**Diary Entry**
This isnt your celebration, my daughter-in-law snapped the moment she saw my dress. Why are you dressed like that?
Lydia Harper froze in the kitchen doorway, tray of scones in hand. The new blue dress with lace trimbought specially for her granddaughters birthdaysuddenly felt ridiculous.
Not mine? she echoed. Its Sophies fifteenth. Im her grandmother.
Youre a guest, Julia cut in, not looking up from slicing sandwiches. Im the hostess. And I decide how guests should dress.
Lydias son, William, sat peeling potatoes at the table. He glanced up at the tension but quickly pretended not to hear.
Julia, love, whats this about? Lydia set the tray down. Sophies my granddaughter. Ive every right to wear something nice.
Of course you do, Julia said crisply, still chopping. Just not *that*. Everyone would stare at you, not the birthday girl. A fifteen-year-old should be the centre of attention.
Lydia sank onto a chair by William, fighting tears. Shed spent weeks picking that dress, thrilled at how youthful it made her look at sixty-two.
Mum, maybe just change? William mumbled, eyes fixed on the potatoes. Youve other dresses.
Old ones, she corrected. This was new. For Sophie.
Exactly, Julia interjected. You didnt stop to thinkyoure not the only woman at this party. *I* have a nice dress too. I wont have us competing.
Lydia gaped. Julia was twenty years younger, slim, with a stylish bob and expensive makeup. What competition?
Julia, this isnt about rivalry. Were family.
Precisely. Theres an order. Im the mother. I should shine.
William finally spoke up. Julia, come off it. Mum looks lovely. Whats the harm?
None, Julia said coolly. But I wont have guests thinking Ive let myself go if my mother-in-law outshines me.
Lydia stood. You know what? Ill go home.
Dont be dramatic, Julia waved her off. Just change. That grey dress you wear to the office will do.
Greys for work, not my granddaughters party!
And blues for a daughter-in-laws do, not a mother-in-laws.
Silence. William set down the peeler, glancing between them.
Ladies, enough. Its Sophies day.
Just then, Sophie burst intall, freckled, glowing with excitement.
Gran, you look gorgeous! Like a queen!
Thank you, sweetheart, Lydia murmured, hugging her.
Mum, show Gran your dress! Sophie chirped.
Julia forced a smile. Later, darling.
Sophie frowned. Why not now?
Go tidy your room, love. Guests will arrive soon.
With a shrug, Sophie dashed off. Julia turned back to Lydia.
Im asking politely. Is it so hard to compromise?
Put yourself in my shoes, Lydia said. Imagine your mother-in-law dictating how you dress at your childs party.
I dont *have* a mother-in-law, Julia said flatly. Williams mum died when he was little.
William flinched but stayed silent. Lydia knew the storyJulias father had left, and Williams mother passed from cancer when he was ten. Perhaps that explained Julias bitterness.
Julia, Im not competing. Im just a grandmother who wants to look nice.
And Im a mother who wont play second fiddle.
Sophie reappeared. Why does Gran have to change? I love her dress!
Sophie, grown-ups are talking.
But its *my* birthday! I want Gran to be pretty!
To your room. *Now*.
Sophie fled in tears.
See what youve done? Julia hissed.
*You* upset her, Lydia shot back.
William slammed the table. Stop! Both of you! Sophies day isnt a fashion show!
Julias lip trembled. Easy for you. You dont care how I look.
Whats that got to do with it? Youre always beautiful.
And your mums *not*? Julia sneered.
Enough, William groaned.
Lydia stood. Ill change. For Sophie.
William protested, but she was already retrieving the grey dress from her bag. As she changed, she felt like Cinderella in reversetrading a queens gown for a servants rags.
When she returned, Julia nodded approvingly. Much better. Age-appropriate.
She looks like shes at a funeral, William muttered.
But *respectable*, Julia said.
Guests arrivedschoolmates, parents, neighbours. Lydia bustled about, unnoticed in grey.
Wheres your lovely dress? asked Margaret, a friends mother. Saw you in townyou looked smashing!
Changed, Lydia said shortly.
Pity. It suited you.
Then Julia swept incrimson dress, stilettos, gold jewellery. Dazzling.
Julia, youre radiant! Margaret gushed.
Julia beamed, tossing Lydia a triumphant glance.
Later, Sophie tugged Lydia to dance. Guests cheereduntil Julia intervened.
Grans tired, darling. Dance with your friends.
But I *want* her!
*Now*, Sophie.
Lydias patience snapped.
Julia, youre crossing a line.
In *my* home, *I* set rules. Dont like it? Dont come.
William intervened, but Julia was icy. In *our* family, its me, you, Sophie. No one else.
Lydia paled. I see. She grabbed her coat.
William begged her to stay, but Sophies sobs decided it.
Come tomorrow, sweetheart. Ill make pancakes.
At home, Lydia sipped tea by the window. The blue dress hung unworna symbol of love turned to humiliation.
William rang late. Julia regrets it. She didnt mean
But she did. Lydia exhaled. Ive realised something, Will. Its time I lived for *me*.
Next morning, she returned the dress.
Didnt suit the occasion, she told the clerk.
She bought a theatre ticket instead. One seat, front row.
Sophie called as she got ready. Gran, can I come? Mum and Dad are fighting.
Of course, love. But Im off to the theatre.
Oh. Pancakes tomorrow?
Yes, darling.
At the mirror, Lydia adjusted her outfitelegant, chosen for herself.
The play was magical. For the first time in years, she wasnt just a mother, grandmother, or afterthought. She was *herself*.
Next morning, Sophie arrived in pyjamas, jam jar in hand.
Pancakes, Gran?
As they cooked, Sophie squeezed her hand. You were the prettiest at my party. Even in grey.
Lydia smiled. Warmth still mattered.
And shed never beg for it again.
