Emma parked her car on a leafy street a short walk from her mother-in-laws semi-detached house in Surrey. The dashboard clock read 5:45 pmshe was early, for once. Maybe this time shell notice Im not late, Emma thought, smoothing the creases from her elegant new dress. The giftan antique brooch that had taken her months to find in vintage shops across Londonrested carefully wrapped on the back seat.
As she approached the house, Emma noticed a ground floor window slightly ajar. Through it, she heard her mother-in-laws voice, crisp and distinct, drifting into the early evening:
No, Margaret, can you believe it? She didnt even bother to ask what kind of cake I like! She just ordered some trendy dessertour Richard has always loved a classic Victoria sponge, and she There was a pause. doesnt seem to care. Seven years of marriage!
Emma froze. Her heels felt rooted to the gravel.
Of course Ive told you: she isnt right for Richard. She works all hours at that surgery and is never at home. What sort of housewife is that? I popped round yesterdaydirty plates everywhere, dust on the shelves And, naturally, she was tied up with some complicated procedure!
Inside, everything went abruptly quiet. Emma leaned against the garden gate, knees trembling. Seven years shed triedcooking, cleaning, remembering every birthday, turning up with soup when her mother-in-law felt ill. And for what?
No, no, Im not saying anything, but is a woman like that really right for my son? He needs a proper familywarmth, someone wholl look after him And shes forever off at conferences, always working a night shift. She never even mentions children! Can you imagine?
Emmas head began to pound. She found her phone and, with numb fingers, called her husband.
Richard? Ill be a bit late. Yes, Im fine Just held up in traffic.
She turned back toward her car and sank into the seat, eyes blankly fixed ahead. The words spun in her mind: Did you try a bit more salt?, In my day, women stayed at home, Richard works so hard, he needs special care
Her mobile buzzed with a text. Richard again: Mums asking where you are. Everyones arrived.
Taking a deep breath, Emma mustered a brittle smile. Fine, she told herself, if they want the perfect daughter-in-law, theyre going to get her.
She pulled herself together and drove back towards the house, a new resolve settling over her.
No more trying to please. Tonight, shed show them exactly what a real daughter-in-law looked like.
Emma burst through the door, beaming with exaggerated enthusiasm. Mummy dearest! she cried, enveloping her mother-in-law in a dramatic embrace. Sorry Im late, but I went to three different shops to find exactly the candles you adore!
Her mother-in-law went momentarily pale, caught off guard by this wave of energy. I thought she started, but Emma breezed on:
And you wont believe itI ran into your friend Margaret on the way here! Such a wonderful woman; always tells it straight, doesnt she? Emma tossed her a knowing glance, watching her mother-in-laws face blanch.
That evening, Emma put on the bravest performance of her life. She heaped generous helpings onto her mother-in-laws plate, audibly admired her every anecdote, and pestered her endlessly for advice on keeping house.
Mummy, do you think a Sunday roast is better slow-cooked for five or six hours? And carpetsshould they be vacuumed in the morning, or is evening better? Perhaps I should give up my job altogether? After all, Richard needs a real home, doesnt he?
Richard stared, bewildered; relatives exchanged wary glances. Emma pressed on.
Actually, Ive been thinkingmight be time for me to take some classes in household management? Silly me, wasting time with surgery Clearly, a womans true place is to tend the home, isnt it, Mummy?
Her mother-in-laws fork tapped nervously against her plate, her composure slipping with every word.
And what happened next? Well, some stories youll just have to see through right to the end.
