“Just put up with it, love! Youre part of a new family now, and youve got to respect their ways. You didnt marry him for a holiday, did you?”
“What ways, Mum? Theyre all bonkers! Especially my mother-in-law! She hates meits obvious!”
“Name one mother-in-law whos ever been nice, dear. Weve all been through it. Youll manage.”
“Out gallivanting again, is he? Typical!” Margaret stood in the middle of the kitchen, her face flushed with rage. “If a man strays, its the wifes fault. Do I really have to spell it out for you?”
Margaret was in a right state, screeching at her daughter-in-law, Emily, like a bansheeall because Emily had dared to suspect her husband, Oliver, of stepping out on her.
Emily, a slight young woman with wide, innocent eyes, pressed herself against the wall, trying to reason with the furious woman.
“Margaret, this isnt normal. Hes a married man with children”
“Children? Your lot barely lets us near little Henry!” Margaret scoffed. “And whose fault is that? Yours!”
“Hes only a year old, Margaret. Hes still tiny!”
“Tiny? The Wilsons grandson is younger, and hes already walking and never throws tantrums like yours!”
“Hes your grandson too,” Emily said, her voice trembling. “And children sense bad people. Maybe thats why he doesnt warm to you.”
“Bad people? Oh, thats rich!” Margaret shrieked. “Whos the one living rent-free under our roof? Eating our food, spending our money? Ungrateful little madam!”
Emily had long since given up arguing. Shed begged Oliver a thousand times to move out, but hea proper mummys boysaw no reason to. Why would he? Life at home was cushy. No chores, no responsibilitiesjust work, then back to being waited on hand and foot by his doting parents. A proper dream!
Meanwhile, Margaret made sure Emily earned her keepscrubbing, cooking, listening to endless rants about nosy neighbours. But no matter how hard Emily tried, Margarets disdain never wavered.
“Brought home this useless girl like there were no decent lasses left in Yorkshire,” Margaret would gossip to her neighbour, Doris, while Emilyoverheard every wordpicked up Olivers discarded socks. “Drove halfway to Leeds for her! Waste of petrol, if you ask me.”
“Oh, I know!” Doris clucked. “At least the Wilsons grandsons got manners. Yours just screeches all day. Must be the bloodline.”
The final straw came when Emily left little Henry on the brand-new mustard-yellow sofa for *one minute* to fetch a nappyonly to return and find a small stain. To Margaret, it might as well have been the apocalypse.
“Ruined! My good sofa! Do you know how much this cost? Ought to box your ears!”
“Ill clean it”
“Clean it? Its brand new! Not that youd knowyouve never paid for a thing in your life!”
“Like you ever have!” Emily snapped back.
The sheer *audacity* sent Margaret into orbit. “Scrub that stain, then pack your bags! You and your brat can live in the garden shed till you learn some respect!”
Tears streaming, Emily scrubbed at the stubborn mark while little Henry wailed. Margaret hovered, unleashing a torrent of abuseuntil she froze mid-rant.
A shadow filled the doorway.
Emilys father, Thomassix-foot-four, built like a brick wall, and gripping an axestood there, silent.
Margaret paled. She knew his temper. Knew about his suspended sentence (hed once thumped a bloke for insulting Emily at the pub).
“OhThomas! Lovely to see you! Just giving Emily a bit of advice”
“Advice?” Thomas stepped inside, boots and all, hefting the axe. “Sounded more like a witch trial.” He turned to Emily. “Grab Henry. Youre coming home.”
Margaret spluttered, “Whatll I tell Oliver?”
“Tell him to fetch his wife himself. Well have a *chat*.” The look Thomas gave her couldve frozen hell.
Oliver took his sweet time showing upterrified of his father-in-law. But when he finally did, Thomas didnt shout. Didnt threaten. He just talked, calm as you like, with the axe resting on the table.
Oliver promised theyd move out. Promised his mum would keep her nose out. Promised to be a better husband. And when Thomas shook his hand, Oliver *felt* itthe unspoken *or else*.
From then on, Margaret avoided Emily and Henry like the plague. No more chats, no more ‘hello’s in the street.
Oliver and Emily got their own place. Andwhether it was fear of Thomas or genuine lovethey lived happily ever after. Mostly.
