Storm in the House: Emily’s Ordeal
Emily had just waved her husband Jack off to work and was looking forward to a quiet moment in their cosy flat in Manchester. But before she could even lie down, the doorbell rang sharply.
“Open up, now!” came the sharp voice of her mother-in-law through the door.
Emily, startled by the harsh tone, opened it. There stood Margaret Whitmore, her eyes blazing with determination.
“Margaret, is everything all right?” Emily asked cautiously, her heart tightening with unease.
“Still asleep, are we? Pack your things—I’m moving in with you!” Margaret declared as if issuing a challenge.
“Moving in? Why?” Emily froze, unable to process the words.
Emily and Jack had been overjoyed—she was five months pregnant. But their happiness was overshadowed by Margaret’s suffocating “care,” which made Emily want to run for the hills.
Margaret had always doted on her son, but her treatment of Emily crossed into meddling. Her words carried the weight of an anvil—every compliment laced with poison.
“I look at you, and I worry,” she announced one day, barging in uninvited.
“Why’s that?” Emily asked, glancing at herself.
“Have you seen yourself in the mirror?” Margaret squinted. “Skinny as a rake! Narrow hips—how will you even give birth? Only your eyes are pretty—that’s clearly what caught our Jack’s attention. The rest? Nothing to speak of.”
Emily was stunned. A compliment? An insult? She didn’t know how to respond.
“I bet you were sickly as a child,” Margaret continued. “What were your parents thinking?”
“I wasn’t sickly!” Emily shot back. “My parents took me on holiday every summer!”
“Exactly—because you were delicate. You’ve just forgotten!” Margaret snapped, as if ending the discussion.
That was her brand of “love”—never kindness without a sting. The only exceptions were her son Jack and daughter Claire, who lived in another city. She adored them unconditionally.
By the seventh month, Emily dreaded Margaret’s visits more than labour itself. She even considered cancelling her birthday party to avoid her. But Jack insisted—
“I want to make you happy, Em. A family celebration is a joyful thing!”
Jack, accustomed to his mother’s ways, didn’t notice how her jabs wore Emily down.
“Em, why don’t we celebrate at home?” he suggested a week before. “Restaurants are crowded, and you shouldn’t risk it in your condition.”
“Why at home?” Emily asked flatly.
“You’ll give birth soon—why expose yourself to germs?”
“Fine,” she sighed. “But no big fuss—I can’t handle cooking.”
“Mum will come early—she’ll help!” he announced cheerfully.
Emily stiffened, her eyes darkening.
“Was this Margaret’s idea?”
“What’s Mum got to do with it? It was mine!”
“Right—as if you’d decide anything without her!” Emily snapped.
“Em, Mum only wants what’s best!”
“Shut it! We’ll celebrate at home, but *my* mum’s helping!”
“Yours has an hour’s drive from the suburbs, while Mum’s just round the corner,” Jack argued.
“Mine are staying the night beforehand!” Emily cut him off.
“What’s your problem?”
“One more word, and I’ll ask them to bring the dog!” she barked.
“You know I can’t stand dogs,” Jack reminded her.
“Exactly!” Emily stormed off, slamming the bedroom door.
The day before the party, Emily’s parents, Elizabeth and Richard, arrived with gifts—vegetables from their garden and baby clothes. Elizabeth knew her daughter wasn’t superstitious, so she’d already been buying baby items. Emily and Jack had bought a cot and pram but kept it from Margaret.
“Mum, don’t mention the baby things in front of Margaret,” Emily whispered.
“She still pestering you with her superstitions?” Elizabeth asked.
“She’s unbearable,” Emily admitted. “Since I went on leave, I flinch at every knock.”
“And Jack?”
“He’s fine—always at work. But his mother…”
“This won’t do,” Elizabeth said firmly. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”
“Mum, don’t!”
“I’ve been a mother for thirty years—I won’t let anyone upset you!”
On the morning of Emily’s birthday, her parents were already bustling in the kitchen.
“Happy birthday, love!” Richard hugged her first.
“Our beautiful girl—be happy!” Elizabeth joined in.
Emily showed off Jack’s gift—a ring and tickets to an exhibition she’d been dreaming of.
“You’ve got a good husband, love!” Richard smiled. “I’d never remember which exhibition Liz fancied.”
“I’ll freshen up and help,” Emily said.
“I’ll get the table ready,” Jack chimed in.
The mood shattered when the intercom buzzed—Margaret had arrived.
“Oh, the in-laws! Fancy seeing you—haven’t visited your pregnant daughter in months. Was the two-hour drive too much?” she sneered.
Elizabeth didn’t hold back.
“Unlike some, we don’t intrude uninvited. At least we send money regularly.”
Margaret scowled but stayed quiet—the barb had hit home. The party was tense, with Emily and Jack struggling to keep the peace.
The next morning, Emily’s parents left. Jack went to work, and Emily headed to bed, desperate for rest. Then the intercom rang again.
“Open up!” Margaret barked.
Wary, Emily let her in.
“Hello, Margaret. Is something wrong?”
“Asleep again? Get up—we’re setting up my room! I’m moving in before the baby comes!”
Emily went numb. Living with Margaret? A nightmare.
“Margaret, there’s no need. Jack and I will manage. Where would you even stay? The living room?”
“Don’t be daft!” Margaret scoffed. “Buy a sofa bed for the nursery—I’ll stay with my grandchild. I’ll handle night feeds, nappies, routines—I’ll raise him properly!”
Emily felt her scalp prickle. Margaret already made life hard—now this?
“I lived in Jack’s student digs while he studied!” Margaret boasted. “Cooked for him, ironed his shirts, even helped with his thesis! Thanks to me, he’s got a good life!”
Trembling, Emily called Jack. He rushed home and took one look at his mother.
“Mum, go home. Don’t move in. I’m a grown man—enough!”
Margaret’s face twisted with hurt. She’d only wanted to help—and now they were throwing her out?
“Ungrateful wretches! You won’t see me again!” She stormed off.
Until the birth, Emily and Jack had peace—Margaret kept away. At the hospital, Emily’s parents were surprised to see Margaret show up. They took photos by the entrance and headed to the young couple’s flat. No grand feast—the baby was too small. Seeing Emily exhausted, her parents prepared to leave.
But Margaret, noticing, declared,
“You two go—I’m staying. They need help!”
Emily nearly cried. Elizabeth, seeing her daughter’s expression, stepped in.
“Margaret, when Claire has children, *she* can have your help. Emily has me. If she needs anything, she’ll call. Should we drop you off?”
“Who do you think you are, kicking me out?” Margaret snapped. “You don’t care about this baby—I do! I’m staying!”
The argument flared. Jack had to intervene, driving his mother home with a firm warning.
“Don’t come back uninvited.”
Margaret argued, but Jack held his ground. They fell out. Now, she waits for an apology—but the young couple won’t bend. They don’t feel guilty, and they’re not rushing to make amends.
