Mum Knows Best

Emma, I really dont like your Charlie, Mum declared after shed met the girls fiancé.

Listen, Emma, ask yourself what it is about him that puts Mum off, I urged. Sometimes its just a vague I dont like him feeling, other times there are genuine red flags that a lovestruck girl might overlook. Either way the story could have taken a different turn.

Emma merely waved her mother off and launched into what she thought were perfectly reasonable arguments.

You never like anyone, thats why you end up single, even though you could have married me as a package deal, Mum sniped.

My dear Mrs. Clarke, Emma retorted, and what makes you think I dont understand anything? Because Im younger?

Im not blind. Id seen plenty of suitors eyeing you, decent enough men, and you turned them away without a second glance.

Without a second glance? Mum said, sounding philosophical before cutting the debate short. Alright, Emma, lets drop it.

Ive given you my opinion now that youve brought Charlie into my life, so the choice is yours whether to heed my warning or decide for yourself whos worthy of you.

Mum, you should know its a bit late for decisions, Emma said, Im pregnant with Charlies child, and my baby wont grow up fatherless.

Part of Emmas resentment towards her mother stemmed from the absence of a father figure in her own life. In school shed been the only girl with no dad present for a legitimate reason. Two of her classmates had lost fathers, but thats not the same as never having one at all.

Emmas own father was there at birth, but when she was barely three, her parents split and he vanished from her life. He left a final comment that if Emma had given him a son, coparenting might have been on the table but a daughter, she replied, wasnt my burden to share. He did pay child support dutifully, yet never showed up for birthdays or school events. Emma blamed Mum for the missing father, thinking a stepdad could have filled the gap. Sure, he might not have loved me like those lads with dads at home, but at least there would have been a man under the same roof and we wouldnt have been labelled the odd one out, she used to say.

So she decided that, regardless of what happened, the baby would have a dad. Charlie wasnt perfect, but he loved Emma and would love the child.

When the paternity test came back positive, Charlie immediately proposed like a proper gentleman and started dreaming about converting his spare bedroom into a nursery. Emma found his enthusiasm utterly adorable, and Mums earlier complaints about him couldnt tarnish the picture.

In the end, Mum couldnt force Emma to stay with Charlie. What bothered her about Charlie became clear when the baby turned one.

He held down a steady job, but helping with little Molly thats what they called the baby was never even on the agenda. His mother, Helen, kept fanning the flames by bragging about how she juggled two kids, kept the house immaculate, and returned to work almost straight after giving birth. She didnt own the sleek gadgets that Emmas flat was bristling with, yet she neglected to mention that both her own children were whisked off to a crèche within weeks of being born, and then onto a nursery, a primary school, and finally an afterschool club where teachers fed and helped with homework.

Helens contribution to the household boiled down to making breakfast and doing the laundry the washing machine was modest, not the hightech marvels of today, but she presented this as the gold standard to emulate.

That ideal hit a snag the moment Molly turned three, because in their town there were no crèches left. Mothers had to look after toddlers solo, 24/7. Some were lucky to have supportive husbands or helpful relatives, but Emmas mum lived in a different city and wasnt retired yet, so Emma was left to fend for herself and the baby.

She still believed Charlie loved her and that their family was decent until the day the fire alarm blared while she was in the shower. It had happened twice that year, both false alarms, and Charlie seemed to ignore it. She rinsed the shampoo out, wrapped herself in a towel, and went to investigate.

The front door stood wide open, smoke pouring in from the stairwell, and Charlie was nowhere to be seen. Emma sprinted to the nursery, bundled Molly in a blanket, and fled. She managed to scramble onto the roof and hop across to the neighbouring block.

Outside she found a bewildered Charlie clutching his brandnew gaming PC, a professional video camera slung around his neck, and a tablet and phone poking out of his jacket pockets.

Bloody hell, she muttered. If she hadnt been holding a baby she might have given the man a good kick to the shins, but she settled for a swift footstomp to his most sensitive spot, cursing like a dockworker.

What sealed the deal was Charlies reaction. Instead of apologising or trying to explain, he accused Emma of losing her mind, claiming hed simply forgotten about his wife and child that happens to the best of us, he said, as if the most precious thing hed rescued was his reflexes, not his family.

Hed saved his computer, his camera, his gadgets not his wife or his daughter.

Naturally, Emma divorced him. The next six months were a blur of her mothers attempts to force a reconciliation, each plea wrapped in the same dont break the family mantra. Fortunately, Mum eventually took Emma and Molly back in.

Mum, you were right. I shouldnt have gotten involved with Charlie, Emma confessed. I only realised how quickly he could abandon us when things got tough.

Mum smiled. Remember when we met at the flat block and that neighbours terrier barked at us?

Archie? Emma laughed. He barks at everyone; his owner, Tom, never lets him off the leash. The dogs harmless, just a bit jumpy.

Mum replied, Exactly. When Archie got scared and barked, you bolted straight out, leaving your child exposed. He knew you were already carrying his baby and still ran off. Loving husbands and fathers dont behave like that.

Emma used to say, You know a lot about loving husbands and fathers, dont you? but after living through the mess she simply stayed quiet, grateful to have learned that a mans presence isnt the sole ingredient for a happy home. Sometimes its easier to raise a child alone than to stay with someone just for the pictureperfect façade.

Shes determined not to repeat the mistake. If little Molly ever asks why she grew up without a father, Emma will tell her plainly: the dad ran off to save his laptop, phone, tablet and video camera during an emergency.

Will the next generation of fathers be rescued by their gadgets, or will they muster the courage to ask a daughter for help at the doorstep? Probably not. And Molly, when shes older, is unlikely to forgive that.

Emma certainly wont.