“You’re a stranger to him, while I’m his mother,” hissed the mother-in-law, her voice trembling.
“You shouldnt have called that private doctor,” said Evelyn Carter, adjusting the black shawl over her head. “Our local GP was perfectly finehes treated this family for years.”
Emily said nothing, placing another plate of hot cross buns on the table. The guests had thinned out, leaving only the closest relatives. The kitchen felt stifling with so many people, but no one dared eat in the sitting room, where the coffin stood.
“Why wont you speak?” Evelyn pressed, her voice sharp. “Did you begrudge spending money on proper care? Twenty thousand pounds for that surgery, and for what? Nothing!”
“Evelyn, not now,” murmured Aunt Clara from the corner, but she was ignored.
“When, then?” Evelyns eyes were rednot from tears, but from fury. “He was my son. I carried him, raised him, stood by him! And you? You only married him.”
Emily twisted the tea towel in her hands. She wanted to scream, to run, to hidebut she couldnt. Today was Stephens funeral. She had to hold herself together.
“Mum, enough,” sighed William, Stephens younger brother, exhaustion in his voice. “This isnt the time.”
“When is?” Evelyn snapped. “After we bury him? I should stay quiet while she takes charge? This is my house! Stephen was born herehe should rest here!”
Emily flinched. Theyd argued for days over where to hold the wake. Evelyn insisted on her cramped flat, while Emily suggested a quiet pub. But as always, Evelyn had her way.
“Ill justair out the sitting room,” Emily whispered, slipping away.
The room was heavy with the scent of lilies and candle wax, mingling with the faint aroma of roast beef. Stephen lay in the coffin, stiff in a black suitso unlike him. Hed always hated dressing up, preferred jumpers and jeans.
“Why did you leave me?” Emily murmured, stepping closer. “How do I do this alone?”
Footsteps sounded behind her.
“Em, love, dont torture yourself,” said Aunt Clara, resting a hand on her shoulder. “It wasnt his fault. Bloody illness.”
“She says I didnt treat him right. That I skimped on his care.”
“Dont listen to her. Shes grievinghe was her only son, her pride and joy.”
“And what am I?” Emily turned, her eyes wet. “Twelve years, Clara. Twelve years! I nursed him when he was ill. I quit my job to sit with him in hospital.”
“I know, pet. You were a good wife.”
“And she calls me a stranger. How? We married in church. We wanted children”
Emily choked. That hurt too much. Theyd tried for so long. Then Stephen fell ill, and everything else faded.
From the kitchen, Evelyns voice carried, muffled but relentless. She was telling someone how Stephen had fallen off his bike as a boy, how shed rushed him to A&E in the middle of the night.
Emily remembered Stephen laughing about that storyhow his mother had been more frightened than he was, how the doctor had calmed her, not him.
“He was always brave,” Evelyn went on. “Stood up for the little ones at school. Knew how to fight. Then he served in the armymade a fine officer.”
Emily thought of his letters from basic traininghow he missed Sunday roasts, how he wrote about meeting a girl named Emily just before enlistment, how he swore hed come back to her.
“Emily, love, come see,” called Cousin Sophie from the kitchen. “Evelyns got the photo albums out.”
Pictures spread across the tableStephen in primary school, clutching a teddy bear, grinning by a sandcastle.
“Look at himmechanical engineering diploma,” Evelyn said, pointing. “Brilliant with his hands, fixed anything.”
“Yes,” Emily said softly. “He never minded when I bungled the car.”
Evelyn shot her a glare.
“He was kind to everyone, not just you.”
Silence followed. Sophie coughed, asking for more photos.
“Hereafter the army,” Evelyn said, tapping a photo of Stephen in leathers by his motorbike. “Handsome devil. Girls flocked to him.”
Emily remembered their first meetingStephen offering her a lift home, cracking jokes all the way. Shed thought him the most charming man alive.
“Had his pick of girls,” Evelyn sighed. “Never settled down. Said he wasnt ready. Then suddenlymarried.”
“Mum, really?” William cut in.
“What? Its true. He was a bachelor for years.”
Emilys cheeks burned. Stephen had hesitated before introducing themwarned her his mother was stubborn.
“Lovely wedding, though,” Aunt Clara offered. “That three-tiered cake”
“I ordered that cake,” Evelyn corrected. “Bought her dress, too. She couldnt afford it.”
“I had a job,” Emily said quietly.
“Barely! Stephen earned properly. Promotions every year at the factory.”
Emily remembered their savingsevery penny set aside for a home. Then the diagnosis, and the money vanished into hospital bills.
“He wanted children,” she said suddenly. “Always said, Once Im well”
Evelyn shut the album with a snap.
“We should set the table. The vicar will be here soon.”
Later, as the others bustled about, Emily stood at the sink, washing dishes while William smoked on the balcony.
“Dont take it to heart,” he said, coming inside. “She loved him too much, maybe.”
“I know,” Emily said, not turning. “But hearing Im a stranger”
“Youre not. You were his wife.”
“Were,” she echoed. “Now what am I? A widow? It sounds so hollow.”
“Youre family. Always will be.”
But Emily knew better. After the funeral, shed return to the tiny flat theyd rented. Evelyn wouldnt call at Christmas. Thered be no more birthdays together.
That night, once the vicar had gone and the guests dispersed, Evelyn approached her. Emily sat by the coffin, clutching a photograph.
“Burials tomorrow,” Evelyn said quietly. “Highgate Cemetery. Next to his father.”
Emily nodded. Theyd settled it that morning.
“Andhis things. Will you take them, or shall I keep them?”
“II dont know yet. Can I decide later?”
“Suit yourself.”
They stood there, separated by grief as thick as any wall.
“Youre a stranger to him,” Evelyn whispered, so faintly Emily wondered if shed imagined it, “but Im his mother.”
Emily stared at the photoStephen grinning, young and carefree, back when their future seemed endless.
“Forgive me,” she murmured, unsure who she meantStephen, or the woman whod lost him first.
Outside, dusk settled over London. Somewhere beyond the window, life stretched onempty of Stephens laughter, his steady hands, their lost tomorrows. A life where shed have to learn to be just Emily againno longer Stephens wife.
