My motherinlaw had forgotten to cancel an appointment, and Emily overheard her conversation with her son.
Emily was dusting the photographs on the dresser when she heard Andrews steps echo down the hallway. March had turned out damp, and even with the central heating on, the chill clung stubbornly to the twobedroom flat they shared in Birmingham.
On the windowsill wilted pansies were the only reminder of that warm May when they had only just wed.
Andrew shuffled into the kitchen in old jeans and a stretchedout Tshirt, his hair standing in every direction, a faint pillow imprint still visible on his cheek.
Already up? he asked, reaching for the kettle. I thought we could sleep in a bit longer on Saturday.
Sleep, Emily hung the rag on the hook by the sink. Your mother called twice already. She wants to know when well come help with the cottage.
Andrew coughed. Outside a flock of sparrows darted past, while a dog barked somewhere in the back garden.
What did you tell her?
I said wed think about it, Emily fetched a block of cheese from the fridge and began arranging it on plates. But I dont see why we should be driving out every weekend. Isnt Victor, Margarets son, a fulltime hand?
He works two shifts, Andrew sat down and dusted the cheese with a little sugar. He never has a day off.
Never, indeed, Emily settled beside him. And Im supposed to be carefree? I work, you know.
Andrew fell silent, sipped his tea, and stared out the window. In the flat opposite, a neighbour was fiddling with a bicycle on his balcony, turning the wheels and pulling the chain.
Do you remember how we first met your family? Emily asked, biting into a slice of bread. I thought they were so hospitable back then
***
That September had been unusually warm. Emily sold fabrics in a small shop on the high street, while Andrew was a fitter at the car plant. They had been courting for six months, and now it was time for the families to meet.
My mothers been looking forward to this, Andrew said, smoothing the collar of his shirt. Shes been preparing all week.
Margarets flat was on the third floor of a fivestorey block. The moment Emily stepped into the hallway she was hit by the smell of bleach and cat litter, and crude graffiti scrawled on the walls.
Come in, lovebirds!
Margaret met them at the landing in a smart floral dress, her hair neatly pinned. The flat exuded a cosy, oldage charm: vases of fresh flowers on every mantel, candy jars on the shelves, a patchwork rug on the floor, and an antique television draped in a lace covering.
Oh, what a beauty! the motherinlaw exclaimed, eyeing Emily. Ive just made borscht. Emily, could you set the table for me, please?
She thrust a stack of plates into Emilys hands. Before she could blink, Emily was already at the kitchen sink.
In the sitting room, Andrews brother lounged on the sofa. He was in his midtwenties, lean, with a faint scruff and a detached stare.
Hello, he grunted.
The evening passed with Margaret repeatedly asking Emily to pass sauces, slice bread, clear the dishes, while Victor sat on the sofa, occasionally nodding at his mother and mumbling in response to her questions.
My Victor is such a good helper, Margaret chirped as her son went out onto the balcony to have a smoke. Hes only weary from work, so I dont ask him to do more.
A month later the wedding took place. Few guests turned up, but the day was warm and heartfelt. When it came time for gifts, Margaret solemnly presented the newlyweds with two modest parcels.
Emily received a cheap blue blouse with sequins, clearly a bargainbin find. Andrew got a leather belt in a tidy box.
Sorry its so modest, Margaret said, her voice trembling a little. My pension is small, just enough to get by
Victor sighed and turned to the window. Emily bit her tongue, wanting to ask where her unemployed brother had got such expensive shoes.
***
Six months passed. Emily fell into a routine of cooking, cleaning and laundry. Andrew sometimes did double shifts and came home exhausted; she tried not to trouble him further.
Margaret began dropping by every two days, usually around eight in the morning, just as Emily was about to leave for work.
My carpet is completely matted. Could you take it out onto the balcony and give it a good brush? My back aches and I cant lift heavy things.
Or:
Could you pop into Tesco? I need milk and a loaf of bread. My feet swell if I walk too far.
Emily complied without protest, lugging the heavy carpet that had clearly been handed down from Margarets own mother.
Next door lived Victor, a healthy lad who spent his days at home playing video games. Margaret never asked him for anything.
You mustnt trouble Victor, she would say. Hes tired from work, even if he rests between shifts.
One Thursday, Emily returned from the shop with heavy bags and saw Margaret on the stairwell.
Just in time! Potatoes are on sale at the market. Grab a bag, would you? My rheumatism makes it hard to move
Emily inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, and met Margarets gaze.
No!
What do you mean no? Margaret asked, perplexed.
It means exactly that. Your son sits at home let him stay there. Im not your servant.
What followed was something one might call a theatrical tirade. Margarets face twisted, every wrinkle on her neck becoming visible.
Ungrateful! Lazy! How dare you! she shouted, racing to her flat, snatching Emilys jacket and flinging it onto the floor. Here, take this for your audacity!
She turned and stalked back inside.
Emily stood in the hallway, looking at the crumpled jacket, and wondered what she was really grateful for a cheap blouse? Endless errands? Being treated like free domestic help?
***
Three days of silence followed. No one knocked, no one called. Emily even savoured the unexpected peace. She could enjoy breakfast without hurrying, sit with a book in the evening. Andrew noticed the change too.
Mom hasnt shown up for a while, he said over dinner, twirling spaghetti on his fork.
I dont miss her, Emily admitted honestly.
On the fourth day, while Emily was frying cutlets, Andrews phone rang shrill as a fire alarm.
Turn the volume up, she said, stirring onions.
Son, Ive lived this long
Again the same old story, Emily thought, rolling her eyes.
and the daughterinlaw gets nothing no help for an old woman, no trips to the shop. I sit here alone, unwanted
Andrew scratched his head, frowned.
Mother, spare us the drama. I know you well enough.
Shes hurt me!
When did I hurt you? Emily snapped. I only mentioned Victor
Dont touch Victor! Margaret exploded. If he stays at home, thats how it should be!
Thats what gets me! Andrew finally burst. You treat him like a crystal vase his whole life!
A heavy silence fell, broken only by the sizzle of oil in the pan.
Fine, dear, Margarets voice turned icy. If you dont want to ruin my birthday, lets end this once and for all.
Andrew hung up and stared out the window.
Sometimes I think Mum lives in her own world, he mused. There Victor is a perpetual child to be shielded, while everyone else are merely extras in her play.
Emily pressed her cheek against his shoulder. The air smelled of burnt oil. She lunged for the stove and cursed.
***
That evening Andrew stood mute, looking as if the whole world owed him an apology.
Are you standing like a statue? Emily snapped. Fine, fine! Ill make peace with your mother.
Andrew turned, smiled, satisfied that he had won.
The next morning Emily measured a few drops of valerian into a glass, downed it in one gulp, twisted the phone in her hand, and finally called Margaret.
The first ring. The second. On the third, a voice answered.
Hello.
Good day, Margaret Im calling to apologise for the incident. I was wrong.
A long pause stretched, making Emily wonder if the line had died.
I was expecting that, Margaret finally said. So, will you help me with my birthday?
Of course, with pleasure!
Splendid. Ill send you the menu. Goodbye.
Emily was about to hang up when she heard faint voices behind her. Margaret must have forgotten to end the call and was now speaking to someone else.
Emily froze, phone pressed to her ear.
Now, Victor, see how it turned out? Margarets voice floated. Weve got our little princess all set
A chill ran down Emilys spine.
now shell be silk.
Exactly, Victors voice replied. She thought she was the cleverest here.
Emily clenched the phone until the plastic creaked.
Know your place.
Dont worry, Victor muttered. If anything, Ill give her another set of wheels.
It turned out her cars tyres were flat, so she had to call a cab to avoid being late for work.
Right, lets go for tea, Margaret said. Itll get cold otherwise.
Silence fell over the flat. Emily slipped the phone into her pocket and leaned against the wall.
Well then, dear relatives, she whispered to herself. Fancy a game? Lets see who really runs the house.
A crow swooped past the window and perched on a branch. It was time to show who held the true reins.
***
Margarets birthday fell on a Saturday. From dawn Emily darted about the kitchen, chopping salads and frying meat. By two oclock the flat was full of guests: neighbours from the block, a distant cousin from York, former colleagues. About ten men gathered.
This is all Victor and I have prepared! the birthday lady chirped, flitting between tables. Three days straight of hard work!
Emily quietly arranged plates, listening as Margaret told the guests:
And the daughterinlaw, you see, even refused to peel the potatoes. She says shell never do it. What a lazy one
After the customary toasts and a mountain of presents, the guests began eating.
A neighbour coughed, then a distant relative seized a glass of water. Others grimaced, gulping water between bites.
Lord, why is everything so salty? a colleague exclaimed. Its impossible to eat!
My tongue is numb! another agreed. Its as if Ive drunk sea water!
All eyes turned to Margaret, who flushed and stared at Emily with round eyes.
Its the daughterinlaws fault! she blurted. She
What daughterinlaw? a neighbour interjected. You just praised her for helping with the cooking!
A heavy hush settled. Emily rose slowly from her seat.
If you wanted me to be a docile servant, your play has failed.
She headed for the door but stopped beside Victor.
Give me back the money for the tyres, down to the penny!
Andrew stood with his mouth open. The guests froze like stone pillars. Emily, head held high, slipped out of the flat, quietly closing the door behind her.
Something clattered behind her, and the birthday woman let out a startled gasp.
***
The sun sank toward the horizon. Emily sat in her favourite armchair by the window, sipping tea and savoring the aftertaste of Margarets birthday. The front door opened and Andrew returned.
What on earth was that? he asked, pausing in the living room doorway.
Emily placed the cup on the sill and simply smiled. Outside, street lamps had been lit. It was late March, and the air carried the fresh scent of spring. Pigeons perched on the wiring, and in the distance church bells rang, their toll sounding solemn and yet somehow celebratory.
