Dear Diary,
I asked Poppy again, Where did you put the bracelet? Did it slip out of your bag, or did you pawn it? She lowered her gaze, her voice barely a whisper. My mother took it, she said.
The room fell silent. I sank onto the sofa, eyebrows raised, feeling the absurdity of the whole scene.
She just… took it? I asked, bewildered. What does that even mean?
She fidgeted. She first asked if she could try it on. Then she said it suited her and I didnt feel right about refusing. Shes my mother, after all.
I stared at my wife as if I were seeing her for the first time. I knew Poppy was gentlenatured, but I hadnt imagined it could stretch this far.
So she just walked off with my bracelet? I pressed, a hint of irony in my tone. Come on, Poppy, tell me the whole story, step by step.
Ive always wanted Poppy never to lack anything. Now I could finally afford to give her that, but sheshe still couldnt.
We met back in our first year at university through mutual friends. I was a naïve dreamer then, raised in a modest household, and I promised myself that my future wife and children would always have the best. I had no clue how Id make that happen, but I was full of enthusiasm.
Poppy had no grand ambitions, only a kind heart. I realized I was in love when she showed up one cold morning, shivering, with a thermos of hot soup.
Serge told me you were ill, she whispered, slipping off her shoes. I thought Id drop by.
I didnt need you to, I replied, though I didnt push her away. Youll catch it too.
She smiled. Then well both have fevers and recover together. Im not made of sugar; I wont melt away.
In Poppy I saw the woman who could hold the fort, acting purely out of goodwill because she liked me and wanted to care for me.
A year later we were sharing a tiny rented flat in Manchester, a cramped kitchen with a humming fridge, a leaky tap and the occasional cockroach. We pulled allnighters before exams, took odd jobs togetherme lugging boxes in a supermarket, her serving tables in a café.
We survived everything. We learned that instant noodles werent cheap after all. When I ended up in hospital with gallstones and she had nothing for medication, we borrowed from parents and friends. Thankfully my mates were generous, handing me odd jobs: helping on construction sites, painting a garden fence for a token fee. I took whatever came my way, trying not to overload Poppy.
I want to help you! she declared before a new gig.
Sure, and what will you do? Carry coal? Youll break yourself and my treatment will cost more, I grumbled.
Her earnestness, though, made me think twice. I never left her, even when the bills grew huge.
Step by step we chased our goals. First we earned our degrees. I bounced between a string of companies until a friend landed me a junior role at a large firm in London. The hours were brutallate nights, weekend calls.
Poppy kept the household running, despite her own job. She delighted me with her cooking, kept the flat tidy, cared for our dog even after it stopped walking.
Nothing will last forever, shed say when things got tough.
When I finally became head of logistics, responsibilities multiplied, but I felt the love waiting at home. That love kept me going.
We moved into our own house in a leafy suburb, bought a modest car and a small garden plot. No longer did we scour Gumtree for secondhand furniture; we bought new pieces from a local store. We swapped clothes for style, not just necessity, and even took holidays abroad instead of staying with relatives in the countryside.
My gifts evolved too. Instead of chocolates, I bought her coats, handbags, gold jewelleryno special occasion needed, just a Friday evening or a good mood. Poppy still blushed at the price tags, but she loved being pulled out of her old frugal routine.
At first everything was wonderful. She beamed, hugged me tightly, wore a new perfume, strutted in designer outfits, cooked with a hightech multicooker.
Then, oddly, she reverted to the old multicooker, carried a cracked handbag, and hid her fragrance away. I wondered if she simply disliked the scent or if old habits were pulling her back. Why would she wear shoes that hurt her feet when she had a brandnew pair?
I decided to test her. When my colleague Simon invited us to his birthday, I bought Poppy a gold bracelet and sapphire earrings. I wanted everyone to see the woman I adore.
Wear the dress we bought on Friday and the jewellery I gave you last week, I urged.
She stammered, claiming the bracelet was broken, that shed given it to a jewellerbut couldnt say which. Then she confessed that her mother had taken the goldand not just the gold.
So every gift I gave you ended up with your mum? I pressed, frowning. Seriously, Poppy? Cant you push back?
She averted her eyes.
I tried. She gets upset, says she raised me and I owe her everything. She says no one will ever give me gifts again, yet you keep buying for me. It wont cost you anything, she says.
I covered my face with my hands, feeling robbednot of objects, but of respect.
Fine, I sighed. From now on Ill only give you things that wont end up with your mum in a week.
She fell silent. I realized she was too easily swayed by manipulation. I could try to shake her, but it would be futile. I accepted her as she was.
The real leak, I thought, wasnt Poppyit was my motherinlaw, Vera Mitchell. She was loud, meddlesome, and clingy. Id met her almost as soon as I started dating Poppy.
I dont mean to intrude, but shed begin, then launch into unsolicited advice.
Vera worked as an accountant; her husband was wherever a job was available. Their salary matched their modest lifestyle.
From day one she tried to worm herself into our lives, popping in at eight in the morning, sometimes during our most intimate evenings. One night I simply said we werent expecting her. Poppy paled, whispered Its my mum, but I stood my ground.
Yes, mum, I nodded, but wed appreciate a headsup before you drop by.
Vera stopped entering through the door and instead slipped guilt into Poppys ears.
Your perfume is lovely! No one ever gives me any. Can I borrow it for a week? Lucys birthday is coming up; Ill be the fragrant envy of the town. You should be grateful to your mother, dear. Ive given you everything.
How do I stop this? I needed a new tactic for Poppys birthday. When everyone gathered, I rose and handed her a small envelope.
Sunshine, this is for you. I know youve always wanted to visit Italy. Have a proper holiday, on me.
Veras eyes lit up.
Oh! How lovely. Ive always dreamed of sunbathing on the Italian coast, seeing the locals and their monuments!
Wishful thinking is fine, I said, but note, Vera, the second tickets on me. Youll travel with me, and Im not the most pleasant roommateloud snoring, nocturnal music, roaming the room shirtless. Ready?
Laughter erupted around the table. Poppy lowered her gaze, smiled shyly. Vera flushed, pursed her lips, and left early, quiet for the rest of the evening.
I grinned, realizing Id received two gifts that night: Poppys genuine smile and Veras sudden silence.
So here I am, diary, still navigating love, family, and the inevitable leaks. Ill keep trying to keep the house warm, even if it means outwitting a meddling motherinlaw.
Victor.
