The memory of that evening still lingers with me now, though many years have passed. The sight of little Emilys red welts from the belt struck something deep within me, a pain so sharp it felt as if my own soul had been torn. Gently, I moved the children aside and stood tall, my resolve hardening like iron.
That afternoon, I had walked home from work with a heavy heart. The autumn wind tugged at my coat, and the brooding clouds seemed to press upon me, but the weather was the least of my troubles. An unwelcome guest had arrivedone whose presence I could never bear for long.
Earlier, during a crucial meeting with a client, my husband, William, had called. Margaret, dont be cross, hed said, his voice tinged with apology. Ive gone and fetched Mum from the station. Shes missed the children. Shell only stay a few days.
His words sent a chill through me. My mother-in-law, Beatrice Whitmore, had been a thorn in my side ever since our wedding day. A decade of marriage had done little to soften her sharp tongue or her disapproval of me.
William, we agreed, I said, forcing my voice steady. You were meant to tell me beforehand.
Im sorry, love. She rang out of the bluesaid she needed some tests at the London hospital. Wanted to see the children while she was here. I couldnt very well turn her away.
I exhaled sharply. Of course he couldnt. William had always been too soft with her, no matter how she meddled.
Fine. Ill stay late at work. The project must be finished by tomorrow.
Dont fretMum will watch the children. Shes brought them gifts, and Im off to the clientsome trouble with the software.
So I lingered at the office, dreading the evening ahead. The thought of facing the woman who had once thrown me and little Thomas out into the rain, berating me for every imagined fault, made my stomach twist.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. A message from William:
Still at the clients. Running late. How are you?
I sighed and replied:
Nearly home. Ill manage.
Memories of our early years together flashed before meliving in Beatrices grand but frigid house, her coldness seeping into every corner.
Six years earlier.
I stood at the stove, stirring a pot of soup. Upstairs, little Thomasbarely five months oldwas crying. I wiped my hands on my apron and turned toward the stairs when Beatrice swept into the kitchen.
Deaf, are you? The childs in tears! she snapped.
I was just going to him, I answered evenly.
Always just going, she scoffed. Yet nothings ever done. My William slept like an angel at his age. Must be your blood showing.
I bit my lip. Such remarks were daily fare.
Beatrice peered into the pot.
Whats this slop? William wouldnt touch it.
Its his favourite, I countered. He asked for it.
Rubbish. Im his mother. I know what he likes!
With that, she seized the pot and poured its contents down the sink. Tears stung my eyes.
Why did you do that? I spent hours on it!
Spare me the theatrics. Tend to the baby. Ill make a proper meal for my son.
When William returned that evening, Beatrice met him in the hall:
Son, would you believe it? Your wife lazed about all day while the child wept. Thank heavens I was here.
William sighed.
Mum, Im sure Margaret cares for Thomas.
Oh, naturally you defend her! She threw up her hands. Shes got you wrapped about her finger, and Im nothing to you now!
With a dramatic sob, she flounced to her room. William gave me an apologetic look.
Sorry, love. She means well
William, she throws out my cooking, I said quietly. She tells Thomas Im a bad mother. Its unbearable.
Just hold on a bit longer, he pleaded. Well move out soon, I promise.
But the weeks dragged on, and matters only worsened.
A passing car jolted me from my thoughts. I quickened my pace, nearly home now.
The lift ride up felt endless. I pressed my forehead to the cold wall.
Just a few days, I whispered. It will pass.
Then the doors openedand I heard it. Emilys desperate wails.
My hands trembled as I fumbled with the key. The door swung open, and my blood turned to ice.
There, in the parlour, stood Beatrice, belt in hand, striking little Emily as she cowered in the corner. Thomas, tears streaming, tried to shield his sister.
Ill teach you to meddle with my things! Beatrice snarled, raising the belt again.
Rage burned through me.
What in Gods name are you doing?! I cried, rushing to my children.
Beatrice turned, unrepentant.
Oh, youve finally graced us! Your girl ruined my new handbagcost me fifty pounds!and then she cheeked me!
I gathered my sobbing children close.
You struck my child? Have you lost your senses?!
Dont tell me how to discipline! she snapped. I raised my son alone! You could do with a thrashing yourself!
I saw the angry welts on Emilys skin. Something inside me shattered.
Gently, I set the children aside and stood tall.
Get out of my home.
Beatrice gaped.
I shant leave! Ive come to see my son and raise my grandchildren proper!
Mum, Thomas said shakily, Grandmama hit Emily for spilling tea. When Emily said hitting was wrong, she got angrier
Quiet! Beatrice barked, but I stepped between them.
Dont you dare shout at my son! You struck my daughter. Youd have done the same to him if he hadnt dodged!
Just then, the door opened. William stood there, confusion darkening his face.
Whats happened? Why are the children weeping?
Beatrices demeanour shifted instantly. Tears welled in her eyes.
William, darling, Margaret shouted at me! I only scolded Emily, and she flew into a rage!
Williams gaze fell on the belt in her hand.
Mum, whats that?
II found it in your old briefcase. Meant to polish the buckle
Papa! Emily sobbed. Grandmama hit me with it because I spilled tea!
William knelt beside her, his voice gentle.
Show me where it hurts, poppet
Seeing the marks, he rose slowly. His eyes, usually kind, turned flinty.
Mum, you struck my children?
He walked to the cabinet and opened itinside, a security camera.
We fitted this to watch the children when were out. Ive just seen the recording.
Beatrice paled.
William, surely you understand! I adore them! It was only a little correctionwhy, in my day, we were all raised thus, and we turned out fine!
In your day, he said coldly, children shouldnt fear their grandmothers. In your day, adults speak to them, not beat them.
This modern mollycoddling is the ruin of them! And you, Williamyour wife rules you! I came to help! Ive an operation next weekId hoped you might stay with me
What operation? he frowned.
A serious one, she sighed dramatically. The doctors say something must be removed
What, precisely?
It hardly matters! I need my son! I thought perhaps you might stay with me awhile? The house is so empty Margaret could remain here if she likes.
William shook his head.
Mum, is that why you came? To try again to break up my family?
The doorbell rang. There stood my father, Edward Hartwell, his kind eyes surveying the scene.
Hullo, he said. Id thought to visit the children Whats all this?
They ran to him.
Grandpapa! Grandmama hit me with a belt! Emily cried.
Keep your nose out! Beatrice snapped. This is family business!
When my grandchildren are harmed, Edward said firmly, it is my business.
He gestured to the sofa.
Lets speak like sensible folk. Beatrice, do sit.
Something in his tone made her obey.
You know, he began, when my Margaret married, Id my doubts too. I thought William too soft for my country lass But I gave them time, and I saw how they love each other.
He turned to Beatrice.
You cling to your son, control his lifeyet you push him away. Now youve turned the children against you.
What do you know of it? she flared. I raised him alone! My husband died youngall fell to me!
And you fear being alone, he said gently. Thats why you invented this surgery.
Beatrice sagged.
Only a small procedure But I am afraid
Mum, William said softly. Had you but asked for help, wed have given it. Why the lies? Why try to ruin my happiness?
I didnt mean to Her voice faltered. Its only when I see you content without me, it feels as though Im nothing to you
Youre my mother, he said firmly. Of course you matter. But not like thisbitter, ruling my life. I need you as you wereloving, respecting my choices, cherishing my children.
I dont know how she whispered.
Try, Edward urged. Begin by apologising to the children. Theyll forgive if they see true remorse.
With effort, Beatrice met their eyes.
Forgive your grandmama I I was wrong.
To my surprise, Emily nodded.
All right but dont do it again. It hurt.
I wont, Beatrice promised.
Edward produced a bottle of homemade cider from his bag.
Now, lets have supper. Ive a treacle tart in the motorbaked it special for the little ones.
Later, as we sat at the table, the air was stiff, but no longer hostile. Beatrice watched silently as I sliced the tart, as William teased the children.
After supper, Edward spoke.
Beatrice, youll come with me tonight. My cottage has room. Time apart will do good.
She agreed, to my astonishment.
As they left, Emily tugged her sleeve.
Will you really be nice now?
Yes.
Then will you come to my recital? Im to be a snowflake at school
Something softened in Beatrices eyes.
If your parents allow it Id like that.
A month passed. Frost glazed the ground.
Today was our first proper meeting since that night. At Edwards suggestion, we gathered at his home. Beatrice had agreed to his terms: no meddling, no schemes, no criticism of me.
Ready? William squeezed my hand.
Ill try, I murmured.
When we arrived, Beatrice was already there, clad in a simple navy dressnone of her usual finery meant to outshine me.
Over supper, we spoke of harmless things. Afterward, Edward took the children to see his coin collection, leaving us alone.
Ive been seeing a mind-doctor, Beatrice said abruptly. Edwards notion Its helped me see things clearer.
She met my eyes.
Ive been vile to you And what I did to Emily theres no excuse. I thought I was losing all I held dear. Instead of mending it, I made it worse.
For the first time, I saw not a tyrant, but a lonely woman terrified of abandonment.
Beatrice, I said slowly, I cant forget it all but Ill try anew. For William. For the children.
Thank you, she whispered, tears glinting. Tis more than I deserve.
Emily bounded in, clutching a small box.
Grandpapa gave me a lucky penny! Want to see?
Beatrice took it gingerly, as if fearing Emily might snatch it back.
How lovely Thank you for showing me.
As we prepared to leave, Beatrice approached me.
I always thought William chose poorly. But now I seehe chose a woman of strength. The sort I wished to be.
Youre strong too, I said. In your own way.
That night, after tucking the children in, I stood at the window, watching the snow fall. I knew not what the future held for us and Beatrice. But for the first time in years, I felt a flicker of hope.
And Beatrice, returning home, took down an old album. In a faded photo, young William smiled on her lap.
Ill do better, she vowed. For my son. For my grandchildren. And perhaps for myself.
The path to peace was long. But the firstand hardeststep had been taken.
