“One may lie soft but sleep rough.”
“So, this time, I do hope you’re not just popping in for three days? You’ll stay longer? Isabelle! Why are you quiet?”
“Charlotte Susan, happy birthday again! Do look after yourself, don’t be getting ill. Oliver and I will call the moment we’ve sorted everything.”
Isabelle hurried to hang up as quickly as possible.
‘Ugh, how unpleasant,’ she thought, putting the phone down. ‘The chat seemed pleasant enough, my mother-in-law was friendlier than ever, and the reason for calling was perfectly happy – her birthday bash – but from the first second to the last word, I just wanted it over.’
The idea of spending her precious, long-awaited holiday, finally matching her husband Oliver’s time off, visiting the in-laws filled Isabelle with dread. She truly believed there were a million better places in the world for her, Oliver, and the children to enjoy themselves. She’d certainly hinted to her husband that perhaps this summer they could choose somewhere else for their break rather than Charlotte Susan’s cottage. But Oliver was inflexible. It was how he’d been raised. You love and respect your elders. You must bring joy to your parents with your visits. It wouldn’t be proper otherwise.
* * *
“Belle, I barely see them once a year as it is. Do you want us to stop visiting them on holiday too? The children will forget they have another set of grandparents living out of town.”
“Darling, how to put this gently… But doesn’t it ever strike you that these visits are only really for your benefit?”
“What do you mean?” Oliver frowned, looking puzzled at his wife.
“Just that your parents are quite used to living far from you, from your family. They’re perfectly happy. They don’t pine for the grandchildren or miss spending time with them. They’re splendidly content without it.”
“Belle, what sort of thing is that to say? Where did that come from?”
“From the fact your mum only ever asks one thing of me in messages – send photos of the older boys or videos of the baby, and that’s it. She never asks how they actually are, how school is, if they’ve been poorly. She only wants the grandchildren for showing off pretty pictures to her friends or the neighbour in the lift. A perfect, beautiful image, nothing more. What lies behind it holds no interest for her. She’s utterly unconcerned with our problems or difficulties.”
“I disagree there. We live too far away. They can’t look after Alfie, take him to pre-school, or pick the older lads up from football. If we lived closer, everything would be completely different.”
“You know, Oliver… My mum lives in another city too, yet it never stops her rushing over at the first sign of trouble. She’s always ready to help, like the Rescue Rangers. Remember how many times last year she took leave or sick days, bought train tickets, and dashed over at our first call? I’ve never seen such sprightliness from your mum and dad.”
“Yes, Belle, your mum’s an absolute gem. I don’t deny it. I’m incredibly grateful to Margaret Anne; I’ve told her often. She’s always our port in a storm.”
“Precisely. When we visit her, she makes every effort to spend time with the boys. Walks, bike rides, paddling in the stream, games of hide and seek, tag, football. She adores them and they adore her. That’s how a family should be. Warmth, care, love.”
“Belle, what do you want from me? People are different. Your mum’s a live wire. She’s forever young, the life and soul. My parents are older, they’re different, a different sort. Should we just stop visiting them, then?”
Isabelle bit her lip, seeming to hold herself back, then decided against it. This time, she wouldn’t stay quiet.
“It’s not a happy place for me there, nor for the children. Uncomfortable, awkward. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
“How come? Dad’s place is lovely. We all get our own rooms. It’s clean, convenient, comfortable. What more do you need?”
“You know, Oliver, there’s that saying: ‘One may lie soft but sleep rough.’ That describes exactly how I feel visiting your mother.”
“Well, that’s unexpected. Why didn’t you mention this before? I always thought you and the children were happy there. And a break at my folks’ place seemed ideal. See my parents, give you and the children a nice time. What’s wrong, Belle?”
“Everything. From the very first minute our huge family descends on their home, our arrival shatters your parents’ perfect, calm, orderly world.”
“I never noticed a thing. Honestly, Belle, I think you’re imagining it. You’re getting far too sensitive.”
“Oliver, my darling, it’s because you’re often busy helping out around the place when we’re at Mum and Dad’s. You rarely spend time with me and the kids; you’re always trying to assist your parents, keep them happy. Meanwhile, I see and hear what truly happens. All those barbed comments and remarks from your mum, your dad’s disapproving looks. Think I enjoy it? We’ve been married ten years, yet I feel Charlotte Susan still can’t quite accept I’m your wife. Maybe she’s not genuinely happy you have us at all.”
“Belle! That’s a dreadful thing to say!” Oliver snapped, wanting this awkward conversation over. “Alright. We’ll visit them. But pay close attention to what happens in their home. You’ll see things clearly. Then you won’t be cross with me or think I’m fussing over your mum.”
So it was agreed.
* * *
The following days Isabelle packed for their big family, while Oliver seemed gloomier than November rain. His wife’s words had stung.
The drive to Oliver’s parents took around four hours. Isabelle tried to create a cheerful holiday mood, singing songs and playing with the younger boys in the back. She knew saying what she felt had upset Oliver, but she couldn’t stay silent any longer.
For too long, Isabelle had strived to be perfect for everyone. Always smiling politely at her in-laws, never answering their sharp words aimed at her or the children. She’d avoided conflict. Only now did she see it was pointless. Her mother-in-law, sensing her power, hadn’t missed a chance to needle her. Everything was wrong.
Children too noisy? Isabelle’s poor parenting. Oliver too thin? Isabelle’s poor cooking. Her skirt too short? Not suitable for her age. Charlotte Susan could even find fault on barren ground. Isabelle was exhausted by the constant pressure and decided things would be different this time.
“Hello, darlings!” His mother beamed at the door, seeming genuinely pleased to see the long-awaited guests. “Come in, come
The car hummed steadily along the motorway, the tension melting away as verdant English countryside rolled past the windows, promising long, sunlit days on the beach where the only expectations were laughter and making happy memories together.
