**The Tale of a Mother-in-Law.** – You won’t believe who I’ve just met.
Katie dashed home, scrubbed her hands, and hurried straight to the kitchen. Her parents were already seated at the table.
She apologised for being late to lunch and launched into her thrilling news. “You won’t believe it—my brother’s got himself a girlfriend! She’s lovely, bubbly, and ginger-haired—like sunshine itself. Her name’s Poppy. Works at the car wash where we take the car. That’s how they met. Seems serious between them. Isn’t that fantastic?” Katie chattered away.
Simon, her father, looked up from his plate and grinned. “Good to hear. I was starting to wonder about his preferences.” Katie’s mother, Helen, huffed at her husband’s remark and frowned at the thought of her son dating a car wash girl.
“Honestly, what sort of girl works there? Only those who couldn’t get hired anywhere else. No education, no manners, no class. And they’re all so… rough. ‘Car wash attendants’—that says it all. None of them are good enough for our boy,” Helen muttered, unable to let it go.
Simon disagreed. “Now, now, that’s unfair. People are different. Maybe she’s just working part-time while studying. There’s no shame in honest work—shows she understands the value of money. At least she won’t be pestering our son for handouts. You haven’t even met her! She might be sweet. I doubt our lad would pick just anyone.”
But Helen was already scheming. “Well, I’ll go and see this ‘beauty’ for myself. I’ll find out what she’s playing at, latching onto our boy. I’ll make sure she’s sacked—she’s got no business eyeing up well-off lads. Let her find some penniless bloke instead.”
True to her word, Helen marched into the car wash the next day. She kicked up a fuss straight away, demanding to see this “Poppy” who was “throwing herself” at her son. She insisted the girl be fired for “flirting with customers.” But Marina, who greeted her at the door, said she didn’t know any Poppy—perhaps she worked a different shift—and suggested Helen return tomorrow.
Fuming, Helen had no choice but to leave empty-handed, as the saying goes, “without so much as a thank you.” But she vowed to return.
Meanwhile, Marina pulled Poppy aside. “You shouldn’t mix with customers—you could lose your job over this, you know.”
Poppy sighed. “James and I have been together a year. I never meant to get involved, but he was so persistent. Now he wants me to meet his parents, but I’d rather finish uni, land a proper job first. I need this work—I’m paying my own way through uni, and I won’t take money from my folks.”
Marina promised not to report the incident but warned Poppy to ask James to rein in his mother. That evening, James confronted Helen the moment he stepped in.
“What’s your game? Trying to drive Poppy and me apart? She’s only at the car wash temporarily. There’s dignity in all work, Mum. You don’t even know her—she’s kind, clever, and I love her. If you ever set foot there again, I’m moving out, taking Poppy with me, and you won’t see either of us. Stay out of my relationship. I’m marrying her. That’s final.”
Helen said nothing. She knew her son—he never made idle threats. If he said it, he’d do it. Unwilling to lose him, she let it go.
Two years later, James and Poppy married. The wedding was splendid—Helen even boasted that Poppy had helped organise it. She’d turned out brilliantly: graduated with first-class honours, landed a firm job, and earned as much as James. And now, she was three months pregnant. James had practically begged her to marry him—Poppy had wanted to live together first.
As Simon led Helen onto the dance floor, he whispered, “We’re lucky, love—just like our boy.”
So tell me—should a mother really pick her son’s bride?
