You wouldnt believe what happened with me and Sandras mum last month. Honestly, its like something out of a telly drama.
So picture this I come back from Sainsburys, lugging a heavy bag, and Grace is standing in the kitchen doorway, arms folded like shes about to interrogate a suspect. You know that glare mums give proper death stare. She goes, Have you lost the plot? I told Margaret youd be coming! She saved the best bit of beef for you, especially!
Im rooted there, clutching the shopping bag, feeling about two feet tall. Grace looks at me like Ive committed daylight robbery, not just bought a bit of steak from the shop.
I try to keep my voice steady. Grace, I couldnt get to the butchers in time. Went to the dry cleaners to pick up your dress after work, then popped into Boots for your tablets
Grace fires back, And you couldnt call? Warn me? Margaret waited for you till closing! Then she rang me up and had a good old moan that Id let her down!
I dump the shopping bag on the table. My stomach does a nasty little flip.
I pull out the beef, trying to show Ive done my best. Its good meat. Look proper English beef, nice and fresh
Grace doesnt even spare it a glance. She pushes the packet away with two fingers, like its contaminated.
Supermarket rubbish, pumped full of chemicals. Williams got a sensitive tummy he wont touch that stuff.
I let slip, William bought the same last week
Never shouldve said that. Grace turns puce.
Exactly! Husband dashing about for groceries while his wife does who knows what! Youve been married three years, Emily. Three years in this family and what have you done? Dont know how to cook, never lift a finger in the house, not in any hurry to give us grandchildren
Grace, thats not really fair
Not fair?! She snorts. My mother-in-law, I worshipped the ground she walked on. Never dared say boo. And you? Always have an answer for everything, do whatever you please
Grace storms out to the hallway, snatches up her handbag. Every move is like nails on a chalkboard.
Ive told William for ages: get divorced before its too late. Find yourself a proper woman. One who appreciates a good husband
She waves a hand, not even bothering to finish, and crams her feet into her shoes, no attempt to fix the backs typical.
Im stood there in the kitchen doorway, fingers dug into the frame.
Goodbye, Grace.
She doesnt say a word. Door slams, flat goes instantly silent.
I slump down against the wall, right onto the cold linoleum. The beef sits on the table looking sorry for itself, and frankly, I feel the same about the spotless kitchen and all those wedding photos on the walls Grace with a smile so strained youd think there was a drawing pin jammed into her shoe.
Three years. Three years of trying. Learned all of Williams favourite recipes from back when he was a kid, endured every single Sunday lunch with Grace dissecting every spud William likes his potatoes in cubes, not chips! smiled, nodded, apologised for things I didnt do.
Still not good enough. Still the wife who shouldve been someone else.
I tip my head back, staring at the ceiling that could do with a lick of paint. Should mention it to William, but why bother?
The next couple of weeks, I practically go underground. William answers Graces calls, we skip Sunday lunch for urgent stuff, and if I spot her somewhere its a quick hiya and leg it.
Then I get a call from a solicitor.
Turns out, my grandfather only saw him a handful of times, if Im honest passed away. Left me a little plot forty miles out, in some village called Sunrise Gardens or something equally poetic.
Williams fiddling with a key ring shaped like a sorry-looking strawberry. Should go and have a look. Fancy a trip on Saturday?
Fine, I say. Saturday it is.
Shouldve guessed
Saturday morning, bang on half seven, Graces already on the doorstep, wellies on and basket in hand. Im coming with you! Margaret said the woods are great for mushrooms.
I bite my tongue, start making tea for the flasks. What a charming day ahead
The cottage is exactly as I imagined: wonky little shack, garden overrun, fence barely standing. Inside stinks of damp and old magazines.
I tug Williams sleeve. Cant we just sell it? What are we going to do here every weekend digging up veg beds? Its not for us.
William opens his mouth, but Grace pops up out of nowhere, honestly like she teleported.
Sell it? Are you mad? Its your own land! Id kill for something like this
She clutches her chest, gets a little misty-eyed.
Give me the keys. Ill get it sorted fix the house up, plant some flowers. Give me a year, youll be thanking me, you watch.
I look at Grace shes half-buried in leaves, radiating happiness.
Grace, its a huge job
William squeezes my elbow gently. Let her crack on. She loves all this. Its not going to hurt us, is it?
True. Feels weird, but its easier than arguing.
I hand her the mangy strawberry keychain.
The next two months are surreal. Grace only calls about garden centre recommendations or to check if she should order new windows. Not a single unscheduled visit, and miracle of miracles not one complaint about supermarket beef, grandchildren, or potato preparation. She sounds happier than she has in years, cheerfully saying, William, darling, Im busy! Chat soon!
Honestly, Im stumped. Is she planning something? Secretly ill? I ask William, Is your mum really okay?
All fine, he shrugs. She barely sleeps, shes so busy gardening.
Friday, she rings herself.
Come over tomorrow, you two! Well have a barbecue, youll see all my hard work!
William looks at me, hopeful as a puppy. Shell be gutted if we say no
Shes always gutted.
Please? Hes so earnest, I cant say no.
Saturday it is.
And when we get there I dont even recognise Grace.
Shes glowing, honestly. Standing at the gate in a breezy linen dress, tan arms, cheeks pink with fresh air. Her smile is real, not the lets pretend one. It’s like shes dropped ten years.
You made it! At last! She hauls me into a massive hug before I can protest and she smells of earth, dill and honey.
The gardens transformed. Neat rows of veg along a proper mended fence. Next to the window, marigolds everywhere. Gooseberry bushes already sprouting leaves.
Come on, come on! Look at this Margaret gave me these strawberries, Ill have the first ones in June. Tomatoes over there, cucumbers too. Ill do enough preserves for you lot Ill keep just a couple of jars for myself.
William and I share a glance neither of us can believe it.
Mum, did you do this all on your own? He looks around, gobsmacked.
Who else would? Grace laughs, like a schoolgirl. Ive got hands, havent I? The neighbours help out if I get stuck. Lovely people, not like city folk.
Inside the cottage is just as fresh new curtains, sparkling windows, embroidered tablecloth on the table. Smell of damp swapped for homemade scones and something herby.
She plonks a jug of milk and a parcel on the table. Got it from Susan down the lane her own goats. Same with the beef, homegrown. Take it back with you, theres cheese and clotted cream too.
I just stare. Meat from Susan not a word about Margaret from the market.
Grace are you properly happy here?
Grace sits down gently, and theres something soft in her eyes.
Emily love, she says (first time ever shes used love), I dreamt of this all my life. My own patch, digging earth with my hands, clearing my head. I was suffocating in the city just didnt realise. But here
She gestures out the window.
Here, Im living.
Driving home, the clinking of bottles and cheese fills the silence. Williams at the wheel and finally says, Reckon we could start a family now? Somewhere for the kids to go in summer.
I snort, but I cant help smiling.
You know, I wanted to sell that place the first day. Couldnt see the point in a falling-down shed.
I know.
But it it fixed everything. Between me and your mum. Two months did what three years couldnt.
William pauses at the red light and looks at me.
She was just miserable before. Now shes not.
I nod along. The city lights are turning on, and for the first time in three years, getting home feels easy.
We should visit her more, I say quietly.
And I mean it. Properly mean it.
