“What Do You Mean You Won’t Take Care of My Son’s Child?” – The Mother-in-Law Couldn’t Hold Back “Firstly, I don’t turn my nose up at little George! Let’s not forget, in this very house, I’m the one coming home after work, like a proper wife and mother, and pulling a double shift with cooking, laundry, and cleaning. I’m happy to help out and offer advice, but I don’t intend to take on full parental responsibility. ‘What do you mean—you’re not going to? So that’s it, is it, you’re just a hypocrite?’ ‘Come off it, Rita. Who wants a job if you don’t get paid for it?’ – As expected, at the school reunion, Sue hadn’t dropped her old habits of judging and criticising everything and everyone. Those days when Rita was lost for words were long gone. Now she always had a comeback and didn’t hesitate to put sharp-tongued Sue in her place. ‘Just because you have to worry about money doesn’t mean everyone else has the same problems,’ Rita said with a casual shrug. ‘I inherited two flats in London from my dad—one we lived in before he and Mum split up, the other he got from my grandparents and then passed on to me. And you know what London rents are like—not exactly peanuts—so I have enough for life’s little luxuries. I get to choose a job I like, not just one that pays the most. That why you went from doctor to shop assistant, Sue?’ That was meant to be a secret. Rita had promised never to say a word. But if Sue really wanted to keep it quiet, she should’ve thought twice about what she said—at least not called Rita ‘an idiot’ in public. Did she really think Rita would just let that slide? If so, it’s definitely not Rita who’s the idiot. ‘A shop assistant, really?’ ‘You promised not to tell!’ Sue squeaked, grabbing her bag and dashing out of the restaurant, clearly barely holding back tears. ‘Serves her right,’ commented Andy after a moment’s silence. ‘Honestly, who even invited her?’ Tanya asked. ‘I did, sorry,’ said Anna—the old head girl and now the organiser—apologetically. ‘Remember, Sue was always a bit unpleasant at school, but people change. Or so I hoped. Not always, though,’ Rita shrugged, making the group laugh. After that, they had plenty of questions about Rita’s job—out of pure curiosity, not judgement. Not many people know the field (and wouldn’t wish it on anyone), so there are plenty of myths. Rita spent the evening busting them. ‘Why even bother treating them if you don’t think it works?’ one old classmate asked. ‘Who says it doesn’t?’ Rita replied. ‘Take this one little boy I work with—five years old, birth went wrong, he ended up with developmental delays. Yes, it’s tough, but with the right support, there’s every chance he’ll end up in a mainstream school and live a normal life. Without help, it would be a completely different story. ‘So, you’re doing meaningful work because you don’t have to chase every penny,’ Val summed up, and the conversation moved on to classmates’ lives and families. Rita suddenly sensed someone watching her—a fleeting, strange feeling she soon shrugged off. A week after the reunion, Rita tried to leave for work but her car was blocked in by another. She called the number in the window and a pleasant young man named Max came to apologise and move his car. There was something instantly likable about him—his manners, clothes, even the aftershave. When he asked her out, she happily agreed; one date became two, and soon Rita couldn’t imagine life without Max. His mother and his young son from a previous relationship welcomed Rita as family. The boy, George, had special needs, but thanks to Rita’s professional skills, she built a bond with him and helped Max with new ways of supporting his son. After a year, Rita and Max moved in together—she let out her old flat through the same agency that handled her London properties, and moved in with Max and George. That’s when the early warning signs began. It was little things at first—‘Can you help George get ready?’, or ‘Watch him while I pop to the shops.’ This was manageable, as Rita and George got on, and she was free when asked. But the favours grew more burdensome. Rita had to have a word: Max, your son is your responsibility. I’m happy to help, but I won’t take on more than a fifth of the parenting just because he’s not my child—and I deal with children with special needs at work already. Max seemed to understand. But, as the wedding approached, he and his mother began discussing George’s therapy programme, making it clear they expected Rita to take it on in her spare time. ‘Hang on a second,’ Rita interrupted. ‘Max, we agreed you’d handle your son’s needs. I don’t ask you to clean my mum’s place or fix her problems—that’s on me. The same should go for George.’ ‘Not the same!’ his mother huffed. ‘A mum is an adult, living independently. A child is a child! Or are you planning to turn your nose up at George after the wedding and expect us to accept it?’ ‘I don’t turn my nose up at him. But I won’t take on his full rehab on top of working and running the house—he’s your son, Max. You should be in charge. I can advise, but that’s as far as it goes.’ ‘What do you mean, you’re not going to? So you’ll wax lyrical about your work to your friends, but when it comes to actually caring for a child, you’re nowhere to be found—just a hypocrite!’ ‘Excuse me?’ Rita said, then realised: Max’s mother worked part-time as a dishwasher at the very restaurant where the reunion was held. It all made sense. ‘So, you planned the whole thing just to foist your sick child onto me?’ ‘Did you really think I was excited to date someone like you?’ Max blurted out. ‘If it wasn’t for George and your job, I wouldn’t have looked twice at you…’ ‘Well, don’t look now,’ Rita retorted, pulling off her engagement ring and tossing it to her now ex. ‘You’ll regret this,’ Max and his mother threatened. ‘No real man wants a plain Jane with a dead-end job and no money.’ ‘I’ve got two London flats—so yes, I do have money,’ Rita shot back, enjoying the look on both their faces. She packed up, brushing off Max’s efforts at reconciliation and his empty promises: ‘I’ll do more, I’ll never speak to you like that again, I’m just stressed at work, please forgive me, I love you.’ Of course, Rita wasn’t buying it. She made a joke about him losing his “mouse”—and it didn’t look like she was the one with any regrets. Later, her old classmates got a laugh out of the whole saga. As for Rita, she hasn’t given up hope of someday finding someone who loves her for who she is—not her money or her skills. For now, she’s content with her job, her friends, and plans to get a cat—at least that’s an animal you can train, unlike some men.

What do you mean youre not planning to look after my sons child? snapped the mother-in-law, unable to contain herself.

First of all, I dont turn my nose up at Jamie, Sarah replied. Lets not forget that Im the one in this house, after a full days work, who runs the second shift cooking, cleaning, and doing laundry, as any decent wife and mother. Im happy to help out or give advice, but I never agreed to take on the full job of parenting.

What do you mean, you wont? So thats what youre really likesuch a hypocrite? came the sharp retort.

Youre daft, Claire. Who needs work they dont get paid for? As expected, at the school reunion, Kate couldnt resist her usual hobby of criticising absolutely everything.

But gone were the days when Sarah would be left speechless. Now, she was quick-witted and, seeing the opportunity, decided to finally put the loud-mouthed Kate in her place.

Just because you have to count your pennies doesnt mean the rest of us have the same problems, Sarah answered breezily. Dad left me two flats in Londonone where we lived until he and Mum divorced, another from my grandparents that passed on to me.

The rent rates are much higher thereenough to live comfortably, treat myself, and pick my jobs based on interest, not just a paycheque. Isnt it why you switched from being a doctor to working in retail?

That was supposed to be a secret. Sarah had promised not to tell.

But if Kate truly wanted it kept quiet, she ought not to have called Sarah names in front of everyone. Surely she didnt expect to get away with that? Some nerve!

A shop assistant? Really?

You promised you wouldnt say! wailed Kate, grabbing her purse and storming out of the pub, close to tears.

She got what she deserved, commented Andrew after a moments silence.

Yes, definitely. Shes always been a pain. Who even invited her? piped up Laura.

I did, actually, admitted class rep-turned-event organiser, Anna, sounding apologetic. I know Kate wasnt always pleasant at school, but people change. At least, sometimes.

But not always, Sarah smiled.

Everyone laughed, and soon the conversation shifted to Sarahs work.

It was mostly curiosityno disrespect for her unusual career path or intelligence.

Most hadnt encountered her line of work (and some might never want to). The profession was surrounded by myths, and Sarah was happy to clear those up for her old mates.

But why bother treating them if theres no hope? someone asked.

Who said theres no hope? For example, I have a five-year-old boy to help. Complications at birth, lack of oxygen, so now he has developmental delays, Sarah explained. But things are looking up. He started talking late, but with therapy hes likely to go into a mainstream school, live a normal life. If his parents hadnt put in the time, things would have been very different.

So, basically, instead of chasing pounds, youve picked work that matters to society, summarised Mark.

The conversation eventually moved on to life, family, and other classmates news.

But Sarah felt she was being watched. She put it down to paranoia, but the prickle on the back of her neck stayed.

A casual glance showed no one had eyes on her. No strangers were giving her a second look, so she shrugged it off and re-joined the conversation, soon forgetting about the odd feeling.

A week passed since the reunion.

Early one morning, Sarah was about to leave for work from the carpark outside her flat and saw her car boxed in.

Ringing the number left on the other cars dash, she was met with a flood of apologies and a promise to be right down.

Sorry, so sorry, the young man gushed when he arrived, clearly flustered. There wasnt a spot anywhere! Im Max, by the way.

Sarah, she replied. There was something instantly likeable about Maxthe way he carried himself, how he dressed, even his aftershave seemed just right. She happily agreed to have coffee with him.

One date led to another, and in three months, she couldnt imagine life without Max.

His family took to her straight away, especially his son from his previous marriage, Jamie, who had particular needs. Thanks to her expertise, Sarah bonded quickly with the boy, even passing on to Max new techniques for better communication and socialising with Jamie.

By the end of their first year together, Sarah moved in with Max and Jamie. She let her own flat through the lovely London agency that managed her other properties, taking only her essentials to start their new life.

Thats when warning signs began.

It was little things at firstCan you help Jamie get ready? or Would you mind watching Jamie for half an hour while I nip to Tesco? Nothing major, since she and Jamie got on and, at first, the requests never interfered with her own plans.

But it started piling up.

Sarah finally had to have a frank talk with Max. Jamie was, after all, his son and his responsibility first. She was all for helping where she could but had no intention of shouldering the bulk of childcare, especially since her job with special needs children already demanded a lot.

Max seemed to take it onboard, but just before their wedding he and his mum started discussing Jamies therapy schedule in front of heras though it was naturally her job to do all that once she became family.

Hang on, lets get something straight, Sarah interrupted firmly. Max, you and I agreed youd be responsible for all of Jamies needs. Ive never asked you to help my mum with her bills or renovate her flatthose are my problems, and I sort them myself.

Well, thats different, scoffed the mother-in-law. Your mums a grown woman living on her own. Jamie is a child.

So after the wedding you expect Ill just carry on refusing to look after Jamie and youll be fine with it? the mother-in-law pushed.

I dont refuse! For the record, I run this household after work like a good partnercooking, cleaning, laundrybut Im not about to take over Jamies therapy too. Hes Maxs son. I can help, but Im not becoming his new mum.

Whatso you wont? Hypocrite! Oh, you like telling friends about your jobmakes you sound wonderful. But when its time to actually look after a child, you vanish!

What are you talking about? blinked Sarah.

Then it clicked. She remembered Maxs mother worked part-time washing dishes at the pub where the reunion was held.

She put two and two together.

So you planned all this, just to dump your grandson on me?

Did you really think Id be with you for you? Max snapped. If it wasnt for Jamie and your job, I wouldnt have looked at you twice.

Oh, you wouldnt? Sarah slipped off her engagement ring and tossed it to her now ex-fiancé. Then dont look at me again.

Youll regret it, Max and his mother threatened. No decent man wants a plain woman with a dead-end job and no money.

I own two flats in London. Moneys not an issue, Sarah shot back, and watched their faces fall before heading to pack her things.

Apologies and promises to change poured in next. Ill do everything! Ill never talk to you like that again! Im just stressed please, I love you!

Sarah, far from being the fool they thought, didnt buy a word. With a laugh, she left, joking Max had lost his mouse and it didnt look like shed be the one to regret it.

Her old friends found the story hilarious, and Sarah realised she still hoped to meet someone who loved hernot for her money or skills, but just for who she was inside.

Until then, work and friends would do nicely. She even thought of getting a catat least they actually respond to care, unlike some men.

Life has a way of revealing peoples true colours, and Sarah learned that setting boundaries and knowing your worth are the first steps to real happiness.