Emily was frying pasties in the kitchen when there was an unexpected knock at the door. Standing on the doorstep was Margaret Whitmore—her mother-in-law, as stern as ever, with no trace of a smile and a piercing gaze.
“I’m not here for tea,” she said coldly, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “I’ve got important business.”
“What business?” Emily wiped her hands on a tea towel and forced a smile.
“Julia and Oliver are staying with me after the wedding. The flat’s too small for three. You’ve got Gran’s old place sitting empty—let them move in.”
“No. After everything—absolutely not,” Emily snapped, folding her arms.
“What exactly have I done?” Margaret blinked, as if genuinely puzzled.
Emily still remembered how, just a month ago, she’d agonised over her sister-in-law’s wedding. She’d racked her brains, wondering what gift to buy, since she and Julia had always been close, almost like friends. She was certain they’d be among the first invited—especially since Julia had borrowed five thousand pounds from them for the celebration.
“Suppose we don’t get invited at all,” Daniel, her husband, had remarked dryly at the time.
“Don’t be silly. You’re her brother—of course we’ll be invited!” she’d replied hopefully.
Emily had even taken out her best dress and heels, waiting, hoping.
But as the wedding neared, no invitation arrived. Not from Julia, not from Margaret. Three days before, the awful truth settled in—they’d been deliberately ignored.
Tears ran down her cheeks as she packed the dress away. Daniel, ever unruffled, simply shrugged. “Might as well enjoy a lie-in instead,” was all he said.
Days after the wedding, Margaret called. Said she wanted to visit. Emily decided to ask outright.
“Why weren’t we invited?”
“Well… we thought to keep it young. You’re over thirty,” Margaret muttered weakly.
Emily almost believed it—until she ran into Margaret’s sister at the shops.
“Oh, the wedding was lovely! All the aunties and cousins were there. Why weren’t you?”
Emily burned with shame—for herself, and for the family who’d treated them like strangers.
At home, she told Daniel, who suggested calling his mother.
“Margaret, be honest—why weren’t we invited?” Emily demanded. “Don’t lie. I just spoke to your sister. She told me who was there.”
“Julia and I decided only to invite… useful people,” Margaret replied evenly. “Those who could give proper gifts or help in the future.”
“And the five grand we lent Julia—that wasn’t useful?”
“You’ll want it back. If it were a gift, that’d be different.”
Emily barely recognised her. Were they truly nothing to them?
Two weeks later, Margaret turned up again. No call. No apology.
“That flat’s going to waste, and the newlyweds are cramped,” she began, faux concern in her voice.
“It’s not yours. Let it sit. It’s not costing you anything,” Emily cut in.
“Why so bitter? We’re family.”
“Family? You remembered us only when you needed something. We were invisible before that,” Emily’s voice shook with anger.
“What have we done?”
“You really don’t see it? Humiliated us, ignored us, now you want the keys? And Julia still hasn’t repaid us!”
“Let them stay, or you’ll never see that money,” Margaret retorted smugly. “Think carefully.”
Emily lost it—grabbed a cup of water and threw it in Margaret’s face.
“Daniel, say something!” Margaret spluttered, wiping her face with her sleeve.
“Ask the useful people for help,” Daniel said calmly.
Without another word, Margaret turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
