**The Second Mother-in-Law**
A woman in a cleaners uniform peered nervously into the office of the owner of the Eclipse Aesthetic Clinic. Her name was Janet, and right now she was speaking as quietly as possible, not wanting to irritate her boss.
I heard theres an opening for a junior massage therapist.
Thomas Graham looked up, his face tight with annoyance. Hed just been told an important investor meeting had collapsed, and he nursed a splitting headache.
And youwith your mopthink youre about to give clients a massage?
No, but Ive taken online courses. And Ive written a CV, Janet replied shyly, handing him a rather battered sheet she pulled from her pocket.
At that exact moment, Thomass deputy, Lionel Sutton, entered the office. Thomas rubbed his temples and snapped:
Lionel, why are cleaners wandering wherever and whenever they want? Get her out of my office. Shes got delusions of grandeur! Throw her out and make it clear I wont tolerate these stupid interruptions again!
Without waiting for a reply, he snatched Janets CV, tore it into shreds, and flung them at her feet.
Janet bit her lip, crouched down, and began to gather the scraps. Tears blurred her vision. Lionel unceremoniously grabbed her elbow and marched her through the corridor, past clients and staff, before shoving her into a storage room.
On top of an ancient, dusty sand box used for fire safety, Janet sat, her strength gone, and gave in to tears.
She hadnt worked at Eclipse long. Janet never dreamed of mopping floors, but the pay was better than anywhere else, and Thomas Graham was said to be a self-made mana workaholic who had built the clinic with his own hands.
And that, for the most part, was true. Thomas had grown up in a childrens home, never knowing his parents. He spent years searching for any trace of them, but to no avail. Instead, he became a surgeon, then an expert in aesthetic medicine. Even actresses from London made appointments with himand spared no expense. Each year, he raised his prices and denied himself nothing.
Janet had dared to apply for the massage job because of this reputation. Shed always dreamed of becoming a massage therapist, studied textbooks, even completed a medical college programme as best she could. But without formal qualifications, she could never work in the field properly. Shed started saving for real training, but her husband disappeared, taking all the money, leaving Janet and her young daughter, Katie, without a penny.
It later turned out that Alex had a criminal record and was generally a con man, his backstory an utter fabrication. The divorce stretched on for months, with him never attending a hearing. Janet endured for Katies sake, but that was when her hardships truly began.
Jobs for single mothers were hard to come by. The three of themJanet, Katie, and her mother, Anne Simmonsshared a poky little flat. There were no luxuries; sometimes they lived entirely on Annes pension. Anne, a retired gymnast who had always been an irrepressible optimist, took on most of Katies care so Janet could work any job she could find.
Determined to get closer to her dream, Janet signed up for an affordable course. It was that certificate, now shredded, shed hoped would help her chances.
She wiped her tears and returned to finish the floors. People glanced at her, whispered. Yet at home, her mother was waiting with good news: Katie had won the nurserys art contest. Janet always did her best to buy decent paints for her daughter, who was now in art club, much to Janets delight.
The mop bucket felt impossibly heavy that day. As Janet took it out to empty, it was lifted from her by Frank Evansthe caretaker, and the only one in the clinic who treated her kindly. Frank, an older man, had a wry, tolerant attitude toward Thomasa self-important man who seemed to have forgotten his own roots.
Frank never belittled Janet. Quite the oppositehed share homemade cakes and always had a kind word. It was Franks encouragement that had given Janet the confidence to approach the clinic owner with her application.
When she saw Frank, she burst into tears again.
Dont cry, lass, he said gently. Things will change.
I should never have tried, Janet sniffled. I made things worse.
Thomas just wasnt himself today. Try again another time, he offered.
Ive been told not to. I was dreaming I could make something of myself, like he did. Thought he was a decent bloke but hes just full of himself and his credentials.
Frank shrugged. Janet put her cleaning gear away and walked home, frettingmoney would be tight once more. Katie had asked for an expensive toy, and Janet had no idea how shed buy it.
Home was not as it used to be. Anne sat in her armchair, quietly wiping her eyes. Janets heart clenched; her mother was strong, a survivorif she was upset, something serious was wrong.
Mum, whats happened? Janet asked shakily.
Its nothing, Anne tried.
Mum, please tell me.
Anne broke down.
I went for my routine medical. Everyone from the community theatre was sent. They found something. Ill need surgery, or else She swallowed. They say Ive got about a year. Waiting lists are massive. Privately, we cant afford it. Itd have to be in London: travel, tests, treatment. I suppose my times come.
Dont say that, Janet cried. Well think of something.
On your cleaners wage and my pension? Anne gave a bitter smile. Still, I know youll try, love. But you cant make a silk purse from a sows ear.
Janet spent the night awake, going over possibilities. By dawn shed decided: she had to speak to Thomas Graham again, no matter the risk.
But the next day she was barred from the clinic. Shed been let go due to staff cutbacks, paid three weeks statutory minimum, and told to leave.
Frank pressed his phone number into her hand as she left. Janet copied it out automatically, her mind blank. How would she manage another month, let alone more?
Janet wasnt one to give up. She told her mother shed left the job by choice, then started searching for new roles. Without qualifications, everywhere paid little. Then she spotted an advert for a live-in carerno medical licence required, but shed cook, clean, and help with daily tasks.
Janet took a deep breath. It wasnt any more demeaning than cleaning in a clinic. She sent her CV. They called within the hourit was an agency, arranging work with a wealthy, elderly woman who lived alone.
She was told to bring her documents and come for an interview. Soon, Janet was sitting across from Tamara, head of recruitment.
Lets not have any illusions, Tamara said in clipped tones. The client is difficult. Youll be her tenth carer. No one lasts.
Janet tensed but said nothing.
Youve probably heard the nameEmma Mortimer. Its a stage name, of course; she changed her surname years ago. Shes a former star of the local opera. Demanding, wealthy, and with eccentric tastesher late admirers left her well-off.
To be honest, it doesnt matter much to me, Janet said softly. I dont have the luxury to pick and choose.
If you have children, be aware: Mrs Mortimer wont tolerate them. Or pets. She uses a walker but prefers to be wheeled about by her carer. If you survive three months probation, youll have a contract and double salary.
Janet nodded. Even the provisional wage dwarfed what shed been earning. Here was a chance to help her mother, so she wouldnt let it slip by.
Shed start the very next morning, at seven.
That night, Janet tried to look up Mrs Mortimer online; a few old concert listings emerged, from a decade ago. The photos showed a large, black-haired woman with a piercing gazenothing couldve prepared Janet for reality.
A security guard opened the door; it turned out Mrs Mortimer owned an entire manor right in the heart of the city. Janet stared in awe at the opulent interiors.
What are you gawping at? Hoping to nick something? came a crackled voice.
Into the grand hall wheeled a chairelectric, top of the range. Seated in it was a tiny old woman, all white hair and sharp, restless eyes.
Good morning, Mrs Mortimer, Janet murmured.
Speak up. Dont mumble, came the snap. Hands out of your pockets. And mind the floors! There are shoe covers in that bucketput them on. Its custom parquet. Now, come along, I want breakfast.
Janet pulled on the soft, fabric covers and followed.
Brush my hair. Gently! Mrs Mortimer barked. Nonot like that, heaven help me take off the cap, then get my wig, and brush that.
Sorry, I didnt quite catch what you meant, Janet apologised.
They send nothing but fools these days. Where do they get you lot, the Idiot Factory? Mrs Mortimer sneered. Bring me some tea. Now.
Janet went to the kitchen.
Dont stomp about! The floors shaking! Move quietly, youre getting on my nerves! the old ladys voice chased after her.
Mrs Mortimer inspected her tea in the light, as if checking for poison. Then she made a face and, suddenly, flung the scalding liquid at Janet.
You jostled my arm. Your own fault.
Janet took a deep breath.
Right. Wheres the bathroom?
Servants loo is by the front door, Mrs Mortimer snapped, then narrowed her eyes. And youre not going to answer me back?
Not much point, Janet replied quietly. You must have many more tricks up your sleeve.
Hah. Off you go, then. Towels in there. Grab a guest set of pyjamas and put your own things in the wash.
Janet complied and returned to find the day had only just begun. Mrs Mortimer took pleasure in tormenting the new girl: picking faults, playing little pranks. But Janet soon guessed that this was all a test. So she stayed calm and endured, convinced the old lady would soon run out of steam.
By evening Mrs Mortimer had, indeed, mellowed. Before bedtime, Janet gave her a gentle massage, waited for her to fall asleep, replaced the wig on its stand, and left.
The next morning, she was met by the second shifts carer, who grinned at her.
What did you do yesterday? I hear our dragons slept all night! Jenny, the housemaid, says she was like a baby.
Oh, nothing special, said Janet, shrugging. Maybe she was tired.
Today Mrs Mortimer was lively and immediately informed Janet that her dress sense was atrocious, and shed never find a man without learning to use makeup. Janet smiled and started helping her get ready. The wig went better this time.
After that Mrs Mortimer demanded Janet book a manicure, dressed her in a Japanese-style robe, and had her moved to the “boudoir”.
It quickly became clear who the performance was for.
After luncha manicure. Then, an elegant, silver-haired gentleman arrived. Dapper as a dancer, he was introduced as a longstanding friend, Oscar. Janet nervously made coffee on the state-of-the-art machine but all went well. During Oscars visit, Mrs Mortimer behaved perfectly.
At the end of the day, Mrs Mortimer asked, What did you do to me before bed yesterday?
Just a massage, Janet replied softly.
Are you a professional? Mrs Mortimer asked, eyeing her.
No, self-taught mostly.
Hmm. Do it again, the old lady instructed graciously.
From then on Janet finished each day with a massage. Three months trial flew by unnoticed. She had barely a day off a week, almost never saw Katie, but she now earned enough so her mother could finally retire. Anne found it hard to keep working backstage at the theatre, carrying heavy costumes.
Gradually, relations with Mrs Mortimer improved. The old lady seemed to be sizing Janet up, testing her stamina. One day, she asked:
So how do your family cope with these hours?
Its just me, Mum and my daughter, Katie. But needs must.
How olds the little one? Got any hobbies?
Nearly six. Shes brilliant at drawing, Janet said, remembering Tamaras warning.
Bring her along. Well get acquainted, Mrs Mortimer intoned.
Soon, Katie started coming to her mothers work. She sat quietly in the corner, sketching. One day, she drew Mrs Mortimers portrait so well that the old lady had it framed and hung up.
Slowly, the three became close. Janet no longer panicked about losing her job.
Mrs Mortimer had a complex joint disorder; operations wouldnt help. On bad days Janet massaged her for hours to ease the pain. Sometimes, Mrs Mortimer asked for Janet and Katie to stay the night and gave them the guest room.
Falling asleep to Katies soft breathing, Janet caught herself imagining she really lived here. Shed grown to love the old house, where the air itself seemed steeped in yesterday.
The next day Mrs Mortimer felt better. She and Katie breakfasted in the dining room, then sent Janet to tidy the studysaying the housekeeper couldnt be trusted with something so delicate.
While dusting, Janet unearthed a yellowed album. Having finished, she brought it to the lounge.
Mrs Mortimer, may I look at this?
Ah, those were the days we were famous once, the old lady chuckled. Lets see, I havent opened it in years.
Together, they flicked through the pages. First came childhood photographs of Emma. Suddenly, Katie exclaimed:
Thats my grandma! We have this photo at home!
Janet stared, disbelieving: there was her mother, Anne, as a young woman.
How do you have Mums photo? Janet breathed.
Mrs Mortimer squinted at Janet, studying her for a long moment.
Youre Annies daughter, arent you? she said finally. No wonder you look familiar. I always wondered.
But did you know my mother? Janet asked.
Of course, Mrs Mortimer snorted. We were best friends as girls. Shed sneak away from gymnastics, Id skip out of music school. We even started gymnastics together, though she had more talent. I didnt fancy being second fiddle.
Why did you stop seeing each other? Katie asked innocently.
We grew up, Mrs Mortimer sighed. Your grandma had a crush on her dashing young coach, Ian. We fell out over himand, naturally, he chose me. Your grandma lost her spot on the team for it.
I never knew any of this… Janet murmured. Butwas that your surname then?
Oh, no! Mrs Mortimer grimaced. I was Simmons. Ians surname was Mortimer. He was my first husbandI kept the name after we split up three months later.
From that day, Janet determined to arrange a reunion for the two old friends. As luck would have it, an opportunity came soon after.
Mrs Mortimer asked overnight company again. Katie had a school trip in the morning, so Anne was asked to pick her up.
Anne arrived in her patched old coat. Mrs Mortimer was preparing for bed, but wheeled herself to the foyer as Janet packed Katies art supplies.
Whos that? Mrs Mortimer snapped. I wasnt expecting anyone.
Hello, Emma, Anne said coolly. I cant say Im pleased to see you.
Likewise, Mrs Mortimer shot back. Looks like lifes given you a rough ride.
No more than anyone else, Anne returned. Ive a daughter and granddaughter, at least. As for you, strangers empty your bedpans despite all your high living.
Not that youve done any better. Still keeping your maiden name, arent you? Mrs Mortimer scoffed.
Anne smiled gently.
Oh, Emma… You never did understand. I kept track of you all these years. Was proud of you. Remember that call five years ago?
Mrs Mortimer blanched.
When that gigolothe actor from our youth theatrewas courting you? Anne continued. You were about to sign your house over to him. I overheard him boasting backstage to a friend that hed land you in a care home and move in with his young mistress. So I called youdisguised my voice.
That was you? You warned me? Mrs Mortimer whispered.
I never managed to hate you, Emma, Anne sighed. I always felt sorry for you. But I couldnt let that pass.
Mrs Mortimer dropped her gaze.
You saved me, she said softly. He had me completely fooled. After your call, I hired a detective.
Well done. Anne nodded. Come on, Katies getting tired.
Anne, wait. How are you living these days? Mrs Mortimer asked.
In a council flat, after the old place got split up. Not like your manor, but we manage, Anne replied.
Thats it then. Youre moving in heretomorrow. This house is far too big. I was already thinking of giving Katie a proper room. And dont argue. Weve plenty to discuss, and who knows how much time two old dears have.
Anne sank down, exhausted.
About eight months, the doctor says.
What do you mean? Mrs Mortimer asked softly, alarmed. Is it cancer?
No, my heart. But we cant afford surgery, Anne waved it away. You cant always buy health. Not in my case.
Its decidedyoure moving in. Well sort out the rest later, Mrs Mortimer insisted. Dont argueI owe you. And by the way, Ive long regretted stealing Ian from you.
You may as well mention that handsome boy at school while youre at it, Anne chuckled. Well go home for tonight. See you tomorrow.
My driver will take you, and collect your things in the morning with Janet, Mrs Mortimer said.
That night Mrs Mortimer stayed up, asking Janet about Annes illness, reminiscing about their youth, regretting lost years. Annes act of kindness had melted the old ladys icy heart.
Within a week, the mansion was transformed. Couriers delivered wallpaper samples, carpet swatches, furniture catalogues. Mrs Mortimer embarked on the move with gusto.
Evenings, she and Anne sat over endless cups of tea, sharing memories. When the decorating ended, Mrs Mortimer announced at dinner:
Anne, Ive shown your notes to a specialist. Surgerys in two weeks. The surgeons a lovely young chap, son of a top cardiologisttry not to flirt with him too much.
Youve arranged a place for me? Anne was stunned. But why?
Why wait for a place on the NHS? Im paying for itall of it. No use protesting. Youre having the op so you can be there for Katie. She needs an active gran, since the other grannys not up to much.
Emma you shouldnt have spent the money Annes eyes filled.
What else do I need it for now? I cant take it with me, Mrs Mortimer sniffed. Youll go to hospital, Janet will look after you, and Ill keep an eye on Katie. Besides, you wont believe it, but I really am better after your daughters massages.
Two weeks later, Anne was settled in a private room at the citys best clinic. The consultant was Dr. Valentine Smitha young, talented cardiac surgeon, son of a professor, but determined to forge his own path. He was, Janet found, warm and straightforward. Watching Janet tend to her mother, Valentine commented one day:
I rarely see such warmth in families. Your mum is lucky. Lucky will be the man who joins your family.
Its just me and Katie, Janet blushed. But shes the best child in the world.
I dont doubt it, Valentine smiled. As for me, wellI married young, against my parents advice. She thought she was marrying into privilege, but I took a provincial postand the marriage ended. But I suppose theres always hope.
I think youll meet the right woman, Janet said quietly.
Maybe I already have, Valentine murmured, turning to gaze out the window.
Janet found herself looking at him differently too. He wasnt classically handsome like Alex, but his face radiated quiet strength and kindnessa deep well of empathy.
Annes recovery was quick. All the while, Mrs Mortimer coped as best she could, even doting on Katie. The child began calling her granny, and saw her as family.
Mrs Mortimer pretended to be fine, but at night when Janet massaged her, the old ladys muscles were stiff with pain. Moving even in a wheelchair was getting harder.
One night Mrs Mortimer said:
Its time you stopped working for me.
You want a new carer? Janet asked in alarm.
I mean I want you to train properly. Go to a good collegeget your diploma and be qualified at last. Understood? Mrs Mortimer said, trying to sound stern.
Ill do my best! Janet beamed. But it costs so much…
Think of me as your fairy godmother, Mrs Mortimer grinned. Besides, having my own in-house therapist is quite practical. Ill pay your way. Just dont let me down.
So Janet agreed. Mrs Mortimer took care of the familys needs, but Janet refused to be a freeloadershe was determined to repay the faith placed in her.
The training was tough. The course leader, Simon Reynolds, an impressive and respected expert, singled Janet out as a gifted student. At graduation, he surprised her.
Do you know Vanilla Spa?
Of courseeveryone dreams of working there, Janet replied brightly.
I own it, Simon said, smiling. Wanted to set up my own place, focused on rehab after illness and surgery. Its challenging workrequires strength and care. I think youre perfect for it.
Overwhelmed, Janet nodded.
She studied with even greater dedication, part of which Simon sponsored, calling it a scholarship. Soon, Janet was working at Vanilla Spa. The shifts were ideal: mornings at the spa, afternoons looking after her mum and Mrs Mortimer, taking Katie to art school.
Within six months, clients were asking for Janet by name.
At the same time, Janet and Valentine grew closer. At first just friends, then much more. Valentine had transferred a year ago hoping to be head cardiac surgeon. At weekends, the three would explore museums, parks, and shows.
Anne slowly returned to work, while Mrs Mortimer spent more and more time in bed. Janets massages gave brief relief, but the pain had grown. Dr. Valentine started sending patients to Janet for rehab. Together, they discovered new treatments for heart patients, and found they had more and more to discuss.
He was often at Mrs Mortimers housenow a true home for Janet and Katieand even received the old ladys formal blessing.
Dont you dare upset my girls! she declared, wagging a finger.
One evening, as Janet finished massaging her aching joints, Mrs Mortimer took Janets hand.
Promise me something, she whispered. Live your life fully, and dont let pride or hurt keep you from those you love. Time is short, but kindness and couragethose last forever.
Janet squeezed her hand, understanding at last that the family you choose through kindness, endurance, and forgiveness may be as precious as the one youre born with. No matter how hard life becomes, with faith in yourself, a little patience, and an open heart, theres no telling what joy and second chances may come your way.
