Cured My Mother-in-Law in a Flash
Emily, have you completely lost your sense of shame? Wasting money again, are you?
My mother-in-law stormed out of the nursery, just as I was putting the kettle on. Margaret Harris tossed three of Lilys brand-new dresses on the tablethings Id earlier draped on the back of the chair in my daughters room. The tags still dangled from them, untouched by a washing machine.
Margaret, I got these in a sale, I said, shrinking back towards the worktop. Seventy percent off, so the three dresses cost as much as one would normally.
A sale! Margaret threw her hands up. For you, every day is a sale! Youre such a spendthrift, thats what you are. Simon works his fingers to the bone, and you just squander his wages on clothes!
I gripped the edge of my apron. Eighteen months married, and I still hadnt learnt to brush off her attacks. With each visit, Margaret turned our home into a court of law, and I was always the culprit.
Theyre good quality and lovely, I tried to keep my voice steady. Doesnt Lily deserve nice things? Shes your granddaughter, after all.
My granddaughter! Margaret flushed a deep red. I brought over an entire bag of clothes just last week! Nearly newmy friend gave them to me! Where are they now?
I walked out wordlessly. In the nurseryquiet as possible so Lily wouldnt wakeI pulled two jumpers from the bottom drawer. Back in the kitchen, I placed them squarely in front of my mother-in-law.
Look at these. Do they seem almost new to you?
A dark, stubborn stain sprawled across the pink jumper. The blue one, spotted with white polka dots, bore a clumsy patch at the elbow and a rip spreading across the shoulder seam.
So what? Margaret didnt even glance at them. Shes one. She doesnt know what shes wearing. But you, you just want to throw good money after bad and drive my son into the poorhouse!
She snatched her bag from the stool and stormed out.
Im telling Simon, she called from the hall. All of it, do you hear? He should see who he married!
The door slammed. I just stood there in the kitchen, staring at those two jumpers. The stain on the pink one seemed to grow and blur before my eyes. How long I stood there, I couldnt tellfive minutes, maybe ten. Only Lilys thin cry from the nursery pulled me back into the moment.
That evening, Simon came home silent. He ate, played a bit with Lily, watched the telly. Not a word about his mum, not a word about shopping. I studied him from the kitchen, wonderingHad Margaret got to him? Was he just tired? Or was he bottling it all up to unleash on me later?
While washing up, I dried my hands against my skirt and caught my reflection in the darkened window. Enough. Enough of putting up with it, enough of apologising for every single pair of socks I bought. If Margaret Harris wanted war, then war shed get.
She started popping over far too often.
On the computer again? she breezed past me into the kitchen. Clearly nothing better to do. Simons out earning real money, while you spend your days playing games.
I shut the laptop, though a piece of freelance work remained unfinished. Explaining it to Margaret was pointlessshe believed if you didnt leave the house at six and return after sunset, it wasnt real work.
I do freelance jobs, Margaret, I managed.
Freelance! she scoffed, poking about in the fridge. Living off my sons wages, thats what youre doing. Hes supporting all of us, while you sit here twiddling your thumbs.
Lily stirred in her cotperfect excuse to escape. I left the kitchen, prickling under the weight of Margarets hard stare.
Three days later, she was back, this time complaining the flat was roastingwasting money on the heaters, and whos going to pay the electric bill? I just nodded, silent, fingers curling tighter with every visit, a chilly knot building inside me.
That evening, Simon finally came home cheerful for once. Over dinner he set his fork down and looked at me.
Mums sixtieths coming up in a fortnight. Big milestone. Shes always wanted a real mink hat, always dreamt of proper fur. Shall we get her one?
I froze, plate suspended. After a few seconds, I set it down.
You know, I saw a brilliant one in that new boutique, I offered, mustering my sweetest smile. Let me handle it? Ive got an eye for these things. Ill pick a hat shell love. Dont worry about a thing.
Simon grinned as he squeezed my hand, grateful. I covered his hand with my other and smiled wider.
The two weeks whizzed by. On the morning of Margarets birthday, I dressed for the occasion, pulled out the prettily wrapped box from the wardrobe, and took Lily to my mums house.
The flat was buzzing when Simon and I arrived at his mums. Margaret reigned at the head of the table, resplendent in burgundy. She bloomed at her sons kiss and scarcely glanced my way.
After the nibbles and toasts, it was time for gifts. Margaret opened a box of crockery, some bedlinen. Then I stepped forward.
This is from Simon and me, I announced, feeling my heart hammer away in my throat, as Margaret ripped through the paper.
She lifted the lidand just stared. For several seconds, she was silent, then raised her eyes. For a moment, something strange flickered thereI couldnt quite tell what.
Whats this? She plucked the hat out for all to see. What sort of rubbish is this supposed to be?
The hat was dreadful: flattened fur sticking out haphazardly, two bald patches on top, and the inside lining yellowed with age. Easily twenty years old, and musty as if it had spent the last decade in a damp cellar.
The room fell quiet. Some guests looked away, some just stared at their plates. Margaret went white, then flushed crimson, lips quivering with rage.
Emily, how dare you? she flung the hat into the salad bowl. On my birthday! In front of everyone! Are you trying to humiliate me?
I spoke very calmly. My hands didnt tremble, though my heart was drum booming in my chest.
Margaret, I dont see the problem, I held her gaze. You yourself give your granddaughter secondhand things. Stained, patched, worn out.
She gulped indignantly, but I didnt let her interrupt.
If old things are good enough for baby Lily, theyre surely good enough for you. If youd rather have something new and lovely, then perhaps you might start by giving Lily something new as well, not castoffs from a jumble sale.
I stood up, smoothed my dress. The guests were frozen, as though frightened to breathe. Margarets mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out.
Until then, enjoy the hat and set me an example in thriftsince, after all, what does it matter what any of us wear? I picked up my handbag. Simon, Im going. Are you coming or staying?
He looked at his mother, then at me, then back at her. Then he silently followed me out, Margaret all but gasping behind us, but he didnt turn back.
Outside, Simon caught up and grabbed my arm.
What just happened? He turned me to face him. There wasnt anger in his eyes, just confusion. Please explain.
And I did. I told him about the bags of old clothes Margaret presented as gifts, about the stains and patches, about the endless accusations and name-calling every time I bought Lily something. How Id held my tongue for months, trying to keep the peace.
Simon listened without a word. When I finished, he stared past my shoulder for a long moment, then sighed heavily and pulled me into a hug.
Why didnt you tell me sooner?
Would you have believed me? I leaned my head against his chest. Shes your mum.
He said nothing, just held me tighter. That silence meant more than a thousand words.
We didnt see Margaret for two months. No calls, no texts, no visits. I grew used to the quiet, no longer jumping at every sound from the hallway.
Then one afternoon she turned upno warning, just like before. I opened the door and stood in the frame, uncertain. Margaret looked away, a large paper bag in her hand.
For Lily, she said quietly, handed over the bag. I picked them myself. From the shop.
Inside were childrens clothesnew, with tags, smart and good quality.
I looked at Margaret and smiled. It seemed she finally understood. And perhaps, at last, a new story was about to beginone much kinder than the last.
