The Mother-in-Law
Margaret Elizabeth was a born mother-in-law. Not the quiet, reserved sort, but the loud, stubborn, overbearing kind. Her own mother, Lucy, had whispered nervously to her friends about the newborn: “She lies there in her crib, scowling, pursing her lips, knitting her brows, fists clenchedthe very image of a mother-in-law.”
Luckily, Lucys own mother-in-law, Victoria Grace, lived in the next county and rarely visited. But when she did, the entire bakery where Lucy worked knew about it. The dough refused to rise, she mixed up sugar and salt, the pies came out lopsided and pale, and the poor baker jumped at every sound.
“Listen, take some unpaid leave,” snapped the manager one day. “Come back when shes gone.”
“Mrs. Thompson, have mercy!” Lucy tore off her starch-stiffened cap and clutched it to her chest. “At least here I can escape her. At home, Id have to spend the whole day appeasing her and apologising.”
“Apologising? For what?”
“For everything! How I cook, how I clean, how I treat her son… Mrs. Thompson, I dont even draw the curtains right!”
“How should you do it, then?”
“I dont know. But not like this!”
When Margaret was born, Victoria Grace descended at once, insisting the child be named after her late mother. She had the baby baptisedrisky for parents whod been in the Young Pioneersbullied the doctor and health visitor into submission, reduced Lucy to nervous exhaustion, and departed in the firm belief that this foolish girl would ruin the child.
Lucy wept for a week. So her husband, Henry, dipped into his fishing boat savings and bought her a gold locket.
Despite her grandmothers grim predictions, the baby not only survived but thrived. Peggy walked and talked early, speaking clearly and thoughtfully. By the time she was full of questions, she baffled the bakery ladies and Henrys factory mates with philosophy: “What do you love? What sort of person are you? Why do people smile?”
And as for her formidable grandmother, Peggy settled that in minutes.
One day, Victoria Grace swooped in on her usual visit and within five minutes was shrieking about the new sofatoo light, impractical. Five-year-old Peggy listened, then grabbed her grandmothers bags and hauled them to the gate.
“Oi! Where are you taking my things?”
“You came without love. You shout at Mum. Go away.”
“Youve turned the child against me!” the old woman wailed.
But Peggy thrust the doll her grandmother had just given her back at her. “Take it. I dont want your presents. And learn to behave.”
“Got an earful, did you, Mum?” Henry laughed. “Our Pegs a tough one. Once, I came home tipsy after celebrating a bonus. She lectured me for a week.”
After that, Lucy kept Peggy home on grandmother days, letting her stay up late. Often, Victoria Grace left without delivering half her grievances.
Peggys sharp mind made her a star at schoola prefect, head girl, then union rep. She nearly earned top marks, save for literature.
“Hares and bears dont talk. John Bull couldnt ride the devil because devils dont exist. And as for Hardywhat a dreary writer. His prose would bore flies to death.” She dismissed art, music, and PE with equal scorn, but aced maths and science.
Teachers urged Oxford, but she chose distance learning. Lucys health wavered; Victoria, now seventy, needed visits. And then Danny Carterthe foremans sonreturned from army service, gaped at Peggy in her sky-blue graduation dress, and blurted, “Peg, you look a proper bride!”
“A bride? At my wedding, Ill be queen.”
“Done!” Danny grinned. “Ill tell Mum to get velvet for my suit.”
“Fine. But not blacknavy. Or grey. Looks smart.”
Without a word of love or even a kiss, they spent evenings planning guest lists, honeymoons, and sons names. They went to the city togetherPeg for her university induction, Danny to resume his third year. Returned, applied to marry. Why not? It was all arranged. Their first son, Alex, arrived on schedule. By the time Peggy graduated, shed had two more boys.
Returning to work, Carter climbed swiftly, overtaking Danny in three years. For all his virtues, he lacked ambition. Peggy worked late, took courses, even played office politics; he sneaked off fishing with her father, often joking that “time with a rod doesnt count towards lifes tally.”
Peggy was a natural organiser, spotting bluster from genuine grievance. Today, shed be called a “top manager”; back then, they said “force of nature”or, if youd crossed her, “mother-in-law.” People pitied her future daughters-in-law. Peggy herself confessed to friends Jane and Rose that modern girls didnt suit her. “I wont stay quiet if things arent right.”
Alex, the eldest, took after his fathersturdy, clever enough, but lazy, content with fishing. The middle boy, Will, was Peggys doublea born leader whod asked, aged five, how to be “a proper man.” The youngest, Stan, swung between the twoall drive one day, weeping over poetry the next.
But Peggy had little time for mothering. She was nearly deputy director. When the old party man finally retired, she plunged into work.
“What matters to clients? Quality, price, deadlines, logistics. Not speeches about worker solidarity.”
“True,” agreed the director. “Our partners saw him as a relic. Step up, Mrs. Carter.”
She did. Soon, the factory ran extra shifts to meet demand. Busy, she barely noticed Alex had grownuntil he brought home a girl.
“Mum, Dadthis is Kate.”
The buxom, striking brunette left Henry smitten; Peggys eyes glinted.
Kate sunbathed instead of gardening, scorned hearty meals, lamented the lack of sushi bars, and drained the water tank: “Honestly, not even a tiny pool?”
“Hows the daughter-in-law?” Jane and Rose teased.
“Bright,” Peggy said stiffly. “Made Alex study English. They want to work abroad.”
“Youll let them?”
“Why not? We never saw the world. Let them.”
“And leave you alone?”
“Weve two more. And were not old yet.”
“I think Pegs scared of her,” Jane whispered.
“Smart girl,” Rose nodded. “Wont be bulliedor let Alex be.”
They married quietly before graduation, then left.
“No wedding feast?”
“Sensible. Will and Stan have exams. We gave them money instead.”
“But no vows before familyhardly a proper marriage,” Rose fretted.
“Lets see who lasts longerours, who wasted nothing on drink, or yours, who saddled you with debt.”
The girls fell silent. Peg had a way of slapping sense into chatter.
The couple rarely called, though the Carters mastered Skype and WhatsApp.
“No news is good news,” Peggy said. But Alex quitting his job stung.
“Hell play househusband?”
“Nah, joined the fisheries patrol,” Henry explained. “Studying marine biology.”
“Not bad. He was never much of an engineer. Clever Kate, backing him. Im the one who steered him from the navy.”
“Good prospects abroad. Here, fishings just a hobby.”
Then Victoria died. The funeral, the wake, selling her house and goatsespecially the one named after Lucywas a saga.
Amid it all, Peggy barely noticed her younger sons had grown.
“Mum, Dadmeet Alice.”
Will echoed Alexs wordsbut Alice was nothing like Kate. Pale, timid, she hid behind him, terrified of Peggy.
“Shell take it out on this one,” Jane and Rose whispered.
Partly right. Will aimed for the factory; the wedding would introduce him to bosses. While he and Henry organised the reception, Peggy took Alice dress shopping.
“After two hours and fifteen gowns, I was ready to scream,” Peggy groaned. “She just whimpered, I dont knowyou choose, Mum. Same with shoes, the veil…”
“Didnt you snap?”
“I darent! She crumples like mimosa. Once, I tried shooing her from the kitchenshe cooks nonstop! Ive gained three kilos. She burst into tears: I wanted to make lasagne. So I said, Do as you like, love.”
In short, another daughter-in-law defeated her. When Alice had twinsa boy and girlthe Carters doted on her.
The third took years. Stan, after university, joined Alex abroad. Drove lorries, returned, retrained in IT, rarely visited.
“When will you bring a girl home?”
“Mum, I cant decide. Do I want an iron lady like Kate? Or a mouse like Alice?”
“Decide
