Mother-in-law Decided to Test Emilys Mettle. The Result Was Unexpected
Margaret Lawson phoned on Thursday evening. James answered, spoke quietly for about ten minutes, then walked into the kitchen wearing the look of someone bearing unwelcome news, not quite sure how to break it.
Mums planning to visit, he said. For a couple of weeks.
Emily stirred her soup.
When?
Saturday.
She switched off the hob.
A couple of weeks. Emily knew very well what a couple of weeks meant to Margaret Lawson. It was like just a dash in her recipesdeeply subjective and usually longer than expected.
Margaret arrived on Saturday at exactly noon, with a hefty luggage that jingled menacingly and an expression only people on a thorough inspection havecritical, appraising, like an estate agent viewing a house.
Well, she said after sweeping her gaze over the hallway, no dust. Thats a good start.
James chuckled, and Emily smiled.
Good start was, she gathered, as much of a compliment as one could hope for from Margaret.
Margaret strolled straight to the kitchen, peered into the fridgejust a casual glance, as if it were by chanceand murmured thoughtfully,
Do you always buy semi-skimmed milk? James needs something heartier, you know.
He asked for it, Emily replied.
Well, you cant always take him at his word, Margaret snapped the fridge shut, beaming like shed made a crucial discovery.
That evening, while James was in the shower, Margaret perched on the sofa, folded her hands, and spoke calmly, almost tenderly.
You know, Emily, dont take this the wrong way. I simply need to understand what kind of person you really are.
Margaret was a true professional.
She worked quietly, like an art restorer peeling back layers with intent. Every remark was careful, delivered with a smile, almost innocently.
On the second day, she discovered the towels.
Emily, she mused, standing in the bathroom holding a towel, you do know you should hang towels loop down? Far better for drying.
Ive always hung them this way, Emily replied.
Hmm, yes, well, Margaret agreed, fixing her own towel loop down, like the flag of a new regime.
Jamess shirts were hung up in the wardrobe, ironed, grouped by colour. Margaret opened the door, examined them for a while, nodded to herself, then whispered as if thinking aloud,
The collars are a bit crumpled. Well, perhaps thats intentional.
Emily stood by, realising this wasnt a questionjust an observation, shaped so she didnt have to reply.
A rubber plant Emily had hauled with her across two postcodes, now sat on the windowsill. According to Margaret, it was being watered all wrong.
Emily, rubber plants dislike being watered from above. Use the dish underneath.
This ones lasted for eight years, Emily said.
Well, it could have lasted better, Margaret retorted.
And the plant, wisely, didnt intervene.
Then came the fridge organisation lecture. Milk should be on the middle shelf, meat only at the bottom in a container, salad leaves in a perforated bag or they wilt, and eggs mustnt go in the door, because they get knocked about. Emily nodded and listened politely. The eggs, nonetheless, remained in the door.
Most evenings, Margaret would ring someone on the phoneEmily heard, just by accident, for these Victorian walls were thin and Margarets voice clear and trained from years teaching.
No, Pam, its all right overall. She tries. But its obvious shes not cut out for it. She puts beans in her stew! Quite bizarre. James eats it, hes polite, but I can see. And she hangs towels all wrong. Doesnt know what to do with houseplants
Emily, washing up, wondered how much longer this would go on. She felt as though shed already failed the test. What next?
James drifted through it all with a particular male detachment, which really means: I see everything, but Im pretending otherwise because Ive no idea what to do and just hope it blows over.
In the evenings, hed turn to Emily,
Dont let it get to you. She worries, thats all.
I know, Emily replied.
She doesnt mean any harm.
I know, James.
She just needs to feel were alright.
Yes, I know.
He would look at her, a bit apologetic, a bit relieved. Good she understands. Good she doesnt argue. Good shes calm.
Good, thought Emily, and she would go back to the dishes.
On the tenth day, Margaret left a deliberate mess in the kitchen. Emily returned from work at half six to find dirty tea cups, breadcrumbs scattered, a pack of butter left open. Margaret sat watching TV.
Emily tidied it all away.
That evening Margaret spoke quietly to James in the hallway, supposing Emily was in the bathroom.
James, did you notice the kitchen? Shes clearly struggling to keep up.
Emily stood nearby with a towel folded in her hands.
James said nothing.
Well, thats that, thought Emily. Now its clear.
But she wasnt especially upsetat least, not enough to show it.
The next morning, over breakfast, Margaret announced that her three sisters would be coming round next weekjust for a chat, to get to know you better. Emily smiled and said,
Lovely. Well look forward to it.
James eyed his wife in surprise. Margaret, a hint suspicious. Emily finished her coffee and prepared for work.
Well see, as Margaret was fond of saying.
The visitors arrived Saturday, just before three.
Margarets three sistersConstance, Judith, and Edithwere stout, mature women, each with established opinions about everything, and voices life itself had tempered. They entered the hall, looked the flat over sharply, like seasoned foremen on an audit, and began taking off their coats.
Nice flat, said Constance. Plenty of light.
When was the last time you decorated? Edith inquired.
Three years back, Emily replied.
It shows, said Edith. In what way, she didnt specify.
Margaret welcomed her sisters with the air of a director ushering their cast onstage, keen to see how events would unfold. James helped with the coats, Emily stood calmly by with a faint smileno sign of fuss at all.
This unsettled Margaret a bit.
They moved to the lounge. Sat down. Constance straightened a cushion, and asked,
So, Emily love, whats on the menu today?
And thenheres the twistEmily did something no one expected.
She looked at Margaret. Calmly. No drama, no pressure.
Margaret, I thought perhaps youd take charge of the kitchen today. You always say you cook better than I do, and it would be a shame to embarrass myself before your sisters.
Silence.
Margaret looked at Emily. Emily gave her a friendly, open expression, as if shed made a perfectly reasonable suggestion and was puzzled by the tension.
I began Margaret.
Theres everything you needchicken, veg, herbs. I did the shopping this morning. Youre such a good cook, James always says so.
James, in his armchair, suddenly became very interested in the rug pattern.
Judith glanced at Constance. Edith watched Margaret with keen curiosity.
Well then, Margaret said at last. By all means.
And off she went to the kitchen.
Emily settled on the sofa next to Constance, and cheerfully asked,
How was your journey? Any hold-ups?
Constance seemed caught off-guard, but answered. Then Edith added a grumble about traffic. Judith chimed in that their area was always jammed on Saturdays. Conversation started up shiftlessly, simply because silence had become awkward.
The sounds of activity came from the kitchen: fridge doors opening, then a long pause, then more banging about, then the rattle of a saucepan, then the shuffle of a search for something elusive.
Emily! called Margaret from the kitchen. Wheres your roasting dish?
Bottom cupboard, to the right, Emily replied without getting up.
Pause.
Cant see it.
Under the baking tray.
A long pause.
Ah, got it.
Constance cleared her throat. Judith examined the painting on the wall. Edith stared innocently out of the window.
Emily turned to Judith,
Would you like some tea while you wait? Ill put the kettle on.
Oh yes, please, Judith said, as if a weight had been lifted.
Emily disappeared to the kitchen, stood quietly just beside Margaret for a moment. Margaret, frowning over the chopping board, looked every bit a general suddenly handed a potato peeler.
Not a word was exchanged.
Emily stuck the kettle on, gathered cups, and left.
Dinner was eventually served. It took nearly an hour and a halfslightly chaotic, chicken a bit dry, sauce too runny. Margaret laid the table looking as if she were fulfilling her duty but wishing she were elsewhere.
Constance sampled the chicken and said diplomatically,
Margaret, you always did have a way with a roast.
The table fell quietnot awkward, just gently so. Everyone understood, and nobody intended to voice what they all knew. The guests ate, chatted politely, praised the chickenhalf-hearted but making an effort.
Emily was a gracious hostess, asking about Judiths grandchildren, joining the conversation about gardens, and pouring tea for all.
Margaret sat at the head, mostly silent.
When the guests left and supper was cleared, Margaret emerged from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel (loop hanging down).
Emily sat in the lounge, cuppa in hand. James was nearby.
Margaret paused in the doorway, then took a seat in the armchair. She waited a moment. The night had drawn in; the only sound was the neighbours telly next door.
You handled that well, Margaret conceded.
I just know what I want, Emily answered.
Margaret nodded, got up, and as she reached her room, she paused, not looking back.
To be honest, that stew with beans wasnt half bad.
And left.
James looked at Emily.
How long have you been planning that? he asked softly. Letting her take the kitchen.
Since you were silent in the hallway, she replied.
He nodded, and didnt ask again.
Three days later, Margaret headed home. She packed herself, called for a cab. Hugged James, andafter a pausehugged Emily as well.
Emily closed the door after her. Then she went to the bathroom and re-hung her towelloop up, as usual.
Life isnt a test you need to pass for anyones approval. Sometimes, standing your ground with quiet confidence earns more respect than trying to please.
