After checking her daughter, Emily noticed angry red welts from a belt. Something inside her shattered. She gently moved the children aside and stood tall.
Emily dragged her feet home from work, dreading what awaited her. The autumn wind whipped at her coat, and the heavy clouds seemed to press down on her. But the weather wasnt what weighed on her. An unwelcome visitor had arrived that afternoon.
During an important client meeting, James had called:
«Emily, dont be cross, but Ive picked Mum up from the station. She missed the kids. Shes staying a few days.»
Those words sent a chill through her. Her mother-in-law, Margaret Hayes, had always been difficult. In ten years of marriage, Emily had never found common ground with her.
«James, we agreed,» she said, keeping her voice steady. «You were meant to warn me first.»
«Sorry, love. She rang out of nowheresaid she needed tests at the hospital in Manchester. Thought shed pop in. Couldnt say no.»
Emily sighed. Of course he couldnt. James had always been too soft with his mother, no matter how unreasonable she was.
«Fine, Ill stay late. This project needs finishing by tomorrow.»
«Dont fret, Mumll watch the kids. She brought presents. Ive got to dashclients systems crashed.»
So Emily delayed going home as long as she could. The thought of an evening with the woman whod once thrown her and little Oliver out in the rain, blaming her for everything wrong in the world, made her stomach twist.
Her phone buzzed. A text from James:
«Still at the clients. Running late. You alright?»
She typed back:
«Nearly home. Ill manage.»
Memories of their early years flooded her mind. Back then, theyd lived in his mothers housespacious but as cold as the woman herself.
Six years earlier.
Young Emily stood at the stove, stirring soup. Upstairs, baby Oliverjust five months oldwas crying. She wiped her hands on her apron, ready to go to him, when Margaret swept into the kitchen.
«Cant you hear that child screaming?» she snapped.
«I was just going to him,» Emily replied calmly.
«Youre always ‘just going,'» Margaret scoffed. «Yet nothing gets done. My James slept like an angel at that age. Must be your side showing.»
Emily bit her tongue. Remarks like that were daily.
Margaret peered into the pot.
«Whats this muck? James wouldnt touch it.»
«Its his favourite,» Emily said. «He asked for it.»
«Rubbish. Im his mother. I know what he likes!»
Margaret grabbed the pot and tipped it into the sink. Emilys eyes stung.
«Why did you do that? That took me two hours!»
«Stop fussing. Go to the baby. Ill make my son a proper dinner.»
When James came home that evening, his mother met him in the hall:
«Darling, can you believe it? Your wifes done nothing all day! The baby cried, and she ignored him. Thank goodness I was here.»
James sighed.
«Mum, Im sure Emily looks after Oliver.»
«Always defending her!» Margaret threw up her hands. «Shes got you wrapped around her little finger, and you dont care about me anymore!»
With a dramatic sob, she flounced off. James gave Emily an apologetic look.
«Sorry, she just worries»
«James, she throws out my cooking,» Emily whispered. «She tells Oliver Im a bad mother. Its too much.»
«Just hang on a bit longer,» he pleaded. «Well move out soon, I promise.»
But weeks became months, and things only worsened.
A passing car jolted her back to the present. Emily quickened her pace. She was nearly home.
Before she knew it, she was in the lift, pressing her forehead to the cold metal.
«Its just a few days,» she murmured. «Itll be fine.»
When the doors opened, a sound froze herher daughters desperate crying. It was Sophies voice.
She ran to the flat, hands shaking as she fumbled with the key. Finally, the door swung open.
The sight made her blood run cold.
In the living room stood Margaret, belt in hand, lashing little Sophie. The girl cowered in the corner, sobbing. Oliver tried to shield her, tears streaming down his face.
«Ill teach you to touch my things!» Margaret shouted, raising the belt again.
Emilys face burned.
«What are you doing?!» she screamed, rushing forward.
Margaret turned, unashamed.
«Oh, youre finally home! Your daughter ruined my new handbagcost me two hundred quid!and then she cheeked me!»
Emily pulled her children close.
«Youre hitting my child? Are you mad?!»
«Dont tell me how to discipline them!» Margaret snapped. «I raised my son alone! I could sort you out too if youd listen!»
Looking at Sophie, Emily saw the angry red marks. Something inside her snapped.
She gently moved the children aside and stood tall.
«Get out of my house.»
Margaret gaped.
«Im not going anywhere! I came to see my son and raise my grandchildren properly!»
«Mum,» Oliver said shakily, «Gran hit Sophie cause she spilled tea. Then Sophie said hittings wrong, and Gran got angrier»
«Quiet!» Margaret barked, but Emily stepped between them.
«Dont you shout at my son! You hit my daughter. Youd have hit him too if he hadnt dodged!»
The front door opened. James walked in.
«Whats going on? Why are the kids crying?»
Margarets face crumpled instantly.
«Darling, Emily shouted at me! I only scolded Sophie, and she flew off the handle!»
Jamess eyes locked onto the belt.
«Mum, whats that?»
«I just found it in your old briefcase meant to polish the buckle»
«Dad!» Sophie sobbed. «Gran hit me with it cause I spilled tea by accident!»
James knelt beside her, stroking her back.
«Show me where it hurts, poppet»
Seeing the marks, he stood slowly. His usual gentle gaze hardened.
«Mum, you hit my children?»
He went to the cabinet and opened itinside was a security camera.
«Weve got the whole room recorded. I just watched the footage.»
Margaret paled.
«James, be reasonable! You know how much I love them! It was just a light smackwe were all raised like that, and we turned out fine!»
«In our day,» he said coldly, «children shouldnt fear their grandmother. In our day, adults talk to kids, not beat them.»
«Modern parentings ruined them! No discipline! And youletting your wife rule you! I came to help! Ive got surgery next weekthought you might stay with me»
«Surgery?» he frowned.
«Serious,» she sighed. «Doctors say something needs removing»
«What, exactly?»
«Doesnt matter! I need support! Thought you might stay with me? The house is big Emily can stay here if she likes.»
James shook his head.
«Mum, is that why you came? To split us up again?»
The doorbell rang. In stepped a silver-haired man with kind eyesEdward Carter, Emilys father.
«Hello,» he said, glancing around. «Just popped in to see the kids Whats all this?»
The children ran to him.
«Grandad! Gran hit me with a belt!» Sophie cried.
«Stay out of this!» Margaret snapped. «Family matter!»
«When someone hurts my grandchildren,» Edward said firmly, «its my matter too.»
He gestured to the sofa.
«Lets talk properly. Margaret, sit down.»
Something in his tone made her comply.
«Look,» he began, «when Emily married, I wasnt thrilled either. Thought James was too posh for my girl But I gave them a chance and saw how happy they were.»
He turned to Margaret.
«Youre clinging to your son, trying to control himand pushing him away. Now youre turning the kids against you.»
«What do you know?» she flared. «I raised him alone! My husband died youngit was all on me!»
«Youre scared of being alone,» he said gently. «Thats why you invented the surgery.»
Margarets shoulders slumped. The room fell silent. Margarets breath hitched, her defiance crumbling like dry plaster. Emilys father didnt scorn herhe simply waited, patient, as if hed been expecting this moment for years.
James sat beside his mother, voice quiet. Why didnt you just tell me you were scared?
Tears spilled down Margarets face. I didnt want to be a burden. I thought if I needed you, youd have to come.
Emily knelt in front of her, the children still clinging to her sides. You dont have to earn your place here. But you cant hurt our family. Not ever.
Margaret looked at Sophies red marks, then at Olivers frightened eyes. Shame washed over her like cold water. Im so sorry, she whispered, the words ragged.
James took her hand. Well visit. Properly. But this? This ends now.
Edward stood. And maybe, over teareal tea, not this dramawe can start over. As family. Not rulers, not victims. Just people who love the same boy.
Margaret nodded, small and broken, but present. For the first time in years, truly there.
