Youre a stranger to him, and Im his mother, whispered the mother-in-law.
You shouldnt have called that doctor from the private clinic, said Evelyn Whitaker, adjusting the black shawl on her head. Our local GP has always been goodtreated us all his life.
Margaret set another plate of hot cross buns on the table without a word. The guests had begun to drift away, leaving only the closest family. The kitchen felt cramped with so many still gathered, but no one dared eat in the parlour, where the coffin lay.
Why wont you speak? Evelyn pressed. Was it the money you begrudged? Fifteen thousand pounds for that operation, and what good did it do?
Evelyn, not now, murmured Aunt Clara from next door, but the woman wouldnt listen.
When, then? Her eyes were red, not from tears but from anger. He was my son. I bore him, raised him, put him on his feet. And sheshe only married him.
Margaret twisted the tea towel in her hands. She wanted to scream, to run, to hidebut she couldnt. Today they had buried Edward, and she had to hold herself together.
Mum, enough, sighed William, Edwards younger brother. This isnt the time.
Then when is? Evelyn snapped. After we bury my son, then well talk, is that it? I should stay quiet while she takes charge? This is my house! Edward was born here, and here he ought to rest!
Margaret flinched. Theyd argued all week about where to hold the wake. Evelyn insisted on her small terrace house, while Margaret suggested a quiet pub. But the mother-in-law had her way, as always.
Ill just air out the parlour, Margaret whispered, slipping away.
The parlour was stifling, thick with the scent of lilies and candle wax mingling with the smell of food. Edward lay in the coffin, stiff and unfamiliar in his black suit. He never wore suitsalways said they were uncomfortable. Preferred jumpers and denims.
Why did you leave me? Margaret whispered, stepping closer. How am I to go on alone?
Footsteps sounded behind her.
Margaret, love, dont torment yourself, said Aunt Clara, resting a hand on her shoulder. It wasnt his fault. That wretched illness.
She says I didnt treat him right. That I spared the money.
Dont listen. Grief makes her sharp. He was her only sonher pride and joy.
And is my grief nothing? Margaret turned, and Aunt Clara saw her tear-streaked face. Twelve years we were married. Twelve years! I nursed him when he was ill. I left my job to take him to hospital appointments.
I know, I know. You were a good wife to him.
And she calls me a stranger. A stranger? We were wed in church. We dreamed of children
Margaret fell silent. Childrenthat was too painful to speak of. Theyd tried, and it never happened. Then Edward fell ill, and dreams faded.
Muffled voices carried from the kitchen. Evelyn was telling someone how Edward, as a boy, had fallen off his bicycle and broken his arm.
I took him to hospital myself, came her voice. In the middle of the night, in a cab. The doctor said it was good we came quickly, or it mightve set wrong.
Margaret remembered Edward telling that storylaughing as he said his mother had panicked more than he had. The doctor had soothed her, not the boy.
He was always so brave, Evelyn went on. Stood up for the little ones at school. Knew how to fight. And then in the armyhed have made a fine officer.
Margaret thought of his letters from service. How he missed home, longed for roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. How he wrote of a girl named Margaret, whom hed met before enlistment and meant to marry.
Margaret, come here, called Cousin Helen from the kitchen. Evelyns showing photographs.
An old album lay open on the table. Evelyn turned the pages, commenting on each snapshot.
Here he is in Year One, she said. So serious. Top of his class, always.
Margaret sat beside her, studying the boy in the pictureslittle Edward grinning, hugging a stuffed bear, building sandcastles.
And here hes grown, Evelyn turned the page. At technical college, training as a mechanic. Hands of gold, he hadcould fix any engine.
He used to mend my car, Margaret said softly. Never minded when I broke something.
Evelyn shot her a sharp look.
Well, he was kind to everyone. Not just you.
An awkward silence fell. Helen coughed and asked to see more photos.
Here he is after the army, Evelyn pointed to a picture of Edward in denims and a leather jacket, leaning on a motorbike. Handsome lad, had girls swooning over him.
Margaret remembered their first meeting. Hed given her friend a lift home, and shed happened to be there. He offered to drive her too, telling jokes all the way. Shed thought him the most charming man alive.
He had plenty of sweethearts, Evelyn sighed. Never took any seriously. Said it was too soon to settle down.
Mum, why bring that up? William chided.
Whats wrong with the truth? He was a bachelor for years. Then suddenlymarried. I was surprised at the time.
Margarets cheeks burned. She remembered how Edward had hesitated before introducing her to his mother. Said she was set in her ways and might not approve.
It was a lovely wedding, Aunt Clara said peaceably. That grand cake you ordered.
I ordered the cake, Evelyn corrected. And bought her dress. Shed no money of her own.
I worked, Margaret murmured. My wages just werent much.
Exactly. While Edward earned well. The factory thought highly of him, always promoting him.
Margaret recalled their dream of buying a house. Saving every penny. Then Edward fell ill, and the savings vanished into hospital bills.
He wanted children so badly, she said suddenly. Always said, Once Im well, well start a family.
Evelyn went quiet. Then she shut the album and slid it back into the drawer.
Time to set the table, she said. The vicar will be here soon.
When the others dispersed, only Margaret and William remained. He smoked on the back step while she washed dishes.
Dont hold it against Mum, he said, coming inside. She loved himmaybe too much.
I know, Margaret said, not turning around. But it hurts to be called a stranger.
Youre not. You were his wife.
Were, she echoed. And now what am I? A widow? It sounds so strange.
Youre family. Always will be.
But Margaret knew better. After the funeral, shed return to the tiny flat she and Edward had rented. Evelyn wouldnt ring on holidays. No more birthday invites, no Christmases together.
That evening, when the guests had gone and the vicar had said his prayers, Evelyn approached Margaret. She sat by the coffin, clutching Edwards photograph.
The burials tomorrow, Evelyn said softly. In Highgate Cemetery, near his father.
Margaret nodded. Theyd settled it that morning.
And his things. Will you take them, or shall I keep them?
I dont know yet. May I decide later?
If you like. They wont go anywhere.
The women stood side by side, an invisible wall between them. Each mourned in her own way, each certain her grief was the greater.
Youre a stranger to him, and Im his mother, Evelyn whisperedso faintly Margaret wasnt sure shed heard it.
Perhaps it was just the exhaustion, the grief, this endless day that refused to end.
Margaret looked at the photo in her hands. Edward smiled back, young and carefreejust as hed been when they married. Back when life seemed long and bright ahead.
Forgive me, she whispered, unsure whom she meantEdward, or his mother.
Outside, dusk settled. Somewhere beyond, a new life was beginningone without Edward, without his laughter, his steady hands, their plans and dreams. A life where she must learn to be simply Margaret, no longer Edwards wife.
