And who are you to tell me what to do! Mrs. Zoe Peters flung the rag straight at my face. You live in my house and eat my food!
I wiped my face, clenching my fists. Id only been married for three months, but every single day felt like I was at war.
I scrub the floors, cook your meals, do your laundry! What more do you want from me?
I want you to keep your mouth shut! Stray! You turned up here, dragging someone elses child along!
Little Hannah peeped nervously from behind the door. Four years old and already she understood that Grandma was angry.
Mum, thats enough! Stephen burst in from the garden, covered in muck after work. Whats happening now?
Whats happening? Your wifes getting cheeky! I told her the soup was too salty and she talked back!
The soups fine, I said wearily. Youre picking on me for no reason.
Did you hear that? Zoe pointed her finger at me. She says Im picking! In my own house!
Stephen came to my side, putting an arm around my shoulders.
Mum, stop it. Tamaras been working all day here. All you do is moan.
Oh, I see! Youre against your own mother now! Raised you, fed you, and this is what I get!
With that, she stormed off, slamming the kitchen door. Silence fell.
Im sorry, Stephen stroked my hair. Shes become unbearable in her old age.
Stephen, maybe we should rent somewhere else. Even a room?
With what money? Im a farmhand, not a manager. We barely cover food.
I leaned into Stephen. Hes a good man. Kind. Hard-working. But his mothershes a nightmare.
We met at the village fair. I was selling knitted scarves, Stephen bought socks. We chatted. He said up front that he didnt care I had a child; he liked children. The wedding was modest. From the start, Zoe Peters disliked me. I was young, educatedan accountant, no less. Her son was just a farmhand.
Mum, come have supper, Hannah tugged my skirt.
Coming, darling.
At dinner, Zoe made a show of pushing her plate away.
This is inedible. You cook like a pig.
Mum! Stephen banged his fist on the table. Enough!
Enough what? Im telling the truth! Look at Susanwhat a homemaker! Unlike this one!
Susanthe apple of Zoes eyelives in the city, comes once a year. The house is in her name, though she never stays here.
If you dont like my cooking, please do it yourself, I said calmly.
You cheeky! My mother-in-law leapt up. Ill show you!
Enough! Stephen got between us. Mum, either you calm down or we leave. Right now.
Where would you go? Onto the street? This isnt even your house!
Which was true. The house belonged to Susan. We lived here only at their grace.
***
A Precious Burden
That night I couldnt sleep. Stephen held me, whispering:
Bear with it, love. Ill buy a tractor. Start my own business. Well save for our own home.
Stephen, thats expensive
Ill get an old one, repair it. Im handy, you know. Just have faith in me.
In the morning, I woke nauseous. Rushed to the loo. Could it be?
The test showed two blue lines.
Stephen! I dashed into the room. Look!
Half-asleep, he glanced at the test, then suddenly jumped up and spun me around.
Tamara! Darling! Were having a baby!
Shhh! Your mother will hear!
Too late. Zoe Peters was already at the door.
Whats all the noise?
Mum, were going to have a baby! Stephen beamed.
She pursed her lips.
And where are you going to live, then? Its cramped as it is. When Susan comes back, shell turf you out.
She wont! Stephen frowned. This is my home too!
The house belongs to Susan. Remember? I signed it over to her. Youre just a lodger here.
The joy vanished. I slumped on the bed.
A month later, disaster struck. Id lifted a heavy bucket we had no running water and felt a sharp pain. Red stains on my trousers
Stephen! I screamed.
A miscarriage. The doctor said it was overwork and stress. I needed rest.
How can you rest in a house with your mother-in-law?
I lay in the hospital, staring at the ceiling. Thats it. I cant do this any longer.
Im leaving him, I told my friend on the phone. I just cant.
Tamara, but Stephens a good one.
He is. But his mother Shell be the end of me.
Stephen rushed in after work, tired, dirty, holding a bunch of wildflowers.
Tamara, my love, Im so sorry. It was my fault. I didnt protect you.
Stephen, I cant live there anymore.
I know. Ill take out a loan. Well rent somewhere.
They wont give you one. Your pays too low.
They will. Ive found a second job. Night shift at the dairy farm. Tractor by day, cows by night.
Stephen, youll work yourself to death!
I wont. Id move mountains for you.
I was discharged after a week. At home, Zoe met me at the door.
See, you couldnt even keep it. I knew you were weak.
I walked past, silent. She wasnt worth my tears.
Stephen worked himself into the ground. Tractor at dawn, cows at night. Sometimes only three hours sleep.
Ill get a job, I said. Theres an opening for an accountant at the little office.
They pay pennies.
Pennies add up.
So I took the job. Mornings, Id drop Hannah at nursery, head to the office. Evenings, pick her up, cook, wash. Zoe picked at me as always, but I learnt to tune her out.
***
Our Own Corner, Our Own Life
Stephen kept saving for a tractor. Found an old, battered one; the owner nearly gave it away.
Take the loan, I said. Youll fix it, well start earning.
But what if it doesnt work?
It will. Youve got golden hands.
We got the loan. Bought the tractor. It stood in the yard like a pile of rusting scrap.
What a joke! Zoe cackled. Waste of money! Only good for the tip!
Stephen said nothing, took the engine apart night after night by lamplight. I helpedpassing tools, holding bits.
Go to bed. Youre tired.
We started together; well finish together.
One month, then two. The neighbours laughedthe idiot farmhand and his wreck.
And then one morning, the machine rumbled to life. Stephen sat in the seat, wide-eyed.
Tamara! It works! It lives!
I ran outside, threw my arms round him.
I knew it! I always believed you!
First job: ploughing the neighbours field. Second: bringing in a load of firewood. Then more. The money started coming in.
And soon, again, I found myself sick in the mornings.
Stephen, Im expecting again.
No lifting a thing this time! Hear me? Ill do the lot!
He fussed over me, wouldnt let me lift so much as a bucket. Zoe muttered and moaned:
Delicate, are we? I had three, never fussed! She just sits there!
But Stephen wouldnt hear of it. No work for me, end of.
At seven months, Susan came with her husband and her own plans.
Mum, were selling the house. Weve had a good offer. Youll move in with us.
And what about them? Zoe nodded at us.
Them? Let them find somewhere else.
Susan, I was born here, this is my home too! Stephen protested.
Well, its mine now. Or have you forgotten?
When do we have to go? I asked, quietly.
In a month.
Stephen seethed silently. I rested a hand on his shoulderno need to make scenes.
That evening we just hugged.
What now? The babys nearly here.
Well find something. As long as were together.
Stephen worked himself ragged. The tractor roared day and night. One weeks work earned as much as a month before.
Then Mr. Michaelsthe neighbour from the next villagephoned.
Stephen, Im selling my house. Old, but sound. Cheap, too. Want to come see?
We went. It was indeed old, but solid. Wood stove, three rooms, a shed.
How much?
He named a sum. We had half.
Would you take instalments? Stephen asked. Half now, rest in six months?
Deal. Youre a good lad.
We returned home full of hope. Zoe met us at the door:
Where have you been? Susans brought the paperwork!
Good, I answered. Because were moving.
Where to? The street?
To our own home. Weve bought a house.
She gaped. Hadnt expected that.
Lying! Whered you get that kind of money?
We earned it, Stephen squeezed my shoulder. While you gossiped, we worked.
We moved in two weeks later. Didnt take muchwhat did we own of our own in that house?
Hannah dashed from room to room, the little dog yapping at her heels.
Mummy, is this really ours?
Ours, sweetheart. Truly ours.
Zoe arrived the next day. She stood on the step.
Stephen, Ive been thinking Maybe youll take me in? Cant stand the city.
No, Mum. This was your choice. You stay with Susan.
But Im your mother!
Mothers dont call their grandchild a stray. Goodbye.
He closed the door. It was hard. But it was right.
Matthew arrived in March. A strong, healthy baby, bellowing for all he was worth.
Takes after his dad! joked the midwife.
Stephen held his son, trembling with joy.
Tamara, thank you. For everything.
No, thank you. For holding on, for believing in us.
We settled into our new home. Planted the garden, got some chickens. The tractor brought in money. Evenings, wed sit on the porch. Hannah played with the dog, Matthew slept in his cradle.
You know, I said, Im happy.
Me too.
Remember how tough it was? I thought Id never hold out.
But you did. Youre strong.
Were strong. Together.
The sun set behind the woods. The house smelled of bread and milk. A true home. Our home.
Where no one would shame us. Or throw us out. Or call us outsiders.
A home where we could live, and love, and raise our children.
Where at last, happiness belonged to us.
***
Dear readers, it seems every English family faces their own struggles, and theyre never easily solved. This storymine and Stephensis a mirror, showing up both the hardships and the spirit needed to get through them.
Thats how our life goes: from hardship to joy, and back again, until fortune smiles upon us.
What do you think? Should Stephen have endured his mother for so long, or cut the knot and found his own corner sooner? And for you, what does a real home meanwalls, or the warmth of family?
Share your thoughts. Life is a school, and every lesson is worth learning.
