Never shall you have a mother again! my motherinlaw thundered. Forget that you ever had a mother. After youre married, I want you to leave me alone and act as if I never existed. I will not even give you a penny for the wedding. If I didnt pick your bride, I wont pay a single shilling for this charade.
I, Margaret Thornton, felt a strange surge of joy whenever my little son, Samuel Clarke, pressed his arms around me and declared, Mum, youre the best in the world. Ill do everything to keep that smile on your face. Sam had no idea how those simple words turned my heart inside out. I was proud to have birthed such a darling, a little angel with golden curls, blue eyes and a aristocratic bearing. As he grew, I began to weigh every possible lady for his future wife with exacting standards: a respectable lineage, a tidy appearance, a slender figure, a university degree, flawless manners, and a respectable position in a reputable firm. The prospect of a suitable home for my boy was also nonnegotiable. The flat is already secured, I would say. Now we need a proper lady to keep it immaculate and be ready to welcome guests at any hour, even three in the morning, for that is a wifes duty.
Time passed and my demands only hardened. No woman past twentyfive, I warned. She must be strong, not produce a frail child, and the child must be Sams. My sisters would sigh, Margaret, you ought to fear God. There are no girls these days who meet such criteria. If you keep pestering Sam, hell stay a bachelor forever.
Sam excelled at school and university, landed a wellpaid post in a London investment firm, yet his love life stalled. Each time he tried to introduce a girlfriend to me, I would find a thousand reasons to drive her away. At every meeting Id command, Sam, go to the kitchen and slice some fruit while we chat.
The first lady I had the misfortune of meeting was Mabel Hart. She came from a modest background: her mother a clerk, her father a boilerroom operator, and two younger brothers. Mabel worked as a pharmacists assistant, which made me uneasy. She has constant access to medicines, I muttered. What if she poisons my sonor me? And a family of labourers is hardly suitable. I confronted her, Mabel, you understand you cannot marry Sam, do you? Youre too different. He grew up in a world you could never imagine. Find someone more…ordinary. She rose silently and left without a word. When Sam pressed her, she replied coldly, Ask your mother who raised you in those special conditions. Shell tell you youre too good for me, and Id be better off with someone simpler.
Mother, why did you insult Mabel? I like her, truly like her, Sam asked. What did you say to her?
I answered slowly, Son, I know what will make you happy, and its not Mabel. Shes not from a respectable line. Where did you find such a unsuitable match? Sam realised I would not be swayed and withdrew. He would occasionally mention a new girlfriend, but never brought her to my home. When I offered my assistance in finding a wife, he replied courteously, Thats for my future wife to decide, not for you. Ill choose myself. I huffed, I know exactly who youll picksome maid with nothing on her mind but mops and buckets. He smirked, At least the floors will shine. I snapped, Dont you speak to your mother that way! He would retreat to his room, and eventually he moved out into the flat that I owned and had once let to tenants.
My estranged husband, Edward Clarke, had been out of Sams life since the divorce when Sam was six. After many years, Edward finally agreed to meet. You know why I left Margaret? he said. She never let me breathe, constantly checked my every move, and mocked my lack of a degree. I felt like a beast of burden, and I fled. She refused child support and stripped me of parental rights. Sam frowned, Youre pleased with that? Edward retorted, I saved ten years of hard work to buy a flat for you, Sam. I handed the keys to Margaretdid she tell you? Sam shook his head. What? Edward repeated, I saved a small fortune, hoping youd have a place of your own. I warned Margaret not to drag you away, yet she threatened to ship you off to another city. Those words made Sam rethink his mother. He often said he wanted a partner who resembled Margaret in some way. I would smile coldly, knowing such a woman was a rarityperhaps one in a million, if not a billion.
After Mabel, several other girls crossed Sams path, but none satisfied me. Finally Sam issued an ultimatum: Either you stop meddling in my life, or Ill cease all contact with you. I snapped, Ingrate! Remember who bought you a home and paid for your education. How dare you?! Sam pleaded, Mum, enough. I know who really paid for the flat. I roared, You believe that fool? My husband, the?
His words left my face flushed with shame. I stared at him, then withdrew to my room. The next morning I did not appear for breakfast. Sam knocked, but a furious shout rang out, Leave me alone and go back to your worthless father! He entered, found me on the bed, hair disheveled, nightgown rumpled, staring vacantly at the ceilingfar from the polished, perfumescented woman I once was. Sam, I said slowly, Ive reached a conclusion. Marry whomever you likebe it a man from the far islands with a mix of penguins and rhinos. Just forget you ever had a mother. I wont give you a single pound for the wedding. If I didnt choose your bride, I wont fund this farce.
I understand, Mum, he replied with a wry bow, closing the door behind him. That very day Sam moved into his own flat.
Six months later he called me to a restaurant to announce his engagement. Who is she? I asked indifferently. She wont please you, mum, he answered coolly. Her name is Charlotte Whitmore, twentysix, from a long line of doctors. A very respectable girl. I rolled my eyes, Show me a photograph, then. He produced his phone; I pursed my lips, shook my head, and muttered, And you think this will be the mother of my grandchildren? What a horror! The picture showed a woman of Eastern European bearing.
Thats not Charlotte, thats some Gulchatai, I scoffed. Why call her Charlotte? He explained patiently, Shes halfKorean, called Charlotte in England. I sneered, Even betterlike a bulldog crossed with a rhinoceros. Youll grow to like her after were married, he smiled. My breath caught at his words. After the wedding? Youre marrying for spite? Not for spitejust for my own happiness, he replied, summoning a waitress to place our order. I sat in stunned silence, trying to picture the grandchildren of such a mixed heritagenothing could be worse.
On the wedding day Sam pulled me aside, sternly saying, No dramas, please. If Charlotte leaves me because of you, Ill never forgive you. I was forced to sit silently, watching the radiant bride and my son exchange vows, dance, and receive congratulations. The next morning the newlyweds arrived with a basket of treats for me, but I refused to let them in. All right, son. Ive done what you wanted. Now hear me: never bring that mixedblood daughterinlaw into my house again. Do you understand? You may have a thousand wives, but youll have only one mother. The couple left, and I tossed the basket into the rubbish. Ill take nothing from this halfbreed, I muttered angrily.
Soon after, Charlotte began looking after my health, employing a nighttime and daytime carer so I would not be left alone. I could not accept the daughterinlaw who had dared compare herself unfavourably to me. You once said youd find someone like me. Where does she resemble me? I complained, realizing I now relied on Charlottes carea fact that infuriated me. Theres a lovely lady for my head I grumbled.
Whenever the telephone rang, I answered with a cheery tone, Good morning, dear Charlotte. How are you? My blood pressures a bit erratic. Could you come over and have a look? And so the days went on, a strange tableau of duty, resentment, and the lingering memory of a mothers love that once seemed unshakable.
