**Personal Diary Entry**
Its been six months of silence, and today, my mother-in-law finally spoke. Her first words left her own daughter frozen in place.
*Mum, pleasejust say something!* I squeezed her cold hand as she lay in the hospital bed. *I know you can hear me. The doctor said your hearings fine.*
Margaret Whitmore stared blankly at the ceiling, silent as ever. Half a year had passed since her stroke, and not a single word. Only the occasional blink when I read letters from our grandchildren in America.
*Claire rang earlier,* I went on, adjusting her pillow. *Little Emilys started nursery. Speaks better English than she does Frenchcan you believe it?*
The door swung open abruptly. There stood Margarets eldest daughter, Patricia. Hair dishevelled, a bulging shopping bag in hand.
*Here you are again, acting like youre in charge!* she snapped, not even greeting me. *Think I dont know what youve been telling the doctors? That we abandoned her?*
I sighedsame argument, every week.
*Patricia, not now. Shes exhausted by the shouting.*
*Shes my mother!* Patricia shoved past me to the bedside. *Hear that, Mum? Its your own daughter here. Not some stranger whos moved into your flat.*
Margarets hand twitched, as if she wanted to speak, but only a faint groan escaped.
*See how upset she gets when you yell?* I stepped between them. *Lets talk in the hall.*
*Or better yetwhy dont you leave? Sick of your performance! Think I dont know why you come every day? Guilt, isnt it? After what happened to David?*
I went pale. We never mentioned David in front of his motherthe doctors warned any stress could bring another stroke.
*Please, Patricia*
*Im not askingIm telling you!* She pulled a jar of homemade jam from her bag. *Mum loves apricot. Not that awful hospital slop you feed her.*
*She cant have anything acidicyou know that.*
*Oh, of course! You know everything, dont you?* Patricia lined up containers on the bedside table. *Fresh cottage cheese, boiled chicken, bone broth in the flask. And whatve you brought? More of those revolting yoghurts?*
I watched as Margarets eyes followed her daughters movementsthe first spark of interest in months.
*Fancy some cottage cheese, Mum?* Patricia perched on the bed. *Like I used to make, remember? Drained through muslin, a bit of sugar*
A tiny nod.
*See?* Patricia shot me a triumphant look. *She understands me. Not you and your hospital rules!*
I bit back the reminder that dairy was bad for her kidneys. Maybe the doctors were rightsometimes, connection matters more than medicine.
*Patty,* Margaret whispered.
We both froze.
*Mum! Youre speaking!* Patricia clutched her hand. *You know me!*
Margaret turned slowly. *Wheres David?*
Silence. Patricia glanced at me, panicked.
*Hehe cant visit. Works kept him abroad,* I lied.
*Liar.* Her voice was barely audible. *I know everything.*
Patricia burst into tears. *Mum, dont think about that. Please.*
*Was he drinking?* Her eyes locked onto mine.
*Yes,* I admitted. *Badly, these last few years.*
*Did you forgive him?*
I nodded, throat tight.
*Then so will I.*
Margaret closed her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks.
*Dont cry,* Patricia begged, stroking her hand. *Youll get better. Come live with meIve got a big spare room*
*No.* A weak shake of her head. *Home I want to go home. To Elaines.*
Patricia flinched like shed been struck.
*But Im your daughter! Your flesh and blood!*
*And shes family too. Thirty years by my side. You only holidays.*
*We were working! Raising our own kids!*
*She lost a child too,* Margaret murmured. *A good boy. I helped raise him.*
I turned to the window. Drizzling rain streaked the glassthe kind the soul aches for. To stand outside, let it wash away the grief.
*David called,* Margaret continued. *Before the end. Asked for forgiveness.*
*Mum, stop,* Patricia pleaded. *The doctors said no stress.*
*Need to say it. Elaine cared for him. Stayed when it was hard.*
Margaret looked at me. *Thank you.*
*For what?*
*For not letting him die alone.*
My legs gave way; I sank into the chair.
*He adored you. Said no one had a mum like his.*
*Now Im a burden.*
*Never.* My voice cracked. *Youre all the family I have left.*
*Youve grandchildren. In America.*
*Building their lives. Claire married an Americaneasier for them there.*
*Miss them?*
*Terribly. But what can you do?*
Patricia listened, face darkening.
*How touching,* she sneered. *And what if I refuse to hand Mum over to an outsider?*
*Patricia!* Margarets voice was sharp.
*What? I worked double shifts for thirty years, raised kids alone because my husband drankand now Im the villain?*
*No one said that,* Margaret sighed. *But I want my own home.*
*With her?* Patricia jabbed a finger at me. *What if she leaves? Goes to Claire?*
I stood, staring out at the dusk. Lights flickered in the hospital oppositeso many lives, so much unseen sorrow.
*I wont leave,* I said quietly. *I promise.*
*What if you remarry?*
A dry laugh. *At fifty-two? Whod take me?*
*Youre not old,* Margaret murmured. *Still kind. Still lovely.*
*Youre tired. Let me help you wash up.*
Patricia watched us, face unreadable.
*Fine,* she said suddenly. *Maybe its for the best. My Michaels joining the army soon, and Toms in sixth form. And my husbandwell, hes never liked having elders underfoot.*
*Patricia!* Margaret frowned.
*What? Hes high-strung. Nightly moans, medicines, nurses in and out*
*Then its settled,* I cut in. *Ill take her home when shes discharged.*
*What about your job?*
*Ill manage. Part-time, if I must.*
A pause. Then Patricia muttered, *Ill send money. And groceries. Call me if anything happens.*
*Of course.*
*Just no lectures. I cant bear being told Im a terrible daughter.*
*I wont.*
Margaret listened, eyes closed but awake.
*Mum?* I asked. *What do you think?*
*I think God gave me another daughter.*
Patricia fled, sobbing.
*Shes hurt,* Margaret whispered.
*Shell come round.*
*Men never understand a womans heart.*
*Not all. David didwhen he was sober.*
*Good boy just lost.*
We sat in quiet. The distant hum of shift changes, a patient crying nearby.
*Elaine,* Margaret said suddenly. *Do you regret marrying him?*
I hesitated. *Sometimes. The worst binges? Yes. But with another manwho knows? Mightve never had Claire.*
*Clever girl like you.*
*And stubbornlike you.*
For the first time in months, Margaret smiled. *Good. Women need spine.*
The nurse appeared. *Visiting hours are over.*
*Of course.* I stood. *Ill come early tomorrow.*
*Bring Patricia peace.*
*Ill try.*
