24May I was in the kitchen when my motherinlaws voice thundered across the room. Whats this? she demanded, clutching a cracked porcelain teacup from the set her late husband had given her. Did you break it?
Emma froze. It wasnt her fault; most likely little Molly, my motherinlaws fiveyearold granddaughter, had been playing on the tiles that morning. Telling the truth, however, would expose the child to her grandmothers wrath.
Im not sure, Eleanor Whitaker, Emma answered quietly. Perhaps I nudged it while washing up.
Eleanor pursed her lips, a thin smile flickering in her eyes. Of course! Always the same excuse. Twenty years in my house and you still show no respect. You know how much that set meant to me!
I can glue it back together, Emma offered. Itll be almost invisible.
Dont touch it! Youll make it worse, Eleanor snapped.
James, my husband, shuffled in, rubbing his forehead. The night shift at the shopping centre had left him with a splitting headache; the constant hum of the security monitors never helped. Whats happened? he asked, glancing between his mother and wife.
Your dear wife has shattered my tea set, Eleanor said, wrapping the broken cup in a kitchen towel. The very one my late husband gave me.
I expected James to defend Emma, or at least to downplay the incident, but he only sighed. Emma, how many times have I heard Mum say to be careful with her things?
I didnt even Emma began, then fell silent. Arguing was pointless.
James fetched a bottle of kefir from the fridge and retreated to the lounge. Emma was left alone with Eleanor, who dabbed at a tear with a napkin. All my life Ive laboured for this family, she lamented. I kept the house, raised my son. And now this?
Emma wiped her hands on a towel, fighting the urge to cry. Shed learned over two decades to swallow her emotions; in Eleanors house, tears fell on deaf ears. Ill hang the washing, she said, and hurried out to the garden.
That evening, when our daughter Olivia returned from college, Emma was on the back porch sorting beans. Olivia flopped her bag onto the bench and sat beside her. Mum, why so glum?
Just tired, Emma replied, forcing a smile.
Olivia was sharp for an eighteenyearold and sensed the tension. Grandma again? she asked bluntly.
Emma stayed silent; that said enough.
How long are you going to put up with this? Why do you never stand up for yourself? I saw Molly playing with the set this morning, Olivia pressed. Mum, you should speak up.
Enough, Emma warned, glancing around. Mollys only five; she doesnt need a lecture.
Do you want a lecture, then? Olivia snapped, tucking a long chestnut curl behind her ear. Sometimes I feel youre nothing more than a servant in this house.
Emmas heart clenched. Olivia had voiced the very thought Emma had kept hidden: she felt like a stranger in her own home despite twenty years of marriage.
Dont say foolish things, Emma said sternly. We are family. It just happens that we live in Eleanors house. Shes an elderly lady who needs our care.
Dont you need care either? Olivia shot back, rising. Im off to change.
When Olivia left, Emma stared at her calloused hands, the skin cracked from endless chores. She had once been a nurse at the local clinic, dreaming of a medical career, but after marrying James and having Alex, the pressure to stay home grew. Your son has a good job, why should you return to the ward? her motherinlaw had insisted. So Emma gave up her ambitions.
Dinner that night was quiet. Only Molly, Eleanors granddaughter, chattered away, bragging about a new pink dress her aunt Irene had bought her. I look like a princess! she declared.
Of course, darling, Eleanor cooed. Youre the prettiest princess here.
Grandma, why doesnt Aunt Emma ever wear nice dresses? She always looks the same, Molly asked innocently.
Emmas spoon froze halfway to her mouth. Eleanor brushed her off. Its not proper to speak like that, dear.
Later, Olivia offered, Mum, lets go shopping tomorrow. Ive got a scholarship; I can buy you something nice.
No need to spend money, Emma said. I have enough to wear.
Spend it on books, not rags, James muttered, glancing at his phone. Exams are near.
Olivia shot him a furious look. Why does Grandma have a new TV, you a new phone, Molly a mountain of toys, and Mum not even a decent dress?
Watch your tongue, James snapped. Youre speaking to your father like that?
Then how do you speak to Mum? Olivia retorted. She lives here like a maid!
Jamess face flushed. Apologise to your grandmother now! This is her house.
Enough! Emma stood, her voice trembling. Olivia, go to your room.
Mom
Go, Emma repeated, firm.
Eleanor shook her head. Shes become spoiled, no respect for elders.
Emma cleared the table mechanically, feeling a weight building inside her chest. Twenty years under this roof and she still felt like Cinderella waiting for a prince that never came.
That night, lying beside James as he snored, Emma thought back to when they first met. He had been tall, confident, a security chief with a military bearing, and had courted her with flowers and gentle jokes. She had been a modest girl from a teaching family, living with her parents in a nearby village. Their wedding had taken place in Eleanors house, with Jamess father, Peter Whitaker, proudly welcoming Emma as his daughterinlaw. I always wanted a daughter, he had said, and now I have one.
For a while, with Peter alive, Emma felt welcomed. He defended her against Eleanors constant criticisms, often calling her Emma, youre a wonderful wife; no one could be better for James. But after Peters death, Eleanors demands grew relentless, and James, exhausted by the endless arguments, began to withdraw.
Emma turned on her side, staring into the darkness. Perhaps Olivia was rightperhaps she truly was a stranger in her own family. Yet she had no job, no savings. Her parents were gone, the tiny cottage they left behind had been sold at Jamess urging to fund renovations on Eleanors house.
Morning brought resolve. I would speak to James alone, without Eleanors ears, and explain how hard this had become.
At breakfast, Eleanor announced, Irene calledtheres an emergency at work, and they need Molly for a week. Ill take her into my room.
Perhaps she could stay with Olivia? I suggested. The girls could keep each other company.
Never! Eleanor shouted. Olivia has her textbooks everywhere and is preparing for exams. Shell only get in the way of Molly. The girl
