish and callous!

He rose slowly, his face calm, almost indifferent, a cold mask that only deepened my rage.

Mum, you could have called a taxi yourself, he said, shrugging. I didnt have to drop everything at the first call. My own family matters, too.

He paused, meeting my gaze directly. Do you remember why Emily stopped speaking to us after we bought the new house? Shes been saying nasty things ever since. For half a year shes ignored us, now she asks for help?

I was at a loss, words choking in my throat. I opened my mouth, then shut it again.

Its its simply I stammered, searching for the right phrasing. Emily lives in a rented flat with three children.

You and I own a modest twobedroom flat, no kids, James pointed out. Of course shes upset. Whats not welcome, I didnt know what is she chatting about?

Sarah, still standing in the doorway, crossed her arms, her face unreadable. She talks a lot. She says nasty things about Anna and me. As for the flat, thats not her concern, James added coldly.

We earned that flat ourselves, no one helped us. Let Emily sort her own problems! Dont drag my family into it because of you, I snapped, stepping closer, fists clenching instinctively.

Youre talking nonsense, James retorted, his voice rising. Shes your sister! A family member! How can you not see that?

Its not my problem, Mum, James shot back. My family is my wife, Sarah. Emily should have thought ahead!

She had brought three children into the world of her own volition! No one forced her! Im not obligated to abandon everything at the first call to fix her troubles!

Youre selfish! I yelled. You only think of yourself! Your sister can barely cope with the kids, and you cant even lend a hand once!

Help? James smirked. Why should I aid someone whos ignored me for six months? Weve stopped speaking with Emily. How could you not have noticed?

He took a breath, his tone softening. What am I even saying? he muttered. Youre only ever worried about Emily. Its always been that way. Im just a hollow place for you.

Youre heartless! How can you say that? I turned away, unable to meet his eyes any longer. I didnt raise you like this, James! I taught you to help one another!

I fled the cottage, stopping on the stairwell, my breathing ragged. Inside, something burned, a fire of betrayal and sorrow. The cold night air slapped my cheeks, yet it did not bring relief. I walked toward the bus stop, the question looping in my mind: where had I gone wrong?

Why had I nurtured such a selfish soul? Why could James not grasp the simple truth that family should support each other? Deep inside, a quiet, unsettling thought grewa seed of doubt about the role I had played, about the words James had spoken concerning Emilys silence and his own life.

I paused in the middle of the road, pedestrians passing on either side. Perhaps James was right. Perhaps I had demanded too much, blind to his own burdens. Yet I could not accept that. I was a mother; I knew what was right for my grandchildren.

The doubt settled like a small, sharp stone within me, swelling with each step toward my home. I boarded the minibus, stared out the window as rows of houses, cars, and ordinary lives drifted by. The world went on, unchanged, while inside me something cracked irreparably. I did not know if I could ever mend it, if I could ever speak to James as we once did, if I could ever forgive his refusal, if he could ever forgive my blindness.

The minibus rattled over the potholes. I closed my eyes, longing for a tomorrow where words might find a gentler path, where family could once again be a family. Or perhaps the wound was already too deep, and the chance forever lost. The memory of that winter remains, a reminder of how fragile the ties that bind us truly are.