MY DEAR DAUGHTER-IN-LAW
Mum, Im marrying Alice. Were expecting in three months, my son announced, leaving me little room to object.
To be truthful, I wasnt entirely surprised. Hed introduced me to Alice some time ago, yet her age unsettled me. She wasnt yet eighteen. And my sonWilliamstill had national service ahead of him. Barely adults themselves, already insistent on a wedding with a babe on the way.
Finding a wedding dress for Alice proved tricky; seven months along, her condition could hardly be ignored. When the wedding fanfare died down, the young couple moved in with Alices parents. Nevertheless, William made a point of visiting me every week, shutting himself in his room and asking not to be disturbed. It troubled me, as any mother would be.
One day I phoned Alice.
Is everything all right with Will? I asked.
Of course. Why? came her reply, cool as you like.
Alice, do you know where your husband is right now? I pressed, hoping for some clarity.
Mrs. Davis, kindly mind your own affairs. Well handle our matters without you, she fired back, with a rudeness that was startling but, as time would show, not uncommon.
Sorry to have bothered you, I muttered, withdrawing.
Ive always been a mild and peace-loving woman, so I let them stew in their own pot. I told myself I wouldnt meddle.
Alice soon gave birth to a daughter. The chosen name was Victoriaa name that grated on me for some reasonso, in my heart, I called my granddaughter Bess.
Not long after, William went off to serve in the forcesall the way up north, far from home. Throughout those two years, I made sure to visit Bess faithfully. On each visit, I noted how radiant Alice had becometoo beautiful, really, and that worried me. Newly enrolled at university, surrounded by temptation, I wondered if the pretty student would wait for her husbands return.
Honestly, I never felt welcome in Alices home. Whenever I came for Bess, Alice quickly shooed me out with the pram and an exasperated sigh, making it obvious shed rather I was elsewhere. Even her glances stung with undisguised contempt. Alice knew her worth. I had no wish for quarrelsonly to scurry from that chilly place as soon as politeness allowed.
At last, William returned from service. From what I could see, life was content: Bess blossoming, Will doting upon his wife, Alice a skilled and striking homemaker. My heart was soothed. Fifteen years drifted by in apparent harmony.
Then, Alice seemed to become someone else entirely. One lover after another; she made no attempt to hide the affairs. As the saying goes, you cant stop the tide with your hands. William endured it for three years out of love, but the pain was etched on him.
Alice, meanwhile, would mock and wound him with every word. I was aghast, but never dared broach the subject of morals. I admitI feared Alice as the devil fears holy water. Her glare alone could bring the strongest to heel.
Will, whats happening between you and Alice? Trouble? I finally asked.
Dont fret, Mum. Well sort it, came his gentle reassurance.
It seemed guilt weighed on him, so he bore her cruelty in silence. Restless, I worked up the courage to face Alice.
Alice, might I ask you something? I began quietly, hoping not to provoke her ire.
Why dont you ask your precious son what he really gets up to at that company? she snapped. My aunt works there too. Shes told me every sordid detail. Your darling Will was the first to strayit started with him! Alice then erupted into a tirade.
Heavens above, why did I ever poke my head in? I said nothing to Will. Let things take their own coursetheres no pleasing everyone.
Shortly after, Alice and William divorced. Bess stayed with her mother.
William tried to bury his heartbreakromancing one woman after another. Brunettes, blondes, redheadsthe sheets never grew cold.
Alice remarried almost instantly. William told me himself, with tears in his eyes. She was always the attentive wife.
The next woman to capture his heart was Joan. Petite, calculating, and cleverby then, Will was thirty-five, Joan forty. He floated in her wake, all but grovelling at her feet. Joan seized his heart and every last penny. Her terms: an official marriage; a flat for her daughter; complete financial support.
Will was lost in adoration for his new wife.
Unlike Alice, Joan actively tried to befriend me, insisting on a first-name basis and an air of forced familiarity that sat heavily with me. I hate confrontation, so I swallowed my discomfort. The gifts she gave, all bought with my sons money, languish in my wardrobe, never touched. I cannot warm to them.
Joans smile is strained, her words insincere, and its plain she doesnt love my son. Cunning and grasping, she sees Will as nothing more than a means to an end. Alice may have shouted at me, but at least she had a straightforward soul, never once failing to call me Mrs. Davis, and she truly loved William.
Joan refuses to cook, preferring ready-made fare from the local shop. Once, I suggested, Perhaps you could cook Will some soup? Its all sandwiches and snacks otherwise.
Gail, dont try to teach your grandmother to suck eggs, she retorted.
Her friends come first, all the same typeoff to spas, lounging about in cafes, drifting through boutiques. If contradicted, she launches into a melodramatic scene on cue, weeping and wailing extravagantly.
Joan expects nothing less than the world, and with the least effort on her part. However did my son endure it? Ill never understand it. I think their match a sad mistake.
More often now, I think back fondly to Alice, competent and sharp. She made the most exquisite fish pie, the best cabbage rolls, exceptional cakes. Why did Will destroy that family happiness? How could he let such a woman slip away? Its on himself, I suppose. I am glad, at least, that Bess visits and brings me little gifts.
For me, Alice remains my dear daughter-in-law, in spirit if not in law. Only when something is lost do we understand its value. Joan is but a side note in my familys story. I do pity my son. I suspect, deep down, Will still carries a torch for Alice. But those roads are closed to him nowThese days, when Bess visitsher laugh so like her mothersI watch her bustling about my kitchen, heart full and aching all at once. Sometimes, as she kneads dough with vigorous energy or scolds me gently for fussing, I think how time has looped back: a piece of Alice, vivid and strong, blooming right before my eyes.
One afternoon, when the winter sun slanted gold through my window, Bess poured us both tea and sat across from me. Her hands, honest and sure, wrapped around the cup.
Grandma Gail, Mum sends her regards, she said softly. She said you always made her feel small, but she also always knew you loved her, in your way. She smiled then, a smile edged with something bright and wistful. She still calls me Bess, you know.
For a moment, all my regrets and worries meltedreplaced by something gentle and light. I reached for her hand and she squeezed mine back, strong and steady.
Life brings what it willjoy, ache, bitterness that ripens into understanding. My quiet hope is that Bess will choose more wisely, love more kindly, and that I, in the end, will have been a good-enough grandmother.
As dusk crept in and Bess kissed me goodbye, laughter lingering in the shadows she left behind, I realized that, despite everything, my familys story was not a tragedy. There is beauty in what remains, in the love that circles back through generations, unexpectedly tender.
And sometimes, when I close my eyes, I swear I taste Alices perfect fish pie, warm and comfortinga memory, yes, but also a promise that life, in all its mess and wonder, goes on.
