Under the Thumb of Her Mother
At thirty-five, Mildred was a reserved and, as people say, rather downtrodden young woman. She had never dated anyone, despite working as an accountant for many yearsever since she left college, shed stayed at the same firm.
She mostly ignored her appearance, wore baggy clothes, and was on the fuller side, always sporting a melancholy glance and lips drooping in defeat. Mildreds mother, Margaret, had her at eighteenand no one ever knew quite who the father was, since Mildred had never met him. Raised in a small village by her grandmother, shed finished school there and only moved in with her mother when she began college.
While Mildred lived among fields and hedgerows, Margaret spent her days in the city, working and flitting from one party to another, swapping men as easily as hats. She was striking, carefree, and visited the village only once every month or twodelivering the odd toy for her daughter before vanishing again. Mildreds grandmother was stern and no-nonsense, so she grew up untouched by affection from either woman.
Still now, Mildred shared a flat with her mother. Margaret, in her early fifties, looked stunning, youthful and slim, with expensive creams and frequent trips to the beauty salon, even going on romantic dates now and then. Her daughter was like a dim shadow of her.
Finally, Mildred handed over the office paperwork to a colleague covering her holiday and left the building at the end of another long workday.
“Another holiday,” Mildred mused, “a bundle of pounds in my purse. Shame my mother will pinch it all over again. Seems Ill be stuck at home for this one too. Im so tired of it. Why cant I stand my ground? Im not a child, but she keeps me tethered. She demands every penny, leaves me with nothingI can never manage my own wages. Theres no light in my life…”
Unlocking the door to the flat, Mildred found her mother waiting in the hallway.
“About time,” Margaret said briskly. “Did you get your holiday pay? Hand it over.”
“Yes,” Mildred replied, “just let me get changed first.”
“Youve got time to change later…”
Mildred fumbled in her battered handbag, searching for her wallet.
Heaving a sigh, Margaret sneered, “You drag around that hideous bag like some old biddy. Dont you feel any embarrassment?”
Tears welled up in Mildreds eyes.
“Ive not got spare cash for a new bag,” she blurted out, surprising herself by contradicting her mother. “You always take every last penny from me!”
Margaret snorted, “Its not just your bag, you tramp about looking slovenly and overweight. Shape up. It’s embarrassing to be seen with you anywhere.”
“Embarrassing?” Mildred cried. “Isnt it embarrassing to rob me of my own earnings? I dont go anywhere with you anyway!”
She barely finished her sentence before fleeing the flat, stumbling blindly down the stairs and out the door, settling on a bench in front of the block with her face in her hands. She lost track of time among muffled sobs until a familiar voice called out.
“Mildred, dear, why are you sitting here?” She looked up to see Mrs. Anne Webb from the next entrance, a kind-hearted older lady. Anne sat beside her and took her hand.
“Whats happened, love? Is it really so bad to bring you to tears?”
Relief poured out as Mildred told Anne everythinghow her mother took all her money, spent it on high-end lotions and dresses, while she herself had to wear rags. “Ive always been too soft. Couldnt stand up to Gran, and now I cant stand up to Mother. Shes controlling and cruel…”
Anne shook her head sadly, and Mildred flushed with embarrassment.
“I shouldnt speak like that of my own mother. You probably think Im a gossip, and I am a bit of a failure.”
Anne had never thought much of Margaret, but shed always felt sorry for Mildred, knowing she was kept crushingly under her mothers thumb.
“Listen, love, stop torturing yourself. Youre a grown woman. You should be caring for yourself by now.”
“What woman am I, Mrs. Webb? No ones ever loved me, and I doubt I ever could be loved. Im always invisible.”
“Enough of that,” Anne said gently. “You need to leave your mothers flat. Quickly.” Mildred looked at her in alarm.
“But where would I go? My wages wont cover rent, and my mother will have a fit. I just couldnt bear it anymore, thats all. She snatched at me, so I ran out.”
“So you did get your holiday pay, but your mother didnt nab it yet? Dont fret about her. Shell be fineshes always got money. Think of yourself for once. Why not stay at my cottage out near the woods? My late husband built it with his own handshe thought wed be there forever… Well, life had other ideas. Its solid and safe. Youre on holiday, so live there a bit. I wont ask for a penny.”
“Wouldnt you mind, Mrs. Webb?” Mildred asked, surprised.
“Nonsense, Ive known you for years. Sit tight, Ill fetch you the keys and jot down the address and my telephone number.”
Mildred made her way to the train station, bought a ticket on the local rail, and gazed out the carriage window, watching rain-slicked strangers hurrying about. Shed never left her town beforehome and office, that was all. Nobody seemed to notice her. As the train rolled on, she watched the countryside drift past, felt her nerves settle, and at last got off at her stop. She found the cottage quickly, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.
She was enveloped by a shimmering silence. Mildred sank into the old armchair.
“Heavens, this quiet,” she thought, “this unfamiliar freedomhow wonderful it is to be alone.”
There was no mother hovering, no scorn or taunts. Spying the remote, she flipped on the telly. It was a daytime talk shownormally forbidden, as Margaret would always switch it to her own preferred channel, dismissing Mildreds taste with derision.
“Youre a half-wit, only half-wits watch programs like that,” Margaret would scoff, lacing her words with insults. Mildred had never dared speak backshe only bent her head lower and retreated into herself.
Exploring the cottage, Mildred switched on the fridge and stowed away a pack of cheese, a tub of yoghurt, and a bag of frozen chicken pies she’d bought at the corner shop by the station.
She heated the pies, filled her belly, and felt at peace.
“Being alone feels so good,” she thought.
Not long after, her phone rangit was her mother.
“So, youve run off? I saw you out with Anne on that bench. Go ahead, play at being independent. Youll come crawling back. Trust a stranger, do you? No one will help you, youre clueless and naïve. Youll be lost without me…”
Mildred hung up, not caring to listen to the barrage of insults. Strangely, she wasnt very upset. That evening, Anne called.
“Mildred, how are you getting on?”
“Fine, thank you Mrs. Webb.”
“My nephew Stephens coming round tomorrow. Hell bring your things.”
“My things?”
“Well, Margaret dropped off a big sack at mine and said, If youre taking my daughter, take her possessions too…”
“How will I spot Stephen?”
“Hell come by car, knows the cottage. Tall, wears glasses…”
“Is that alright?”
“Mildred, dont fussjump in and live for yourself. Take care of yourself, and love yourself a bit. Go out and buy yourself new clothes; youre a pretty thing, you just let yourself go. Right, thats enough.”
The grass glittered with dew, a dog barked somewhere distant, and birds warbled as Mildred pondered Mrs. Webbs advice, studying her reflection in the glass.
“Have I let myself go? My eyes are nice, even if sad… thick hair, which I always bundle up like a grandmother. I should slim downMothers right.”
She slept soundly at the cottage, not waking once. Next morning, she opened her eyes to sunlight slipping through the curtains. She heaved open the window. The grass outside shimmered with dew, the bark of a dog echoed far and wide, and birds sang overhead.
“Gloriouswhat a lovely morning,” she thought, stretching.
Soon she sat on the veranda, sipping instant coffee shed found in the cupboard, and flicked through the TV again. A stray thought arose: could she find a new job, rent her own place? It was awkward getting to town from the cottage. She didnt even think of her mother. Excitement fluttered in her chest, imagining a new life.
“At lastproper independence,” she dreamed aloud, but a cautious knock at the door interrupted.
“Who could that be?” she wondered, opening it gingerly.
A tall man stood there in spectacles, holding a big bag.
“Good morning,” he greeted warmly. “Im Stephen. You must be Mildred?”
“Yes, come in,” she replied, stepping back.
“Aunt Anne asked me to bring your things and help you out. If you need a lift anywhere, my cars outside. Dont be shy, Mildred,” his voice was gentle. “Anne said you were a bit timid… I know how things have been, from her.”
So Mildred met her future husband. Stephen truly cared for herhis first marriage had been unhappy, and he was ready to love deeply. With love, Mildred changed almost overnight; her fear faded, her step grew lighter. She slimmed down, wanted to shine for him. She went to a beauty salon and was transformedshe hardly recognised herself.
“Can this really be me?” she laughed at her reflection, her eyes sparkling.
Stephen took her to his flat in the city.
“Mildred, Ive always wished for a woman like youkind, genuine, caring. Let’s not wait. Will you marry me?”
Mildred agreedshe knew how lucky she was to find Stephen. They were similar in so many ways. Their wedding was quiet and simple; even Margaret attended but couldnt help herself, muttering barbs at the reception table. Anne swiftly put her in her place, and Margaret left before long. No one noticed, and Mildred wasnt at all upset.
Stephens family took to Mildred instantly. He gazed at her with loving eyes and thought, “Eventually, happiness finds its way to everyoneand now it’s come to Mildred and me.”
It wasnt long before Mildred was expecting, feeling twice as blessed. Late-blooming happiness had come at last. She forgot the years spent cowed by her mother, found strength to remake her own life. She blossomed not only outwardly but deep within, finally loving both herself and Stephen.
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