I never could take to my daughter-in-law, Emily. And no, it wasnt the usual mother-in-law and daughter-in-law squabbleit was simply that I didnt like her.
And why should I? Always blundering about, and when she spoke, it sounded like a brass band on market day. One eye sort of wandered, her face was blotchy with freckles, and lets be honest, who would call that a woman? Her hair, coarse as broom bristles and tied up like a horses tail, skinny and lanky as a gatepost, arms like rakes, legs like broom handles, strange watery eyes popping out at you
No, I never warmed to Emily. Never once took to her.
My son, Thomas, brought her home from goodness knows where. People from those parts must all look like that. Ours are differentpetite, dark-eyed, with soft, flaxen hair, rosy-cheeked, sturdy as apple trees. Id already picked out the perfect girl next door, Amy Price. Such a singer, always laughing, hardworkingnow theres a girl, Id thought.
Id even arranged things with Richard, Amys father, who was quite pleased at the prospect of joining families with us, the Coopers. All we needed was for Thomas to finish his service and return home so we could hold the wedding. And Amys young, but thats nothingshes not spoiled, straight from her parents watchful eye and her mothers apron to her husbands hearth.
Shed make a fine wife and a farmers help. See how she tosses hayquietly, Id admire the potential daughter-in-law.
Shed pop by with a fresh pie shed baked or some butter shed churned herself, clearly hoping to win my approvalgood girl, I thought, and I respected her.
In my head, I had it all imagined: bouncing grandbabies on my knee, daydreaming about being a grandmother. Five children Id already raisedfour girls and Thomas, my youngest, my Tommy. My husband was gone far too soon. Hard times, he hardly got to live; it was just me and the children.
Still, we managed, never went begging. My little farm stayed steady, and I gave all the girls their dowriessent off not on carts but with proper wagons.
All that remained was marrying off Tommy, and Amy was meant for him. Her mother, Margaret, had bundled up her dowry since the day Amy was bornthey had only boys otherwise, Amy was their youngest.
All the farm, the livestock, everything was set to go to Thomas. The girls had taken their share; I wanted nothing. Just a small corner for myself, a seat at the tablethatd be plenty.
I fantasised about having Margaret over for tea, gossiping about the youngsters, joining our two farms into one. Who knows, maybe we old birds might even share a house, just a little snug to keep warm.
I remember how vivid my dreams became, like I was a child againrunning across a sunlit meadow, reaching out my arms with no pain in my legs, toward a dark-eyed little boy waving: Granny, Granny, come here, Im waiting.
Waking up, I found myself smiling. Imagine that, dreaming about a grandson I hadnt even met.
I lost count of the days waiting for Tommy to return.
One day he came back. Brought Emily with him from the city, her as skinny as a rake, nearly a head taller than him. Hair like copper wire and those staring eyes, her face a mess of red. My word, what sort of woman was this?
Or maybe… Was Tommy pulling my leg, surely? How could anyone love such a gawky gal?
No joke. Mum, meet my Emily, he said.
I nearly fainted right there. He had a bride waiting already, and he brought this…
I dragged young Billy from next door over and got hold of his ear.
Hey, Mrs. Cooper, quit it! Whats that for?
Tell me, how did you write to Tommy?
Just what you told me!
“Did you mention his bride? Did you write about Amy waiting for him?”
“Oh Amy? Course I did, but… Well, shes too young for your Tom anyway. Hes too old for hershes barely fifteen.”
Rubbish! Its high time she got married.
Thats old-fashioned, Mrs. Cooper. These days, you try that, social services will have a word with you.
Have me up for what, twisting your ear?
For roughing up and trying to marry a grown man to a child!
Off you go, you cheeky rascal. Amys more than old enough, and dont think I dont know you fancy her yourself. Is that why you wrote Tommy off?
I wrote what I was told! Ask Mr. Thomas.
And I will, you see if I dont.
Well youre not getting Amy, thats for sure! Billy yelled, still rubbing his red ear.
Off you trot, Romeo, I called after him, muttering under my breath. Well see how long this tall, ginger thing lasts here. Youll see, Princess
Later, I had to ask Tommy: Son, did you get my letters while you were away?
Yes, Mum, every one.
And about Amy? I wrote about Amy, didnt I?
Yes, you said shes doing well at school, wants to go off to London and train to be a doctor, help people. Good on her.
A doctor? I was stunned. But I wrote youd marry her!
Who, Mum?
Amy, of course, son.
Mum, Amys just a kid, and besides, bigamy is illegal you know. Emily is my wife now
Thats when I nearly howled. But we made an agreement. Are you trying to ruin that girl? Get rid of that ginger city girlno one will know. Marry proper, like we planned… Please! For the love of God, send her packing!
Tommy lost his patience: Mum, that’s enough. Emily is my wife, I love her, and if you cant live with us, well leave. Shes a doctor, shes come here to serve the village. Well move out, Mum live as we choose.
So it must be her, Emily, whos turned him away from me That’s how it is, I thought as my legs gave out beneath me and I fell to the floor.
Emily did something, gave me a tablet and before long, the trembling eased.
Still, I never could love her for it.
For the longest time, Tommy and Emily had no children, and I caught myself feeling a mean sort of satisfaction. If only hed married Amy, the little ones would be running about the yard by now.
Amy had gone off to London with that sticky-out-eared lad, off to study, and I told myself, ‘Shell be back someday and shoo that ginger girl out. Then Tommy will marry her, and get the children he wanted.’
I started noticing Emily, pale as a cabbage leaf, freckles washed out, looking poorly. Was she ill, the silly nag?
Whats with Emily? I asked. Tommy just grinned, hiding his shining eyes.
Youll be a granny soon, Mum
I spat and left the room.
That was the end of my dreamsno grandchildren from Amy for me. And from that gangly marewell, I wouldnt even go near the bairn.
Emily struggled with the pregnancy, you could see she was suffering.
They named the boy John.
I kept my word, kept my distance, let them handle things.
Four months since the childs birth, Tommy was barely home, late every night, supposedly working. Emily did everything herselflooked after the child, cooked, and even kept the animals in order. I made a point of staying out of it, not my concern.
One night, I woke to a baby howling.
Wheres that daft womancant she hear the boy?
Tommy, Tommy! Your baby is bawling!
Silence.
Heaving myself out of bed, I found the lad screaming in his cot, Emily fast asleep on the floor. My Godwhere was Tommy? What time was ithad something happened?
Emily, wake up! I nudged her, and she groaned. Lord, the floor beneath her was slick, blood everywhere.
Good heavens, girl, whats happened? Oh, what do I do with you?
She moaned softly, still alive. I found some old towels, covered her.
Where do I go? Should I leave you? But then the childoh, what am I to do?
The only response was quiet moaning.
Rest, darling, Ill fetch help. I hurried to the neighbours.
The door creaked and in crept Tommy, beaming, happy as a lark.
Whereve you been?
Mum! Youre awake? he stammered, At work
Work! Your wifes half-dead. Get to Jacks, borrow his car, we have to get Emily to the hospital or shell be done for. And youwell talk.
Emily lay in hospital, looking bewildered at first, the door cracked and in I came, bundle in hand.
I sat by her bed. Small and quiet, I couldnt meet her eye, only said, I fed John. Didnt bring him with me, journeys too far. I asked the neighbour, shes happy to watch him, dont you worryshes raised seven of her own. Shell look after our boy, she will.
When Emily heard our, she smiledit warmed my heart.
You poor girl, lying here all cold and alone. I brought you things; soon as I find some water, Ill wash you. Surely no one heres cleaned you up? Still bloody, you poor dear.
Next thing, the nurses hurried about, others peeking in, probably jealousWhat a lucky girl, such a mum.
I tidied up Emily, changed her clothes, tucked her in. You rest, I whispered, however long you need. Ill come every day.
Then, fixing her blanket, I muttered, What nonsense, thinking to leave me and that boy all alone. Menhere today, gone tomorrow. The child is what matters, and besides, a mother-in-law isnt a stranger. I stepped back and in a louder voice said, Right, Emily, Ill be off. Back tomorrow.
Thank you Mum, Emily replied. I stopped in my tracks, smiled like a girl, and scurried away.
Your mum is lovely, Emily, I heard from the women in her ward.
Shes not my mumwell, she is, my husbands…
Your mother-in-law? they gasped.
Yes, my mother-in-law. I had no parents, grew up with Gran, but she feels like Mum to me…
Wasnt quite true, but Emily believed itand maybe, so did I.
Next day Tommy came, sat awkwardly at her bedside, head lowered.
Im sorry Sorry, Ive been a right fool.
Its fine, Tom just make your mind up about your work.
No, lovea hundred times no. What I need is you and our boy.
And Mum, whispered Emily.
Oh, what a hopeless daughter-in-law she is! Whatever is there to love about her? All legs and arms, loud-mouthed and ginger, those bug eyesnothing to like Yet still, I found myself loving her. I always had, secretlylying awake worrying while Tommy was out late.
When no one was watching, Id scoop up baby John and cuddle himoh how I loved the boy. Emily would step outside and Id dash over to the cot.
That night, I confess, I dozed and missed something; Emily, so poorly, lost another child, lucky to have survived herself.
I was terrified.
When, at dawn, Tommy returned from hospital, I told him to choose: family or carousing. If he loved that sort of life, he could go. I wouldnt turn Emily and the child outhes a man, hell manage.
If hes stopped loving her, he can make his own way, but hell always be welcome to visit, if his new love will let him. Dont you near kill her again, you scoundrel.
I never could find a proper reason to love Emily, yet, somehow, I did.
Maybe for her cheerful spirit, that lovely voice when she sang, the way everything shone in her hands? For everything, but most of all the children she gave usJohn, Michael, Andrew, James, and Daisy.
Thank heavens she came through, and in time, she bore more children. All her life, Emily regretted what she’d done that night, even if it was in a feverish haze.
I never had a reason to love her, but love her I did. Even if my daughters were jealous, saying You love her more than your own girls.
How could I not? We lived together nearly thirty years, side by side.
I lived to a good old age, looked after all my grandchildren, even got to love my great-grandchildren, and when I finally left, it was with a peaceful smile and a heart free of bitterness.
