“Make up a bed for your grandfather in the shed! I wont have you embarrassing me in front of my friends!” snapped my mother-in-law.
“Emily, remember I told you my friends from Spain are coming to stay for a few days?” she added, hovering over me as I worked at my computer.
I lifted my tired eyes from the screen, forcing a polite smile and a nod. I was exhausted, and I hadnt even finished the designs for the new clothing line Id been developing from scratch. Work had piled up, and even at home, every spare moment went into it. My eyes stung, and my vision blurred now and then. I needed a breakjust to step outside, sit on the garden swing, and breathe. That was the plan, but I had no idea my mood would be ruined beyond repair in minutes.
“Of course, I remember. Theyre arriving tomorrow, right?”
“Actually, today,” she huffed, tilting her chin up.
“Oh! Ive been drowning in worklost track of the days. Do you need help with anything? Cooking? Cleaning?”
“Ive already handled everything. Didnt want to wait around for your help. But thats not why Im here. Heres the thingyoull make up a bed for your grandfather in the shed. He can stay there for a couple of days. The loos just outside, and you can take him food. No one will even notice him. Well just say hes the gardener we took in. You understand, these friends are important, and I wont be made to look a fool in front of them.”
Her words werent a requestthey were an order, delivered with a sour twist of displeasure. And if I dared refuse, thered be hell to pay.
“Margaret, what on earth are you saying? How could Grandad possibly embarrass you?” I bristled, my cheeks flushing.
Shed never gotten along with my grandfather, Arthur Wilkins. Hed always tried to avoid quarrels with her, calling her “a right battle-axe,” but tension hung thick between them.
“You heard me. Isnt it clear? I wont be embarrassed! That old mans a mess. Cant even eat without coughing or spilling something all over the table.”
“Thats because he has trouble swallowinganything too solid makes him choke. And his hands shake from years at the factory. You know this! Despite that, hes a good man. I dont understand why youd be ashamed of him. Whats he got to do with you?”
“Emily, dont you dare raise your voice at me! Have I ever done you wrong? Its a simple favour, but if helping your mother-in-law is too much, mark my wordsIll remember this. I raised my son right, handed him over to you, and this is the thanks I get?”
Thered been no shouting, but Margaret had a knack for twisting things.
With another haughty lift of her chinas if it could go any highershe stormed out, slamming the door behind her. Why did she always have to flounce off in a huff?
I was fuming. How could she even ask such a thing? Nonot ask. Demand. The sheer disdain in her voice for Grandad made my blood boil. I decided to speak to my husband, James, the moment he got home for lunch.
After checking on Grandad, scolding him for whittling his wooden boxes without proper light, and sharing a small laugh over old memories, I felt a little better.
James arrived, but Margaret hovered, nagging him to leave work early to pick up her friends from the airport.
“Mum, Emily can drive. Sort it with her. I cant leaveweve got a massive order due. Might even have to stay late.”
“You promised me! I hardly ever ask for anything. It matters that my son picks them up!” she snapped before flouncing off again.
James caught my sigh. “Whats wrong, love?”
“Your mums acting like this visit is life or death. Today, she ordered me to make Grandad sleep in the shed because shes worried hell embarrass her. James, this is too much, dont you think?”
He exhaled sharply, rubbing his neck. His mothers behaviour baffled him. Lately, shed been crossing every line, and her boldness knew no bounds. Maybe shed always been like this. Sometimes, he wondered if his father had left not because he was the villain she painted him to be, but because he couldnt stand her sharp tongue.
“What did you say?”
“I refused. Its not right.”
“Youre right. If she pulls this again, Ill talk to her. Promise.”
He kissed my cheek and hurried off, swamped at work.
Since James couldnt leave early, I ended up driving Margaret to the airport. Tension simmered between us, ready to boil over. I hated conflict, but Margaret thrived on imagined slights, pouting over nothing while I scrambled to keep the peace.
Grandad had raised me to be kind, patient. Hed taken me in when my parents died, never complaining, even when he worked extra jobs to buy me a laptop for my design work. Margaret understood none of it. She expected the world to revolve around her, demanding attention, insisting James owed her for raising him. She even hinted I should be grateful shed “allowed” him to marry meas if he hadnt chosen me himself.
“Wait here in the car. Ive got a work meeting in the group chat,” I said at the airport.
“What? You expect me to haul their bags alone? Not a chance! James would never abandon me like this!”
Gritting my teeth, I followed her.
Her friends were insufferablejust like her. They piled their bags onto me while she walked empty-handed. I seethed inside. Shed crossed too many lines.
Back home, James was still working late. Margaret gave her guests a grand tour, whispering God-knows-what.
Cracking the window for air, I overheard her boasting:
“All this is my Jamess doing. Such a good son. Hes sending me to a seaside spa this summerI deserve it, slaving away here. Emilys always glued to her computer, so the housework falls on me. Thats why I live with them. Heaven knows whatll happen when they have kidstheyll dump them on me, no doubt!”
Her friends clucked sympathetically, calling me lazy. It stung. The truth? Margaret barely lifted a finger. She lazed about watching telly while I juggled work and chores. James and I cleaned on weekends, and Grandad even vacuumedeverywhere except her room.
“Who was that old man peeking from the bedroom?” one friend asked.
“Oh, him? Just some homeless bloke James took pity on. Lets him work as a gardener.”
That was the last straw. I called James, furious. I wouldnt tolerate her guestsor herin our home any longer. Her “never-ending flat renovation” was an excuse. She just preferred our house to her noisy neighbours.
James promised to handle it.
At dinner, he stood, helping Grandad up.
“James, I can manage,” Grandad protested.
“Mr. Wilkins, were honoured to live in this house you built with your own hands,” James said pointedly.
Margaret turned purple. The house was Grandadssomething shed conveniently forgotten.
After James escorted Grandad out, I turned to her guests.
“Now, lets get you settledin the shed. No spare rooms left.”
Margaret spluttered. “What nonsense! I prepared the guest room!”
“Thats for Jamess mate helping with renovations. Remember?”
She choked on outrage and shame. Her lies had unravelled.
“James, whats this farce?” she shrieked when he returned.
He wrapped an arm around me. “You wanted Mr. Wilkins in the shedfigured it must be fit for royalty if its good enough for the owner of this house.”
Her friends scrambled for taxis, refusing to stay. Margaret hissed that wed humiliated her, vowing never to speak to us again.
“You started this, Mum. Grandad never threw you out. Emily bent over backwards for you. But you turned your back on them. Time you went home.”
Margaret flounced off, chin high, pretending it was her choice.
It left a bitter taste, but Id had to stand up for Grandadand myself. James, bless him, stood by me. He hated conflict too, but sometimes, youve got to bring people back down to earth.
And thats exactly what wed done.
