After glancing at her daughter, Emily spotted red welts from a belt. Something inside her shattered. She gently moved the children aside and stood tall.
Emily was dragging her feet on the way home from work, her mood as grey as the London sky. The autumn wind tugged at her trench coat, and the heavy clouds seemed determined to crush her. But it wasnt the weather weighing her down. An uninvited guest had turned up at their house that morning.
During a crucial meeting with a client, her husband, James, had called:
«Emily, dont be cross, but Ive picked Mum up from Kings Cross. She missed the grandkids. Shes staying a few days.»
Those words sent a chill down Emilys spine. Her mother-in-law, Margaret Whitmore, was a proper handful. In ten years of marriage, Emily had never managed to get on her good side.
«James, we agreed,» she said, keeping her voice steady. «You were supposed to give me notice.»
«Sorry, love. She rang out of the bluesaid she needed tests at St Thomas Hospital. And she wanted to see the kids. I couldnt say no.»
Emily exhaled sharply. Of course he couldnt. James had always been a pushover when it came to his mother, no matter how unreasonable she was.
«Fine. Ill stay late at work. This projects due tomorrow.»
«Dont fret, Mums watching the kids. She brought presents, and Ive got to dashclients systems gone kaput.»
So Emily delayed her return as long as possible. Ahead lay the dreadful prospect of an evening with the woman whod once shoved her and little Oliver into a downpour, accusing her of everything short of starting the Great Fire.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. A text from James:
«Still with the client. Running late. Hows it going?»
Emily sighed and typed back:
«Nearly home. Ill cope.»
Memories of their early marriage flashed through her mind. Back then, theyd lived in Margarets housespacious but as welcoming as a tax audit.
Six years earlier.
Young Emily stood at the stove, stirring stew. Upstairs, baby Oliverbarely five months oldwas wailing. She wiped her hands on her apron, about to hurry up to him, when Margaret swept into the kitchen.
«Cant you hear that child crying?» her mother-in-law snapped.
«I was just going to him,» Emily replied evenly.
«Youre always just going,» Margaret scoffed. «And yet nothings ever done. My James slept like an angel at that age. Must be your side of the family.»
Emily clenched her jaw. Remarks like that were a daily special.
Margaret peered into the pot.
«And whats this slop? James doesnt eat this.»
«Its his favourite,» Emily said. «He asked for it.»
«Rubbish. Im his mother. I know what he likes!»
Margaret seized the pot and dumped its contents down the sink. Emilys eyes stung.
«Why did you do that? I spent ages on it!»
«Dont be dramatic. Go tend to the baby. Ill make a proper dinner for my son.»
When James came home that evening, his mother greeted 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 rubbed his temples.
«Mum, Im sure Emily looks after Oliver.»
«Of course you defend her!» Margaret threw up her hands. «Shes got you wrapped around her finger, and youre happy about it. Im nothing to you now!»
With a dramatic sob, she flounced off to her room. James gave Emily an apologetic look.
«Sorry, shes just worried»
«James, she throws out my cooking,» Emily said quietly. «She tells Oliver Im a bad mother. Its unbearable.»
«Just hang on a bit longer,» he pleaded. «Well move out soon, I promise.»
But weeks became months, and things only worsened.
A honking car snapped her back to the present. Emily blinked and quickened her pace. She was nearly home.
Before she knew it, she was in the lift, pressing her forehead to the cool metal.
«Its just a few days,» she whispered. «Ill manage.»
When the doors opened, a sound froze herfrantic, childlike sobbing. It was Sophie.
She sprinted to the flat, fumbling with her keys. Finally, the door swung open.
The scene left her numb.
In the living room stood Margaret. In her handa belt, which she was using to strike little Sophie. The girl cowered in the corner, weeping. Oliver stood protectively in front of his sister, tears streaking his face.
«Ill teach you to keep your hands off my things!» Margaret hissed, raising the belt again.
Emilys face burned.
«What on earth are you doing?!» she shrieked, rushing to the children.
Margaret turned, unrepentant.
«Oh, youre finally home! Your daughter ruined my new handbaga Mulberry, mind you!and then she cheeked me!»
Emily gathered her trembling children.
«Youre hitting my child?! Have you lost the plot?!»
«Dont tell me how to discipline children!» Margaret snapped. «I raised my son alone! I could sort you out too if youd listen!»
Looking over Sophie, Emily saw the angry red marks. Something inside her snapped.
She gently set 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 because she spilled tea. Then Sophie said hittings wrong, and Gran got even madder»
«Quiet!» Margaret barked, but Emily stepped between them.
«Dont you dare shout at my son! You hit my daughter. Youd have hit him too if he hadnt dodged!»
Just then, the front door opened. James walked in.
«Whats all this? Why are the kids crying?»
Margarets face transformed. Tears welled in her eyes.
«Darling, Emily shouted at me! I only scolded Sophie, and she flew off the handle!»
Jamess eyes locked onto the belt in her hand.
«Mum whats that?»
«I just found it in your old briefcase I was polishing the buckle»
«Dad!» Sophie wailed. «Gran hit me with that belt cos I spilled tea by accident!»
James crouched beside his daughter.
«Show me where it hurts, poppet»
Seeing the marks, he slowly stood. His usually kind eyes turned hard.
«Mum. Youre hitting my children?»
He walked to the shelf and opened a cabinetinside, a security camera blinked.
«We installed this to check on the kids when were out. I just watched the footage.»
Margaret paled.
«James, really! You know how much I adore them! It was just a bit of old-fashioned discipline Back in my day, this was normaland we turned out fine!»
«In your day,» he said coldly, «children shouldnt fear their grandmothers. In your day, adults learn to talk, not lash out.»
«Modern parentings ruined everything! Kids today are spoiled rotten! And you, James, are utterly henpecked! I came to help, you know! Ive got surgery next weekI thought you might stay with me»
«Surgery?» he frowned.
«Serious,» she said gravely. «The doctors say something needs removing»
«What exactly, Mum?»
«Never mind that! I need family around me! I thought perhaps you could stay with me awhile? The house is big Emily can stay here if she likes.»
James shook his head.
«Mum, is that why you came? To try splitting us up again?»
The doorbell rang. In stepped a silver-haired man with warm eyesEdward Harris, Emilys father.
«Hello,» he said, taking in the scene. «Just popped by to see the grandkids Whats all this?»
The children rushed to their grandfather.
«Grandad! Gran hit me with a belt!» Sophie cried.
«Stay out of this!» Margaret snapped. «This is family business!»
«When someone hurts my grandchildren,» Edward said firmly, «its my business too.»
He gestured to the sofa.
«Lets talk like adults. Margaret, sit down.»
Something in his tone made her comply.
«You know,» he began, «when Emily married James, I wasnt thrilled either. Thought he 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, controlling his lifeand pushing him away. Now youre alienating the grandchildren.»
«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 minor check-up But I am scared»
«Mum,» James said softly. «If you need help, just ask. Why lie? Why try to wreck what I love?»
«I didnt mean to» she faltered. «Its just seeing you happy without me, it feels like Im nothing to you»
«Youre my mother,» he said firmly. «Of course you matter. But not like thisangry, controlling. I need you as my mum, who respects my choices and loves my kids.»
«I dont know how else to be» she whispered.
«Try,» Edward suggested. «Start by apologising to the children. Theyll forgive if they see you mean it.»
With effort, Margaret met their eyes.
«Forgive your gran I I was wrong.»
To everyones surprise, Sophie nodded.
«Okay but dont do it again. It hurts.»
«I wont,» Margaret promised.
Edward pulled a flask from his bag.
«Now, lets all have tea. Ive got a Victoria sponge in the carbaked it special for the kids.»
Later, as they sat around the table, the air was still tense but softer. Margaret watched silently as Emily sliced the cake and James made the children giggle.
After tea, Edward spoke up.
«Margaret, why dont you come with me tonight? Ive plenty of room. No need to rush things.»
She agreed, to everyones surprise.
As they left, Sophie tugged her grandmothers sleeve.
«Will you really stop fighting?»
«Yes.»
«Then will you come to my nativity play? Im an angel.»
Something flickered in Margarets eyes.
«Thank you If your parents say yes, Id love to.»
A month passed. The first frost coated London in silver.
Today was their first proper gathering since the incident. At Edwards suggestion, they met at his house. Margaret had agreed to the rules: no unsolicited advice, no meddling, no criticising Emily.
«Ready?» James squeezed Emilys shoulder.
«Ill manage,» she said.
When they arrived, Margaret was already there, wearing a simple navy dressnot the usual attention-seeking ensemble.
Over lunch, they stuck to safe topics. Afterward, Edward took the kids to show them his stamp collection, leaving the adults alone.
«Ive been seeing a therapist,» Margaret admitted suddenly. «Edwards idea Its helped me understand a few things.»
She looked at Emily.
«Ive been awful all these years And what I did to Sophie theres no excuse. I just 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 terrified of being left behind.
«Margaret,» she said carefully. «I cant pretend its all forgotten but Ill try to start fresh. For James. For the kids.»
«Thank you» Margarets eyes shone. «Thats more than I deserve.»
Sophie burst in, clutching a coin.
«Grandad gave me a lucky sixpence! 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 married the wrong woman. But now I seeI was wrong. He chose someone strong. The sort I wanted to be.»
«Youre strong too,» Emily replied. «Just differently.»
That night, after tucking the children in, Emily stood by the window, watching snowflakes dance. She didnt know what the future held with Margaret. But for the first time in years, she felt hope.
And Margaret, back at home, opened an old photo album. In a faded picture, little James beamed on her lap.
«Ill do better» she vowed. «For my son. For my grandchildren. And perhaps for myself.»
The road to forgiveness was long. But the first stepthe hardest onehad been taken.
