“You’re not family,” said the mother-in-law, sliding the roast beef back into the serving dish.
Lily froze by the stove, plate in hand. A few traces of gravy remained from the Yorkshire pudding and beef her mother-in-law, Margaret, had just dished up. The slices of meat vanished one by one, as if Margaret were conducting a headcount.
“Sorry?” Lily asked, certain shed misheard.
“Whats unclear?” Margaret wiped her hands on her apron and turned to face her. “We never invited you into this family. You pushed your way in.”
The kitchen fell so quiet that the bubbling of the soup on the hob was the only sound. Lily set the plate down and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her hands trembled.
“Margaret, I dont understand. Tom and I have been married five years. We have Emily”
“And what of it?” Margaret cut in. “Emilys our flesh and blood, yes. But you? Youll always be an outsider.”
The kitchen door swung open, and Tom trudged in, his shirt rumpled, hair tousledclearly, hed been napping on the sofa after work.
“Whats going on?” He glanced between his wife and mother. “Why the shouting?”
“Were not shouting,” Margaret replied smoothly. “Just talking. Explaining to your wife how things work in this house.”
Tom frowned, studying Lilys pale face, her lips pressed tight.
“Mum, what did you say?”
“The truth. That theres not enough roast for everyone. Big family, small portions.”
Lily felt a lump rise in her throat. That was it. Five years shed thought she belonged. Five years biting her tongue, enduring Margarets jabs, hoping things would get better.
“Tom, Im going home,” she said quietly. “To Mums.”
“What do you mean, ‘home’?” Margaret snapped. “Your home is here now. Or do you think you can come and go as you please?”
“Mum, stop.” Tom stepped toward Lily. “What actually happened?”
Lily stayed silent. How could she explain that his mother had just made it clear she was nothing here? That even a plate of roast was too much to ask for?
“Ill feed Emily and put her to bed,” she said instead. “Then Ill take her to Mums for the weekend.”
“What for?” Margaret bristled. “Im right here. Why drag the child elsewhere?”
“Because her grandmother thinks her mother isnt family,” Lily said softly. “Maybe her granddaughter deserves better too.”
She turned to leave. Tom grabbed her wrist.
“Lil, wait. Just tell me what happened.”
Lily turned back. Her husband looked baffled. Margaret stood by the stove, pretending to stir the soup.
“Ask your mother,” Lily said. “Shell explain it better.”
Upstairs, three-year-old Emily was playing with her dolls. She looked up, beaming.
“Mummy! Look, Im feeding Rosie!”
“Well done, sweetheart.” Lily knelt, hugging her. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes! Grandma said were having roast!”
“We are, love. But were going to have it at Granny Joans instead.”
“Mummys mum?” Emily clapped. “Yay! Is Daddy coming?”
“No, Daddys staying here.”
Lily began packing Emilys thingsdresses, tights, toys, enough for a few days. As she folded a jumper, Tom appeared in the doorway.
“Lil, this is ridiculous. Youre leaving over a bit of food?”
“Ridiculous?” Lily straightened. “Your mother just told me Im not family. Took food off my plate. Thats ridiculous?”
“Come on, Mum says things she doesnt mean! You know how she isstressed from work, lashes out.”
Lily laughed, bitter and quiet.
“Stressed. For five years straight. And its always me who gets lashed out at.”
“Just ignore her!”
“Ignore being called a stranger in my own home? Tom, listen to yourself.”
He ran a hand through his hair, a familiar gesture when he was at a loss.
“Lil, where will you even go? Were a family. Weve got Emily.”
“Thats why Im leaving. I wont have her hearing her mother belittled.”
“Whos belittling you? Mum just gave her opinion.”
“Her opinion?” Lily stared. “Tom, she took food off my plate! Said I dont belong! Thats an opinion?”
“Well maybe she was blunt. But you know how it isDad died young, she raised me and Dave alone. Shes used to controlling things.”
“So I just live under her control forever?”
Tom sat on the bed, taking her hands.
“Lil, lets not fight. Ill talk to her, sort it out.”
“Sort what out? That Im a person? That I have feelings?”
“Yeah. Ill tell her to back off.”
Lily shook her head.
“Tom, this isnt about her being rude. Its about her never accepting me. And youve let it happen.”
“She just needs time”
“Five years isnt enough? How much longer?”
From downstairs, Margaret called:
“Tom! Dinners getting cold!”
He stood.
“Come on, lets eat. Well talk after.”
“No thanks. Ive lost my appetite.”
Tom hesitated, then left. Lily heard murmurs from the kitchenvoices rising, falling. She dialled her mum.
“Mum? Its me. Can we come stay a few days?”
“Of course, love. Whats happened?”
“Ill explain later. Were on our way.”
“Alright. Ive made shepherds pieplenty for everyone.”
Lily smiled faintly. Mum always said that. Never counted portions, never made anyone feel unwelcome.
Emily chattered happily on the bus, swinging her legs, talking about her dolls and tomorrows plans.
“Mum, why isnt Daddy coming?” she asked as they reached Joans street.
“Daddys working, sweetheart. Hell visit.”
Joan greeted them at the door, arms wide. She was everything Margaret wasntwarm, soft-spoken, quick to laugh.
“Oh, Ive missed you!” She scooped Emily up. “My little darling! Look how youve grown!”
“Granny, do you have new stories?”
“Loads! Well read after tea.”
At the table, Joan piled shepherds pie onto their plates.
“Eat up, both of you. Lily, youre skin and bones! Dont they feed you at work?”
“They do, Mum. Just havent been hungry.”
“You will be. Nothing like home cooking.”
Home. Lily glanced aroundthe gingham curtains, the old dresser with its mismatched china, photos on the walls. Here, no one called her an outsider.
After Emily was asleep, the women sat with tea.
“Tell me what happened,” Joan said gently.
Lily relayed the days eventsMargarets words, the roast, the quiet cruelty. Joan listened, shaking her head now and then.
“And how did Tom react?”
“Same as ever. Said shes stressed, that I should ignore it.”
“I see.” Joan stirred her tea. “And how do you feel?”
“Tired, Mum. So tired. Five years trying, and she still wont accept me. Always finds fault.”
“Give me an example.”
Lily sighed.
“I cook wrong, clean wrong, parent wrong. When Emily was poorly last month, Margaret outright said I was a bad mother.”
“And Tom?”
“Tom says nothing. Or that shes just worried about Emily.”
Joan set her cup down.
“Sweetheart, are you happy in this marriage?”
The question caught Lily off guard. She stared out at the twinkling streetlights.
“I dont know. I was. Now I feel like a guest in my own life.”
“Why didnt you tell me sooner?”
“I thought itd pass. That shed warm to me.”
“Doesnt sound like she has.”
Rain tapped against the window as they sipped their tea.
“Mum, when you married Dad, how did Grandma treat you?”
Joan smiled.
“Your Gran Edith? Called me ‘daughter’ from day one. Said, ‘Now Ive got two girls.’ Loved me more than her own Alice, sometimes.”
“Why, do you think?”
“Because she saw I loved her son. And he loved me. Where theres love, theres always room.”
Lily pondered. Did Tom love her? Truly? Or was it just habit?
Her phone buzzed. Toms name flashed on the screen.
“Lil, where are you?” He sounded strained.
“At Mums. Like I said.”
“When are
