After checking her daughter, Emily saw red welts from a belt. Something shattered inside her. She carefully shifted the children aside and stood tall.
Emily was dragging her feet on the walk home, dreading what awaited her. The autumn breeze tugged at her coat, and the heavy clouds seemed to press down on her shoulders. But it wasnt the weather weighing on her. An uninvited guest had arrived at their house that day.
Earlier, during an important client meeting, James had called:
«Emily, dont be upset, but I picked up Mum from the station. She wanted to see the kids. Shes staying a few days.»
Those words sent a chill down Emilys spine. Her mother-in-law, Margaret Whitmore, had always been a thorn in her side. In ten years of marriage, Emily had never found common ground with her.
«James, we agreed,» she said, forcing calm into her voice. «You were supposed to tell me beforehand.»
«Sorry, love. She rang out of the bluesaid she needed tests at St. Thomass Hospital. Thought shed visit too. I couldnt say no.»
Emily exhaled sharply. Of course he couldnt. James had always been too soft with his mother, no matter how difficult she was.
«Fine. Ill stay late at work. This projects due tomorrow.»
«Dont worry, Mum will watch the kids. She brought them presents. Ive got to dashclients system crashed.»
So Emily delayed going home as long as she could. Ahead lay the unbearable prospect of an evening with the woman who had once thrown her and little Oliver out into the rain, blaming her for everything wrong in the world.
Her phone buzzeda text from James:
«Still with the client. Running late. You alright?»
Emily sighed and typed back:
«Nearly home. Ill manage.»
Memories of their early marriage surfaced. Back then, theyd lived in his mothers housespacious but as cold as her heart.
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, about to go to him, when Margaret swept in.
«Cant you hear the child wailing?» her mother-in-law snapped.
«I was just going to him,» Emily replied evenly.
«Youre always just going,» Margaret scoffed. «And nothing gets done. My James slept like an angel at that age. Must be your blood.»
Emily bit her tongue. She heard such remarks daily.
Margaret peered into the pot.
«Whats this slop? James doesnt eat this.»
«Its his favourite,» Emily countered. «He asked for it.»
«Rubbish. Im his mother. I know what he likes!»
Margaret seized the pot and dumped its contents into the sink. Tears pricked Emilys eyes.
«Why did you do that? I spent hours cooking!»
«Stop fussing. Tend to the baby. Ill make a proper meal for my son.»
When James returned that evening, his mother met him in the hall:
«Darling, your wifes done nothing all day! The baby cried, and she ignored him. Thank goodness I was here.»
James rubbed his temples.
«Mum, Emily cares for Oliver.»
«Of course you defend her!» Margaret threw up her hands. «Shes got you wrapped around her finger, and now Im nothing to you!»
With a dramatic sob, she retreated to her room. James gave Emily an apologetic look.
«Sorry, she just worries»
«James, she throws away my cooking,» Emily whispered. «She tells Oliver Im a bad mother. Its unbearable.»
«Hang in there a bit longer,» he pleaded. «Well move out soon, I promise.»
But weeks became months, and things only worsened.
A passing car snapped her back to the present. Emily quickened her pace. She was nearly home.
She barely noticed reaching the building. Inside the lift, she pressed her forehead to the cool wall.
«Just two days,» she murmured. «Itll pass.»
When the doors opened, she heard something that turned her blood to icedesperate, childlike sobbing. It was little Sophie.
She sprinted to the flat, fingers fumbling with the key. The door swung open.
What she saw froze her in place.
In the living room stood Margaret. In her handa belt, raised to strike Sophie. The girl cowered in a corner, weeping. Oliver stood protectively in front of her, tears streaming down his face.
«Ill teach you to respect your elders!» Margaret hissed, raising the belt again.
Emilys vision burned red.
«What are you doing?!» she shrieked, rushing forward.
Margaret turned, unrepentant.
«Oh, youre finally here! Your daughter ruined my new handbaga designer piece!then had the cheek to answer back!»
Emily pulled her children close.
«You struck my child?! Are you mad?!»
«Dont tell me how to discipline!» Margaret snapped. «I raised my son alone! You could use the same schooling!»
Examining Sophie, Emily saw the angry red marks. Something inside her broke.
She gently moved the children aside and stood tall.
«Get out of my house.»
Margaret gaped.
«Im not leaving! I came to see my son and raise my grandchildren properly!»
«Mum,» Oliver whispered, «Gran hit Sophie for spilling 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 struck him too if he hadnt dodged!»
Just then, the door opened. James walked in.
«Whats happening? Why are the kids crying?»
Margarets face transformed. Tears welled in her eyes.
«James, Emily shouted at me! I only scolded Sophie, and she flew off the handle!»
Jamess gaze dropped to the belt in her hand.
«Mum, whats that?»
«I found it in your old briefcase meant to polish the buckle»
«Dad!» Sophie wailed. «Gran hit me with that belt cause I spilled tea!»
James knelt beside his daughter, stroking her back.
«Show me where it hurts, sweetheart.»
Seeing the welts, he stood slowly, his usually warm eyes turning to ice.
«Mum, you struck my children?»
He walked to the bookshelf, revealing a hidden nanny cam.
«We installed this to check on the kids. Ive just seen the footage.»
Margaret paled.
«James, dont be ridiculous! You know I adore them! It was just disciplineback in my day, this was normal!»
«In your day,» he said coldly, «children shouldnt fear their grandmother. In your day, adults reasoned with childrennot beat them.»
«Modern parenting ruins kids! Theyll walk all over you! And youwhipped by your wife! I came to help! Ive surgery next week thought you might stay with me»
«Surgery?» he frowned.
«Serious,» she sighed. «Doctors say something must be removed.»
«What exactly, Mum?»
«Never mind! I need support! Perhaps you could stay with me? The house is big Emily can remain here if she likes.»
James shook his head.
«Mum, is this why you came? To split up my family?»
The doorbell rang. In stepped a silver-haired manEdward Hartley, Emilys father.
«Hello,» he said, glancing around. «Just popped in to see the grandchildren. Whats all this?»
The children rushed to him.
«Grandad! Gran Margaret hit me!» Sophie cried.
«Stay out of this!» Margaret snapped. «This is family business!»
«When someone harms my grandchildren,» Edward said firmly, «its my business too.»
He gestured to the sofa.
«Lets talk like adults. Margaret, please sit.»
Something in his tone made her comply.
«You know,» he began, «when Emily married James, I had doubts. Thought him too posh for my girl. But I gave them a chancesaw how they loved each other.»
He turned to Margaret.
«Youre clinging to your son, dictating his lifepushing him away. Now youve turned the grandkids against you.»
«What would you know?» she flared. «I raised James alone! My husband died youngit was all on me!»
«Youre terrified of being alone,» he said gently. «Thats why you invented the surgery.»
Margarets shoulders slumped.
«Just a check-up but I am scared»
«Mum,» James said, «if you needed help, why lie? Why try to wreck what I love?»
«I didnt mean» she faltered. «When I see you happy without me, it feels like youve no need for me»
«Youre my mother,» he said firmly. «Of course I need you. But not like thisangry, controlling. I need you as Mumsomeone who respects my choices and loves my children.»
«I dont know how» she whispered.
«Try,» Edward suggested. «Start by apologising. Children forgive when they see sincerity.»
With effort, Margaret met Sophies eyes.
«Forgive your gran I was wrong.»
To everyones surprise, Sophie nodded.
«Okay but dont do it again. It hurts.»
«I wont,» Margaret promised.
Edward pulled a bottle of homemade elderflower cordial from his bag.
«Now, lets have supper. Ive a Victoria sponge in the carbaked it special for the kids.»
Later, as they sat at the table, the air remained tense but no longer hostile. Margaret watched silently as Emily sliced the cake, James teasing the children.
After supper, Edward suggested,
«Margaret, why not stay with me tonight? Plenty of room. No need to rush things.»
To everyones surprise, she agreed.
As they left, Sophie tugged her sleeve.
«Will you really stop fighting?»
«Yes.»
«Then will you come to my school play? Im a snowflake.»
Something flickered in Margarets eyes.
«Thank you. If your parents allow it, Id love to.»
A month later, the first frost painted the ground white.
At Edwards suggestion, they gathered at his homethe first meeting since the incident. Margaret had agreed to terms: no unsolicited advice, no meddling, no criticism of Emily.
«Ready?» James squeezed Emilys shoulder.
«Ill try.»
Margaret arrived in a simple navy dressnot the flashy outfits shed once worn to upstage Emily.
Over lunch, they stuck to safe topics. After, Edward took the children to show them his stamp collection, leaving the adults alone.
«Ive been seeing a therapist,» Margaret admitted. «Edwards idea Its helped me understand»
She looked at Emily.
«Ive behaved horribly What I did to Sophietheres no excuse. I thought I was losing everything. Instead of fixing it, I made it worse.»
For the first time, Emily saw not a tyrant, but a lonely woman afraid of being abandoned.
«Margaret,» she said slowly, «I cant forget but Ill try to start anew. For James. For the children.»
«Thank you,» Margaret whispered, tears glistening. «Thats more than I deserve.»
Sophie dashed in, clutching a small box.
«Grandad gave me a lucky shilling! Want to see?»
Margaret took it gingerly, as if afraid Sophie might snatch it back.
«Its lovely Thank you for showing me.»
As they prepared to leave, Margaret approached Emily.
«You know I always thought James chose wrong. But now I seehe chose strength. The kind I wished Id had.»
«Youre strong too,» Emily replied. «Just differently.»
That night, after tucking in the children, Emily lingered by the window, watching snowflakes drift. She didnt know how things would unfold with Margaret. But for the first time in years, she felt hope.
And Margaret, back home, opened an old photo album. A faded picture showed young James beaming on her lap.
«Ill try to be better,» she vowed. «For my son. For my grandchildren. And perhaps for myself.»
The road to reconciliation was long. But the hardest step had been taken.
