The mother-in-law whispered behind her back.
“What on earth are you saying, Margaret?” Emily’s voice rang with indignation. “How can you spread such things about my daughter-in-law?”
“What did I say?” Margaret feigned innocence, adjusting her glasses. “I didn’t say anything bad—just that your Charlotte has been acting a bit odd lately. Either she’s exhausted, or…”
“Or what?” Emily stepped closer to the fence. “Out with it!”
“Well, I don’t know…” Margaret lowered her voice to a whisper, though still loud enough for the neighbours to hear. “What if she’s… you know, expecting? And keeping it quiet? It’s strange, isn’t it? Married three years and no children yet…”
Charlotte froze by the garden gate, clutching a bag of bread. She’d just come back from the shop and overheard the conversation by chance, but now she couldn’t move. Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure the whole world could hear it.
“Margaret, don’t be ridiculous!” Emily dismissed her. “They’re young, building their careers. Charlotte works at the bank—important job. Not the time for children.”
“Oh yes, ‘career’…” Margaret drawled. “But I’ve seen how she leaves the house in the mornings. Pale, dark circles under her eyes. And she’s been going to the shop more often. Yesterday, I saw her standing outside the chemist’s, staring at something in the window for ages…”
A chill ran down Charlotte’s spine. She _had_ been at the chemist’s yesterday—looking at pregnancy tests—but hadn’t dared buy one. Fear had gripped her for weeks—fear of the unknown, of telling her husband, of how everything might change.
“Oh, stop making things up!” Emily snapped. “Charlotte’s a good girl, hardworking. If there was something to tell, she’d have told me first. We get on well.”
“‘Get on well’…” Margaret echoed with a strange tone. “But did you know she calls her mother every evening? Talks for ages, then hangs up the second Edward comes home?”
Charlotte shut her eyes. Yes, she did phone her mother every day—especially lately. But not because she was hiding anything from Emily—just because… her mother understood her better. She could talk to her about work, about her fears, about sometimes just needing space.
“What’s wrong with that?” Emily defended. “She loves her mum—that’s normal.”
“Normal, of course,” Margaret agreed, though slyness laced her voice. “But Dorothy told me she saw Charlotte at the bus stop after work. The poor girl was crying, she said. Sitting there dabbing her eyes with a tissue.”
Charlotte remembered that day. She _had_ cried on the bus—but not over pregnancy or marital problems. It had been a terrible day at work—her closest colleague had been laid off, and her boss hinted more cuts were coming. The fear of losing her job, especially now they were saving for a house, weighed on her more each day.
“Listen, Margaret,” Emily’s voice turned sharp. “What are you implying? Spit it out.”
“Nothing serious!” Margaret said quickly. “I just think something’s bothering her. Maybe work troubles? Or…” she dropped her voice, “problems with Edward?”
“Problems with my son? Nonsense!” Emily flared up. “They adore each other—it’s plain to see!”
“Plain to see…” Margaret muttered. “But have you noticed how late he’s been coming home lately? Dressing smarter, too. New shirt, wearing cologne…”
Charlotte clenched her fists. Yes, Edward _had_ been working late—but there was a big project on, and he told her everything. The shirt had been her birthday gift to him. The cologne, too—just a little treat.
“Margaret,” Emily said quietly but firmly. “I’m asking you to stop spreading rumours about my family. If you’ve got facts—say them outright. If it’s just gossip—keep it to yourself.”
“Why so defensive?” Margaret huffed. “I’m just concerned! Anyone can see something’s wrong. Maybe she needs help?”
“If she needs help, she’ll ask,” Emily cut in. “Your whispering won’t change a thing.”
Charlotte heard the gate creak—Emily was heading inside. Margaret lingered by the fence, muttering under her breath before finally disappearing.
Charlotte waited a few minutes before entering the garden, making sure no one was around. Her hands shook as she opened the door. Emily stood in the hallway—tall, stern, her grey hair pulled back in a neat bun.
“Charlotte, where have you been?” Emily studied her. “You look pale.”
“Just popped to the shop.” Charlotte held up the bread. “Emily… can we talk?”
“Of course. Come to the kitchen. Fancy a cuppa?”
They sat opposite each other at the table. Charlotte twisted her cup, unsure where to begin. Emily waited patiently.
“Emily, I overheard you… with Margaret,” Charlotte started hesitantly. “She was talking about me. Saying I’ve been acting strange, that I might be pregnant, or that Edward and I…”
Emily set her cup down. “And is there any truth in it?”
Charlotte met her gaze. “If I were pregnant, I’d have told you. Honestly. And there’s nothing wrong between me and Edward. It’s just… work’s been tough. They’re making cuts, and I’m terrified I’ll lose my job. We’re saving for the house, and if I—”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Emily asked gently.
“Didn’t want to worry you. Thought I’d sort it myself.”
Emily stood, placed a hand on Charlotte’s shoulder. “Love, we’re family. Your problems are ours. Edward knows, doesn’t he?”
“He does. He’s been wonderful—says we’ll manage. But I see how stressed _he_ is. His project’s intense—that’s why he’s been late.”
“So _that’s_ what Margaret twisted,” Emily sighed. “That woman could make a scandal out of thin air.”
“Does she… always talk like this about everyone?”
“Afraid so. Nosey by nature. Usually I ignore her, but today it got to me—because it was about you.”
Charlotte fought back tears. “Hearing those things… it felt like I’d done something wrong.”
“Charlotte,” Emily said softly. “You’ve done nothing wrong. You’re a good wife to my son and a good daughter to me. Gossips will always find something to chew on—pay them no mind.”
Just then, familiar footsteps sounded in the hall. Edward was home.
“Mum, Char, I’m back!” he called, kicking off his shoes.
“We’re in the kitchen!” Emily called back.
Edward walked in, kissed Charlotte’s head, then hugged his mother.
“Everything alright? You both look serious.”
“Just girl talk,” Emily smiled. “Hungry?”
“Starving. What’s for dinner?”
“I’ll heat up the stew, there’s shepherd’s pie too,” Charlotte offered, standing.
“Sit, sit—I’ll sort it,” Emily said. “Edward, tell us about your project.”
As Emily busied herself, Edward chatted about work. Charlotte half-listened, torn—should she tell him about the rumours or stay quiet? He deserved to know, but why upset him further?
“Char, you’re miles away,” Edward noticed.
“Just tired.”
“Work again?”
Charlotte glanced at Emily, who gave a slight nod.
“Edward, there might be more layoffs next week. The boss hinted at it.”
He frowned. “When will you know?”
“Next meeting, probably. They’ll announce final decisions.”
Edward took her hand. “So what? If they let you go, you’ll find another job. You’re brilliant—banks are everywhere.”
“But the house? Our savings—”
“We’ll wait a bit longer—no rush. Just don’t fret so much. I’ve seen how it’s eating at you.”
“That’s what I keep telling her,” Emily chimed in, setting down a plate. “Family comes first—the rest will follow.”
After dinner, they lingered at the table, making plans. Edward said if his project succeeded, he’d get a promotion and raise—so Charlotte’s job wouldn’t be such a worry.
“Maybe it’s for the best,” he said, squeezing her shoulder. “You could find something closer—no more cross-city commutes.”
“Right, you two—don’t stay up too late,” Emily said, rising. “Early start tomorrow.”
Charlotte washed up while Edward watched the news. As they got into bed, he asked:
“Char, what did Mum mean about ‘girl talk’ earlier? Something happen?”
Charlotte hesitated, then:
“Edward… have you noticed the neighbours acting odd around us lately?”
“Neighbours? No. Why?”
“Probably nothing.”
Edward pulled her close. “You overthink things. Let’s just live our lives—ignore the rest.”
The
