“You took my son from me, and I’ll take everything from you,” said the mother-in-law.
“Emily, why are you up so early?” asked Margaret, peering out from her bedroom. “Its half six in the morning.”
“Ive got an early meeting today,” Emily replied, shoving documents into her bag. “An unexpected team briefing.”
Margaret shuffled into the kitchen in her slippers and began clattering dishes. Emily tried to slip past unnoticed, but no such luck.
“What about breakfast? Will my poor boy go to work on an empty stomach?”
“Olivers a grown manhe can make his own breakfast,” Emily said, pulling on her coat and hunting for her keys.
“Oh, is that so?” Margaret turned to face her fully. “In my day, wives knew their duties. They took care of their husbands.”
Emily took a deep breath. This same conversation had played out every morning since Margaret moved in after her illness six months ago. She still hadnt adjusted to the constant scrutiny.
“Margaret, Oliver and I decide these things together. Were equal partners.”
“Equal partners!” Margaret snorted. “My boy never went hungry when I was around. Now look at himhes wasting away.”
Emily bit back the urge to point out that Oliver, at thirty-two, was hardly a “boy.” Arguing with Margaret was like shouting into the wind.
“Right, Im running late. Olivers still asleepcould you wake him at eight?”
“Oh, Ill wake him, dont you worry. Unlike some, I know my responsibilities.”
At work, Emily struggled to focus. Her colleague Sophie noticed her distraction by lunchtime.
“Whats up with you? You look exhausted,” Sophie said, sliding into the chair opposite with her coffee.
“Same old mother-in-law drama. Every day its somethingI dont cook right, I dont clean right, I talk to Oliver wrong.”
“And he doesnt stick up for you?”
Emily gave a bitter laugh. “Not a chance. To him, his mums a saint. Says shes been ill, shes stressed, we should be understanding.”
“Right. So how longs she staying?”
“No idea. The doctors say shes fine to live alone now, but Olivers terrified something will happen.”
Sophie shook her head sympathetically. “Rough deal, Em. I cant stand mine, and I dont even live with her.”
That evening, Emily returned home tired and hungry. The flat smelled of roast beef and potatoes. In the living room, Oliver sat on the sofa with a plate in his lap, staring at the telly.
“Hey, love,” he said without looking up. “How was work?”
“Fine. Whats for dinner?”
“Mum made roast beefits brilliant. Theres some left in the kitchen.”
Emily walked in to find Margaret washing up.
“Evening, Margaret.”
“Evening,” Margaret replied curtly, not turning around.
Emily lifted the lid on the pot. One slice of beef and a spoonful of potatoes sat inside.
“Is this it?”
“Problem?” Margaret finally faced her. “I thought you were dieting. Always moaning about your jeans being tight.”
“I wasnt moaningjust mentioning it!”
“Well, there you go. Im looking out for your health.”
Emily took her plate to the living room. Oliver was engrossed in a nature documentary.
“Ollie, can we talk?”
“Course. Whats up?”
“Go look in the kitchen. See how much food your mum left me.”
Oliver sighed and returned moments later.
“So? Looks normal to me.”
“Normal for a sparrow, maybe. Ollie, Ive been at work all dayIm starving, and theres barely enough for one.”
“Mum!” Oliver called toward the kitchen. “Whys there so little left?”
“Darling, I thought Emily wasnt very hungry. Shes always saying she wants to slim down!”
“See?” Oliver turned back. “She was trying to help.”
Emily felt something inside her boil over.
“Oliver, your mum deliberately gives me scraps. Every. Single. Day.”
“Dont be daft. Shes a kind woman.”
“Kind to you. To me, she treats me like hired help who isnt doing her job properly.”
A loud sniffle came from the kitchen. Oliver jumped up.
“Now look what youve doneyouve upset her! Shes not well!”
“And I am?”
But hed already gone to comfort Margaret. Emily sat alone with her half-eaten dinner.
Later, Oliver returned looking guilty.
“Sorry, love. Shes really struggling. Says she feels like an outsider here.”
“Good. She is one.”
“Emily!”
“What? Were supposed to be starting our lives together. Instead, were under constant surveillance.”
“Its not surveillanceits care.”
“Care? She critiques everything! My cooking, my cleaning, my tone with you!”
Oliver sat beside her.
“Look, just hang in there a bit longer. Shell adjust. Then well find her a nice flat nearby.”
“When?”
“Dunno. But we will, promise.”
The next day, Emily came home early to cook dinner. Shed bought ingredients, hoping for a peaceful evening.
But as she opened the door, she heard Margarets voice.
“Yes, darling, I understand your wife. Young, inexperienced. But my patience isnt endless.”
Emily froze. Oliver replied quietly, but she caught it:
“Mum, dont say that. Emilys lovely.”
“Lovely, but not right for you. Look how thin youve got! And her temperalways complaining, never happy.”
“Shes just tired from work.”
“Work, work! What about home? Family? Her priorities are all wrong. Maybe you rushed into this marriage?”
A chill ran down Emilys spine. She quietly took off her shoes and walked into the kitchen, pretending shed heard nothing.
“Evening,” she said evenly.
“Oh! Emily, we didnt hear you,” Margaret said, not even pretending to be embarrassed. “How was work?”
“Fine. Thought Id make dinner.”
“No need, Ive done it. Made your favouritebeef stew,” she said to Oliver.
“Thanks, Mum. That alright, Em?”
“Perfect,” Emily lied.
Dinner was stilted. Oliver chatted about work, Margaret cooed over him, and Emily silently ate the admittedly delicious stew.
“Emily, any plans this weekend?” Margaret asked suddenly.
“Not really. Why?”
“I was hoping Oliver could take me to the clinic. Need some tests.”
“Of course, Mum. No problem.”
“Lovely. Was worried you mightve booked your husband up already.”
The faintest smirk tinged Margarets voice. Emily looked up and met her gazetriumph glittered in the older womans eyes.
After dinner, Emily retreated to the bedroom with a headache. Lying there, she realised: Margaret had declared war. And Oliver didnt even see it.
He came in late, finding her half-asleep.
“Hows the head?” he asked, sitting on the bed.
“Better.”
“Em have you noticed Mums been odd lately?”
“How?”
“Just saying things. One minute she complains about living here, the next she refuses to leave.”
Emily propped herself up.
“Like what?”
“Today she said shes worried our marriage was a mistake.”
“Whatd you say?”
“That we love each other and can handle anything.”
“Oliver, your mum hates me. Shes trying to split us up.”
“Dont be ridiculous. Shes just protective.”
“She wants me gone.”
“Emily, youre overreacting. Mum says daft things sometimes, but shes not malicious.”
“If you believe that, watch her tomorrow. Properly.”
The next day, Oliver worked from home. That evening, his expression told her everything.
“Well?” she asked once they were alone.
Oliver sighed.
“You were right. Shes not herself.”
“What happened?”
“She spent all day talking about you. Said youre messy, disrespectful. Then outright said I shouldnt have married you.”
“And you said?”
“That I love you and wont let anyone interfere.”
“And she?”
Oliver hesitated.
“She cried. Said Id chosen a wife over my own mother.”
“Classic emotional blackmail.”
“Emily, shes unwell. The surgery, her nerves”
“Oliver, how long will you excuse her? Shes deliberately trying to break us up!”
“Alright, Ill talk to her. Make it clear this isnt on.”
The next morning, Emily woke to raised voices in the kitchen.
“Son, you dont see what shes really like!”
“Mum, stop! Emilys my wifeyou will respect her.”
“Respect? For what? Turning you against me?”
Emily walked in.
Margaret stood red-faced in the middle of the kitchen. Oliver had his head in his hands.
“You took my son from me, and Ill take everything from you,” Margaret spat, spotting Emily.
“Mum!” Oliver cried.
“Everything?” Emily asked calmly.
“Youll see. Think I dont know how to handle your sort? Forty years Ive seen women like you. I know every weak spot.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Warning you. My son will live as I see fit. Cross me, and youll regret it.”
“Mum, what the hell?” Oliver stood. “How can you talk to my wife like that?”
“And how does she talk to me? Think I dont see her sneers? Hear her whingeing about me?”
“Oliver, shes never”
“Quiet!” Margaret snapped. “Youre blind, son. Cant see what that girls doing to our family.”
Emily had heard enough.
“Margaret, I didnt take anyone. Oliver chose me. If you dont like it, theres always your own place.”
“Oh ho! Throwing out a sick woman from her sons home, are we?”
“Im not throwing you out. Im suggesting we all live our own lives.”
“Emilys right, Mum,” Oliver said quietly. “Maybe its time you moved back.”
Margaret looked as if hed stabbed her.
“So thats it,” she hissed. “You choose her.”
“I chose my wife when I married her. Youll always be my mum.”
“Fine. Lets see how you feel when she leaves you.”
“Whatre you on about?”
But Margaret stormed out, slamming the door.
Oliver turned to Emily.
“Im sorry. Never thought shed go this far.”
“Oliver, shes serious. Im scared of what she might do.”
“What can she do? Shes just lashing out.”
He hugged her. “She wont do anything. I wont let her.”
But Emily knewthis was just the beginning. Margaret had declared war, and she wouldnt back down.
At lunch, her friend Charlotte called.
“Em, did you know your mother-in-law rang my mum?”
“What? Why?”
“Asking about you. What you were like in school, past boyfriends, if youd ever had problems.”
Emilys skin prickled.
“Whatd your mum say?”
“Just that you were a nice girl, good grades. Whys she asking?”
“No idea. Just being nosy, I guess.”
But Emily knewMargaret was digging for dirt.
That evening, the air was thick with tension. Margaret ignored Emily, showering Oliver with sickly-sweet attention.
“Darling, I made your favouriteshepherds pie,” she simpered. “Eat up, my boy.”
“Ta, Mum. Lovely.”
“And for you, Emilyjust some plain rice. Watching your figure, arent you?”
Emily stared at the bland pile.
“Thanks, but Im not dieting.”
“Oh, dont be shy. Girls your age are always fussing over their weight.”
Over dinner, Margaret prattled about neighbourhood gossip. Then
“Linda next door says her daughter-in-law came home drunk again, hitting her husband. Can you imagine?”
“Awful,” Oliver mumbled.
“Thank goodness my boy knows how to pick a decent girl.”
Emily met Margarets eyesa silent threat.
Later, while Emily washed up, Margaret sidled up.
“Spoke to your old schoolmate today. Heard some interesting things.”
“Who?”
“Lucy Carter. Told me all about your little escapades at prom. Drunk, snogging some boy in the bushes?”
Emily turned. “And?”
“My son thinks he married a good girl. Turns out youre just like the rest.”
“I was seventeen. Whats your point?”
“No point. Just wondering what Oliver would think.”
“Are you blackmailing me?”
“Giving you a choice. Leave now, before he finds out what you really are.”
“And what am I?”
Margaret leaned in.
“A little gold-digger who seduced my boy. Think I dont know you slept with him before marriage? That youve put some spell on him?”
Emily stepped back.
“Youre mad.”
“Mad, but not blind. Ive seen your type before. Pretty, cunning. Wrap men round your finger, bleed them dry.”
“I have my own job, my own money.”
“For now. Have kids, quit work, and youll be leeching off my son.”
Oliver walked in.
“Whatre you two whispering about?”
“Just girl talk,” Margaret said sweetly. “Emily was telling me about work.”
That night, Emily lay awake. The war had begunand Margaret would stop at nothing to win.
