George, I understand everything, but Im not here to play housekeeper for your mother hissed Edith, tossing a tin of garden peas into the trolley. I want to drop everything, jump in the car, and drive home. We were promised a quiet evening together, just the three of us, but somehow you and I are cooking for an entire regiment while your mum just sits there! Is that normal?
George shrank into his shoulders and stared studiously at the packaging of faux crab sticks, like a guilty dog caught eating Sunday roast scraps.
Edie, keep your voice down, people are staring he murmured, trying to grasp her elbow, but she jerked away. Mum just got ahead of herself, it happens. Lets finish the shopping, get back, and power through these salads. Bear with me, for the sake of the holiday.
Ahead of herself. What a charming euphemism.
Edith ground her teeth in frustration. She knew perfectly well his mother had planned it all precisely.
Everything began a week ago with a phone call. Barbara rang to wish the newlyweds Happy New Year, and suddenly decided to invite them over.
My darlings crooned Barbara in such syrupy tones, youd feel a sugar rush just listening How about a visit for Christmas? I miss you terribly! Just the three of us, reminiscing, chatting. Its ever so lonely between these four walls.
Edith tensed right away. Her gut always warned her. These quiet little family gatherings inevitably ended in an interrogation about grandchildren.
Barbara broached the subject even before Edith and George were married.
Edith, have you thought about children? she asked out of nowhere when they were alone.
Edith was caught off guard.
Well she started, scrambling for an answer I do want children, but not yet. George and I are just dating.
Oh, Edith, you dont need a certificate to have babies Barbara waved her hand But age Times ticking, you arent getting any younger! And neither am I… Could die and never meet my grandchildren.
At first, Edith joked her way out, then she started snapping back. Eventually, almost unconsciously, she avoided his mother, just to preserve her sanity.
So it was that Edith and Barbara hardly knew each other, rarely speaking. Edith would have kept it that way, but George intervened. He was far too tender, too dutiful a son to refuse his mother anything.
Edie, lets go, please he pleaded after another call, gazing at her Shes elderly, truly lonely. Just this once, for me.
George, Im not stopping you. Go. You know I dont celebrate Christmas.
Dont think of it as Christmas, just a normal family supper George persisted Mum wants to bond with you. Were family
Edith resisted for ages, but finally agreed. She hoped a polite smile and a bit of tea with cake would do. How wrong she was
Everything went sideways the day before. Barbara demanded they arrive at eight in the morning for a longer sit. Edith disagreed, wanting to sleep in at least on Saturday. She managed to wrangle a delay till ten.
So, bleary-eyed, they finally crossed Barbaras threshold and nothing. No scent of roast, no sizzling. The queen of festivities greeted them in a greasy dressing gown and curlers.
Finally! You managed to turn up! barked Barbara instead of hello Half eleven! Guests will be here any moment, nothings ready. Shouldve been here sooner! Now, help me out.
Edith froze, coat still on her shoulders.
What guests? she asked shakily.
Oh, just Linda and Victor happened to be passing through London, couldnt not invite them. Aunt Maureen from upstairs will drop by. My niece promised to pop in. Couldnt turn them away! No more chatter, into the kitchen, were short on time!
Then reality dawned for Edith: they werent guests, they were unpaid help.
The holiday became a haze of hell. Barbara swiftly transformed from hostess to headmistress, armed with a rag and barking orders across the house. She didnt actually touch a saucepan herself. Worse, she’d bungled the shopping: some items missing, some forgotten entirely. She handed George a list, dispatched them to the market.
Edith nearly fled, but endured for Georges sake.
Soon, they returned to their workstationsEdith at the chopping board, George peeling potatoes. No festive cheer, just an endless chore list. Five feverish hours, without pause.
By four oclock, guests trickled in. Well-dressed, fragrant, loud. Edith and George, meanwhile, were sweaty and exhausted. They staggered to the table at the last moment, cheeks red, clothes stained, barely holding on. They had zero desire to celebrate, or even exist.
Barbara, meanwhile, slithered into a smart dress, applied lipstick, sat at the head of the table accepting praise:
Oh Barbara, how lovely, what a hostess, all these dishes! cooed an unknown woman, helping herself to salad Edith had chopped.
We do try. All for our guests, all for you Barbara replied modestly, smiling.
Promptly, Barbara launched the grandchildren lecture againraised her glass with a moralising toast about tick-tock. If it werent for George squeezing Ediths knee, she would have flipped the beetroot bowl across the table.
That was the last time Edith said flatly to George as they drove home late that evening Ill never set foot in your mothers house again. You visit, help, sweat all you want, but alone. Im done.
George didnt argue. He simply nodded.
Three months passed. Ediths back finally stopped aching from that infamous day, but the sting remained. So when George announced his mother wanted them for Mothers Day in March, Edith tensed again.
Shes inviting us for Mothers Day. Says itll be just the three of us well, maybe Aunt Susan pops in, but only briefly, just to wish us well he ventured, but seeing Ediths stare, quickly added, Not forcing you, just saying.
George braced for drama: shouting, complaints about spoiled holidays. But Edith just gazed out the window, pondering
Fine. Tell your mum well come.
Edie Seriously? You said
I remember. But if we say no, shell start pestering daily, like last time. I want her to stop inviting, stop guilt-tripping. Listen Just trust me, if you dont want another marathon in the kitchen.
George kept silent. Hed rather not know details.
Mothers Day, contrary to Barbaras expectations, did not begin with frantic alarms and chaos. Edith and George lounged in bed, watching inane sitcoms and eating ice cream straight from the tub. No getting ready, no fussing over shirts.
By midday, Barbara started ringing.
Hello, Barbara? You wont believe it Weve only just woken up Edith said in a voice thick with fake remorse Stayed out late with friends yesterday, overslept.
How could you, Edith? Ive been waiting Barbara snapped Hurry up. The roast goose is going cold.
Were getting ready! An hour, maybe ninety minutes well be there! promised Edith, hung up, and resumed their show.
George eyed her nervously but didnt protest. Bed was warmer than Barbaras kitchen.
At one oclock, the phone rang again. Edith waited before answering.
Nearly leaving, Barbara! Just calling a cab, we’ll be there in a flash she chirped, not moving.
Another hour, and the excuse evolved.
A car crashed into a bus, whole roads blocked reported Edith, turning down the telly Awful traffic. Should clear soon.
By nearly half-four, Barbara lost her composure.
Where ARE you?! she rasped, all sweetness gone You could have walked by now!
Edith caught voices and laughter in the background. She squinted.
Barbara, are you not alone? she asked plainly.
Alone, not alone what does it matter? Barbara snapped Relatives turned up to wish happy Mothers Day. Couldn’t turn them out. Are you coming or not?! I’m barely able to stand, so much to do!
Right. Barbara had banked on free labour again, but her plan crashed and burned, forcing her to cook solo. Digging her own grave.
Actually, we’re not coming Edith said coolly.
What?!
Suddenly felt ill. Must be the journey. Were heading home.
Silence. Then Barbara erupted.
How DARE you?! Ungrateful wretch! I’ve slaved over the stove since dawn, for whom?! For whom?! You do this on purpose! If I have a stroke now, whose fault?! George! Put George on!
George heard it all, but didnt move. Only looked down. Edith thought briefly, then pressed the red button and switched off the phone.
Just as expected she said to George A crowd again. We were meant to serve them. Let her handle the guests herself.
That evening, they visited Ediths parents.
Difference was clear from the doorstep. There was bustle, but a wholly different mood. No one sat grumpy, awaiting service. Ediths mum tried to wedge an enormous salad bowl onto the table. Even her dad sliced sandwiches.
Oh, the youngsters are here! he beamed at Edith and George George, fetch chairs from the bedroom, you two need seats.
George hurried away; Edith helped her mum set plates.
They helped, yes, but out of goodwill. It didnt feel like exploitation, more natural and faireach doing their bit for everyone.
Sitting at the table, Edith watched her smiling mother and George chatting with her dad, and felt the tension unwind at last. Justice, however messy, was restored. Perhaps Barbara would never dare pull the same trick again. The bridges between Edith and her mother-in-law were finally burnt, but that was far better than being a servant at someone elses party.
