Troubled Children

Spoiled Kids

Youve ruined him! You indulge his every whim, so, of course, hes running rings round you now! Helen, you simply cant allow this! Youve completely and utterly spoiled that boy. Not that Im any better. I spoiled you, too, once. Who else is to blame? Im not exactly an innocent party. Youre just a pair of spoiled children, the lot of you! And dont give me that I’m an adult now nonsense! Youre as childlike as evercant use your head or make a sensible decision! declared Valerie with feeling, slamming the fridge door so hard that the magnet holding a family photo leapt off and clattered to the floor.

The photo was taken last summer at a seaside resortthe very trip she hadnt been invited to for some unfathomable reason. For years, she had gone on holiday with the children, playing chief babysitter, mingling, and making useful acquaintances. But not this year.

The explanation for her exclusion had struck Valerie as somewhat odd.

Mum, this years tricky for all sorts of reasons. Were just going with the kids, ourselves. Well buy you a package later so you can have a break too, promise. Why not think about where youd like to go on your own?

But, Helen! Wholl look after the kids?

Mum, Dennis is grown up enough to babysit anyone now. Eva will be with me. We simply cant afford that nice hotel this timeits just not on. Well have to compromise. Eva needs proper sea air. You know she doesnt so much as sneeze for six months after a week at the coast. If we dont have the cash for the fancy hotel with kids entertainment, well go whats it called? Go DIY? Rent a flat or a house and manage the children ourselves.

Oh, naturallyno place for me, of course!

Valerie found the prospect utterly dismal. The thought of trundling off alone to some stuffy spa hotel for the over-65s disco appealed about as much as cold porridge. The crowd there was never quite her sort, unlike a proper hotel, with civilised guests and the occasional well-heeled Dutchman. With her education and knowledge of two foreign languages, she always fancied she should have her pick.
But no, not this time.

Mum, you do see its not just the accommodationits the flights, the food, the works.

As if Im eating you out of house and home! spluttered Valerie, genuinely aggrieved.

Heaven help me, Mum! Why do I have to spell out the obvious? Were skint! Theres just not the cash to take everyone. Id love to bring you with us but we simply cant afford it. Your flat needed repairs, I was ill half the year, and we had to pay for Denniss tutors. It all cost an arm and a leg. What do you expect me to docancel the holiday? Or take the kids to a budget but still sunny coast? Im exhausted, Mum. Youve seen what my years been like!

Oh, Ive seen it, all right! Seen just how poor a mother you are. You havent got a minute for your own children! It all falls on meor on Susan, your mother-in-law. Picking up Eva from nursery, collecting Dennis from school, feeding, watering, ferrying them to clubs

Mum, dont exaggerate! Dennis gets to football practice on his own. You only take Eva to ballet, and thats not even every day. We could even skip that for nowher nursery does extra dancing. But you insisted she should develop her abilities.

Oh, so now its my fault? Valeries voice escalated into a register generally reserved for train cancellations, clutching at her heart. The sheer ingratitude! I knock myself out and nothings good enough!

Mum, please Helen pressed her forehead to the window, blinking away the fatigue. Im deeply grateful for everything you do. Just please dont turn it into a guilt trip?

Valerie would hear no more. She swept out of the room, nobly abandoning a bag containing a new swimsuit in the middle of the lounge, and took offence.

Valerie was nothing if not skilled at taking offence. She could freeze one out with a look and maintain the upper hand without so much as raising her voice. Ignoring calls and overtures for days, shed eventually deign to pick up the phone with a heavy sigh and trembling tones.

Helen, darlingif the old heart starts skipping and sputtering and barely ticks over, what might that mean?

Whereupon Helen would drop everything, dash to Valeries cottage just outside townusually where her mother retreated for a period of gloomand return home wrung out, hurling her car keys onto the side table and collapsing on the bed in her clothes, quietly crying, unable to fathom why her own mother could be so impossibly hard to love.

Dennis would slip in, gently draping a throw over her and pat her shoulder.
Mum, dont. Dont go next time. Granll sulk a bit and wander back by herself.

Oh, Dennis I wish I could be so sure.

Helen knew what she meant. Shed always remembered her mother like thisdelicate, sensitive, terribly well read, fluent in a couple of languages, a dab hand at music. But always, always the most sensitive soul. She could scold in English, French, or passable Italian without skipping a beat. For little Helen, nothing was worse than that quiet, cold dismissal:

Helen, darlingI want you to think long and hard about your behaviour. Off you go, love.

Nevernot for anythingdid she say darling if her own spirits were high.

But they rarely were. Valerie was a glass-always-half-empty sort. For her, the overarching word was insufficient. It applied to everyone: colleagues, friends, most relatives and neighboursyou name it.

Helen herself was once exempt, held up as astonishingly clever and lovely. By three, she was pointing at books and reading, by four shed sit at the piano her mother bought her and say, I can hear the music!

Valerie had much to be proud of, and her daughter, up to a point, was all she could wish forstudious, obedient, and convinced her mother knew everything about everything.

Things went awry around Helens first year of secondary school. Darling of the staff, model pupilout of nowhere, she got a shocking mark on a spelling test. Valerie, indignant and clutching her heart, didnt even let her speak.

You have upset me deeply! How could you? This is unthinkable! Go to your room!

Helen trudged off, unable to explain. The truth emerged only when her grandmother walked in on her, sobbing over the sink, desperate to scrub a mysterious stain out of her skirt.

Helen! My love, what happened?

To her gran, Helen confided: shed doubled over with stomach pain in class, frightened and utterly in the dark about what was happening. Nobody had explained the inevitabilities of becoming a young woman. Valerie had decreed that was all vulgar nonsense. Helen, having no idea she should even ask, didnt. She wasnt exactly surrounded by confidantesher mother made sure of that.

A long chat between Valerie and her mother-in-law resolved little, apart from a lingering migraine and a sharp, Helen! A girl should discuss these things only with her mother!

But I didnt know

Well, next time, use your head! Thats what its there for!
Helen was left mystified by the rebuke.

It was, however, the first time a chink appeared in Helens previously neat understanding of her mother. Only later would full comprehension dawnmothers werent all saints. All the lectures about sacrificing everything for your child might not always match reality.
Disillusionments followed in quick succession. Soon, Valerie ceased to hide her disappointment. Helen often spotted her with a silk scarf tied round her foreheada supposed migraine cure. If Valerie sailed past, fingers lightly touching the band, a quarrel was brewing.

Never did she shout or create drama. She would glide into her favourite chair, press her fingertips to her temples, and her voice could freeze any room:

Helen, youre destroying me

She never elaborated. It was Helens job to work out what shed done this time. Anything could set her mother off.

Wanting to be a doctor, for instance, while Valerie insisted such ambitions were entirely misplaced:

You dont understand! I lived with your father for years but saw him hardly at all. Helen, surgery is not for women. Give up this silly dream!

But Gran says saving lives is noble! Dad wanted to be a surgeon from school.

Never mind what gran says! The point is the outcome, Helen! Im a widow, you grew up without a fatherhe burned out! Think of others, not just your own wishes and ambitions!

These discussions dragged on through Helens final years. Eventually, she applied to medical school anyway. Valerie barely spoke to her for months, limiting her conversation to grunts over breakfast.

Next, the choice of husband. Valerie was having none of it.

You astound me, darling! Was there really nobody more suitable? Not even talking money, but your husband has never even heard of Dickens, let alone attended an opera!

Oliver is a good man, Mum, Helen tried not to argue, but couldnt keep silent. And, most importantlyhe loves me.

Love alone wont get you very far, Helen! One day youll find out, but by then itll be too late!

At Helens wedding, Valerie dabbed her professionally-made-up eyes with a delicate handkerchief, sighing for all to hear:

Of course, it will be difficult for them. Theyre young, inexperienced. But I am, after all, the mother. I shall help. I shall always be there.

Thankfully, at the wedding, Valerie met her second husband. Olivers distant uncle, retired Colonel Simon Gregory, charmed her with his bearing, wit, and fluent French.

My word! That accentdivine! How?

My mother was a diplomats daughter and lived in Paris for years.

How exquisite!

Simon recited French poetry, admired a tidy home, and owned a well-appointed country house, which kept Valerie occupied (and off Helens back) for a good while.

In her second marriage, Valerie was genuinely happy. Simon adored her, and she flourished, even mellowed. At least, she greeted her grandchildrens births with something like delight.

Oh, Helen! What lovely children! Dennissuch a clever boy, just like his grandfather! And Evahow adorable! Shes got my nose and eyes. Shell be beautiful!

Helen didnt arguethe change was too welcome to question.

Against Valeries predictions, Helens marriage was a solid one. Oliver worked hard, managed to establish a rapport with his mother-in-law, and. Valerie tried (not always successfully) to accept that her daughter might actually be all right. She disapproved deeply when Helen and Oliver took out a mortgage but relented when Oliver put his foot down.

Its for the best, Val. Your flat is your home. We need our own.

But Helen will struggle with the kids and everything. You wont manage it all!

My jobs going well enoughIll cope. But Helen wants to go back to work. My mums happy to help with the children.

Your children have two grandmothers, Oliver! Valerie huffed her chin a notch higher, glaring at her son-in-lawsomething she hadnt done in years. I will take care of the children!

Helen did return to surgery. The children grew, the move went aheadand, for a while, life seemed to settle. Then Simon Gregory fell ill and, despite everyones efforts, left Valerie bewildered and broken-hearted.

Oh, Simon! How could you? wailed Valerie. Just as I learned to feel like a real woman again! Was it really necessary to take that away so soon?

Whom she blamed this time, no one knew.

Now, she brought two bunches of white carnations (one for each departed man) to the cemetery and became rather trying to the living.

Helen did everything to fill Valeries lonelinessholidays, weekends, christeningsValerie was an inevitable presence.

Whats wrong with that? Im family, too! shed declare to her friends.

But Val, perhaps Helen might want some time with her husband and kidswithout you monitoring?

Nonsense! Ive never controlled my child! Valerie would scoff. Im helping! How would Helen cope with two kids without me?

Problems arose as Dennis grew. His grandmothers ever-watchful eye grated. He loved her, but found her fussiness exasperating.

Dennis! Not again! I asked you not to play that dreadful music so loud! Valerie would barge into his room, wincing in pain. Its unbearable!

Out came the silk scarf again, but Dennis wasnt so easily swayed. He never snitched to his parents, preferring to manage matters with the formidable force of sheer teenage indirection.

Eva! Come here! Time for a song and dance session!

Faced with her grandchildren prancing about to The Arctic Monkeys, Valerie was mortified.

Dennis! You I can just about understand, but Eva? No! Enough. Im calling your mother!

Ring Dad, Gran! Mum switches her phone off in theatre. You know that!

Oliver responded to complaints with remarkable calm and, after giving Valerie a lift home, would have a good laugh singing along with Dennis, who dreamed of one day performing for more than just his family.

Denniss latent musical talent needed nurturing, so Helen resolved to buy him a guitar.

Helen, dont you dare! Is this your way of getting rid of me?

Mum, what are you talking about?

I couldnt possibly bear it! Boys should study, not muck about!

But Dennis does well at school, and you know it. Since when is music a bad thing? You always said children should develop all their abilities!

I meant something quite different, as you well know! Oh, Helen! Yet again

Arguments dragged on for days. With Oliver firmly on Helens side, Valerie reverted to her favourite tacticradio silence. She stopped taking calls, and when Helen came round to check, didnt answer the door (Valerie had conveniently misplaced her daughters spare key months ago).

This time, however, Helens patience snapped.

She doesnt want to talk; so be it. Enough’s enough, she muttered, up to her elbows in soapy water, when her favourite muga birthday gift from Dennisslipped from her hands and shattered on the floor.

For some reason, those brightly coloured fragments sparkling on the tiles became the final straw. Helen knew she loved her mother, but this love now needed boundaries, if she was to protect her own familys happiness.

Dennis! Helens shout carried up the stairs, and Dennis slid down, wondering why Mum, usually so quiet, was so upset.

Im here!

Have you chosen your guitar?

Can I? His eyes glittered so happily Helen had to blink.

Absolutely! Isnt that what you say?

Yep! Whatll Gran say?

That were all spoiled children Dont give it a thought! Get readywere going!

Where?

Where dyou think? The shop! Or whatever shop sells your beloved guitars!

Yes! Ill just let Eva knowshell help pick one out!

As he thundered off, Helen thought to herself that her son was the kindest boy alive. What other teenager would willingly drag their six-year-old sister along for advice on a guitar?

Guitar successfully purchased, Denniss room was soon a makeshift studio, with his band practisingequipment provided by Oliver and a few other willing parents. When a homemade video featuring Eva singing along racked up hundreds of thousands of views on TikTok, it seemed all their efforts were paying off.

Helen quietly rejoiced that her children were happily occupied, and Dennis, at least, had stopped being prickly for no reason. After long, draining surgical shifts, she would come home, get enveloped in chaotic chatter about ideas and plans from excited kids, and know she was doing the right thing.

Valerie, meanwhile, waited. She polished, cooked, and waitedcertain that, any day now, Helen would turn up clutching an apology, as ever.

A week passed. Then another. Helen didnt materialise.

At first, Valerie was outraged. Eventually, her indignation turned inward. For the first time, someone had stood up to her. For once, not everything danced to her tune. She would happily have written off almost anyone else for good, but Helennot possible. Deep down, she loved her daughter.

A month, then another

Eventually, she realised no one was coming. No apologies, no flowers, no grand gestures.

The realisation hit hard. How could Helen be so heartless? After all, Valerie had devoted her life to Helen and her children! Surely, a few angry words werent enough to destroy a family?

Having stormed about her empty house for some days, she packed a bag and retreated to her country cottage, seeking elusive peace. But it didnt come.

She wandered through house and garden, aching with loneliness, unable to admit it might just be her own fault.

Summer drifted into drizzly autumn. One afternoon, Valerie sat clutching her favourite cup of Earl Grey, watching the neighbours grandchildren leap about in bright wellies and waterproofs. Once upon a time, Valerie had begged Simon for a high fence, but hed insisted a wrought-iron one made by a friend was far more charming. So, there she sat, forced to make polite small talk with neighbours and witness their jolly scenes.

The neighbourslecturers bothwere, by every measure, successful people. Their five clever, well-behaved grandchildren were proof enough. Watching their youngest splash in puddles, Valerie concluded shed waited long enough. One could easily sit forever with a cuppa, nursing wounded pride, only for the day to arrive when someone else brings the white carnations for you. Fat lot of good that would do.

Setting down her cup with a clink, she headed for the car.

With the roads mercifully empty on a Sunday, Valerie reached Helens neat suburban street in no time.

Turning into the drive, she was seized by mortal terror. Shed never made the first move in her life, never set her grievances asidehow on earth was she supposed to begin? She lingered awhile, rehearsing conversations, before mustering up the courage to lift the latch and walk up the front path.

The front door was wide open. She climbed the steps. Inside, she was about to announce her arrival when a mighty racket thundered downa full drum kit, guitars, the lot. To her astonishment, she glimpsed Helen in the kitchen, singing at the top of her lungs about some doll and a wizard, giving it her all with a wooden spatula as a microphone.

Brilliant! Mum, can we film a video with you? Eva squealed, abandoning her attempts to lay the table.

Helen put the spatula down, poured juice into glasses, and handed two to Eva.

There you go! You take these up. The boys will be thirsty after all that noise. Ill bring the other two. Off you go!

Helen was halfway to the stairs when she spotted Valerie standing in the doorway.

Time seemed to pause, as if the universe itself wondered what these two would say.

Eva paused, jaw-dropped, ready to speak, but her mother got there first.

Mum, hello! Can you keep an eye on the roast for a minute? Well eat soon. The boys are just finishing rehearsal. Are you hungry?

Valerie nodded and peeled off her jacket.

Yes, actually.

Good! Helen smiled, winking at Eva. Come on, postmans knock! Or have you forgotten what Gran looks like?

Eva grinned widely and shook her head. Nope! Gran, I quit dancing! Mums got me into music lessons now. Im going to learn singing! Dennis says Im brilliant!

Valerie, blinking back suspicious tears, stooped to take the glasses from Eva.

Let me take these. I need to see Denniss guitar, anyway! Is it nice?

Gorgeous! Bright red! I helped him pick it! Come on, Ill show you!

Eva galloped upstairs, and Helen nodded warmly at her mother.

Well then? Dont just stand there. The hardest step is done

Valerie nodded and followed Eva up to Denniss room. Dennis nodded in turn, soberly showing his guitar with manly pride.

Something shifted then.

Not everything, of course. No one changes overnight.

There would still be disagreements and awkward silences. Helen would still sigh at Valeries helpful advice, and Valerie would still wonder where shed gone wrong.

But one thing would become clear to this familyif you want to be heard, you need to do some listening, yourself. Thats how things fall into place. And that, after all, is enough.