The Mystery of the Promised Gift
In the grand dining hall of a restaurant at the heart of London, the wedding of Eleanor and William was a joyous affair, filled with laughter and music. The guests celebrated as the newlyweds shone brightly, the centre of all attention. When the time came for gifts, Eleanors parents stepped forward first, presenting an envelope stuffed with pounds. Then came Williams mother, Margaret, carrying a bouquet of roses. Leaning close to the couple, she whispered, “My true gift will come after the wedding.” “What do you mean?” asked Eleanor, puzzled, glancing at her husband. “Havent a clue,” William replied, chuckling. But Eleanor could scarcely imagine the game her mother-in-law was playing.
Even before the ceremony, Margaret had dropped mysterious hints. “I wont give you just some trifle,” shed say. “On the wedding day, expect nothing, but afterwardprepare for something grand!” “No rush,” Eleanor replied, uneasy. “Mum, were just glad youre here,” William said, trying to soothe her. “I shant turn up empty-handed at my sons wedding,” Margaret declared firmly. “But dont breathe a word to the rest of the family.” “Agreed,” said William, though Eleanor doubted her mother-in-law would keep her word. She knew Margaret wasnt well off, yet the couple had paid for the wedding themselves, asking for no help. Eleanors parents, despite their modest means, had saved ten thousand pounds for the newlyweds. On the day, Margaret brought only the roses, overshadowed by the toasts and dancing. Yet she shone in her speech, lingering over lengthy blessings like a star demanding applause.
“Youve no idea what Ive prepared,” Margaret murmured at the evenings end, her eyes alight with mystery. “Itll be a surprise to leave you speechless but not yet.” “Its all right, dont fret,” William said, squeezing his wifes hand. “Im rather curious now,” Eleanor admitted, masking her discomfort. “Do you know something I dont?” “Swear I dont,” William shrugged. “But the gift hardly matters. What counts is us being together.” Eleanor nodded, yet curiosity gnawed at her. She tried coaxing hints from Margaret, who only replied with cryptic smiles: “If I tell you, itll spoil the surprise. Just wait!”
Months passed, and the gift never came. What had once been a jest became a thorn in Eleanors side. Eight months after the wedding, she broached the subject. “Oh, you only care about money!” Margaret burst out, her voice quivering with feigned hurt. “Never once do you ask how I am, if I need help!” “If you need anything, just say,” Eleanor replied, startled. But Margaret fell silent, playing the victim and later complaining to her son about his wifes “lack of respect.” “Leave my mother be,” William pleaded. “She made a sceneenough now.” “I only asked out of curiosity! She built up all this expectation!” Eleanor protested.
From then on, Eleanor avoided Margaret, speaking only when necessarywhich only made things worse. “When she thought Id give her expensive things, she was all smiles,” Margaret lamented to William. “Now she realises theres nothing coming, she wont even look at me!” “Thats not true,” William defended. “Then explain her behaviour!” Margaret insisted. “Since that talk, she acts as if Ive the plague! She wont even visit!” When Eleanor heard, she sighed. “Your mothers never content. First, my interest annoyed her; now my distance does. Tomorrow shell complain I breathed wrong!” “She thinks we only want things from her,” William said, ashamed. “Quite,” Eleanor retorted. “While my parents always bring somethingjams from the garden, cakesshe turns up empty-handed and still takes leftovers home!” “Are you calling my mother a miser?” William snapped. “Show some respect. Shes the only mother Ive got.” “Fair enough,” Eleanor cut in. “But if she wants respect, she might start by setting an example.”
The matter became taboo, yet the clashes continued. Margaret, as if stoking the fire, criticised Eleanor relentlessly. To others, though, she spun a different tale: “I do everything for that couplegive them costly gifts, even considered handing down my great-grandmothers ring! And this is the thanks I get!” Her listeners, moved, believed her spotless narrative.
On their anniversary, Margaret revived her promise. “Prepare for an unforgettable surprise!” she announced when invited to a quiet supper. “No need,” Eleanor tried to temper. “Ill decide, thank you,” Margaret replied with a sharp smile. William, hearing of it, grew cross: “Must you always contradict my mother? If she wishes to give something, let her!” “Exactly,” Eleanor shot back. “Her wedding gift still hasnt arrived. We dont need another.”
They agreed, at last, to avoid further quarrels. At the gathering, Eleanors parents brought hand-embroidered napkins and linen sheets. Friends gifted crystal glasses. Margaret arrived with an oversized card, delivering a speech that dragged on for twenty minutes. She deemed this, of course, contribution enough. “Mention gifts again, and well row,” William warned on the way home. “Wasnt planning to,” Eleanor lied.
But the peace was short-lived. The next month, Margaret demanded an expensive mobile for her birthday. “Are we really giving in?” Eleanor questioned. “She needs it, and we can afford it,” William reasoned. “Of course,” Eleanor said dryly. “But remember, my mothers birthday is next month. The gifts should match.” William calculated the costs, resigned. In the end, Margaret received a basic model and flew into a rage. She blamed Eleanor for “poisoning” her son, vowing revenge for her daughter-in-laws “petty spite.”
