“Make up the guest room for your grandad! I wont be embarrassed in front of my friends!” snapped my mother-in-law.
“Emily, remember my friends from Spain are arriving soon? Theyll be staying with us for a few days,” she added, leaning over my shoulder as I worked on my laptop.
I tore my tired eyes from the screen and gave a quiet nod. I was exhaustedstill finishing designs for a new clothing line Id been developing from scratch. The workload was heavy, and even at home, every spare moment was spent working. My eyes burned, and sometimes the screen blurred. A short break was overduemaybe a stroll into the garden, a sit on the swing, some fresh air. That was the plan, at least, until my mood soured within minutes.
“Of course, I remember. Theyre coming tomorrow, right?”
“Actually, today,” she huffed, tilting her chin up.
“Oh! Ive been buried in worklost track of the days. Do you need help with anything? Cooking? Cleaning?”
“Ive already sorted everything. Not that I got much help. But thats not why Im here. I need you to set up the guest room for your grandfather. He can stay there a couple of days. Theres a loo just outside, and you can take him mealsnothing drastic. Keep him out of sight. Well say hes the gardener weve taken in. Understand? These friends are important, and I wont be humiliated in front of them.”
The words werent a request. They were a demand, edged with irritation, making it clear that defiance would bring consequences.
“Margaret, what on earth are you saying? How could my grandfather embarrass you?” I flared up, cheeks burning.
Shed never gotten along with GrandadGeorge, a kind but frail man who avoided confrontation, though the tension between them was always there.
“You heard me. Isnt it obvious? That old mans a mess. Cant even eat without coughing or spilling something!”
“Because he has swallowing issues! And his hands shake from years at the factory. You know this. Hes a good manI dont understand why youre acting like this. How could he possibly shame you?”
“Emily, dont you dare raise your voice at me! After all Ive done? I asked one small thing, and if you cant even do that for your mother-in-law, mark my words, I wont forget. I raised my son, handed him to you, and this is the thanks I get?”
No shouting had happened, but Margaret had her own version of reality.
Chin raised impossibly higher, she stormed out, slamming the dooranother one of her habits.
I was fuming. How could she even suggest such a thing? Noshe hadnt suggested, shed ordered. The disdain in her voice was unbearable. I decided to speak with my husband, James, as soon as he got home for lunch.
Checking on Grandad, I scolded him for tinkering with his wooden boxes under dim light.
“Just finishing this bit of carving, love. Then Ill rest,” he said with a warm smile.
“Remember when I used to say, Just one more page and youd tell me off?” I teased.
He laughed, and for a moment, things felt lighter.
James arrived, but Margaret hovered, insisting he leave work early to fetch her friends from Heathrow.
“Mum, Emily can drive. Im swampedmight even work late.”
“You promised! I barely ask anything of you! I want my son to fetch them!”
Sulking, she left. James, sensing trouble, turned to me.
“Love, whats wrong?”
“Your mothers acting like this visit is life or death. She demanded I move Grandad to the guest room because shes afraid hell embarrass her. James, this is too much.”
He exhaled sharply, rubbing his neck. His mothers behaviour baffled himshed always pushed boundaries, but lately, shed grown bolder. Sometimes he wondered if his father had left for a reason.
“What did you say?”
“I refused. Its not right.”
“Youre right. If she tries this again, Ill handle it.”
He kissed my cheek and left, work piling up without him.
Since James couldnt leave early, I drove Margaret to the airport. Tension hung thick between us.
“Wait in the car. Ive got a work call,” I said, parking.
“What? You expect me to carry their bags alone? James would never abandon me!”
Gritting my teeth, I followed.
Her friends were insufferableentitled, just like her. They loaded me with luggage while she walked empty-handed. My patience snapped.
At home, Margaret showed off “her sons” house, boasting to her friends about how hard-done-by she was.
“Hell send me to the seaside this summer. I do so muchEmily just sits at her laptop while I run this house! And heaven help me when they have childrenitll all fall on me!”
Her friends clucked sympathetically. It stung. The truth? She lazed in front of the telly, barking orders while I juggled work and chores. James and I cleaned on weekends, and Grandad even vacuumedeverywhere but her room.
“Who was that old man peeking from the bedroom?” one friend asked.
“Oh, just some homeless chap James took in. The gardener.”
That was the last straw. I called James, furious.
“I wont tolerate her guestsor her. Its time she went back to her flat.”
James agreed. He greeted her friends coolly, then helped Grandad to his room.
“Let me get you settled, George. Were honoured to live in your home.”
Margaret turned purple. The house was Grandadsa fact shed “forgotten.”
I stood, addressing her friends. “Let me show you to the guest room. Were short on space.”
Margaret spluttered. “What? I prepared the guest room!”
“Its neededJamess mate is helping with renovations.”
Her friends exchanged glances, hastily calling a taxi.
“James, what is this?” she shrieked.
He wrapped an arm around me. “You suggested moving George out. If the guest rooms fit for him, surely its fit for your friends.”
They left in a huff. Margaret packed, acting as if it was her decision.
“You humiliated me! I wash my hands of you!”
“You started this, Mum,” James said calmly. “George never made you leave. Emily bent over backwards for you. But you turned your back on them. Its time you went home.”
She stormed off, chin high, but the message was clear. Id had enough of being a doormat. James stood by meready to fight for our family. Sometimes, people need bringing down to earth. And today, wed done just that.
