A New Year’s Surprise for the Mother-in-Law
Sitting around the New Year’s dinner table at my mother-in-law Margaret’s house, I, Emily, was happily tucking into her famous prawn cocktail and looking forward to Big Ben’s chimes at midnight. Then, out of nowhere, my husband, James, pulled out an envelope from his pocket and handed it to his mum with a grin: “Mum, here’s tickets to Spain—you’ve always dreamed of the sea! And coach tickets to London so you can get to the airport easily.” I nearly dropped my fork in shock. Spain? London? My James, who usually sticks to flowers and chocolates for gifts, had somehow arranged a proper holiday for her? I just sat there blinking, my mind racing—when had he planned all this, and why was I, his wife, the last to know?
James and I have been married five years, and every New Year’s we spend it at his parents’ house. Margaret’s a lively woman—spent her whole career as a schoolteacher, and now in retirement, she keeps busy with her garden and volunteering. She’s always going on about how she dreamed of travelling when she was younger but never got further than Cornwall. “Oh, to see the sea, maybe even the Alhambra!” she’d sigh, showing us old postcards of Spain. I always thought it was just talk—like saying you’d love to go to the moon. But James, turns out, was actually listening. And me? Completely clueless he was cooking up this massive surprise.
That night, the table was absolutely loaded—prawn cocktail, roast turkey, Yorkshire puds, mince pies—Margaret had gone all out. We were all there, laughing, raising glasses, everything perfectly normal. I’d been helping her in the kitchen, chopping veggies, when suddenly James stood up like he was about to make a toast—then pulled out that envelope. “Mum,” he said, “you’ve spent your whole life looking after us. Now it’s your turn.” Margaret opened it, read it, and her eyes went all shiny. “Jamie, is this real? Spain? I—I only ever dreamed of it!” She nearly cried, hugging him tight, while I sat there, completely gobsmacked.
Honestly, I was stunned. Not that I minded—Margaret absolutely deserves a holiday like that; she’s a wonderful woman. But why hadn’t James breathed a word to me? We plan our budget together, pick gifts together! I’d got her a nice scarf and hand cream, and here he was with tickets to Spain! It’s like showing up with a bunch of daisies while he walks in with a diamond necklace. I smiled, congratulated her, but inside, I was fuming. Later, when we were alone in the kitchen, I hissed, “James, when did you even sort this? And why didn’t you tell me?” He just shrugged. “Em, wanted it to be a surprise for Mum. You’d have started arguing about the cost.” Arguing? I might’ve actually agreed if I’d known!
Margaret was over the moon. She started planning straight away: “I’ll need a new sunhat—that Spanish sun’s fierce! And a proper suitcase—mine’s falling apart.” I nodded along, but all I could think was: bloody hell, James, you sneaky thing! He’d even sorted the coach to London so she wouldn’t have to fuss with train changes. Sweet, sure, but I couldn’t shake the feeling I’d been left out. I’d have loved to chip in, add something myself—feel part of the joy instead of just clapping from the sidelines.
On the drive home, I finally snapped. “James, it’s brilliant, but I’m your wife. You could’ve told me. This isn’t just a gift—it’s a whole trip!” He looked at me like I was being childish. “Em, don’t be mad. I wanted Mum to be surprised. You’d have let it slip.” Let it slip? I can keep a secret! But no use arguing—James was glowing with pride, and I just felt a bit cheated. Not about the money, but because he hadn’t shared the excitement with me.
The next day, I rang my mate Sarah to vent. She laughed: “Emily, your James is a surprise genius! Be glad your mother-in-law’s off to Spain and not stuck weeding her garden!” I giggled, but it still stung. Sarah’s advice? “Tell him next time, he’d better surprise you too.” Maybe I should drop a hint—I wouldn’t mind a beach holiday either. But then I thought—fine, let Margaret have this. She deserves it. And I’ll have a word with James about not springing things on me last-minute.
Now, Margaret rings every day, gushing about swimsuits and guidebooks. I listen, smile, and the annoyance slowly fades. She’s just so happy—how can I stay cross? James, seeing me thaw, winked: “Em, next year, all three of us go, promise.” All three? Now that’s more like it. Maybe this surprise wasn’t just for Margaret—but a lesson for me, too, that my husband’s full of surprises. For now, I just watch Margaret glowing like a kid on Christmas and think—let her have her seaside dream. And maybe I’ll start saving for our own holiday. Just as long as James remembers to tell me about it first!
