I recall the days when Margaret, a silverhaired matriarch, tended her ferns on the windowsill of the little cottage in Yorkshire. One crisp morning her daughter, Beatrice, burst into the sittingroom, a woman of about thirtyfive, her cheeks flushed with anxiety.
Mother, are you alone? she asked, voice trembling.
Would you mind a greeting first? Ask your dear mother how she fares, Margaret replied, wiping her hands on her apron. Oh, hello, my love, how are you feeling? Im in such a bother, and wheres my husband?
Im as fit as my birth certificate says, Margaret said, tapping the old paper on the mantel. You know the law is in the documents. As for your father, hes gone off to pray.
To where? Beatrice pressed.
Use your head, lovewhere does a man go on a Saturday? Margaret chuckled.
To the chapel, Beatrice guessed.
Indeed, to the chapel, not to a ladys parlour to chat about God, Margaret laughed. And what wind has blown you into such a state, that you again turn away from the good Lord?
My dear mother, I cannot go onI must leave Charles! Beatrice blurted.
Your Charles, between us, isnt a terrible husband, Margaret said, eyes twinkling. Do you think a line of suitors will form behind you? Soon enough, the lot will be taken!
Why such a fuss over him? Do you think he loves you? Margaret asked.
Is it sour soup that makes me think he doesnt love me? Beatrice retorted. I know my daughter well enough to hate a husband who would treat his motherinlaw like gold! Youll drive anyone to the brink of madness.
Mother, as they say, an apple doesnt fall far from the tree, Beatrice said with a wry smile.
And as the old rhyme goes, Every family has its odd one out, Margaret replied, sticking out her tongue and winking. Enough of tearing my poor heartspeak plainly!
Mother, consider this: were off to a birthday today. I intend to give fivepound notes, and he says, Good heavens!
And whats wrong with that? Margaret shot back. Dont blind folks with your riches! Take a modest six crystal glasses and be off.
Judgment, you call it! Beatrice snapped. Who needs crystal glasses now? Everyones got them.
Im no judge, merely a keeper of culture, Margaret replied. I cant even remember how many years Ive been selling tickets to the circus. Its been a success! If they dont need the glasses, theyll be passed on to otherstheres plenty of business.
Beatrice glowered at her mother. At that moment a man in his forties entered, his coat still damp from the rain.
Why leave the door ajar? he said, smiling. Good day, Mother!
Whos that? Margaret exclaimed. Charles, dear, are you hungry? I have a marvelous fishfingerlicking goodI made it just for you. Had you not turned up, I would have sent your father to fetch it!
What about me? Beatrice snapped, hurt. You never offered me a bite!
Sweetheart, Im sorry, Margaret said, her eyes softening. Theres plenty for you too; I was simply overjoyed to see Charles. I tell all the neighbours what a golden soninlaw I havebetter than any son! Listen, Charles, come here: I want you to know Im on your side. Your wife has been a whirlwind, but I say youre right. Will you eat in the kitchen, or shall I bring it here?
Thank you, Mother, Charles replied. We just had breakfast, Im not starved, and thank you for the supportmy wife will never hear a word from me if I dont stand my ground.
You know, Charles, shes not a terrible wife. Shes spoken highly of you to me, praised you, and I loved hearing how good you are. I love you as my own son, you know that.
Beatrice sipped her water and choked on a tear as she listened.
Charles moved closer and embraced Margaret.
Didnt expect that, he murmured, thought youd be complaining.
Oh, she ran off to consult, didnt she? Never wanted to speak. Well, Ill share a secret: Dinah wants to cook something special for you, but I wont tell what. We were like two housewives swapping ideas! And as a gift, she mentioned you hadnt decided yet, so I told her you were right.
Beatrice, eyes wide with astonishment, smiled.
Mother, thank you. Ill remember all youve said. If I forget anything, Ill give you a ring. Its time we left.
No, not until you take the fish for Charles, Margaret insisted.
Just for Charles? Have you forgotten me again? Beatrice asked.
My dear, you know hes my foremost concern, then you, Margaret said, shrugging apologetically.
Charles stood with a pleased grin. Margaret brought in the fish, wrapped in a striped towel, placed it into a waterproof bag, and handed it to him.
Here, enjoy it, and may you finish it quickly, or Ill be cross! she warned.
Thank you, Mother, youre a true friend. Lucks on my side with a motherinlaw like you, he said, taking his wifes arm. Shall we go, Dinah?
Yes, Ill catch up, I must say goodbye to Mother.
Charles left, and Beatrice leaned toward Margaret, whispering, Mother, youre a great actress! The West End would weep for you! And how did you leave Father without a cent?
My dear child, I didnt want you to weep on both cheeks, so Father and I will share the fish another day. Remember, for peace at home one must play a little part of an actress now and then.
