“If I’m the villain in your mum’s story, then she can jolly well live however she pleases. Im done running errands for her!”
Emily had always tried to keep her cool when it came to Margaret. Her mother-in-law visited their flat two or three times a week, and every visit felt like an ordeal. The September days grew shorter, and Emilys patience wore thinner.
Margaret loved hosting extravagant dinners. Shed arrive with bags of groceries, take over the kitchen, and cook enough to feed an armythen insist on inviting neighbours, acquaintances, and sometimes complete strangers.
“Now this is what I call hospitality!” Margaret would announce loudly, setting the table. “Not like some people who cant even brew a proper cup of tea.”
Emily would clench her jaw and keep slicing bread. Margaret never named names, but everyone knew who she meant.
At the table, Margaret transformed into a full-blown storyteller. Her eyes sparkled, her voice took on a theatrical edge, and the performance began.
“My nephews wife? Absolute gold!” Margaret would gush, throwing her hands up. “Sophies so talented! You should see her embroideryproper works of art! And she knits, sews, keeps their garden immaculate. Pickles cucumbers, bottles jam. Their home is a proper haven!”
The guests would nod approvingly while Emily felt her cheeks burn. Her husband, James, sat glued to his phone, pretending not to hear.
“And my cousins wife, Lucylovely girl,” Margaret continued. “So sweet, so obliging. Never a cross word. Her mother-in-law feels like shes behind a fortress wall with her. Helps with everything, asks advice on every little thing. Now thats proper upbringing!”
One of the neighbours turned to Emily. “What do you do, then?”
Before Emily could answer, Margaret cut in. “Oh, why even ask?” she said, voice dripping with barely concealed mockery. “Our Emilys a modern girl. She works in an office, glued to her computer. No time for homemaking. Shes used to everyone else doing things for her.”
“Im a manager at a retail firm,” Emily tried to explain.
“Oh yes, a *manager*,” Margaret nodded knowingly. “But who does everything at home? My poor James has to cook and clean after work. Spoiled rotten, our daughter-in-law is.”
Emily gritted her teeth so hard her jaw ached. James still stared at his screen as if none of this concerned him.
After another one of these dinners, once the guests had left and the dishes were done, Margaret approached Emily with a saccharine smile.
“Emily, love, could you pop by the clinic with me tomorrow?” she asked, as though requesting a massive favour. “Ive got test results to collect, and its a bit scary going alone.”
“Of course, Margaret,” Emily said, even though she had an important client meeting the next day.
“Oh, youre a gem! James is swamped at work, and I hate to bother him. But youve got flexible hours, havent you? You can slip away whenever.”
Emily wanted to argue that her schedule wasnt that flexiblebut she bit her tongue. Better not to start a scene.
The following week, it happened again. Margaret turned up with another request.
“Emily, darling, could you nip to the chemists?” She handed over a list of medications. “The doctor prescribed new ones, and I cant make head nor tail of these names. Dont want to get the wrong thing.”
“Fine,” Emily nodded.
“And if its not too much trouble, could you grab a few groceries? I need cereal and some cleaning bits. Cant carry heavy things myself, my backs playing up.”
Emily spent half the day traipsing between three chemists for the prescriptions, then queued at the supermarket. She came home exhausted and furious.
“Howd it go?” James asked, not looking up from the telly.
“Fine,” Emily snapped.
A few days later, Margaret was backthis time with a crowd of relatives in tow.
“Meet my daughter-in-law, Emily,” she introduced. “And this is Jamess aunt, Caroline, and her daughter, Charlotte.”
Charlotte was Emilys age but carried herself like she was decades wiser.
“I heard you work in an office?” Charlotte asked, eyeing the flat with judgement.
“Yes, in retail.”
“Oh, how *fascinating*!” Charlotte gushed with fake enthusiasm. “Im a stay-at-home mum myself. Three kids, you know. All so bright and well-behaved. The eldests already in music schoolplays the violin.”
Margaret beamed. “Now thats a *proper* woman! Keeps a home, raises children, supports her husband. Not gallivanting about in offices.”
Emilys face burned with anger, but she held it in.
“Yes, yes,” Caroline chimed in. “Our Charlottes so *domestic*! Cooks, sews, knits. I always tell herany man would be lucky to have you.”
“And I do the garden too,” Charlotte added modestly. “Grow my own veg, make preserves. My husband says its like living in paradise.”
Margaret turned to Emily. “Hear that, love? Maybe take a leaf out of Charlottes book! Then my James might actually want to come home instead of vanishing every evening.”
Emily froze. Only she knew James had been staying late at work or seeing friends. How did Margaret find out?
“Does James often stay out?” Caroline asked, intrigued.
“He works a lot,” Emily muttered.
“Of course he does!” Margaret scoffed. “Any man would flee a home like this. Boring, empty fridge, wife always at work. No wonder hed rather relax elsewhere.”
Charlotte shook her head sympathetically. “Such a shame! A man needs to feel *wanted* at home. Cosy meals, little treats. My husband wont even go on business tripssays theres nowhere better than home.”
The conversation dragged on like this for another hour. Emily sat silently, seething. The snide remarks, the comparisons, the lectures grated worse than any shouting match.
When the guests finally left, Emily snapped.
“James, did you *hear* what your mother just said?”
“What about it?” He shrugged. “Just women chatting.”
“*Chatting*? She humiliated me in front of everyone!”
“Dont be dramatic. Mum was just making a point about how others live.”
“She called me useless and spoiled!”
“She didnt *say* that, she hinted. Maybe you *should* listen to your elders sometimes.”
Emily stared at him, stunned.
“So you agree? Im a terrible wife?”
“I never said that. But Mums rightyou could focus more on home.”
“Who cooks, cleans, does the laundry? The *house fairy*?”
“We take turns”
“Turns? *Really*? When did you last cook? Heating up frozen pizza two nights ago doesnt count!”
James winced. “No need to shout. Im talking calmly.”
“Because Im *fed up*! Fed up with your mums constant digs and you just *sitting there*!”
“Mum doesnt *dig*. She gives advice.”
Emily turned on her heel and stormed to the bedroom. Talking was pointless.
The next day, Margaret rang with another demandthis time for a special cream from a shop across town.
“Emily, darling, *please*? Its only sold at one chemist, and its such a trek for me. You driveits no bother for you.”
Emily checked the clock. She had a crucial meeting in three hours.
“Margaret, maybe another day? Ive got”
“Oh, what could be so important? Youll only be a *tiny* bit late! I *need* this creammy skins *itching*!”
Emily caved and went. Of course, she hit traffic, was forty minutes late to her meeting, and got chewed out by her boss.
That evening, she told James.
“One little lateness wont kill you,” he dismissed. “Mum needed help. You couldnt say no.”
“What if I get *sacked* over this?”
“You wont. And if you do, youll find another job.”
Emily was speechless at his indifference.
A week later, it happened again. Margaret hosted another dinner, comparing Emily to her *perfect* nieces-in-law.
“My nephews wife, Sophieher mother-in-laws *so* happy!” Margaret sighed. “They go on holiday together, exchange gifts. Sophie *adores* her, takes all her advice. Like a real daughter!”
Then she looked pointedly at Emily.
“Some think marriage means ignoring their in-laws. Living selfishly, never asking, never listening.”
“Margaret, if youve got an issue with me, *say it*,” Emily snapped.
Margaret gasped. “What issue, dear? Im just musing aloud about how some treat their elders.”
After dinner, as Emily washed up, Margaret sidled up.
