Dear Diary,
Listen, my fatherinlaw, Robert, warned me sharply one evening, we welcomed you into our family, we treat you as any other son, yet you turn us down over trifles? Show some respect for your wifes parents. When you need help, will you think of us then?
—
Ethel was born when her mother, Margaret, was barely nineteen. Early motherhood shattered the young couples plans, and for the first few years the baby was left in the care of her grandmother, Agnes, in a modest terraced house on the outskirts of Manchester. While Margaret and her husband, John, pursued their studies, Agnes became Ethels first and most reliable anchor.
The wedding took place after their daughters birth, but the family truly settled only when Ethel turned six. That was when Margaret and John moved to Birmingham, enrolled her in a local primary school, and began a new chapter.
From the outset, life in the new household was far from harmonious. John, who held a respectable post at the railway, showed no interest in his wife nor his child. He spent his days away, indulging in affairs and frequent pubs. Margaret vanished into latenight shifts, returning home just before dawn. Left to her own devices, Ethel roamed the streets, subsisting on irregular, often cold meals. The neglect gave her a chronic gastritis that flared up repeatedly; each attack meant trips to the local infirmary, trips that later became a lever of control.
In that house there was no notion of personal boundaries or a right to an opinion. Any wish Ethel voiced was snuffed out instantly. If she tried to defend herself, it spiralled into a shouting match and a torrent of accusations. Her mother would openly label her an ungrateful girl.
Im trying for you, and you cant even muster a word of thanks! The suffering youve caused meonly God knows get out of my sight! Margaret would howl, her voice cracking with bitterness.
The tension peaked over what seemed a trivial dispute when Ethel, then a teenager, refused to join a family photo shoot with guests. Margaret erupted:
Shameless! How dare you embarrass me in front of people? Change immediately! Right now!
Mum, I dont want to be photographed, Ethel protested, Im exhausted, I need to sleep.
Margaret lunged at her with clenched fists; John stepped in to separate them, then coldly informed Ethel that they longed for another child, but for some reason could not have one.
If I could, Id throw you out on the spot! he snarled, its a pity we cant have any other children. If there were even a sliver of a chance, Id send you straight to a childrens home!
—
Ethel learned she had no right to say no. Her mother increasingly called her worthless and ungrateful. When Ethel turned sixteen and the family took in an adopted girl, Lucy, Margarets tone softened ever so slightly, but that only added a fresh layer of stress for Ethel.
Youre still our golden girl, Margaret sighed, watching Lucy fling dishes in a tantrum after being denied a computer just like everyone else. With you we never had problems! Ill listen to your father, agree to the guardianship Now we wont have any more issues.
No one at school saw the bruises or the locked cupboards where she was sometimes shut in. She was despised, not befriended; the whole class turned on her like a pack of wolves. Ethel never complainedshe saw no point in crying out when no one would stand up for her.
Pressured by her parents, she chose to study law, hoping to win their approval. That, too, fell flat.
Why study law? John scoffed, youll end up on the factory line anyway. You have no talent! At least get a job somewhere
Ethel endured in silence, dreaming of the day she could break free from the ropes her parents kept tightening around her. She was utterly exhausted.
—
When she finally married David Clarke, the parents staged a prewedding tirade, accusing her of selfishness, breaking their plans, and even taking money from them. In truth, she had borrowed a modest sum to contribute toward the wedding, wanting to give something back. Yet Margaret never stopped loading Ethel with her own worries.
Do you realise how much effort weve put into raising you? Margaret demanded when Ethel tried to decline another chore.
I understand, Mum, but David and I are trying to stand on our own feet now, weve got our own concerns, Ethel replied cautiously, Mum, we dont have time for all this!
What concerns? Your concerns are ours too! Your husband should understand that, John interjected, isnt it a lot to ask? Pick up the groceries, drop them off at the restaurant, look after the youngest while were at the celebration.
Dad, David works late and has an important meeting tomorrow, Ethel tried to argue.
A meeting? More important than family? Youve forgotten how hard it was to bring you up! Your illnesses, your unbearable temperament! Margarets voice rose.
Mum, you speak of my illnesses that sprang up while you were busy with work and other matters. I dont recall you ever really raising me, Ethel said, bitterness seeping through.
Ungrateful! You dont know what it means to be a parent! If it werent for us, youd be on the streets! Margaret shouted, living off your grandmother in starvation!
Mum, Im grateful, but Im not bound to devote my whole life to you! All we ask is a little personal space, Ethel sighed.
Personal space? You just got married and already think of yourself! We gave you a home, we raised you! John persisted, and now you dare refuse us?
Mum, you have no claim over our flat, Ethel replied, noting that she and David had bought their own place with a mortgage they were paying together.
If youre so independent, why cant you land a decent job, instead of skulking in shady gigs? And why havent you repaid us for your education yet? John spat, delivering a low blow, we taught you everything. Show some gratitude!
Ethel finally turned to him.
Dad, could you at least stop supporting her in this madness?
Ethel, dont start, John said coolly but firmly, Mums right. Were only asking for a little. Your husband should know his place. Nothing will happen to him if he drives us around. Were your family.
David doesnt have to drive you! Hes not a taxi! Ethels voice cracked with hysteria.
Have you lost your mind?! How dare you raise your voice at your father?! Margaret stepped forward.
David, who had been silent, finally snapped.
Enough! Stop shouting at her! I married your daughter, I took responsibility for her. What do you think I promised? To be your servant?
Who do you think you are to tell us what to do? John flared, I took my daughter into my family, and for a modicum of gratitude you should help us!
I love Ethel and I want her happy. Since the wedding youve given us no peace, David said firmly, either we live our own lives, or shell have no contact with you!
Ethel looked at David, then at her parents.
You cant! Youll betray us? Margaret hissed, youre our daughter! Weve done so much for you
I remember, Mum, Ethel whispered, clenching her fists, I remember every humiliation, every slap. I remember you saying you wanted another child. I remember
Ungrateful! Margarets voice rang like a bell.
No, Mum. Im an adult with my own family. Davids right: well live our lives. You can stop calling us until you learn to respect our decisions.
The first few days of this socalled freedom were tense. Calls, threats, silent blackmailyet David and I held our ground. I decided to cut off the one avenue John had to nag me: I would repay the debt hes twisted into a £500,000 bill, even though the actual cost of my education was half that. We scrimped, saved every spare penny, and finally settled it.
The hardest part was enduring my own breakdowns, wrestling with years of psychological pressure. David became my rock, my steadfast support.
Well get through this, love, he told me. Well make it.
And we did. It took us a year to clear the debt, after which I stopped all contact with my parents. They didnt rush to mend things; they were still angry at their ungrateful daughter.
Now, as I sit here in our modest flat in Leeds, the weight has lifted. I can breathe, I can plan a future thats truly mine, with David by my side. The scars remain, but they no longer define me.
End of entry.
