The whole Smith clan agreed without a word of protest that Milly, as a daughterinlaw, was utterly useless and shameless. At first, though, the picture looked rather rosy: Milly threw herself into heroic efforts to please her new relatives and win their approval.
Whenever a holiday arrived, the entire extended family marched in a tidy procession to the modest rented flat on the outskirts of Manchester, because Milly not only managed the kitchen with virtuoso skill but also conjured imaginative entertainment to delight the beloved guests. The relatives never waited for a formal invitation they simply invited themselves. A typical example comes from the early days of Millys tenure as a daughterinlaw.
Hello, Milly! Happy SaintSaviours Day! croaked her sisterinlaw, Vicky, on the phone, her speech garbled and choppy as if she were chewing on something hard.
Oh, indeed, Milly stammered, hopping over the autumn puddles, thank you. Ive been swept up in the whirl of everyday life and completely forgot the date work, endless trips to the GP, you name it. She launched into a candid explanation, because, as everyone knows, nothing brings strangers closer than sharing personal woes. Milly desperately wanted to belong. She kept pouring out her heart:
But you called at the perfect moment; Ive just come back from my first ultrasound, so you, Vicky, will be the first to hear what were expecting
Vicky was too busy watching the evening news a booming voice could be heard in the background announcing yet another global disaster. The grim report sparked a strange mix of emotions in Vicky: initial horror gave way to relieved joy that, thank heavens, she herself was fine. Eager to get to the point, she brusquely cut Milly off:
Right, Milly, well pop round this evening, so get a table ready! The parents, my husband and I, and little Emma all of us. Im off, the news are showing a volcano erupting on some tropical island absolute nightmare!
But Ive got nothing prepared! We didnt plan anything! Milly blurted, freezing midpuddle as icy water seeped up her shoe, then leapt onto dry ground.
Honestly, theres a load of time! Youre our culinary wizard, Milly, a real magic touch, and Im a total kitchen zero. Anyway, thats all, see you at six.
Basically, basically, basically! Vicky peppered every sentence with that verbal weed, as if it sliced straight to the heart of the matter, bypassing any preamble. If only your tongue were shorter and your brain longer! Milly thought bitterly years later, when all her attempts to please finally fell flat.
Her real name was Eleanor, and she preferred it, but Eleanor sounded pretentious to the new family. Milly stuck: Milly, Pip, or just Milly a downtoearth reminder of the humble roots from which she had crawled up to Georges side, and of her place in the family hierarchy. There was no point in puffing herself up. Milly was Milly a cockroach with a moustache, period.
Eleanor (Milly) considered it a matter of honour not to embarrass herself before her husbands kin. Stockpiling provisions, she attacked the cooking with enthusiasm, intent not just to feed but to awe the guests. Aside from the essential hot dishes, the table glittered with fancy finger foods: colourful canapés, tempting tartlets with assorted fillings, cherrystuffed minicucumbers, mushroomandcheese bites, crisp Italianstyle bruschetta, and more. To keep the crowd entertained, Milly printed simple game props and arranged modest prizes. Still, satisfying the demands of the evergrowing Smith clan was no easy feat.
Again all homecooked? I was hoping for pizza, grumbled Georges father, Arthur, eyeing the overloaded table. When will you finally earn enough to order in? Im tired of this perpetual homecooking.
Milly swallowed the sting and, the next time, ordered pizza, sushi and a wok of noodles. By then they had a first child, and juggling a newborn with lavish feasts became physically impossible.
Ugh! No homemade food? Not even a simple salad? Come on, George, your wifes gone soft, the relatives groused. Its just bread and oversalted noodles!
Its not just bread, its pizza, George muttered weakly.
Just cheap bread! Two slices of salami and a pinch of cheese! Thats the cheapest you can get, and Ill tell you, George, skimping on close family is just rude, his mother, Gladys, scolded, while Milly reddened in silent humiliation. Inside, she thought: Tell them something! Explain that I never invited them, they just turned up, Im fed up, I dont want to see or hear them anymore! Yet she stayed quiet, lacking the nerve to confront the tightlyknit clan, and someone always chimed in:
Well, you know what they say if you didnt make it with your own hands, its not appreciated.
George tried to defend his wife, but always did so with a light joke.
Milly, dont take it to heart Theyre simple folk; they say what they think. They dont mean you any harm, youre actually quite likable to them.
Right, likable!
Of course! Why would they keep dropping by if you werent?
Free meals, theyre after that, Eleanor thought bitterly, but kept her mouth shut.
Sometimes the guests would ring just half an hour before arriving. When Milly saw Vickys or Gladyss name flash on the screen, a flash of anger rose inside her.
Milly, were wandering the shopping centre nearby, well pop round in half an hour, have a cuppa with you, Vicky cooed.
I cant, the babys asleep!
Well be as quiet as mice! Just whip up a nibble, love!
Even if Milly didnt pick up, they would still bang on the door until she finally answered, giving her a chance to brace for the intrusion.
No one cared that Milly had a tiny tot, that she was exhausted, or that the guests arrived at the worst possible moment. No one seemed to mind that George was busy at work when someone needed a lift to the hospital, the market, the train station, or the garden. After all, George ran his own small business wasnt it easy to help out a relative? Surely his conscience wouldnt sting if he had to pay a taxi for mum, sister, brotherinlaw or uncle? Thats not family!
Thus they pushed through a second pregnancy, during which even George began to have epiphanies. The pregnancy was rough. After six months George feared leaving Eleanor alone for too long. One night he had to travel to Leeds for a work trip and asked his sister Vicky to look after Milly just stay the night, call an ambulance if needed, and keep an eye on their older son.
Vicky, over the wine, chatted nonstop, though Eleanor was desperate for sleep. Eventually Vicky flopped onto the sofa. The sofa doubled as a makeshift bed because the only other sleeping place was the babys crib with its tiny railings. The unfolded sofa left no room for two, so Eleanor spent the night perched on a stiff kitchen stool, with nothing to cushion her on the floor they were pinching pennies, saving for a proper flat. In the morning Vicky rushed off to work, and Eleanor, wandering the flat, realised the seriousness of the situation. She called a friend, who took the baby and helped her get to the maternity unit. Eleanor was rushed into surgery to save the pregnancy. While she was in hospital, George staged a grand tirade against his family.
Do I ever have to ask you for anything again? Never! One time I asked for help, and look where that got me! When you need a free taxi, Im at your service; when I need the slightest assistance, you turn me away! From now on, call a cab yourself!
The first shock faded, Eleanor gave birth to a second son, and the relatives gradually found a way to make peace, but the episode gave George and Milly their first sharp edges. George kept his promise and stopped ferrying anyone around, despite endless pleas. In truth, Vicky bore the brunt of the blame, but the parents sided with her, claiming that Millys delicate health was to blame: a normal woman should give birth as easily as a sneeze. They never dared to rebuke their own son, so after each refusal they muttered a harsh word about the daughterinlaw, for she had turned George against his own family.
The uninvited dropins never truly stopped it was just too comfortable and cheap. By then Milly was fed up with the role of evergracious host, and decided to become the bad one to teach the cheeky relatives a lesson. She did it without a word of explanation.
One day the clan turned up for a celebration the baby was three months old. Naturally, no one had been asked.
Oh dear, you havent even started cooking! the guests exclaimed.
Theres a herring on the counter that needs filleting, the beetroot and potatoes are already boiled in the pot, Milly said with a forced smile, rocking the infant, Youll manage the salad in four hands, right, Vicky? And you, dad, go fetch a cake any cake I cant eat, Im on a diet.
The relatives stared, bewildered. They made the salad, bought the cake, and ate it themselves, leaving not a crumb for George, who could have had a slice. Milly didnt even bother staying; she retreated to the bedroom, feeding the baby for an hour while he clung to her chest.
At the next visit Milly offered nothing, suggesting the guests peel their own potatoes for frying.
There are frozen mushrooms in the freezer theyll be a treat, not a meal! she called out, then slipped away. The guests froze, then whispered. Gladys marched in, stonefaced.
Milly, we noticed theres no bread in the house. Shall we all pop down to the shop together, maybe pick up a few more things?
Certainly. Whatever you need, just get it.
They went for bread and never returned. From that day they stopped dropping by unannounced. Millys reputation as the terrible daughterinlaw solidified: a useless motherinlaw, a chaotic housekeeper, a shameless nuisance and poor George, forever the victim. All those years when Milly had organised lavish feasts were erased from family memory, as if they never happened.
Eleanor swallowed the last bite of resentment. You dont chase good after good, she mused. At least now there would be no unexpected guests, no need to splurge on a ravenous clan. Milly resolved that if extreme measures were required, the extremes should be those that left her own life calmer and freer than the brazen relatives ever could.
