«We dont want you at the wedding,» my children said to me.
«Mum, really, must you wash those plates again? Theyre already spotless!» Emily sighed, watching her mother scrub the same dishes for the fourth time.
«What if the guests notice water spots?» Margaret squinted, holding a plate up to the light. «Its a weddingeverything must be perfect.»
«Mum, honestly, no ones going to inspect the plates! Theyll be too busy gawking at the bride and groom. Youve been in this kitchen for three hours already,» Emily said, moving to hug her, but Margaret sidestepped her.
«Dont distract me, please. The salads arent done, the cake needs decorating. Theres no time.»
Emily shook her head and walked out. In the living room, her fiancé, James, was fidgeting with his tie.
«Are you *sure* your mum can handle this? Maybe we shouldve just booked a restaurant,» he whispered.
«Too late nowall the guests are coming here. She insisted on hosting. Says restaurants lack soul,» Emily took his hand. «Bear with her, love. Shes trying her best.»
James nodded, though doubt flickered in his eyes. Margaret had spent three months preparingresearching recipes, shopping for ingredients, obsessing over every detail. At first, Emily had been touched by her enthusiasm. Now, she just wished her mother would relax.
«Emily!» Margaret called from the kitchen. «Come taste the salad!»
Emily trudged back. Her mother stood by the stove, spoon in hand.
«Does it need more salt? Or is it fine as is?»
«Mum, its *fine*. Youve asked ten times already!»
«Well, pardon me for caring!» Margaret turned to the window, lips pressed thin. «I just want everything to be nice. Proper. So Jamess parents dont think were… that we dont know how to…»
Emily rested her hands on Margarets shoulders.
«Mum, whats got into you? His parents are lovely, down-to-earth people. They wont care how many spoonfuls of mayo youve used.»
«Wont they?» Margaret spun around. «Did you hear what his mother said yesterday? *We always had smoked salmon at home.* Smoked salmon! And here I am serving prawn cocktail like some sort of…»
«She didnt mean it like that,» Emily sighed. «She was just reminiscing.»
«Oh, please! Im not deaf. I hear the whispers. *Margaret lives modestly, doesnt she?* As if I should be ashamed I raised you alone after your father left!»
Emily fell silent. That wound never fully healedand now, with the wedding, every old insecurity had resurfaced.
«No ones judging you, Mum. Everyone knows youve done brilliantly.»
«Do they?» Margaret gave a bitter laugh. «Jamess parents have a four-bedroom in Surrey and a new Range Rover. And what do I have? A semi in Croydon and a buffet served on my good china.»
«I dont *care* about their house!» Emilys voice rose. «Im marrying *James*, not his parents!»
James appeared in the doorway, drawn by the raised voices.
«Everything alright?»
«Fine, perfectly fine!» Margaret wiped her hands on her apron. «Just finalising the menu. Nearly done.»
James surveyed the kitchenplates of canapés, bowls of salads, the oven humming. It smelled heavenly.
«Margaret, this is incredible. Honestly, my parents will be *thrilled*.»
«Oh, stop it…» She flushed, but pleasure flickered in her eyes.
«No, really! Id take homemade food over posh restaurants any day. You can taste the love in it.»
For the first time all day, Margaret smiled.
«James, dear, would you like tea? Coffee? Ill put the kettle on.»
«Mum, guests arrive in an hour,» Emily reminded her. «You still need to change.»
«Oh, *blimey*!» Margaret gasped. «I forgot! My dress isnt ironed, my hairs a *state*»
«Youll have time. Go showerIll finish here,» Emily said, untying her apron.
«Dont touch the cake!» Margaret called over her shoulder. «The pipings not finished!»
James wrapped an arm around Emilys waist.
«Shes wound tighter than a Rolex. How can we help?»
«She wont let us. Shes convinced well ruin the presentation,» Emily leaned into him. «I get it, though. She wants your parents to be impressed.»
«But *why*? Were not marrying them.»
«Try telling her that. Shes spent her whole life proving shes enough on her own.»
James pondered this.
«Tell you whatIll ask Mum and Dad to lay it on thick with the compliments. Get them to rave about the food.»
«Youd do that?»
«Course! Look how hard shes worked.»
Emily kissed his cheek.
«Thank you. Itll mean the world to her.»
Half an hour later, Margaret emerged in a navy dress, hair curled, lips glossed.
«Do I look… alright?»
«Stunning!» James declared. «Right, Em?»
«Gorgeous, Mum,» Emily hugged her. «Proper mother-of-the-bride material.»
Margaret flushed, smoothing her dress.
«Oh, the *cake*! I forgot the»
«Mum, guests are at the door,» Emily said, peering out the window. «Leave the cakeits *perfect*.»
«But the buttercream roses»
«Margaret,» James cut in, «that cake belongs in a bakery window. Go greet everyonewell set up.»
Jamess parents arrived first. Eleanor, polished in a tailored dress, glanced around the flat. Margaret braced herself.
«How *cosy*!» Eleanor said. «You can tell a homes been loved in.»
Margaret brightened. «Please, come through! Make yourselves comfortable.»
As guests trickled inEmilys uni mates, neighbours, a few auntsthe flat buzzed with chatter. Margaret flitted between kitchen and living room, refilling drinks, fussing over nibbles.
«Margaret, *sit down*!» Jamess father, Richard, boomed. «Youre the hostesswe barely see you!»
«Oh, I couldntso much to»
«Nonsense!» He pulled out a chair. «Sit. Lets chat.»
Margaret perched on the edge.
«Did you make this potato salad yourself?» Eleanor asked, sampling a forkful.
«Er, yes, just a simple»
«Its *divine*! You must give me the recipe.»
Margaret pinkened. «Its only proper mustard, really, and free-range eggs»
«And the *trifle*!» gushed Emilys best mate, Lucy. «Auntie Meg, this is Michelin-star stuff!»
«Hear, hear!» Richard raised his glass. «My wife lives by ready meals. This? This is proper *cooking*.»
Margaret bloomed under the praise, sharing tips, laughing as guests begged for secrets.
«Look at her,» Emily whispered to James. «Shes *glowing*.»
«She just needed to feel valued,» he said. «See how shes come alive?»
After speeches and toasts, guests spilled onto the balcony or clustered in the kitchen. Margaret, finally unwinding, sipped her first glass of wine.
Eleanor touched her arm. «Margaret… youve raised an exceptional daughter. James adores herits obvious she was brought up with such warmth.»
Margarets eyes shone. «Thank you. It wasnt always easy, but I wanted her to want for nothing.»
«And she hasnt. Shes kind, capablethe sort of daughter-in-law every mother dreams of.»
«Oh, go on…» Margaret waved her off, but her smile was radiant.
«And your cooking! Ive eaten *two* helpings. My dressmaker will *murder* me.»
«Have thirds! I made extra,» Margaret urged. «The roast beefs just here, and the»
Late that night, as the last guests left, the three of them collapsed in the living room. Margaret kicked off her heels with a groan.
«Well, Mum?» Emily nestled beside her. «Happy?»
Margaret sighed. «All that worrying… for *nothing*. Your in-laws are lovely. Down-to-earth.»
«Told you so!»
«Hmm.» She patted Emilys knee. «I thought theyd judge the mismatched chairs, the IKEA crockery… But they kept saying how *homely* it felt.»
James kissed Margarets hand. «Thank you for tonight. Mums already stolen three of your recipes.»
Margaret laughed. «Theyre nothing special!»
«They *are*,» he said firmly. «Because you made them with love.»
She pulled them both into a hug.
«Be happy, my dears. And if you ever need meIm here.»
«We know, Mum,» Emily murmured. «Thank you. For everything.»
Margaret watched them, heart full. All her fears had been pointless. What mattered wasnt appearancesit was *this*. The people who loved you.
«Right,» she said, standing. «Ill just wash up.»
«Mum! Leave it till morning!»
«Cant. Not my way.» She shooed them off. «You two get some rest.»
James and Emily exchanged glances and burst out laughing. Some thingsthank goodnessnever changed.
As Margaret scrubbed plates, she replayed the day. All that dread, all those sleepless nights… and for what? Fancy cars and big houses didnt make a family. *This* didthe mess, the laughter, the shared seconds (and thirds).
Tomorrow, Emily would be a wife. But Margaret? Shed gained a title she never expected to love: mother-in-law. And shed be *brilliant* at it.
