Many years ago, in a quiet English village, there lived a young couple named Edward and Eleanor. They had been married two years, deeply in love, yet strained by Eleanors uneasy relationship with her mother-in-law, Margaret Whitmore.
Eleanor was kind and eager to please, always going out of her way to win over her new family. But despite her efforts, she felt the icy distance Margaret kept. The older woman never spoke outright against her, yet her piercing glances, sharp tone, and veiled remarks left Eleanor feeling like an outsider. Every visit to Margarets home ended with the younger woman wretched with worry.
“Edward, Im certain your mother dislikes me,” she confessed one evening, her voice trembling.
Her husband sighed, setting aside his newspaper. “Eleanor, not this again. Shes just reserved. You know how hard it was for her, raising me alone after Father passed.”
“I understand, but why do I feel she speaks ill of me behind my back?”
“Its in your head, darling”
“No! Remember what I overheard when she spoke to your Aunt Beatrice? She called me clumsy and said I didnt suit her!”
“You cant be sure who she meant. Lets talk of something else. Fancy the cinema tomorrow?”
But Eleanor couldnt let it rest. She knew Margaret despised her family, even if the woman would never admit it.
After yet another tense supper, she resolved to uncover the truth. On her next visit, she smuggled in a recorder, hidden in her handbaga device shed once used for university lectures. Slipping it between tea towels in the kitchen, she helped Margaret with dinner as usual, giving no sign of suspicion. That night, she lay awake, clutching her secret.
The following day, she returned under the pretence of running an errand, retrieving the recorder. Hands shaking, she played it for Edward that evening.
“Listen to this,” she said, holding out the device.
“What is it? A recorder?” he asked, baffled.
“Just listen.”
At first, the sounds were ordinaryrunning water, clinking cutlery, idle chatter. Then Margarets voice, sharp over the telephone:
“I cant fathom what my son sees in her! She cant even brew a proper cup of tea!” she fumed. “And her family? Their tea tastes like dishwater! Her mothers as careless as she is!”
The recording spilled more venomcriticising Eleanors looks, manners, and upbringing. When it ended, Eleanor stared at Edward, eyes glistening.
“Now do you see I was right?”
Edward stayed silent, mortified. He knew his mother was wrong, yet he recoiled at his wifes method. “Shes always been blunt Perhaps she spoke in haste.”
“Blunt?!” Eleanor cried. “Is that what you call slandering my family? If you wont defend me, well have to rethink this marriage!”
She fled in tears, leaving him stunned.
Hours later, he rang his mother.
“You must apologise to Eleanor.”
“She recorded me in secret?!” Margaret shrieked. “Ill go to the constable! And her universitytheyll expel that scheming little wretch!”
“Mother, stop!” Edward cut in. “Do you hear yourself?”
“I do! And Ill say moreshes banned from this house! And you, siding with that meddler? Well settle this tomorrow!”
She slammed the receiver down. Edward tried calling back, but the line stayed dead. He rushed to her home, only for Margaret to refuse him entry.
At last, he chose his wife, realising his mothers plan to divide them. In the weeks that followed, he visited Margaret sparingly, valuing peace at home. Enraged, she forbade Eleanor from setting foot in her house and spread gossip among the neighbours. But Edward no longer listened.
