**Diary Entry 12th October**
After six months of silence, my mother-in-law finally spoke. Her first words made her own daughter freeze.
“Mum, please, just say something!” Emily squeezed the cold hand of the woman lying in the hospital bed. “I know you can hear me. The doctor said your hearing is fine.”
Margaret Whitmore stared blankly at the ceiling, silent. Six months had passed since her stroke, yet she hadnt uttered a wordonly blinking occasionally when Emily read letters aloud from the grandchildren in Canada.
“Sophie rang earlier,” Emily continued, adjusting the pillow. “Lilys started nursery. Speaks better English than French nowcan you believe it?”
The door swung open violently. Standing there was Valerie, Margarets eldest daughterhair dishevelled, a bulging grocery bag in hand.
“Here you are again, acting like youre in charge!” she snapped, not even bothering with a greeting. “Think I dont know what youve been telling the doctors? That we abandoned her?”
Emily sighed. These rows happened every week.
“Val, keep your voice down. Mum gets tired when you shout.”
“Shes *my* mother!” Valerie shoved past her sister-in-law. “Mum, its meyour real daughter. Not some stranger who moved into your flat.”
Margarets hand twitched, as if straining to speak, but only a weak groan escaped.
“See how upset she gets when you yell?” Emily stepped between them. “Lets talk in the hall.”
“Or better yetwhy dont *you* leave? Sick of your theatrics! I know why you come every dayguilt, isnt it? After what happened with Mark?”
Emily paled. They never spoke of her son in front of Margaretthe doctors warned stress could trigger another stroke.
“Val, please”
“Dont *please* meIm done!” Valerie pulled a jar of homemade jam from her bag. “Mum loves thisapricot. Not that hospital slop you feed her.”
“She cant have anything acidic. You know the diet.”
“Oh, *youd* know best, wouldnt you?” Valerie lined up containers on the nightstand. “Homemade custard, poached chicken, broth in the flask. And you? Brought those awful yoghurts again?”
Emily noticed Margarets eyes following her daughters movementsthe first flicker of life in months.
“Mum, fancy some custard?” Valerie perched on the bed. “Like you used to makestrained through muslin, a bit of sugar…”
A faint nod.
“See?” Valerie shot Emily a triumphant look. “She understands *me*. Not you and your hospital rules!”
Emily bit her tongue. The doctors *had* said emotional bonds sometimes mattered more than medicine.
“Val…” Margaret whispered suddenly.
Both women froze.
“Mum! Youre speaking!” Valerie clutched her hand. “You know its me?”
Margaret turned her head with effort.
“Wheres… Mark?”
Silence. Valerie glanced helplessly at Emily.
“Mum, hes… working abroad. Cant visit,” Emily lied.
“Liar,” Margaret breathed. “I… know. Know everything…”
Valerie burst into tears. “Mum, dont think about that now.”
“He… drank?” Margarets gaze fixed on Emily.
“Yes,” Emily admitted. “Badly, these last years.”
“Forgave… him?”
Emily nodded, throat tight.
“Then… I… forgive too.”
Margaret closed her eyes, tears streaking her cheeks.
“Dont cry, please,” Valerie begged, stroking her wrinkled hand. “Youll get better. Come live with mebig sunny room”
“No.” Margaret shook her head weakly. “Home… I want… Emilys… home.”
Valerie recoiled as if struck.
“But *Im* your daughter!”
“And she… mine too. Thirty years… by my side. You… only holidays.”
“We had jobs! Families!”
“She… lost her son.” Margarets voice was frail. “Good… boy. I helped… raise him.”
Emily turned to the window. Drizzle blurred the glassthe kind of rain that suited sorrow. She longed to step outside, let it wash away the grief.
“Mark… rang,” Margaret continued. “Before… the end. Asked… forgiveness. I gave it.”
“Mum, dontthe doctors said no distress!”
“Need… to say. Emily… was good. Stayed… when he was ill.”
She turned to Emily.
“Thank… you.”
“For what?”
“For… not letting him… die alone.”
Emily sank into a chair, legs giving way.
“He loved you deeply. Said no one had a mother like you.”
“Now… Im a burden.”
“Never.” Emilys voice cracked. “Youre all the family I have left.”
“You have… grandchildren. In Canada.”
“Theyve built lives there. Sophie married after uniCanadian passport now. Easier for the young, I suppose.”
“Miss them?”
“Lily, every day. But what can you do?”
Valerie listened, face darkening.
“How touching,” she spat. “And what about *my* rights? You expect me to hand Mum over to an outsider?”
“Valerie!” Margaret rasped.
“What? I worked double shifts for thirty years, raised kids alone because my husband drank as much as your Mark! Now you say Im a stranger?”
“No one… said that,” Margaret sighed. “But home… I want… my flat.”
“With *her*?” Valerie jerked her chin at Emily. “What if she leaves? Goes to Canada?”
Emily stood by the window. Dusk gathered; lights flickered in the hospital opposite. So many lives, each with its own joys and sorrows.
“I wont leave,” she said quietly. “I promise.”
“And if you remarry? Meet someone?”
Emily laughed bitterly. “At fifty-two? Whod want me? Old, ill, with baggage.”
“Not old,” Margaret murmured. “Still… lovely. And kind.”
“Youre tired. Let me help you wash up, give you your tablets.”
Valerie watched them, arms crossed.
“Fine,” she said abruptly. “Maybe it *is* for the best. My Dereks joining the army soon, then uni. And my husbands never liked having elders aboutsays they disrupt the peace.”
“Valerie,” Margaret chided.
“Well? Hes high-strunglong hours in finance. Nightly moans, pills, doctors in and out…”
“Right.” Emily nodded. “Once shes discharged, Mum comes home with me.”
“What about your job? Youre full-time.”
“Ill quit. Go part-time. Figure it out.”
Valerie hesitated. “Ill send money. Monthly. And groceries. Call if anything”
“Fine.”
“But no… guilt-trips. Understand? I wont listen to how I failed as a daughter.”
“You wont hear it.”
Margaret listened, eyes closed but awake.
“Mum, what do you think?” Emily asked.
“I think… God gave me… a second daughter. A good… one.”
Valerie fled, sobbing.
“Shes hurt,” Margaret whispered.
“Shell get over it. Always been sensitiveand Howard eggs her on.”
“Men… dont understand… a womans heart.”
“Not all. Your Mark did. When sober.”
“Yes… good boy. Pity… how it ended.”
They sat quietly. Nurses footsteps echoed outside; a TV droned news in the staff room.
“Emily,” Margaret murmured.
“Yes?”
“Do you… regret it? Marrying him?”
Emily thought. “There were times I did. Especially during the binges. But thenwould another man have been better? We never know. With a sober husband, I mightve never had Sophie. And shes turned out well.”
“Clever… girl. Takes after… you.”
“And you. Just as stubborn.”
Margaret smiledfirst time in months.
“Good… A woman… needs spirit.”
A nurse peeked in. “Visiting hours are over. Time to settle her for bed.”
“Of course.” Emily stood. “Mum, Ill come early tomorrow. Maybe a walk if its nice.”
“Come. And dont… be hard on Val. Shes… just tired.”
“I know. Sleep well.”
Emily kissed her forehead. At the nurses station, the matron stopped her.
“Excuse meyoure Mrs. Whitmores daughter-in-law?”
“Yes.”
“Her daughter demanded we bar you from visiting. Claimed you werent family.”
“She was upset. Said things she didnt mean.”
“We need clarity on medical decisions. If theres an emergency”
“I have her power of attorney.” Emily pulled the document from her bag. “She arranged it before the stroke.”
The matron scanned the papers. “Ah. Apologies for the
