«You’re a stranger to himI’m his mother,» whispered the mother-in-law.
«You shouldnt have called that private doctor,» said Valerie Petrovna, adjusting her black headscarf. «Our local GPs been treating us for yearshes perfectly good.»
Marina quietly set another plate of Simnel cake on the table. Guests were slowly drifting away, leaving only the closest family. The kitchen felt too small for so many people, but no one dared eat in the sitting roomnot with the coffin there.
«Why wont you say anything?» the older woman pressed. «Was it the money? Fifty grand for surgery, and what good did it do?»
«Valerie Petrovna, not now,» murmured Aunt Clara from next door, but she wasnt listening.
«When, then?» The womans eyes were red, though not from tearsfrom anger. «He was my son. I carried him, raised him, got him on his feet! And you… you just married him.»
Marina gripped the tea towel in her hands. She wanted to scream, run, hidebut she couldnt. Today was Sergeys funeral, and she had to hold it together.
«Mum, enough,» sighed Vlad, Sergeys younger brother. «Todays not the day.»
«Oh, when is, then?» Valerie Petrovna snapped. «After weve buried him? I should stay quiet while she takes over? This is my house! Sergey was born herehe should be laid out here!»
Marina flinched. Theyd argued for a week about where to hold the wake. Valerie Petrovna insisted on her tiny flat, while Marina suggested a café. But, as always, her mother-in-law got her way.
«Ill go air out the sitting room,» Marina whispered, slipping away.
The room was still and stuffy, the scent of lilies and incense tangled with the smell of food. Sergey lay in the coffin, strange and unfamiliar in his black suit. He never wore suitsalways favored jeans and jumpers, said they were more comfortable.
«Why did you leave me?» Marina murmured, stepping closer. «How am I supposed to do this alone?»
Footsteps sounded behind her.
«Marina, love, dont torture yourself,» said Aunt Clara, resting a hand on her shoulder. «Its not his fault. Bloody illness.»
«She says I didnt treat him properly. That I skimped on the money.»
«Dont listen. Shes grievinglashing out. He was her only son, her pride and joy.»
«And Im not grieving?» Marina turned, and Aunt Clara saw her tear-streaked face. «We were together for twelve years. Twelve years! I nursed him when he was sick. I quit my job to take him to hospitals.»
«I know, love. You were a good wife.»
«Yet she calls me a stranger. How? We got married in church. We wanted children…»
Marina fell silent. That hurt too much to say aloud. Theyd tried for years, but it never happened. Then Sergey got ill, and it didnt matter anymore.
Muffled voices drifted from the kitchen. Valerie Petrovna was telling someone how Sergey fell off his bike as a child and broke his arm.
«I took him to A&E myself,» her voice carried. «Late at night, in a cab. The doctor said if wed waited, it wouldnt have set right.»
Marina remembered it differentlyhow Sergey used to laugh telling that story, saying his mum panicked more than he had.
«He was always so brave,» his mother went on. «Stood up for the little ones at school. Knew how to fight. Then he did his servicewouldve made a fine officer.»
Marina thought of his letters from basic training. How he missed home, craved roast beef and Yorkshire puddings. And how he wrote about a girl named Marina, who hed met just before enlisting and swore hed wait for.
«Marina, come here,» called Lena, Sergeys cousin, from the kitchen. «Valerie Petrovnas showing photos.»
An old album lay open on the table. Valerie Petrovna turned the pages, annotating every snapshot.
«Year one,» she pointed. «So serious. Top marks, always.»
Marina sat beside her, studying pictures of her husband as a boygrinning with a teddy bear, building sandcastles.
«Here he is grown up,» his mother turned the page. «Technical college, trained as a mechanic. Golden handscould fix anything.»
«He always helped me with the car,» Marina said softly. «Never got cross when I broke something.»
Valerie Petrovna shot her a look.
«Well, he was kind like that. Helped everyone, not just you.»
An awkward silence fell. Lena coughed, asking for more photos.
«After his service,» Valerie Petrovna tapped a picture of Sergey in jeans and a leather jacket by a motorbike. «Handsome devil. Girls went mad for him.»
Marina remembered meeting himhow hed offered her a lift after work, cracking jokes the whole way. Shed thought him the most charming man alive.
«Plenty of girlfriends,» his mother sighed. «Never took any seriously. Said he wanted to live a little first.»
«Mum, why bring that up?» Vlad said sharply.
«Its the truth! He was a bachelor for ages. Then suddenlymarried. Surprised me, that did.»
Marinas cheeks burned. Sergey had hesitated to introduce them, warning his mother was «traditional»might not approve.
«Lovely wedding, though,» Aunt Clara cut in. «That cake was beautiful.»
«I ordered the cake,» Valerie Petrovna corrected. «And her dress. She couldnt afford it.»
«I had a job,» Marina said quietly. «Just… not a big salary.»
«Exactly. Sergey earned well. Respected at the factorypromoted constantly.»
Marina thought of saving for a house, counting every penny. Then Sergey got sick, and it all went to treatment.
«He wanted children,» she blurted out. «Kept saying, Once Im better, well start a family.»
Valerie Petrovna went quiet. Then she shut the album and slid it into the drawer.
«Time to set the table,» she said. «The vicars coming soon.»
Later, alone with Vlad as he smoked on the balcony, Marina washed dishes.
«Dont take it personally,» he said. «She loved him too much, maybe.»
«I know,» she said, not turning. «But hearing Im a stranger… it stings.»
«Youre not. You were his wife.»
«Were,» she echoed. «Now what am I? A widow? Sounds so… final.»
«Youre family. Always will be.»
But Marina knew better. After the funeral, shed return to the cramped flat theyd rented. Valerie Petrovna wouldnt call at Christmas. No more birthdays, no New Years invitations.
That night, after the vicar left and guests dispersed, Valerie Petrovna approached. Marina sat by the coffin, holding a photograph.
«Burials tomorrow,» her mother-in-law said quietly. «Plot at Highgate, near his dad.»
Marina nodded. Theyd settled it that morning.
«His things…» Valerie Petrovna hesitated. «Do you want them, or…?»
«I dont know yet. Can I decide later?»
«Fine. Theyre not going anywhere.»
They stood close, yet miles aparteach grieving in her own way, each convinced her pain was greater.
«Youre a stranger to him. Im his mother,» Valerie Petrovna whisperedor had she imagined it? Exhaustion blurred everything.
Marina looked at the photo. Sergey smiled back, young and carefreejust like when they married, when the future seemed endless.
«Forgive me,» she murmured, unsure whom she meanthim or his mother.
Outside, evening faded, and somewhere beyond, life went onwithout Sergey, without his laughter, without plans or dreams. A life where shed have to learn to be just Marina again. Not Sergeys wife. Just herself.
