Emily and her mother sat on the old bed, both wrapped in thick layers against the winter chill. The fireplace had only just been lit, and the house was still cold. “Dont worry, Mum,” Emily murmured. “Well be alright. Here, take your medicine.” She handed her mother the pills, though the woman wasnt her mother at allshe was her mother-in-law, or at least, she had been. Almost.
It had started simply enough: three of them living under one roofMargaret, her son Daniel, and his wife Emily. Emily had married late, at thirty. She was Daniels second wife, but she hadnt broken up his first marriagehe was already divorced when they met. Margaret, his mother, had taken to Emily immediately, and Emily had found a kindred spirit in her. Having lost her own parents young, she clung to Margaret like family.
“Thick as thieves,” Daniel used to mutter about them.
Five years passed in a blink. Then Daniel changed. He grew sharp-tempered, shouting at Emily, at his mother. The reason was another woman. He came home late, reeking of alcohol. One evening, he announced he was leaving. “Two days to pack,” he said. Before Emily could even leave, his mistress arrived with a suitcase.
Perhaps shed planned it that wayto gloat, to sneer. But she didnt get far. She was a leggy blonde with painted lips and lashes so thick they barely fluttered. Emily couldnt help but laugh. “You left me for *this*? Some cow-eyed doll? Good luckI wont miss you.”
“At least shes fun,” Daniel sneered. “You two are just a pair of old hens.”
“Fine, insult mebut why her?”
“Babe,” the girl trilled, batting her lashes, “whys *his* mum staying with us? Let her take her. We dont need her.”
“Thats right, Mum. Time to go.”
“Where will I go?” Margaret gasped, clutching her chest. “I gave you all the money from selling my flat to build this house!”
“No dramatics. Fine, staybut keep to your room. Albinas the lady of the house now.”
“Darling, make them *both* leave,” the girl whined.
“Shes my *mother*!”
“Your mother? You expect me to live with *that* for a mother-in-law? Ugh!”
Emily had heard enough. “Come on, Mum. Youre coming with me.”
“To the *village*?”
“Better than staying with *them*.”
She packed franticallymedicine, documents, clothes, Margarets little trinket box. Albina sniffed. “Take it all. We dont want your junk.”
Daniel said nothing. He knew his mother would never forgive him. Or maybe she wouldmothers do.
Half an hour later, Emily stood by the car. Margaret sat in the back, quietly wiping tears. She didnt even glance at her son.
“You gave him everything,” Emily said softly. “And he threw you away.”
“How will we live, love?”
“Well manage. Ive savings. Your pension. Well get by.”
They drove to the village where Emily had grown up. The cottage was freezing. She lit the fire, boiled water.
“Youre so good at this,” Margaret murmured. “Like you never left.”
“My grandad taught me. At least we brought foodI hate village gossip.”
The house warmed slowly. A knock came at the door.
“Neighbours back? Saw your car. Winters a strange time to visittrouble?”
“All fine, Mr. Nichols. Just settling in. Tea?”
He noticed Margaret. “Youre not alone?”
“Margaret, this is Nicholas. Nicholas, Margaret.”
“Need anything, just ask.”
A week passed. The cottage grew cosy.
“Im a village girl too,” Margaret admitted. “Married a city man. He died when Daniel was twenty-three. I sold my flathe promised Id always live with him. Look how that turned out.”
“Dont cry. Its hardI know. But maybe youll have grandchildren.”
“From *her*? God forbid. Is Nicholas married?”
“Widowed. His wife drowned saving a neighbours child. Never remarried. No kids. He was friends with my grandadhes your age.”
A month later, no word from Daniel. Then, an unknown number called Emily.
“Emily?”
“Yes.”
“Your husbands dead.”
“Youre mistaken.”
“He wasnt sober. Crashed his car. The girl survivednot a scratch. Come identify him.”
*Poor Margaret.* How to tell her? *Nicholashell help.*
“Emily, youre pale!”
“Sit down, Mum. Daniels gone.”
Margaret wailed. “Im to blame! I left him!”
“He threw you out!”
“But Im his mother! Ohthis is punishment!”
Nicholas drove them to the morgue. “Im coming. No argument.”
After the funeral, they went to Daniels housenow theirs. Hed never filed for divorce.
Nicholas accompanied them. “Just in case.”
The house was a stydirty clothes, mouldy dishes, the stink of booze and rot.
“*This* was my son?” Margaret whispered.
Albina stormed out. “This is *my* house! Get out!” A dishevelled man slunk behind her.
“Show me the deed,” Nicholas demanded.
“What deed? My husbands dead! We even had a wedding!”
“He wasnt divorced!”
“We celebrated early! Its *mine*!”
Nicholas threw them out. The locks were changed.
Months passed. Nicholas stayed close.
“Ill miss you when you move back,” he admitted.
“Well visit. You should come too.”
“Youve made me feel young again, Margaret. You remind me of my late wife.”
Emily smirked. “Ive seen how you look at her. And she at you. Is it love?”
“Dont be daft,” he mumbled.
A year later, Nicholas and Margaret married. They were happy. Emily, like a daughter to them, raised two foster childrensiblings she couldnt bear to separate.
Family isnt always blood. Sometimes, its found in the wreckage.
