A Ghastly Discovery in Mother-in-Laws Pot
Mother-in-law peered into the saucepan and let out a horrified shriek.
Eleanor rose at dawn and, as was her habit, made her way to the kitchen of her home in the outskirts of York. To her astonishment, her daughter-in-law was already bustling by the stove.
“Good morning,” smiled Matilda, stirring something in the pot.
“Morning,” grumbled Eleanor, wrinkling her nose. “What are you making?”
“Pea and mint soup,” replied the younger woman without looking up. “William adores it.”
“Pea and mint soup?” The mother-in-law sniffed suspiciously. “Does it usually smell like this?”
“How should it smell?” Matilda shrugged, covered the pot, and slipped out of the kitchen.
Eleanor wasted no time. She hurried to the stove, lifted the lid, and stared inside. What she saw made her recoil in horror.
“What on earth is this concoction?” she muttered, stepping back as if from poison.
Matilda returned with bowls and, noticing her mother-in-laws reaction, explained calmly,
“Its pea and mint soup, Eleanor. The vegetables are from our gardenfreshly picked. Cooking with your own harvest is like a celebration.”
“A celebration?” scoffed the older woman, crossing her arms. “That garden is nothing but a chore! Wasting time digging in the dirt when you could buy everything at the market? I dont understand you.”
“I enjoy it,” Matilda said softly, ladling the soup. The scent of mint, peas, and spring onions filled the kitchen. “The earth gives such energy when you work with it.”
“Energy?” Eleanor rolled her eyes. “Its a hobby for those with nothing better to do. Proper people” She broke off, seeing Matilda still smiling, as if deaf to her jabs. “And who have you made all this for?”
“For us,” replied her daughter-in-law. “For a few days. William always has seconds.”
Eleanor stepped back dramatically, as though the smell alone made her ill.
“I shant touch a bite!” she declared. “The very scent turns my stomach! What on earth have you put in it?”
Matilda sighed, avoiding her gaze. From the corner of her eye, she spotted William entering the kitchen, watching the scene in silence.
Eleanor couldnt fathom what had become of her son. Just two years ago, William had been a promising young man in Londons tech circles. Theyd attended exhibitions together, dined in new restaurants, spoken of his bright future. And nowthis rustic life, this garden, this plain Matilda! Even her name made Eleanor bristle.
William had always been a fine matchtall, clever, charming. How many well-bred girls had sighed over him! Why had he chosen this country girl and this little cottage in the middle of nowhere? Eleanor hoped hed grow bored and return to the city. But the months passed, and William only sank deeper into this “country idyll.”
She resolved to act. Matildas invitation was the perfect opportunity. The mother-in-law had a plan: remind her son of who he truly was and pry him from the countryside before it was too late.
William stepped into the kitchen, wrapped an arm around his wife, and turned to his mother.
“Mother, try the soup. Matilda makes it perfectly.”
“William, you know your father and I never ate such rustic slop,” Eleanor retorted. “I remember when you were a boy, youd turn up your nose at anything green. Called it old folks food.”
Matilda couldnt help but smile, picturing young William scowling at his plate. But now he was a man, and his tastes had changed.
“Times change, Mother,” he replied, laughing. “Matildas soup is a masterpiece. Have a taste, youll see.”
“A masterpiece?” The mother-in-law choked on indignation. “William, you call a pot of peas a masterpiece? True masterpieces belong in theatres and galleries, not in this peasants pot!”
