**Diary Entry: A Mother-in-Laws Tale**
Evelyn Margaret was a born mother-in-law. Not the quiet, reserved kindno, she was the sort who barged in uninvited, loud and stubborn, with an opinion on everything. Her own mother, Margaret, used to whisper to her friends about baby Evelyn: “Lies there in her cot, scowling, fists clenchedjust like a mother-in-law already!”
Luckily, Margarets own mother-in-law, Agnes, lived in the next county and rarely visited. But when she did, the whole bakery where Margaret worked knew about it. The dough wouldnt rise, the cakes came out lopsided, and poor Margaret jumped at every sound.
“Take some time off,” the manager snapped one day. “Come back when shes gone.”
“But Mrs. Thompson, works my only escape!” Margaret wailed, clutching her apron. “At home, Ill have to tiptoe around her all day, apologising for everything!”
“Apologising for what?”
“Everything! The way I cook, the way I clean, the way I raise her sonMrs. Thompson, I even draw the curtains wrong!”
“How *should* you draw them?”
“I dont knowbut not like *this*!”
When Evelyn was born, Agnes swooped in, insisting the baby be named after her own late mother. She had the child christenedrisky, given Margaret and her husband, George, were staunch Labour supportersbossed the midwife around, reduced Margaret to nervous exhaustion, then left, convinced her foolish daughter-in-law would ruin the child.
Margaret cried for a week. George, bless him, dipped into his savingsmeant for a fishing boatand bought her a gold necklace.
Despite Agnes dire predictions, little Evelyn thrived. She walked early, mastered the potty fast, and spoke clearly, asking questions like, “What do you love? What makes a good person? Why do people smile?” Georges mates from the factory and Margarets bakery friendsgood folk, but simplejust gaped and said shed go far.
And she sorted Agnes out in minutes.
One visit, the old woman launched into a tirade about the couples new sofatoo light, impractical. Five-year-old Evelyn listened, then grabbed Agnes bags and dragged them to the door.
“Oi! Where dyou think youre taking those?”
“You came without love. You shout at Mum. Go home.”
“Youve turned her against me!” Agnes shrieked.
Evelyn shoved her new doll into the womans face. “Take it. I dont want your presents. Learn to behave.”
George roared with laughter. “Got told, didnt you, Mum? Our Evies got a spine. Once, I came home tipsy after celebrating a bonusshe lectured me for a *week*.”
After that, Margaret kept Evelyn home on Agnes visits, letting her stay up late. The old woman often left without unloading her usual criticisms.
School adored Evelyn toohead girl, debate team captain. She nearly aced her A-levels, except for English Lit.
“Bears dont talk. Frankensteins monster wouldnt have survived decomposition. And *Wuthering Heights*? Just miserable people being miserable.” She dismissed art, music, and PE with the same logic but aced maths and sciences.
Teachers pushed her toward Oxford, but she chose the Open University. Mums health was shaky, and Agnes, now seventy, needed checking on. Plus, Daniel Whittakerson of the factory foremanhad returned from his gap year, spotted Evelyn in her prom dress, and gaped.
“Blimey, Evie, you look like a bride!”
“Bride? At my wedding, Ill be *queen*.”
“Done!” Daniel grinned. “Ill tell Mum to get me a velvet suit.”
“Grey, not black,” Evelyn ordered. “Looks smart.”
Without a single “I love you” or even a kiss, they planned their futureguest lists, honeymoon spots, baby names. They went to London togetherEvelyn for her course orientation, Daniel to re-enrol at uni. Returned, registered their marriage. What else could they do? Theyd *planned* it.
Soon came baby James. By Evelyns graduation, shed had two more boys.
Returning to work, Evelyn climbed the ranks swiftly, outpacing Daniel. He, lovely as he was, lacked ambition. While she networked and upskilled, he sneaked off fishing with George, joking, “Time spent fishing doesnt count toward lifes tally.”
Evelyn was a sharp manager, sniffing out genuine grievances from worker complaints. Today, theyd call her “efficient”; back then, she was a “force of nature.” Some muttered shed be a nightmare mother-in-law.
She didnt dwell on it, though she confided in friends, “Modern girls? Not my cup of tea. And I wont stay quiet if theyre daft.”
James, her firstborn, took after Danieleasygoing, a bit lazy. Second son, William, was her doublebold, questioning lifes meaning at five. Youngest, Oliver, swung between the twoeither unstoppable or weeping over poetry.
But Evelyn barely noticed them growing up. She was gunning for deputy director.
“Customers care about quality, price, logistics,” she argued. “Not some old union speech.”
“True,” the director agreed. “Our partners saw Belov as a relic. Step up, Evelyn.”
She did. Soon, the factory ran double shifts to meet demand.
Then James brought home *her*.
“Mum, Dad, this is Katie.”
The curvy, confident brunette made Daniel whistle. Evelyns eyes narrowed.
Katie sunbathed instead of gardening, turned her nose up at roast dinners, and moaned about the lack of sushi bars in their town. “She *wastes* water,” Evelyn fumed.
“Hows the daughter-in-law?” her friends prodded.
“Bright,” Evelyn said tightly. “Made James study English. They want to work abroad.”
“Youre letting them *go*?”
“Why not? We never travelled. Let them.”
“And leave you in your old age?”
“Old? Weve got two more sons.”
“Think Evelyns *scared* of her,” her friends whispered.
They married quietly before moving abroad.
“No wedding?” friends gasped.
“Smart. We gave them cash instead.”
“No vows? Feels less real.”
“Lets see whose marriage lasts longertheirs, debt-free, or yours, paid for on credit.”
Silence.
James called rarely. When he quit his job, Evelyn fretted.
“Hes joined a marine conservation team,” Daniel explained. “Studying ichthyology.”
“Good,” Evelyn mused. “He was a middling engineer but always loved fishing. Katie backed himunlike me, steering him from the navy. Shes on *his* side.”
Agnes died. The funeral, the house saleit all blurred.
Then William introduced *his* fiancée.
“Mum, Dad, meet Alice.”
Timid, pale Alice hid behind him, trembling.
“Eviell *eat* her alive,” her friends predicted.
Instead? Alice cooked feasts so rich Evelyn gained three kilos. When scolded, she burst into tears. “II wanted to make lasagna!”
“Alright, love, do as you like.”
Alice gave them twinsa boy and a girl. Evelyn doted on her, calling her “daughter.”
Oliver took years. After uni, he trucked abroad, then returned to study coding.
“Mum, meet Julia.”
The tiny, giggling woman spun mid-greeting and bolted outside, howling with laughter.
“Whats *wrong* with her?”
“Just a joke,” Oliver lied. (Julia had lost it at “Evelyn Margaret””Double M! Hows she *lived* with that?”)
At the wedding, Julia snorted through the vows, ruining all the photossolemn guests, beaming bride.
They bought a flat in London. Oliver coded; Julia ran an animation studio. Their daughter, Lily, inherited her mums laugh.
Now Evelyns friends grumble, “Who knew our tough Evied be such a pushover? All her daughters-in-law are gems. Did we misjudge her?”
Maybe. Or maybe motherhood softens even the sternest souls.
