My husbands relatives whispered behind my back, yet they had no idea that just the day before I had claimed a fortune.
Dont wear that dress again, Ethel. It makes you look cheap, my motherinlaw, Margaret Hawthorne, said in a voice as soft as a motheaten cashmere scarf. She tossed the remark over her shoulder as she glided past me in the hallway, not even turning her head.
I froze before the mirror, staring at the simple summer dress I loved. James always told me I looked like a heroine from a French film in it.
Dont you like it? I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
She stopped, turned slowly, and her porcelainsmooth face wore a look of condescending fatigue.
It isnt about my taste, dear. Its about status. My son runs a major project; his wife shouldnt appear as if shes just escaped an outlet sale.
Her gaze swept from my head to my feet, snagging on my cheap sandals and the absence of heavy gold jewellery.
Never mindCharlotte will take you shopping. Shell show you how a proper lady should dress.
Charlotte, my sisterinlaw, emerged from her room as if awaiting a cue. She was draped in silk, a costly label flashing without effort.
Mother, its pointless. She has no taste, she drawled, eyeing me as if I were a strange creature in a zoo. To wear fine things you need breeding. And here She didnt finish, but I understood: here meant me, the orphan girl from a small market town whom James had, for some reason, brought into the family.
I said nothing, merely nodded and retreated to the room they had assigned to me. Our flat had been flooded by the neighbours, and while endless repairs dragged on, his parents kindly invited us to stay with them.
James had vanished on an urgent monthlong business trip, insisting it was for the best. Theyll grow to love you, youll see! he had said before departing.
I shut the door and leaned against it, my heart hammering not from hurt but from a cold, quiet rage that had been building for two weeks.
I opened my laptop, logged onto the chess platform. Yesterdays final match of the world online tournament still topped the home page. My nicknameQuiet Moveand my countrys flag glowed above the defeated avatar of the American grandmaster. Beneath it, the prize was displayed in pounds: one point two million pounds.
I stared at the sum, hearing Charlottes voice echo: You need breeding
That evening at dinner, my fatherinlaw, Thomas Hawthorne, boomed into the phone about some problem asset. After hanging up, he glanced at me with irritation.
Even a small sum must be invested wisely, not wasted on nonsense. You, Ethelwhat did you do before marriage? Some sort of analyst, I presume?
Financial analyst, I replied calmly.
There you go, he continued, missing my correction. You should understand. Though what kind of sums would you have handled
Charlotte snorted into her plate of arugula and prawns.
Dad, what sums? For their first anniversary she gave James silver cufflinks. I saw them. Probably saved six months to afford them.
Charlotte! Margaret scolded, though amusement twinkled in her eyes.
I lifted my gaze from the plate. They were enjoying themselves, playing their favourite game: Show the poor relation her place.
The cufflinks are actually lovely, I said evenly. James liked them.
Our boy likes everything you give him, cooed Margaret. Hes kind, not picky.
There was enough poison in that not picky to foul a whole city. I slipped my phone from my hand, as if to check the time. The banking app was open; the prize money already sat in my account, converted and ready.
I looked at their three wellfed, wellgroomed faces. They knew nothing. To them I was merely their sons mistake, a penniless fool who must either be reshaped or cast out.
And I allowed them that illusionfor now.
The next day they took me to be refitted. Charlotte led me through boutiques as if I were a ridiculous lapdog.
With exaggerated delight she presented dresses whose price tags equalled a years salary in my hometown.
Well? Gorgeous, isnt it? she thrust a silk jumpsuit at me. Try it on. Mother will pay.
I glanced at the tag and shook my head.
Charlotte, its far too much. I cant accept it.
Oh, spare me the poorgirl act, she sneered. When someone gives you something, you take it and be grateful. Or do you think our family cant afford to clothe Jamess wife?
She spoke loudly enough for the shop assistants to stare. Heat rose to my cheeks; any answer would make me look foolish.
Im simply not accustomed to such extravagance, I murmured.
Then get used to it, she snapped at the clerk. Wrap it up. Deliver it to the house.
She spent the rest of the day buying without asking my opinion. That evening, as I unpacked the bags, Margaret clicked her tongue.
Now you look more like a proper person. You were wandering about like a poor waif.
She handed me a designer handbag from her own closet, its handles slightly scuffed.
Take it. Im bored of it, but itll suit you. No point throwing it away.
It was not a gift but a handmedown, a treasure they assumed I would cherish.
Thank you, I said, the voice sounding foreign.
Later, while Thomas watched the news, I sat beside him.
Im grateful for your hospitality, but
No buts, he cut in, eyes glued to the screen. Youre our sons wife. Its our duty to look after you.
I understand, yet it feels as if youre trying to remake me. I love my life, my work.
At that moment Margaret entered the living room and heard my last words.
Work? Ethel, dear, what work? Your main work is James. Providing him comfort, bearing children. Youre clever, you must understand. Your pennies in our family budget are laughable.
It isnt about money, I tried to protest. Its about selfrealisation.
Self what? Charlotte burst into theatrical laughter. Really? Shuffling papers in a stuffy office is selfrealisation? Have a baby and youll know.
They discussed my future as if I were a projectProject DaughterinLaw.
That night James called on video, his tired but happy face filling the screen.
How are you, love? They arent giving you a hard time, are they?
I smiled.
Everythings fine, darling. Theyre very caring.
I could not reveal the truth. Chess was my secret world, the bond with my father. I had once tried to explain its importance, but he had waved it off as a cute hobby. So I kept silent, guarding what mattered from misunderstanding. Complaining about his family would have dragged him into a war where hed be caught in the crossfire. No. This was a game I had to win myself.
I miss you so much, he said.
I miss you too, I replied.
After the call I opened my laptop again, not to chess but to a luxury property site. I stared at townhouses in Hampstead, at penthouses with terraces overlooking the Thames. I wasnt choosing; I was surveying the battlefield, every snide comment only hardening my resolve.
They thought they were moulding pliable clay, unaware that my clay had long since hardened into tempered steel.
The point of no return came on a Wednesday. Margaret decided to give my room a deep clean without me, claiming the best intentions.
Ethel, I tidied up a bit, dusted, she said when I returned from the shop. And what was that junk under your bed? Some shabby board and a few worn little figures.
Everything inside me fell away. She meant the old chessboard my father had handcrafted when I was six, each piece handcarved and lacqueredthe only thing I owned from my parents.
Where is it? I asked, voice even.
Oh, I gave it to the gardener. He has grandchildrenlet them play. We cant keep such rubbish in the house. It isnt an antique, just old junk. It ruins the look of the place.
She spoke as if discarding a newspaper. She hadnt merely removed an object; she had erased a fragment of my memory, my soul.
I entered the empty room; the parquet shone, the space where the board had stood now bare. Something shifted in me. All the humiliations, the pricey clothes, the lecturesthose were a game I could endure. This, however, struck my most vulnerable spot.
I emerged to find Margaret and Charlotte in the lounge, sipping herbal tea and planning a trip to Italy. They looked up, perhaps expecting tears, hysteria, a plea.
But I was calm.
Margaret, I said, voice level, you said you gave the board to the gardener. Please call him; I want it back.
She raised an eyebrow.
Ethel, dont be childish. Why would you need that rubbish? James will come, well buy you new, beautiful onesivory if you like.
I dont need ivory, I cut in. I need those pieces. They are my fathers memory.
Charlotte snorted.
My God, such drama over a few wooden pieces. Mother, tell her the gardener already left.
Yes, hes already gone, Margaret seized the lifeline. So forget it. Its just a thing.
She smiled with that familiar condescending curl, and that smile was the last straw.
I grabbed my phone, dialled the number of a luxury estate agent I had saved days earlier, and put it on speaker.
Hello, this is Anna. We spoke about the townhouse in Hampstead. Yes, Ive decided. Im ready to make an offer.
Silence fell in the lounge. Margaret and Charlotte froze, their cups midair, faces draining.
Yes, the price is fine. Prepare the documents for an official offer. Ill email proof of funds in five minutes. No mortgage neededpersonal funds.
I spoke directly into Margarets stunned eyes. Confusion gave way to alarm.
And one more thing, I added before ending the call. Ill need a good landscape designer and a gardenerjust make sure he doesnt throw away other peoples things.
I set the phone down and smiled, for the first time in months, not the practiced smile they knew but the grin of a player who had just delivered a checkmate.
Charlottes voice trembled. What was that? Which townhouse? Where would you get that kind of money?
Is this a prank? Margaret ventured, porcelain calm fading. Ethel, this is a very stupid joke.
I settled into the armchair opposite them, taking an almond biscuit.
Its not a joke, nor a prank. I won the money at the world chess championship.
Charlotte burst out laughing, a nervous, strangled sound.
Chess? You? Dont make me laugh. Youre just Ethel.
Yes, I am just Ethel, I replied calmly. Ive played chess all my life, like my father taught me, on the very board you gave to the gardener.
Just then Thomas entered, drawn by the commotion.
Whats happening here?
Dad, shes lost it! Charlotte squeaked. She says shes buying a townhouse and won millions in chess!
He looked at me, then at his wife and daughter. He was the only one who didnt laugh; calculation flickered in his eyes.
What money, Ethel? he asked, businesslike.
One point two million pounds, I answered evenly.
He let out a low whistle. Margaret gasped, hand over her mouth. Their tidy little world, with its fixed roles, was crumbling.
The front door slammed open. James stood on the threshold, having returned a day early to surprise us.
Mom, Dad, Im home! Whats
He stopped at the sight of our faces. Margaret rushed to him.
James, thank God youre here! Your wife shes saying the most incredible things!
What am I saying, Margaret? I stood. The truth?
James looked at me, bewildered.
Ethel, what happened?
I told him, calmly, without tears or hysteria, about the poor waif, the handmedowns, the lectures, and the destroyed chessboard. When I finished, James turned to his mother.
Mother, is this true? You threw away her fathers board?
James, it was just old junk! I meant well! she babbled.
Meant well? Jamess voice hardened. For three weeks youve humiliated my wife behind my back, treating her like a voiceless orphan you could mould as you pleased?
He looked at his father, at his sister; they were silent, eyes down. All their swagger evaporated.
And you, he said to me, eyes a mixture of admiration, pain, and bewilderment, kept quiet through all of this? And you won the world championship? Ethel who are you? Why did I know nothing?
This was my game, James, not ours. I had to finish it alone. I love you, but I am not who you all thought I was.
I took his hand.
I cant live here any longer.
I began to pack. Ten minutes later James returned with a suitcase.
Im coming with you. Forgive mefor them, and for being blind.
He helped gather my few belongings and the ridiculous designer dresses Id never worn. We walked through the lounge; the family sat as before, frozen like statues.
Were leaving, James said. And I ask you never to trouble my wife again.
We walked out without looking back. In the car, James squeezed my hand.
One point two million pounds youre richer than I am now, he halfsmiled.
Its never been about the money, I replied, watching the city lights blur past. It never was.
He nodded. He understood: it was about the right to be oneself, about respectsomething you cannot buy or be handed, but must win. They wanted to teach me breeding. I taught them a lesson instead. True breeding isnt about designer bags and expensive cars; its the spine that keeps you from bending and lets you make your own quiet moveeven if it leads to mate.
Six months later we lived in our new Hampstead townhouse. Sunlight flooded the spacious sittingroom where, on a special table of Karelian birch, my old chessboard now stood. James had tracked down the gardener the next day; the man had not given the board to his grandchildren but stored it in his shed, unable to toss it away.
James paid him ten times its modest value and brought it back to mea silent apology for his family. We never spoke of what had happened; there was no need. James had seen the board with his own eyes, and that was enough.
His relationship with his parents settled into a cold, polite neutrality. They called, tried to invite themselves over to see our palace. Particularly persistent was Margaret, who now introduced me as our brilliant Ethel in every conversation.
James was firm. You didnt respect my wife when you thought she was poor. I dont want you to be hypocrites now that you know shes rich.
One day Charlotte cornered me outside a supermarket, her usual gloss faded.
Listen, Ethel I have a business idea maybe youd invest? Youre an investor now, she said with a fawning smile.
I shook my head.
No, Charlotte. Im not an investor. Im a chess player, and I never invest in losing games.
I opened an online chess school for children, Quiet Move. It quickly flourished. I found my selfrealisation not in shuffling papers in an office but in teaching youngsters to think, calculate, and respect their opponent.
One evening James and I sat on the terrace. He read, I set up pieces for the next days lesson.
You know, sometimes I wonder, he said without looking up, what if you hadnt won that money? What if theyd kept on
I placed the white queen on its square.
Then the game would have simply lasted longer, but the ending would be the same. It wasnt the money I had. It was what they never had.
And whatsAnd as the sun set over the Thames, I finally felt the quiet move of my own life settle into a checkmate of peace.
