A Scandal in Greenfield: The Shadow of Family Feuds
“Dorothy, my mum just called,” said Thomas, stepping into the room where his wife was putting their one-year-old daughter to bed. “She and Dad are coming over to see little Emily.”
Dorothy’s face fell. The news struck her like a blow. Her relationship with Margaret had soured after Emily’s birth, though once it had been warm. What grated on Dorothy was her mother-in-law’s habit of slipping the child whatever she pleased behind her back, dismissing the young mother’s requests.
Every visit ended in a row. The last time, three months ago, Margaret had fed Emily a chocolate biscuit. Dorothy had left the room for mere minutes, and in that time, the deed was done.
“What on earth are you doing?” Dorothy had snapped, snatching Emily from Margaret’s arms. “She’s only nine months old! A biscuit?”
Fuming at Margaret’s high-handedness, she’d carried Emily to the washroom to clean the crumbs from her face and hands. From there, she heard Thomas scolding his mother in the kitchen:
“What were you thinking?”
“It’s harmless! You ate sweets at her age, and you turned out fine,” Margaret retorted.
“Why must you never listen?” Thomas shot back. “Some mother you were!”
“I don’t see the fuss,” Margaret huffed, arms crossed.
By the time Dorothy returned with Emily, her patience had worn thin. “Leave,” she snapped. “If you can’t behave, don’t bother coming.”
Margaret looked to her son for support, but his silence spoke volumes. “Honestly! Back in our village, children ate whatever was handy before all this internet nonsense. Making mountains out of molehills!” And with that, she stormed out.
When the door closed, Dorothy turned to Thomas, resentment simmering in her chest. He answered her unspoken plea: “We won’t let her in again.”
For months after, Margaret kept her distance—calling for photos, but never daring to visit. Only Emily’s first birthday brought her back.
“She’ll try something again,” Dorothy said darkly.
“I’ve warned her,” Thomas assured her. “She won’t.”
Dorothy didn’t believe him. Margaret had never been one for rules.
True to form, Thomas’s parents arrived barely ten minutes after his call—proof they expected entry. Margaret barged in, clutching a gift bag.
“Where’s my darling? Where’s my little love?” she trilled, thrusting the bag at Dorothy.
Behind her, Harold carried a cake and a bottle of champagne, hastily handing them to his son.
“We brought our own refreshments!” Margaret declared, her tone lofty. “Didn’t want to trouble you.”
Dorothy saw through it at once. She passed Emily to Thomas and set the table, while his parents settled in the kitchen with the child—out of sight, but not for long.
“Open the champagne, Harold,” Margaret whispered. “Cost us twenty quid!”
Harold popped the cork and poured a glass.
“Hand it here,” Margaret ordered. “I’ve got the baby.”
He obeyed. She took a sip, smacked her lips, and nodded. “Lovely.” Then, glancing at Emily, she murmured, “Let’s have a taste, sweetheart—quick, before anyone sees.”
“If your daughter-in-law catches you, there’ll be hell to pay!” Harold chuckled.
Hearing this, Dorothy peered in from the parlor—and froze. Margaret was tipping the glass toward Emily’s lips.
“What are you doing?” Dorothy shrieked, lunging forward to snatch the drink. “How dare you? I told you—nothing!” She seized Emily, her voice shaking with fury.
“Oh, we gave Thomas sips as a baby! It’s harmless,” Margaret laughed, sensing the storm brewing. “Good for the nerves, even—”
“Out!” Thomas roared, storming in. “Enough! First biscuits, now champagne? Not a drop for my child!”
“Don’t shout at your mother!” Harold cut in. “It was just a sip—”
“Not a sip, not a crumb!” Thomas bellowed. “Get out—and don’t come back. What’s next? Ale?”
“You’re both so dramatic!” Margaret scoffed. “Peas in a pod, you and Dorothy. Come along, Harold.”
The door slammed behind them. Dorothy clutched Emily, trembling.
“I won’t have them here again,” she said fiercely. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Nor will I,” Thomas agreed.
After that day, the rift never healed. Margaret and Harold nursed their grudge, while the young parents couldn’t forgive such recklessness. The feud lingered, unspoken but unyielding.
