“If I’m the villain in your mother’s eyes, then let her live as she pleases. I won’t wait on her anymore!”
Laura always tried to keep her composure when it came to Margaret Whitmore. Her mother-in-law visited their London flat two or three times a week, and each visit felt like an ordeal. As September days grew shorter, Lauras patience wore thinner.
Margaret adored hosting impromptu gatherings. Shed arrive with bags full of groceries, take over the kitchen, and cook enough to feed an armythen insist on inviting neighbours, acquaintances, and sometimes even strangers to the table.
“Now this is what I call hospitality!” Margaret would declare, setting out plates. “Not like some people who cant even brew a proper cup of tea.”
Laura clenched her jaw and kept slicing bread. Margaret never named names, but everyone knew who she meant.
Once seated, Margaret transformed into a storyteller. Her eyes lit up, her voice turned dramatic, and the performance began.
“My nephews wife, Emilynow shes an absolute gem!” Margaret would exclaim, throwing her hands up theatrically. “Such a homemaker! You should see her cross-stitchlike proper artwork! And she knits, sews, keeps their garden immaculate. Jams, pickles, you name it. Their home is a proper haven!”
The guests would nod approvingly while Lauras cheeks burned. Her husband, James, sat glued to his phone, pretending not to notice.
“And Sarah, my cousins wifewonderful girl,” Margaret continued. “So meek, so compliant. Never a cross word. Her mother-in-law feels like shes behind a fortress wall! Always helping, always consulting her. Now thats proper upbringing!”
One neighbour turned to Laura. “And what do you do, dear?”
Laura opened her mouth, but Margaret cut in.
“Oh, why bother asking?” Margarets voice dripped with thinly veiled mockery. “Our Laura here is a modern woman. She works in an office, glued to a computer. No time for homemaking. Shes used to others doing everything for her.”
“Im a manager at a retail firm,” Laura managed.
“Oh yes, a manager,” Margaret said, nodding sagely. “And who handles things at home? My poor James has to cook and clean after work. Spoiled rotten, our daughter-in-law.”
Laura gritted her teeth so hard her jaw ached. James kept scrolling, as if the conversation had nothing to do with him.
After another such gathering, once the guests had left and the dishes were done, Margaret approached Laura with a saccharine smile.
“Laura, darling, could you take me to the clinic tomorrow? Ive test results to collect, and its daunting to go alone.”
“Of course, Margaret,” Laura said, though she had an important client meeting the next day.
“Oh, thank you, love! James is so busy at work, and I hate to bother him. But youve got flexible hours, dont you? You can pop out whenever.”
Laura bit back the urge to argue. Better not to make a scene.
The following week, it happened again. Margaret appeared with another request.
“Laura, could you fetch my prescriptions? The doctors given me new ones, and Im hopeless with these names. Id hate to get the wrong thing.”
“Fine,” Laura said.
“And if its no trouble, stop by the supermarket. I need cereals and cleaning supplies. I cant carry heavy thingsmy back, you know.”
Laura spent half the day hunting down the medicine at three pharmacies, then queued at the supermarket. She returned home exhausted.
“How was your day?” James asked, eyes on the telly.
“Fine,” Laura snapped.
Days later, Margaret arrived with relatives in tow.
“Meet my daughter-in-law, Laura,” Margaret introduced. “And this is my sister-in-law, Patricia, and her daughter, Charlotte.”
Charlotte was Lauras age but carried herself like someone older and wiser.
“I hear you work in an office?” Charlotte said, scanning the flat with a critical eye.
“Yes, in retail.”
“Oh, how fascinating!” Charlotte gushed with feigned enthusiasm. “I stay home with the childrenthree of them, mind you. All so clever and well-behaved. The eldest plays violin at the Royal School of Music.”
Margaret beamed. “Now thats a proper woman! Home, children, supporting her husband. Not gallivanting about offices.”
Lauras face burned, but she held her tongue.
“Charlottes so domestic!” Patricia chimed in. “Cooks, sews, knits. I always say, any man would be lucky to have her.”
“And I grow my own vegetables,” Charlotte added modestly. “Preserves, too. My husband says our home is paradise.”
Margaret turned to Laura. “Hear that, Laura? Maybe you could learn from Charlotte. Then James might actually want to stay home instead of vanishing every evening.”
Laura froze. Shed never mentioned Jamess late nights to Margaret. How did she know?
“Is James often out?” Patricia asked curiously.
“He works late,” Laura said vaguely.
“Of course he does!” Margaret scoffed. “Any man would flee a home like this. Empty fridge, wife always at work. No wonder he seeks comfort elsewhere!”
Charlotte sighed sympathetically. “Men need to be cherished. A cosy home, home-cooked mealsmy husband refuses business trips now. Says nowhere compares.”
The conversation dragged on, each barb sharper than the last. When the guests finally left, Laura snapped.
“James, did you hear what your mother said?”
“Whats the fuss? Just womens chatter.”
“Chatter? She humiliated me in front of everyone!”
“Dont be dramatic. Mum just shared examples.”
“She called me useless!”
“She implied it. Maybe you should listen sometimes.”
Laura stared, speechless.
“So you agree Im a bad wife?”
“I didnt say that. But more effort at home wouldnt hurt.”
“Who cooks, cleans, does laundry? The house elf?”
“We take turns.”
“Turns? When did you last cook? Heating frozen pizza doesnt count!”
James winced. “No need to shout. Im being civil.”
“Im tired! Tired of your mothers jabs while you say nothing!”
“Mum doesnt jab. She advises.”
Laura stormed out. The conversation was pointless.
The next day, Margaret called againthis time for a special cream sold across town.
“Laura, darling, please! Its only at one chemists, and the trips too much for me. You driveits nothing for you.”
Laura checked the time. She had a meeting in three hours.
“Margaret, maybe another day? Ive got”
“What could possibly be more important? Its just a quick trip! My skins unbearable!”
Laura gave in. Traffic made her forty minutes late to her meeting. Her boss reprimanded her.
That evening, James dismissed it. “One late day wont kill you. Mum needed help. Couldnt you refuse?”
“What if Im sacked for this?”
“You wont be. And if you are, find another job.”
Laura was speechless.
A week later, Margaret hosted another dinner, comparing Laura to “perfect” daughters-in-law.
“You should see how close Emily is with her mother-in-law! Holidays together, giftslike real family! Always asking advice, so respectful. A proper daughter!”
Then, pointedly at Laura:
“Some think marriage means ignoring their husbands family. Living selfishly, never consulting anyone.”
“Margaret, if youve an issue with me, say it plainly,” Laura snapped.
Margaret feigned shock. “An issue? Im just remarking on how some treat their elders.”
After dinner, as Laura washed dishes, Margaret sidled up.
“Laura, are you actually good for anything?”
A plate slipped from Lauras grip and shattered.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing dreadful,” Margaret shrugged. “Just wondering if youve any skills beyond office work.”
Lauras hands shook as she picked up shards.
“If Im the villain in your mothers eyes, then let her live as she pleases. I wont wait on her anymore!”
Silence. Margaret blinked, stunned. James finally looked up.
“Laura, whats gotten into you? Mum didnt mean”
“Didnt mean it?” Laura turned on him. “She just asked what Im good for! In front of guests! And you think she didnt mean it?”
Margaret recovered quickly. “Laura, you misunderstood! Id never hurt you!”
“Never? Calling me spoiled and useless? Comparing me for months?”
“Im just used to help! At my age, its hard”
“Ask your perfect daughters-in-law, then! Emily the homemaker or meek Sarah! Let them help!”
James stood. “Laura, calm down. Youre blowing this up!”
“Blowing it up?” Lauras voice rose. “Your mothers belittled me for
