Laura was tidying up the kitchen, smoothing out the new floral-patterned tea towels, when her phone buzzed. She sighedthree missed calls from Emma, her colleague. It was likely nothing urgent. Laura went back to the cupboard, but the phone buzzed again.
“Laura, why arent you answering?” Emma chattered. “Did you know Margaret is having a big do on Saturday?”
Laura froze, gripping the towel in her hand.
“What do?”
“Her seventy-fifth birthday. Sarah rang meshes going with Mark. Says Margaret sent out invites ages ago.”
The towel slipped from Lauras fingers. Thirty-two years married to James, and shed never missed a family event. But now, Margarets birthdayand not a word.
“Maybe it slipped their minds?” Laura murmured, though she didnt believe it.
“Slipped their minds? Sarah said theres a proper guest listtwenty people. Everyones invited: Jamess brothers, their wives, even their old neighbour from down the road.”
Laura sank onto a stool. Memories flooded backhow shed cared for Margaret after her hip surgery, how shed given up holiday time so her mother-in-law could get new hearing aids, how shed looked after the grandchildren when no one else could.
“Listen,” Emma went on, “its probably because of that trifle last Christmas. Remember how you got the wrong one?”
“Emma, the trifle has nothing to do with it. She just never really accepted me.”
The front door clickedJames was home. Laura quickly ended the call.
Her husband walked in, shaking rain from his coat like a schoolboy. Laura studied the lines around his eyes, the familiar face. Thirty-two years together. And stillan outsider.
“James, is your mum having a party on Saturday?” she asked, keeping her voice steady.
He paused by the fridge, not turning.
“Yeah, just a small thing.”
“Why didnt you mention it?”
James opened the fridge, staring inside as if hed never seen it before.
“Mum didnt want a fuss. Just close family.”
“Close family,” Laura repeated. “And Im not part of that?”
“Laura, dont start. You know how Mum is. Shes set in her ways.”
“Set in her ways?” Laura felt heat rise in her chest. “Thirty-two years Ive put up with her ways! This isnt just quirks, James, this is”
She waved a hand, lost for words.
“I nursed her after her surgery when you were away. I gave up my holiday so she could get those hearing aids. I looked after the grandkids when Claire went to Spain. Thirty-two years trying to be a good daughter-in-law. And this is how she thanks me?”
James rubbed his forehead.
“Laura, must we tally every little thing? Who owes who what?”
“Im not keeping score!” Her voice wavered. “I just want to feel like part of the family. Your family. Is that too much?”
James sighed and sat heavily.
“Youre blowing this out of proportion. Mum just wanted a quiet do.”
“Quiet? With twenty people?” Lauras throat tightened. “Even the neighbours invited!”
“How do you?”
“Does it matter how?” She snatched a tea towel and scrubbed the already clean counter. “Thirty-two years, James! What did I do wrong? Tell me!”
James reached for her hand, but she pulled away.
“Laura, you know Mum. She still thinks you stole me from her.”
“Stole you?” Laura laughed bitterly. “You were twenty-six when we met! Not six!”
She remembered the first time shed stepped into Margarets house, baking a Victoria sponge from her nans recipe. Her mother-in-law had pursed her lips and said, “We dont do it like that in our family.”
“All my life,” Laura went on, “Ive tried to please her. And whats she done? Remember when she told everyone I was ruining Toms upbringing? Or when she said to my parents I couldnt cook? And you never said a wordalways staying neutral!”
“What do you want me to do?” James snapped. “Start a row with my mum over a party?”
“Not over the party!” Laura cried. “Over how she treats me! That after thirty-two years, your mum still doesnt see me as family, and you let it happen!”
She turned to the window. Outside, rain pattered against the pane, grey and dismal as her mood.
“Laura, stop dramatising,” James said, awkwardly embracing her. “Want me to talk to her? Maybe its a misunderstanding.”
“Misunderstanding?” She shrugged him off. “No, James. That would be if it were the first time. This? This is a slap in the face.”
The next days passed in a haze. At work, Laura forced smiles. At home, she was silent. James tried to smooth things over, but every word dug the knife deeper.
“Youve no idea how upset she was about that trifle,” he said one evening over supper. “Mum thinks you did it on purpose.”
“On purpose?” Laura set down her fork. “I went to three shops to find a sugar-free one because of her diabetes!”
“But you know she only likes sherry in it, and you got the plain one.”
“Because theyd sold out of the sherry ones!” Tears pricked her eyes. “You think I spent hours hunting for a trifle just to spite her?”
James fell silent, and that silence spoke volumes.
On Friday, Laura went to Toms room. Her son was visiting for the weekend, glued to his phone.
“Tom, Grandmas birthdays tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” he said, not looking up. “Dad mentioned.”
“Youre going?”
Tom finally glanced at her.
“Gran asked me. What, should I skip it?”
Laura nodded, hiding her hurt. Even her son didnt see the injustice.
“Of course,” she said softly. “Wish her happy birthday.”
Saturday dawned, the house empty. James and Tom left early, arms full of gifts. Laura wandered aimlessly, pausing at photosMargaret always slightly apart, lips pursed.
Her finger traced a framea family shot from Toms wedding five years back. Shed worn navy, James in a sharp suit, the newlyweds beaming. Margaret looked like shed swallowed vinegar.
“Even then,” Laura whispered to the photo. “Even at her grandsons wedding.”
She remembered how Margaret had pulled Tom aside and announced, loud enough for all to hear, “At least my grandson married properly, unlike some.” And how James had said nothing.
That evening, James and Tom returned, tipsy and cheerful, smelling of Margarets expensive perfume.
“How was it?” Laura asked, keeping her tone light.
“Brilliant!” James flopped into his chair. “Mum was chuffed. You shouldve seen her when”
He stopped, catching Lauras expression.
“Sorry, love. Didnt think.”
Tom shuffled awkwardly.
“Gonna turn in,” he mumbled, vanishing upstairs.
“Say hi to Mum from me,” James added after a pause.
“Hi?” Lauras stomach knotted. “She remembers I exist?”
“Laura, come off it”
“No, you come off it!” She couldnt hold back. “Stop pretending this is fine. Your mum humiliated me. Again! And you dont care!”
“I do care,” James stood. “I just hate being piggy in the middle. You two”
“What about us two?” Laura cut in. “Finish that. What about us?”
James rubbed his temples.
“You both blow things out of proportion. Making mountains out of molehills.”
“Ah,” Laura gave a bitter smile. “So my pains just making mountains, is it?”
She turned and slammed the bedroom door.
Ten days passed.
Laura and James spoke in clipped tones. Tom left. Life resumed.
Laura stopped her Sunday calls to Margaret. Stopped asking after her. Strangely, instead of guilt, relief washed over herlike shrugging off a heavy coat shed worn for decades.
On the eleventh day, her phone rang. “Margaret” flashed on the screen. Laura hesitated, staring at it like a live wire. Finally, she answered.
“Hello?”
“Laura, darling,” Margarets voice was uncharacteristically sweet. “How are you, love?”
Laura closed her eyes. “Darling.” In thirty-two years, Margaret had never called her that.
“Hello, Margaret. Im fine, thanks.”
“Ive been poorly,” Margarets tone turned plaintive. “After the party, I took ill. Blood pressures through the roof, my hearts racingcan barely walk.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Laura said. “Seen the GP?”
“GPs? Useless, the lot. I need a proper resta spa break. James said youve holiday time saved?”
A chill ran down Lauras spine. Now she understood.
“Yes
