This isnt right! Shes his mother, after all! He ought to bring her into his own house! The voices belonged to those closest to my husband, Richard. I know my own friends secretly agree, yet none dare say it to my face. All because of the story of my mother-in-law, Margaret.
Margaret is eighty-three, weighs more than sixteen stone, and suffers from frequent illness. Why dont you have Margaret live with you? my cousin asked me years ago. Its good you visit every day, but what if something happens at night? She struggles alone. Richard is her only support.
Its plain that grandma would be cared for by her one son, his wife, me, and her only grandchild. In the past five years, Margaret hasnt stepped out of her flat, not once. Her legs pain her, and her weight keeps her nearly immobile. It all began thirty years ago. Back then, my mother-in-law was lively, young, healthy, and formidable.
Who have you brought to me? shed snapped the day Richard first introduced me. Did you throw your whole life away for this?
Without a word, I walked with Richard to the bus stop, my heart pressed tight. At that time, his mum lived in a stately manor in Surrey, a grand and elegant house. Her husband held an impressive position, so Margaret enjoyed a comfortable life, even after his passing. That day, Richard trailed after me, refusing to blindly obey his mother; he respected his elders, but tried to soothe me, explaining that Margaret simply had that sort of temperament.
After Richard and I married, we saved every pound and penny for our own flat. Richard moved out and vanished for six monthshe had work. Within a few years, we managed to buy and finish our home. We rarely visited Margaret. She never missed a chance to bad-mouth me to Richard and anyone else she knew: You see, my daughter-in-law wont let me help my son. How can she not let him?
Margaret decided to move into town, but the cash from her house sale did not stretch far enough. She suggested we contribute, promising the flat would go to our son, her grandson, one day. Yet, at the solicitors, she suddenly declared the flat should be left to herself; A friend told me grandmothers often end up with nothing. Then she said she’d leave it to whoever would look after her in old age. She wanted to be lady of the household. Accused us of planning to cheat her.
Nearly two decades have slipped by since. Everyone in the solicitors office heard her complaints, and we were mortified. We let it go. She moved in at oncewouldnt even let us do simple repairs. After a month, she began moaning about broken fixtures and crumbling walls, blaming me for everything: My daughter-in-law found me the wrong flat, she wants to dupe me.
Margaret adored her cousins children, but ignored her own grandson, pretending to forget his birthday. A few years back she fell ill; weight made movement nearly impossible. I delivered healthy food, prescribed by her doctor. Margaret cursed, refused to eat, insisting only her cousin fed her properly and I starved her.
Last year, Richard pleaded with me to let her live with us. He said Margaret finally realised she ought to listen to the doctor.
Alright, I agreed, but on my terms: The kitchen is mine alone. Only I cook and decide what we eat. And none of her cousins visiting.
Margaret was appalled, refusing to come unless she assumed shed rule our home. But theres only one real lady of the houseme. So I visited her, cleaned up, cooked meals, even stayed overnight. Her beloved cousin expressed concern only by phone calls.
Margaret phoned, complaining that I starve her: no sweets, no smoked sausages. She begged me to bring cakes, but then, citing her busy schedule, put off seeing her. Even though she lived three times closer, she visited just once a month, bringing unhealthy food, while I cared for Margaret daily.
One day, Margaret called her cousin to moan about her missing necklace and cross. She said both of us had been there that day, but was certain Id taken them.
I placed her dinner on the table and retrieved the chain and cross, which had simply slipped behind her nightstand. At home, I told Richard everything and decided I would not continue. I suggested we look at a care home for Margaret. Richard agreed.
