“Feather bed, brick underneath,” as the old saying goes. When the phone rang on Mother’s birthday, I hoped she wouldn’t ask it again. “This time, you’re not just staying three days, I hope? Staying longer, Eleanor? Eleanor! Why so quiet?”
“Margaret, happy birthday once more! Take care of yourself! William and I will phone as soon as the dates are firm.”
Eleanor practically slammed the phone down. “Good grief,” she thought, setting it aside. “The chat itself was pleasant enough, Mother-in-law sounded sweeter than honey for once, the occasion joyful – her big birthday. Yet from the first word to the last, I just wanted it over.”
The thought of spending their hard-earned, joint summer holiday at Margaret’s cottage filled Eleanor with dread. She truly believed there were a million better places for us, William, and our boys to relax. She’d hinted, gently, that maybe this year, just once, we could choose somewhere else. But William wouldn’t budge. It was how he was raised. Respect your elders. Disappointing them by not visiting? Unthinkable.
“Eleanor, I barely see my parents once a year as it is. You want us to stop visiting during our holiday too? The boys will completely forget they have another set of grandparents, living miles away.”
“Sweetheart, to put it gently… have you ever considered these trips are really just for your benefit?” she asked me.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I frowned, genuinely puzzled.
“Just that your parents are quite used to living far from us, from your family. They seem content. They don’t pine for the grandchildren or miss spending time. Their life is perfectly fine without it.”
“Eleanor! Where’s this coming from?”
“From the fact your Mum only ever asks for one thing in her messages – photos of the older two or videos of Noah. That’s it. She never asks how they *are*, how school’s going, if they’re well. The grandkids are just props for showing her friends or neighbours. A pretty picture, nothing more. What’s behind it doesn’t concern her. Our problems, our struggles? Doesn’t interest her in the slightest.”
“I disagree. We’re far away. She can’t look after Noah, take him to nursery, collect the older lads from school. Nearby, it’d be different.”
“Listen, William… My Mum lives far away too. Yet that doesn’t stop her hopping on a train the moment we need her, taking leave or sick days. She rushes to help like a fire brigade. Can’t say I’ve seen that urgency from your parents.” Eleanor’s gaze was steady.
“Right, my mother-in-law’s a gem. I know it, Eleanor. I’ve thanked Marie countless times. She’s always our lifesaver,” I conceded.
“Exactly. When *we* visit her? She makes every second count with the boys. Walks, bikes, paddles in the river, plays hide-and-seek, football. She adores our children, and they adore her. That’s how family should be. Warmth. Care.”
“Eleanor, what do you want from me? Everyone’s different! Your Mum’s a dynamo. Perpetually young. Mine are older, more reserved. So what? Never visit them again?” My frustration was rising.
Eleanor paused, lips pressed tight, holding something back. She decided against it. “I feel wretched there. So do the boys. Awkward. Uncomfortable. Can’t quite put my finger on it.”
“How can that be? Mum’s cottage is beautiful! We each have our rooms, it’s spotless, comfy. What more could you want?”
“There’s an old saying, William: ‘Feather bed, brick underneath.’ That describes exactly how I feel visiting your Mum.”
“Blimey. Why didn’t you say? I always thought you all liked it. Visiting my folks seemed perfect – see them, you and the lads have a break. What’s wrong, Eleanor?”
“Everything. From the very second our whole noisy tribe crashes into their peaceful, ordered world, it falls apart. You just don’t see it, busy helping with chores, pleasing them. I see and hear. Mum’s snide remarks, Dad’s sour looks. Think I enjoy it? We’ve been married ten years, yet I feel Margaret still resents me being your wife. Maybe she resents you having us at all.”
“Eleanor! That’s nonsense!” I snapped, wanting this unpleasantness ended.
“Fine. We’ll go. But please, William, truly *notice* what happens in their house. Then see if I’m just being difficult.”
We left it there.
The next few days, Eleanor packed for our family, while I stewed gloomily. Her words stung.
The drive North took four hours. Eleanor did her best, singing loudly in the back with Noah. She knew critiquing my parents rankled, but she’d stayed quiet too long. Always the perfect daughter-in-law, smiling sweetly, swallowing every barb aimed at her or the boys, avoiding conflict. All pointless. Sensing total control, Margaret hadn’t missed a chance to dig at her. Nothing was right.
Kids too noisy? Eleanor couldn’t control them. William too thin? Eleanor starved him. Skirt too short for her age. Even thin air could hold flaws for Margaret. Eleanor was done. This visit would be different.
“Here are our dears!” Mum beamed at the door, seemingly thrilled. “Come in, come in! We’ve been waiting forever.”
I shot Eleanor a pointed *see-how-wrong-you-were?* look. “Son, take your luggage straight up. Don’t clutter the hall.” I obediently hauled cases upstairs.
“Honestly, Eleanor, why must you bring so much? Can’t pack sensibly, hauling unnecessary rubbish. Making William lug it everywhere. Have some thought; he works nonstop to feed you lot, eats terribly, skin and bone again!”
“Margaret, what things to say!” Eleanor replied, deliberately loud for my ears.
Mum flinched. Normally mute, my wife was answering back. Bolder. “William eats perfectly well, thank you. Balanced diet. He’s lean like his father. Ever notice the resemblance before? How’s *your* cooking? And there isn’t too much luggage. There are *five* of us. The boys will be filthy in the garden every minute. No proper washing machine here. Needs must. Not my fault.”
Mum’s eyes popped wide; she froze. I descended, hearing every word. I stayed silent, stung. We’d barely stepped inside, and Mum found fault.
“Right, come eat. Must be starving after the drive,” Mum rallied, forcing
Vlad drove them toward the seaside, finally determined to create a happy, relaxing holiday for his own family, smiling as they left the tension far behind toward freedom and joy.
