Hand over the wedding ring, my daughter needs it more, demanded Margaret Whitaker at the family dinner.
We cant keep putting this off, Eleanor! Either you see a doctor, or Ill book you in myself, Ian tapped his fingers on the table, his eyes fixed on his wife with barely concealed irritation.
Dont start again, Eleanor sighed, running a hand through her hair. Its only been three months. The doctor said we should wait six before worrying.
Three months? Ian snorted. Weve been married two years. Two! And still nothing. My mother asks every day when shell be a grandmother.
Eleanor turned away, pretending to rummage through the cupboard. Talk of children always ended in a spat. She wanted a baby herself, but it wasnt happening, and the constant pressure from Margaret only made things worse.
Speaking of your mother, she changed the subject. Dont forget the guests are arriving tomorrow night. We need to shop for the dinner.
Ive already bought everything, Ian muttered, cooling down. Mum wants duck with apples, like at Christmas. She says your cooking is what he misses most.
Eleanor managed a weak smile. At least the fatherinlaw appreciated her culinary skills, unlike Margaret, who could find a fault in anything she did.
Is Poppy coming too? Eleanor asked, meaning Ians younger sister.
Of course. And she wont be alone, Ian brightened. Mum says shes got a new boyfriend. A proper one, a doctor.
Eleanor felt a flicker of envy. Poppy, twentytwo, already had her third serious boyfriend this year. Margaret constantly set her up as the gold standard: gorgeous, brilliant, soaring career. Meanwhile, Eleanor, at thirty, had no children and no remarkable promotions.
Ellie, Im sorry, Ian slipped behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. I didnt mean to pressure you. Im just worried.
I know, she placed her hand over his. All right. Ill make your favourite duck tomorrow and everyone will be happy.
He kissed her cheek and drifted to the living room to watch the football, while Eleanor stayed in the kitchen, mentally listing what needed doing for the next day: wash the festive china, iron the tablecloth, polish the silverwareany slip would be spotted by Margaret. She also had to pick out an outfit: elegant but not overthetop. No matter how hard she tried, Margaret always found something to nitpick.
In the early morning Eleanor rose before Ian, slipping quietly out of bed so as not to wake him. A long day of prep lay ahead.
By three oclock the flat gleamed, the duck was roasting in the oven, filling the house with a mouthwatering scent, and the table was set as if awaiting dignitaries. Eleanor scrutinised her reflection. A darkblue sheath dress with a high collar made her look lean, light makeup freshened her face. A modest platinum band with a tiny diamond glinted on her fingernot gaudy, but tastefula wedding gift from her parents.
You look stunning, Ian said, wrapping his arms around her from behind. As always.
Thanks, she smiled, trying to calm her nerves. Meeting Margaret was always a test. I hope your mum enjoys the dinner.
Shell love it, he winked. No one can say no to your duck.
The doorbell rang precisely at five. Margaret Whitaker was never late.
My dears! she exclaimed, stepping in and planting a kiss on Ians cheek. She gave Eleanor only a dry handshake. Ive missed you!
Behind her shuffled Peter Whitaker, Ians fathera tall, silverhaired gentleman with a kindly smile. He hugged Eleanor and whispered:
It smells amazing, Ellie. My mouths watering.
Eleanor returned his grin; they always got along.
Wheres Poppy? Ian asked, helping the guests with their coats.
Shell be here a bit later, Margaret replied, eyeing the hallway. With Arthur. Theyre stuck at the clinic.
Arthur? Eleanor asked.
Her fiancé, Margaret announced proudly. A neurosurgeon. What a catch!
Fiancé? Ian sounded surprised. Mum, you never said they were engaged
Not officially, Margaret waved it off. But its only a matter of time. Hes hinted he wants to propose.
Eleanor caught Peters eye; he rolled his pupils, signalling that his wife was, as usual, turning a hopeful rumor into fact.
Come on into the sitting room, Eleanor suggested. Ill set the table. Ian, could you lend a hand?
In the kitchen she exhaled and began arranging the starters. Ian uncorked a bottle of wine.
Dont mind Mum, he said. She always blows things out of proportion when Poppys mentioned.
I know, Eleanor forced a smile. No worries. Help me carry the salads.
Half an hour later Poppy arriveda striking blonde with a trendy cut and flawless manicureaccompanied by a tall, darkhaired man in a sharp suit, about thirtyfive.
Hello everyone! Poppy chirped, hugging her brother. Meet Arthur. Arthur, this is my brother Ian and his wife Eleanor.
Pleasure, Arthur shook Ians hand and tipped his hat to Eleanor. Thanks for having us.
Its a monthly family dinner tradition, Eleanor said.
Lovely tradition, Arthur replied. Family is what matters most.
Margaret beamed at her daughter and her beau:
See, Ian? Poppy may be younger, but shes found a fine match. Arthur runs the neurosurgery department, mind you.
Mum, Poppy rolled her eyes, were just dating. No need to fuss over Arthur.
Nothing at all, Margaret patted her hand. I can see the chemistry. Meanwhile, you twoEleanor and Ianhave been married two years, no nest, no tots.
Mum! Ian protested. Weve already talked about this.
What did I say? Margaret feigned innocence. Just stating the facts.
Around the table conversation drifted to news, politics, recent family happenings. The duck with apples was a hit; even the picky Margaret praised it. Eleanor relaxed a bit, hoping the evening would sail smoothly.
When desserta homemade tiramisuwas about to be served, Poppy suddenly clutched her finger.
Whats wrong? Arthur asked.
My ring is rubbing, she complained, sliding off a thin gold band with a tiny stone. I think my fingers swollen from the heat.
Let me see, Margaret took the ring, turning it over. Oh, thats cheap costume jewellery! Poppy, you deserve something better.
Mum, its a gift, Poppy tried to retrieve it, but Margaret held firm.
From whom? Margaret demanded.
From a colleague, Poppy answered reluctantly. For my birthday.
From Kyle? Margaret squinted. I knew it! Youre still in touch with that scoundrel?
Mum! Poppy snapped. Hes a good friend, not a rogue.
Margaret huffed and turned to Arthur:
Dont mind, Arthur dear. Poppy had a failed fling with a coworker, but she quickly saw he wasnt right for her.
Arthur looked uncomfortable; clearly he hadnt heard the good friend story. Margaret, sensing the tension, tried to smooth it over.
See, Eleanors doing the right thing by not wearing cheap jewellery, she said, nodding at her daughterinlaw. A proper ring is what a married woman should have.
Eleanor instinctively crossed her left hand over her right, as if shielding the band. She didnt like where Margarets comments were heading.
Ian put a lot of thought into picking that one, Margaret continued nostalgically. I remember him showing us catalogues
Actually, it was a gift from my parents, Eleanor corrected quietly. A family heirloom.
A silence fell. Margaret pursed her lips.
Really? she finally said. I thought Ian bought it.
Moms right, Ian interjected. Its from her parents. They wanted her to wear it. It means a lot to them.
How sweet, Margaret said, though her tone hinted displeasure. In my family we also have traditions. I wore my motherinlaws ring, hoping one day to pass it on to Ians wife.
First time Ive heard that, Peter murmured, but his wife brushed him aside.
Poppy could use a nice ring, Margaret went on, glancing between her daughter and Eleanor. Especially now, with such a serious relationship.
Eleanor froze, seeing where this was heading.
You want me to give my wedding ring to Poppy? she asked bluntly.
Why not lend it for a spell? Margaret feigned hurt. She might soon be engaged, and she needs to look proper. Youre married, you dont need to wear something that costly every day.
A heavy hush settled. Eleanor felt her cheeks flame with anger, Poppys with embarrassment, Arthurs with awkwardness. Only Margaret remained calmly imperious, as if nothing had crossed a line.
Excuse me, Poppy finally said. I dont want anyone elses ring.
Not anyone elses, but familys, Margaret retorted. Take it off, dear. My daughter needs it more. Look at her fiancé! Hes a proper lad, not some cheappriced scoundrel.
Everyone turned redEleanor from outrage, Poppy from shame, Arthur from discomfortwhile Margaret stayed unflustered, as if shed never overstepped.
Eleanor stood slowly.
Im sorry, I need to check the dessert, she whispered, retreating to the kitchen.
She leaned against the fridge, hands shaking. Six years with Ian had taught her to expect Margarets antics, but tonight had broken every record. Demanding a family heirloom for a niece who might never marry? It was beyond the pale.
The kitchen door opened and Peter Whitaker entered.
Give her a break, Ellie, he said quietly. Margaret can be a bit eccentric, especially about Poppy.
This isnt eccentric, Peter, Eleanor replied, shaking her head. Its disrespectful to me, my parents, our marriage.
I know, he said, apologetic. Ill talk to her. And try not to take it personally, alright?
Eleanor nodded weakly, knowing a talk wouldnt change Margaret. She fetched the tiramisu and plated it.
Just then Ian walked in.
Ellie, how are you? he asked, avoiding her eyes.
How do you think? she replied softly. Your mother just asked me to hand over my wedding ring to your sister, and you didnt say a word.
I get it, he scratched his head. You know how she is. I just tried to keep the peace.
Keep the peace? Eleanor stared at him, disbelief plain. This is a direct demand to surrender something I hold dear. And you suggest we pretend it never happened?
Of course not, he said, leaning closer, trying to hug her, but she stepped back. I just dont want a scene. Lets finish the evening and Ill have a serious chat with her later.
You said that last time, and the time before, Eleanor said with a bitter smile. Nothing changes.
Ellie
You know what, she set the dessert trays on a trolley, carry the dessert yourself. Im going to lie down; my head hurts.
She left the kitchen, holding herself upright, and passed the living room, nodding at the guests:
Sorry, Im not feeling well. Ian will bring the dessert. Enjoy.
She shut her bedroom door firmly.
An hour later the guests were saying their goodbyes, the atmosphere tense. When the last footsteps faded, silence fell over the flat.
Ian knocked softly on her bedroom door:
Len, can I come in?
She didnt answer, so he peeked in. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring out the window.
Did they leave? she asked without turning.
Yes, Ian sat down beside her. Poppy apologised for her mum, and Arthur did too. They were both mortified.
And you? she asked. Were you mortified?
Absolutely, he admitted, head dropping. I should have stopped her. Said something.
But you didnt, Eleanor said flatly. As usual.
I didnt know what to do, Ian confessed. You know how she is. If you argue, it only gets worse.
Worse? Eleanor laughed dryly. Her mother publicly humiliated me, demanded my family heirloom, and you stayed silent. As per habit.
She rose and walked to the window.
Ive been thinking, she said, watching the city lights. Whats next? Suppose we have a baby, and your mum decides she knows better how to raise it. What will you do? Stay quiet?
Ellie, dont dramatise, Ian said, slipping his arms around her from behind. She just loves Poppy a bit too much, wants the best for her.
At our expense? Eleanor turned to face him. That isnt love, Ian. Its selfishness. And you enable it by keeping quiet.
They stood facing each other, and Eleanor finally saw that Ian would never change. He would always find excuses for his mother, always avoid conflict, always put her comfort above his wifes feelings.
Im tired, Ian, she whispered. Im exhausted fighting windmills. Six years Ive tried to fit into your family, and your mother wont let me in. Never.
What are you saying? fear flickered in his eyes.
She looked at her wedding ring. The tiny diamond caught a streetlamps glow, sparkling like a tear.
I think we need to talk seriously about our future, she said. Whether theres any future at all together.
Ian went pale.
Ellie, you dont
I dont know, she admitted honestly. But tonight I realised one thing: youll never stand up to your mother. I cant live like that.
She slipped the ring off and placed it on the nightstand.
Im going to my parents for a few days. I need to think.
Ellie, please, Ian grabbed her hand. Lets talk. I promise Ill change. Ill talk to Mum, explain
Youve promised that many times, she said, a sad smile tugging her lips. Nothing changed. Nothing will.
She gently freed her hand, began packing. Ian stood by the window, unsure what to say, realizing she was right. His mother had crossed every boundary, and hed let it happen.
When Eleanor closed the door behind her, Ian sank onto the bed. The ring glinted on the nightstanda silent reminder of promises he couldnt keep. He picked it up, clutching it tightly. It wasnt too late to fix things, to convince Eleanor to return. But it would require him to finally say no even to his own mother.
