My mother-in-law slipped delicacies from my fridge into her own tote before departing.
Are you sure we need this much cold meats? Thats oak-smoked beef, Penny, it costs more than a London Eye ticket, Ed twisted the vacuum-sealed pack around in his hands, staring at the price sticker as though it spelled out his time of reckoning.
Penny kept unloading the shopping onto the kitchen table, refusing to slow down. Glossy red peppers, a round jar of caviar with a golden lid, a huge wedge of Parmesan, bottles of wine glinting in the electric light. Crusty bread mingled with the aroma of cured meats, enveloping the kitchen in a pub-like warmth.
Ed, its your birthday, she replied serenely as she put the milk in the fridge. Thirty-five years. Your mates are coming, your mums driving over. Would you prefer the table be covered in boiled spuds and pickled herring, instead? I got a cracking bonus at work, and Id likejust once this yearto rustle up a decent spread without feeling ashamed, if you please.
I wouldnt mind just spuds, grumbled her husband, yet tucked the beef neatly at the back of the fridge next to the yoghurt. JustMumll start carrying on, you know her. Shouldve saved that, paid off your Barclays card ahead of time.
Shed complain either way, Penny sighed, reaching for the salad bowl. Splash outwere frittering money. Go cheapshell say were tight, feeding her son rubbish. I stopped keeping track of Margarets opinions ages ago. The point is, you should enjoy tonight, and your guests too. Anyway, that ham thereI hunted everywhere in Manchester for it, the exact kind you had at that tapas place in Spain, remember?
Ed smiled. His face softened as he recalled a holiday far away.
I remember. It was brilliant, to be honest. All rightyou win. Lets live a little. Only, best rip off any price stickers, or Mumll faint dead away.
Preparations bustled alongPennys favourite kind, provided she worked undisturbed. Fate, of course, had other plans: Margaret had promised to come early and help, sweetheart. Those words always gave Penny a twitch. Help meant parking herself on the comfiest chair, directly in the busiest part of the kitchen, issuing her wisdom and judging everything: from how you dice an onion to the shade of the curtains.
The doorbell rang at exactly 2PM. Ed dashed to answer; Penny, after a deep breath with squeezed-shut eyes, donned her most diplomatic beam.
And heres the birthday lad! Margarets voice echoed down the hallway. Come here, give us a kiss, son! Youre skin and bone! Cant bulk up on Asda ready meals, can you?
Mum, what ready meals? Penny cooks just fine! Ed protested, helping her out of her heavy wool coat.
Oh hush. I see your cheekssunken right in! Hello, Penny.
His mother-in-law sailed into the kitchena steamer through the Thames, clutching her bottomless shopping tote as ever.
Good afternoon, Margaret. Lovely to have you. Kettles just boiled.
Tea later! waved Margaret as she plonked the bag onto a stool. I brought you bits and bobs. Otherwise, I know you young peopleyour fridge is always as barren as the Lake District.
She began setting out her gifts: a three-litre jar of her pickled gherkins in cloudy brine, a battered carrier crammed with misshapen apples from her garden, and a handful of ancient Roses chocolates that seemed left over from the Jubilee.
Gherkinshome grown, none of that factory nonsense, she crowed. Applesfull of vitamins. Trim off the bad bits, theyll make a nice compote. Don’t waste.
Thank you, Penny nodded, avoiding the brines dubious swirls.
Margaret, meanwhile, was already rummaging in the fridgeher tradition. Checking for space, she called it, but Penny knew better: a full inspection.
Oh, goodness, Margaret mused, seeing the array of treats. Caviar? Two pots? Ed, did you stumble on a treasure chest or has Penny been robbing the Lloyds?
Got a bonus, Mum, Ed muttered, nicking a slice of cheese.
Bonus Of course. Rather than helping your poor mother whose garden fence is collapsing, you dash out spending. Well, its your life. I dont require much.
She slammed the fridge and took her usual seat, blocking the sink.
Well, show us what youve made, Penny. Ill sit and rest my legs for nowmy blood pressures been all over, still I came. Had to congratulate my son. Heroic, really.
The next three hours unspooled in their usual way. Penny whizzed about, mixing, baking, slicing, while Margaret critiqued each move.
Far too much mayonnaisenasty.
Why pay so much for that bread? Greggs does a loaf for a pound, nothing wrong with it.
You ought to bash that meat a bit moreitll be tough.
Penny said nothing; shed trained herself to tune out with a kind of inner static, letting the words flow harmlessly past. Survival until evening was the goal.
By six, the guests began to arriveEds mates, boisterous, laughing, their aftershave filling the flat. The table was jammed: roast pork, aubergine rolls with walnuts, caviar tartlets, the precious smoked beef and three cheeses, salads, and plenty of hot dishes.
Once everyone sat and the first toast to the birthday boy had rung out, Margaret led the floor as always.
Eddie, darling, she began, dabbing her dry eyes. I remember your birth so clearly. Two days of agony
The guests nodded politely, despite having heard the birth story countless times. Penny used the lull to help herself to some salad.
And nowmarried. Well, cant say its how I imagined, but main thing is your happiness. The foodthats not what matters. Pennys tried her best, got all this fancy stuff. Me, Id go with something simpler, more homely. But thats how it goes noweveryone showing off.
She forked a huge piece of smoked eel into her mouthsomething Penny had searched out at an exclusive fishmonger, only to be dismissed loudly.
Mmm, fish is fish. Quite salty, and greasy. Back in my day, sprats were tastier.
Nonetheless, Margaret tucked in, drawing the best morsels towards her as if by magic. The expensive beef vanished rapidly. Tartlets were treated as peanuts, each one accompanied by:
Caviar seems smallmaybe fake. Here, show me the tin, Penny, I want to check the label. Or we might poison ourselves.
Penny smiled, topping up the wine glasses. Ed flushed but kept silent; he never disputed his mother, especially in companyor in private, for that matter.
The evening carried on. Guests praised the food, especially the fish and meat, swapped old university stories. Margaret occasionally interjected laments about hard times and ungrateful children, but the hubbub mostly drowned her out.
By ten, folk began departingwork in the morning, time well spent.
Youre a miracle worker, Penny! Eds best mate, Sam, shook her hand by the door. That eelabsolute magic. Cheers!
Glad you enjoyed it, she laughed, feeling genuine pleasure.
After the door closed on the last guest, a hush settled over the flat, broken only by the clatter of dishes as Margaret began tidying.
Ill help clear upotherwise youll be at it till dawn, she declared. Ed, do the bins, those sacks are bursting. Penny, get all the hot dishes into containers.
Penny felt a heavy weariness draping itself over her shoulders. Her head throbbed.
Margaret, its all rightleave it, Ill tidy up. Would you like a taxi?
A taxi, you say? Money to burn? Ill take the busstill running, isnt it. Dont argue, Ill help. Youre wobbling on your feet, white as a sheet. Go wash your face, take a paracetamol. Ill deal with this quickly.
Honestly, Penny did feel awful. Migraine yawned in her throat, threatening nausea.
All right, she surrendered. Five minutes, thats all. Ed will walk you to the bus when hes back.
She fetched headache tablets from the medicine tin, cooled her face in the bathroom, and let the fog recede a little. Best get back, she thought, cant leave her aloneshell have cleaned the pans with my face wash, or reorganised the cutlery entirely.
She padded towards the kitchen in soft slippers, steps soundless. At the doorway, she froze.
Margaret, back turned, stood at the open fridge. Her immense tote was poised on the stool. With the deftness of a cat burglar, she moved: platefuls of leftover cold meatspricey beef, pork, salamiwere swept into a waiting plastic bag, knotted, and plunged into the depths of her tote.
Penny blinked. Dreaming? No.
Margaret reached into the fridge, retrieving the special hunk of smoked salmon Penny had saved for breakfast. In it wentbag, tote.
Then, half the remaining homemade Victoria sponge Penny had baked late last nightwrapped roughly in foil, layers crushed.
Hmm, what else ah, Parmesan. Wont keep, theyll bin it, Margaret muttered.
The precious wedge of cheese followed, then the jar of olives, and finallyunbelievablythe nearly-full bottle of fine cognac Eds colleagues had gifted him, untouched all evening.
Penny stood against the door frame, mind blank. Scream? Accuse? Call her a thief? The words dried out, as it was her husbands own mother, yet that was what was happening right now.
Just then, the front door banged. Ed was back.
Chilly out there, his voice floated through. Mum, you ready? I wont bother taking my coat off, just walk you down.
Margaret jumped, snapped the tote shut, and spun round. When she saw Penny there, her eyes darted, but immediately braced herself.
Oh, youre back, Penny? Im just tidying up. Edgood. Im all packed.
She hoisted the bag, grunting at the new-found heft.
Mum, need a hand? Whatve you got, bricks? Ed peered in.
No! Dont touch! Margaret clutched the tote tightly. Its just empty jars. Ive taken mine backput the gherkins into your pan, and my jars in the bag. My belongings, thats all. Hands off!
Penny stared at her husband. Ed glanced between them, baffled.
Mum, what jars? You brought one, its still on the window ledge, full.
Other jars! Margaret reddened. Stop badgering me! I just want to go home! Slaving away for you all day!
Penny stepped forward. Cool calm replaced her migraine.
Margaret, she said softly but clearly, please put the bag on the table.
What? Margaret gaped. Are you searching me? Ed, do you hear your wife? She thinks Im a thief!
Penny, what Ed fumbled, lost. Mums just
Ed, Penny interrupted, gaze locked on Margaret, our breakfast is in that bag. And lunch. And the next two dinners. The salmon I paid forty quid for. Your favourite beef. Your cognac. The cake.
Youre delirious! Margaret shrieked, backing away. How dare you! Im a retired teacher, a war widowI didnt take even a crumb! Choke on your precious food!
She tried escaping past Ed, clunking into the table leg. The totes handles snapped under the weight of empty jars. The bag flopped to the floor and split, disgorging its bounty over the laminate.
It was a vision.
Sausages went rolling. The salmon bag unravelled, a glistening slice squelching onto Eds slipper. The foil tumbled away from the cake, displaying a flattened sponge. The cognac bottle banged against a chair leg, miraculously holding firm. The Parmesan and a fistful of chocolates scattered atop the carnage.
The kitchen fell silent. The fridges hum and Margarets ragged breathing were the only sounds.
Ed blinked at the sprawl. He surveyed his fishy-slipper, then his beetroot-faced mother. His own face changed; confusion became understanding, then an overwhelming embarrassment.
Mum? he croaked. Whats all this?
Margaret straightened, choosing attack as defence.
So what if I did! Youve loadswould only chuck it! Youre spoiledI scrape by on a tiny pension and only see beef on telly! Am I not allowed a decent meal after all Ive done? I raised you! Gave up sleep for years! And you begrudge me a sausage?
Penny kept quiet, waiting for Eds next move. Normally hed mumble, Oh go on, Mum, take what you want, smoothing things over.
Ed stooped slowly, lifting the salmon back onto the table, then the cognac.
Mum, he said quietly. Its not about sausages. Its justif youd asked, wed have packed you a bag, like always. You never go home empty-handed.
And beg for handouts? Is that it? Margaret shrieked, frantic. Should a mother beg? You ought to offer, selfish pair!
You didnt ask, Ed sighed. You snuck it. You waited until Penny left, then scooped the lot. Likelike a rat.
What did you call me? Margaret clutched her chest. Oh! My poor heart! Youll be the death of me!
No theatrics, Margaret, Penny cut in, chilly. Your heart meds are in your left pocketI saw when you hung up your coat.
Margaret paused; the drama dissolved.
Ed, Penny turned to her husband. Bag up everything from the floor, please.
Why? He blinked.
Give it to your mum. Let her take it.
Penny? Ed hedged.
Let her take it, she repeated firmly. Ive no intention of eating salmon off the floor, nor that cake pancake. Sausage, either. Let her have it. Its her birthday present, and also the price for not seeing her here for at least a month.
Margaret gulped air like a stranded trout.
Ed silently scraped the mess into a sack: fish, cheese, squashed cake. He left the cognac on the table.
Im keeping the cognac, he said. I need itdesperately.
He handed the package to his mother.
Take it, Mum. And go. Ive already booked you a taxi. Two minutes.
You Youre kicking me out? Over food?
Over lying, Mum. And disrespectto my wife and our home.
Margaret snatched the parcel. Her eyes brimmed with furious tears.
Ill never set foot here again! she spat. Live like you please, bloody posh snobs! That food will stick in your throats!
With that, she stormed out, slamming the door so hard plaster rattled down.
Penny slumped, covering her face.
Ed fetched two glasses from the cupboard, pouring cognac. He set one before Penny, kept the other.
Drink, he said. You need it.
She lifted her head; her husband suddenly seemed a decade older. He sat, clasped her hand.
Im sorry, Pen.
For what? You didnt know.
For never seeing sooner. For letting her behave that way. I always thoughtshes mad, but kind. Now I feel dirty, like its me pilfering sausages.
She sipped; the cognac seared but eased her tension.
You know, she smirked, I bought extra salami and cheese intentionally for her to take home. Theyre right at the bottom of the fridge. She just didnt get there.
Ed gave a half-hysterical giggle.
Really?
Really. I knew shed complain about money. Wanted to be civilised.
Civilised isnt possible, it seems, Ed drained his glass. Listentomorrow, Im changing the locks. Shes got keys, demanded them last yearjust in case. Dont want to come home and find the telly gone next, because Doreens neighbour has a bigger one.
Penny looked at her husband with new respect. For the first time in seven years, he spoke about his mother without genuflection or excuses. The whole farce over the beef had tipped him past endurance.
Whatll we eat tomorrow? Penny asked, surveying the empty table. She took nearly everything.
Ed stood, swung open the fridge.
Weve got caviarthe second pot she missed. Eggs. Milk. Omelette with caviar. Like kings.
She broke into laughter, tension ebbing.
And those rotten apples, she reminded him. Soup or compote?
No thanks, Ed grimaced. Ill bin them tomorrow, along with the murky gherkins. Had enough so-called aid.
They lingered in the kitchen, finishing the cognac and finally saying things unsaid. Boundaries. The difference between loving parents and letting yourself be overwhelmed. That marriage started with the two of them.
The next morning, Penny awoke to coffee aromas; Ed was already pottering.
Morning, he kissed the top of her head. Was thinkingAny gig money left?
A little. Why?
Lets go away for the weekendmaybe Brighton, or even pop up to Edinburgh. Somewhere far off. Phones off, too.
What about your mum? Shell ring every aunt in England claiming weve wronged her.
She can call who she likes. Her choice. Ours is this: caviar omelette, now come and eat.
Penny gazed at the golden omelette, scattered with red caviar, and thought it was the best breakfast shed ever had. Not for its price; for the lack of guilt and secondhand resentment.
Margaret did phone after two days. Ed glanced at the screen, sighed, and set the phone face down.
Not answering? Penny asked.
No. Let her enjoy the sausages first. Maybe in a month well speak. Right nowIm taking my wife to the cinema.
Penny smiled, slipped on her coat. The fridge was emptier than usual, but her heart felt light and free. And that was worth all the missing delicacies in the world.
