“This isnt your celebration,” snapped my daughter-in-law when she saw my dress. “Why are you dressed like that?”
Margaret Elizabeth froze in the kitchen doorway, a tray of scones in her hands. Her new blue dress with the lace collar, bought specially for her granddaughters birthday, suddenly felt foolish.
“How isnt it mine?” she asked, bewildered. “Emilys turning fifteen. Im her grandmother.”
“Youre a guest,” Julia said sharply, not looking up from slicing the cucumber sandwiches. “Im the hostess, and I decide how guests should look.”
William, Margarets son, sat at the table peeling potatoes. He lifted his head at the bickering but quickly looked down again, pretending not to hear.
“Julia, love, what are you saying?” Margaret set the tray down. “Emilys my own granddaughter. I have every right to wear something nice for her birthday.”
“You do,” Julia agreed, still wielding the knife. “Just not *that*. Everyone will stare at you instead of the birthday girl. A fifteen-year-old should be the centre of attention at her own party.”
Margaret sank into the chair beside her son. Her heart ached. Shed spent ages choosing that dress, trying it on again and again, delighted at how it made her look younger than her sixty-two years.
“Mum, maybe you could change?” William suggested quietly, eyes fixed on the potatoes. “Youve got other dresses.”
“Old ones,” she corrected. “This ones new. I bought it specially for Emily.”
“Exactly*specially*,” Julia cut in. “You shouldve thought about the fact youre not the only woman at this party. *I* have a nice dress too, and I wont have us looking like rivals.”
Margaret stared at her daughter-in-lawtall, slim, twenty years younger, with a trendy haircut and expensive makeup. What rivalry could there possibly be?
“Julia, love, how is this a competition? Were family.”
“Thats exactly why Im asking you to change. Families have hierarchies. Im the mother of the birthday girlI deserve to look my best.”
William finally spoke up. “Jules, come off it. Mum looks lovely. Whats the harm?”
“No harm,” Julia replied coolly. “I just dont want guests thinking Ive let myself go if my mother-in-law outshines me.”
Margaret stood. “You know what, Julia? Ill just go home.”
“Dont be dramatic,” Julia waved her off. “Just put on something plainer. That grey dress you wear to the office will do.”
“The grey dress is for work, not my granddaughters birthday!”
“And the blue ones for a daughter-in-laws party, not a mother-in-laws.”
An awkward silence fell. William set down the knife, glancing between his wife and mother.
“Ladies, enough. Its Emilys day. Lets not ruin it.”
Just then, Emily burst into the kitchena tall girl with plaits, glowing with excitement.
“Granny!” She threw her arms around Margaret. “You look beautiful! Like a queen!”
“Thank you, darling,” Margaret said, hugging her tightly.
“Mum, show Granny your dress!” Emily turned to Julia. “You tried it on yesterday.”
Julia forced a smile. “Later, love. When Ive changed.”
“Why not now?” Emily frowned.
“Emily, go tidy your room,” Julia said firmly. “Guests will be arriving soon.”
With a shrug, Emily raced off. Julia turned back to Margaret.
“Margaret, Im asking politely. Is it really so hard to compromise?”
“Try seeing it from my side,” Margaret said. “Imagine your mother-in-law forbidding you to dress nicely for your own childs party.”
“I dont *have* a mother-in-law,” Julia said flatly. “Williams mum died when he was little.”
William flinched but stayed silent. Margaret knew the storyJulia grew up without a father, and Williams mother had passed from cancer when he was just ten. Perhaps that was why Julia was so sharp about older women.
“Julia,” Margaret said gently, “I know its hard for you. But Im not your rival. Im just a grandmother who wants to look nice for her granddaughter.”
“And Im a mother who wont be overshadowed by her mother-in-law.”
Emily reappeared. “Mum, why does Granny have to change? I love her dress.”
“Emily, dont interfere,” Julia said sternly.
“But its *my* birthday!” Emily protested. “I want Granny to look pretty!”
“Emily, go to your room!” Julia raised her voice.
Tears welled up as Emily stormed off, slamming the door.
“See what youve done?” Julia accused Margaret. “Youve upset her.”
“*You* upset her,” Margaret shot back. “With your silly demands.”
“Silly?” Julias voice rose. “Wanting to look my best at my own daughters party is *silly*?”
“Its silly to stop others from looking nice.”
William had had enough. “Stop!” He slammed his fist on the table. “Youre both acting like children! Jules, who cares what Mum wears? The partys for Emily, not a fashion show!”
“Easy for you to say,” Julia muttered. “You dont care how I look in public.”
“Whats that got to do with anything? You always look lovely.”
“And your mother doesnt?” Julia sneered.
“Julia, stop,” William said wearily. “Youre winding yourself up.”
Margaret rose and headed for the door.
“Ill change,” she said. “For Emily.”
“Mum, dont” William started.
“I have to. I wont spoil her day.”
Upstairs, she dug out the grey dressthe same one Julia had mentioned. Simple, dull, worn to the office for years.
Changing, she felt like Cinderella in reverse. Instead of transforming into a princess, shed become a mouse.
She hung the blue dress carefully in the wardrobe. Beautiful, expensive. Shed dreamed of wearing it today, imagined Emilys pride.
Back in the kitchen, Julia eyed her with satisfaction.
“Much better. Modest and age-appropriate.”
“Mum looks like shes at a funeral,” William muttered.
“But *respectable*,” Julia said.
Guests arrived half an hour laterschoolmates, parents, neighbours. The house buzzed with chatter.
Margaret busied herself in the kitchen, heating sausage rolls, slicing the cake. Guests complimented the food but barely noticed her. In grey, shed faded into the background.
“Margaret, wheres your lovely dress?” asked Lydia, a classmates mother. “I saw you in town earlieryou looked stunning!”
“I changed,” Margaret said shortly.
“Shame. It suited you.”
Just then, Julia swept inresplendent in a crimson dress, stilettos, gold jewellery. She looked radiant.
“Julia, youre gorgeous!” Lydia gushed. “Like royalty!”
Julia smiled smugly, shooting Margaret a look. *See? This is how its done.*
Margaret said nothing, just kept cutting cake. But inside, resentment simmered.
Emily, surrounded by gifts, kept glancing at her grandmother.
“Granny, whyd you change?” she whispered. “The blue dress was so pretty.”
“Easier for working in the kitchen, love.”
“But youre not working! Mum said shed handle everything.”
Margaret stroked her hair. “Dont fret, darling. Your happiness is all that matters.”
Later, William found her washing up.
“Mum, Julia didnt mean it. She just likes control.”
“Its fine, son. Im used to it.”
“Dont be angry. Shes good-hearted, just… high-strung.”
Margaret studied himkind, gentle, always mediating. Pity he mediated at *her* expense.
“William, remember your fifteenth birthday?”
“Course. You got me that bike Id wanted for months.”
“And remember how I dressed? My best green frock, with the floral print. No one told me it wasnt *my* party.”
William looked down.
“Mum, times were different then.”
“Different how? Does love for family change with the times?”
Before he could answer, Emily dashed in.
“Granny, come dance! The musics brilliant!”
“Go on, love. Dance with your friends. Ill finish here.”
“No! Its *my* birthdayI want to dance with *you*!”
Margaret couldnt refuse. In the living room, Emily took her hands, and they swayed to the music. Guests cheered, clapping. For a moment, Margaret forgot her hurt.
But Julia intervened, steering Emily away.
“Grannys tired. Dance with your friends.”
Margarets patience snapped.
“Julia, dont you think you
