Emily flinched as the phone rang sharply. The screen flashed “Margaret Hayes” – her mother-in-law calling for the third time that morning. Taking a deep breath, Emily braced herself and answered.
“Yes, Margaret?”
“Emily dear, why aren’t you picking up?” Margaret’s voice dripped with disapproval. “I’ve been calling and calling!”
“I was making breakfast for Lily, my hands were full,” Emily lied, though she simply didn’t want to rehash the hundredth debate about parenting.
“Still on about porridge? I told you—children need meat! My William grew up on proper meals, look how strong he is! Your Lily is so pale, she’ll be blown away by the wind!”
Emily closed her eyes and counted to five. Their daughter was perfectly healthy—just slight, like her father’s side of the family.
“Margaret, she eats meat too. We’re having meatballs for lunch.”
“Finally! That’s why I called. I’ll drop by later with some homemade chicken soup—proper stock, just how William likes it. And I’ve made my special shepherd’s pie. None of those store-bought shortcuts…”
Emily winced at the disdain in her voice, as if she’d suggested feeding the child poison.
“There’s no need—we have everything sorted.”
“Oh, nonsense! A grandmother should visit her granddaughter. You won’t deny me that, will you?”
Classic Margaret—framing it so any refusal would seem impossibly rude.
“Of course, come over,” Emily surrendered.
Hanging up, she leaned her forehead against the cool windowpane. Outside, sparse snowflakes drifted onto bare tree branches. November was grey and miserable.
“Mummy, who was that?” Lily peeked out from her room, clutching a worn teddy bear.
“Granny’s coming today,” Emily said brightly.
“Will she say I don’t eat enough again?” Lily frowned.
Emily’s heart ached. Even a child noticed the constant criticism.
“Granny just loves you very much and wants you to be strong.”
Lily didn’t look convinced but nodded and went back to her toys.
Emily cleaned furiously. Though she and William preferred a relaxed, creative mess, their flat had to gleam before Margaret’s visits—or risk commentary about “raising germs in squalor.”
By noon, she’d mopped floors, dusted, and even baked an apple pie—the one dish Margaret ever praised.
William was due back from work—usually remote, but today he’d gone into the office for a client meeting.
The doorbell rang at exactly two. Margaret, ever punctual, swept in loaded with bags.
“Hello, darling! Where’s my little princess?”
Lily peered out shyly.
“Come here, sweetheart! Granny’s brought treats!”
Lily approached and dutifully held out her hand—a habit Margaret had insisted upon, claiming young ladies should be “proper.”
“We kiss hands at sixteen, dear,” Margaret tutted, hugging her instead. “Just say hello to Granny like a normal child.”
Emily rolled her eyes when Margaret wasn’t looking. Contradictions were her specialty.
“Let me help with those bags,” Emily offered.
“Take them to the kitchen. I’ve made so much! William needs proper meals, not whatever scraps he gets here.”
In the kitchen, Margaret took charge immediately.
“Emily, fetch the large pot. No, not that flimsy one—a proper one! And why is bread in the fridge? It goes stale like that!”
Emily obeyed patiently. After six years of marriage, she was used to Margaret’s certainty about “the right way.”
“Lily looks peaky. Do you take her outside? Give her vitamins?”
“We go out daily, weather permitting. And she takes the paediatrician’s recommended vitamins.”
“Paediatricians!” Margaret scoffed. “What do they know? In my day…”
Here we go, Emily thought.
“In my day, children played outside rain or shine! William was out all hours—and look how strong he grew!”
Emily bit her tongue. She could’ve mentioned William’s childhood bronchitis—but why bother?
“I made pie. Tea?”
“Lunch first. Where’s William? He should be here by now!”
As if summoned, the front door clicked open.
“Ah, there he is!” Margaret beamed.
William blinked at the row of shoes in the hall.
“Mum? You didn’t say you were coming.”
“I did! I rang Emily this morning!”
Emily gave him an apologetic look—she’d forgotten to text him.
“Hello, Mum.” He hugged her. “How are you?”
“Oh, mustn’t grumble—blood pressure’s up, ankles swell by evening. But I manage. No point burdening anyone.”
Classic guilt-tripping—”not complaining” while listing ailments, “not burdening” while hinting at neglect.
“Come, eat! I’ve made all your favourites.”
William shot Emily a sympathetic glance. He knew how these visits drained her.
Over lunch, Margaret reminisced about William’s childhood brilliance.
“Reading by four! Reciting poetry beautifully! Lily dear, do you know any poems?”
Lily poked at her plate silently.
“She knows loads,” Emily interjected. “Lily, tell Granny about the owl poem.”
“Don’t want to,” Lily muttered.
“You see?” Margaret sighed dramatically. “So unsociable. She needs nursery—more children!”
“We agreed to wait until she’s four,” William said. “No point rushing.”
“Rushing? You went at two and turned out fine! She’s so shy, barely eats…”
Lily pushed her plate away.
“Can I go play?”
“No—finish your meal,” Margaret commanded.
“Just a few more bites, sweetheart,” Emily encouraged, though she seethed inside.
Lily forced down a mouthful.
“Better,” Margaret nodded. “Honestly, you indulge her. Routine and discipline are vital. When I raised William…”
Cue the monologue about her perfect parenting.
After lunch, Margaret insisted Lily nap.
“Children need daytime sleep! It’s essential!”
Emily wanted to argue—Lily hadn’t napped in months—but William shook his head: easier to comply.
While Margaret “settled” Lily, Emily made tea and sliced the pie.
“Hopeless,” Margaret returned half an hour later. “In my day, children listened!”
Emily clenched her fists.
“She’s just not tired,” William soothed. “Try the pie—Emily made it for you.”
Margaret eyed it suspiciously.
“Not that shop-bought rubbish, I hope?”
“All homemade. Your apples, actually.”
This mollified her slightly.
“You’ve improved. Remember when you couldn’t fry an egg?”
Emily stayed quiet, though she’d lived independently for a decade before marriage.
“William,” Margaret leaned in, “could you pop round this week? The tap’s leaking, and a bulb’s gone in the cupboard. I can’t climb ladders at my age!”
“Of course. Wednesday?”
“Nurse Jenkins visits Wednesday… Tuesday?”
“Client meeting Tuesday.”
Margaret sighed. “I’ll manage. As always.”
Emily gritted her teeth. The perpetual guilt trips.
“I’ll come tonight,” William caved.
Satisfied, Margaret brightened.
“Good! And you can check the wallpaper—it’s been five years. So outdated.”
Emily suddenly noticed the quiet.
“Where’s Lily?”
“Reading. I told her to tidy her toys.”
Emily froze in the doorway. Lily was cutting pictures from a brand-new book—a special order William had waited weeks for.
“Lily! What are you doing?”
Lily looked up, unbothered.
“Granny said I could. She gave me scissors.”
Emily took the ruined book—beautiful illustrations now in pieces.
“Sweetheart, this was new!”
Lily’s lip wobbled. “Granny said…”
Emily inhaled deeply.
“It’s okay. Next time, ask Mummy or Daddy first, alright?”
Back in the kitchen, Margaret was gossiping.
“Margaret,” Emily said evenly, “you gave Lily scissors?”
“Yes? Children need crafts. We made scrapbooks all the time!”
“She ruined her new book!”
“Oh, it’s just paper! Creativity matters more!”
William hesitated, torn.
“Mum, you could’ve asked first.”
Margaret gasped. “I need permission now? Am I a stranger in my own family?”
“Nobody said that,” William tried.
“That’s exactly what’s being said!” Margaret stood. “I cook, I care—and get scolded? I know when I’m not wanted!”
“Margaret,” Emily stood too, “we’re not scolding you. But there are boundaries—”
“Boundaries? Between a grandmother and her grandchild?” Margaret scoffed. “I raised William alone! I know about parenting—unlike some who can’t even cook properly!”
“Mum!” William snapped. “Enough!”
Silence fell. Lily peered in fearfully.
“Granny’s shouting,” she whisperedMargaret softened instantly, patting Lily’s head, and with a stiff goodbye, she gathered her things and left—but they all knew she’d be back next week with another unsolicited lesson and a fresh batch of criticisms, because some battles, like stubborn mothers-in-law, were simply never won.
