“You’re not really family,” said my future daughter-in-law when I brought flowers on the day they filed their marriage notice.
“Margaret Thompson, you’re home early from work,” remarked Mrs. Jenkins from next door, surprised to see me at the front steps. “Feeling poorly?”
“Oh no, Mrs. Jenkins, Im fine. Just had some urgent matters to sort out,” I replied, adjusting my handbag on my shoulder.
“Well, thats good. At our age, you never know. My blood pressure spiked yesterdaythought Id have to call an ambulance.”
I nodded absently, barely listening to her complaints. Only one thought filled my mindI had to get to the town centre in time. My son David hadnt given me the exact hour, but I knew young couples usually did these things early in the day.
The bus crawled through traffic, making my nerves fray. I kept checking my watch and rifling through my bagpassport, payslips, council tax statement, everything they might need if they decided to sort out her moving in straight away.
I imagined Davids face lighting up when he saw me. How Emma would blush and thank me for caring. How could they go through such an important day without family?
The registry office was in an old building right in the heart of London. Climbing the steps, I felt just as nervous as I had forty years ago when Id married my late husband, with my own parents by my side.
The lobby was crowded. Couples with paperwork waited their turn, some filling out forms at the tables, new parents registering babies. I scanned the room but didnt see David anywhere.
“Excuse me,” I asked the girl at the desk, “where do we file marriage notices?”
“First floor, Room 207,” she said without looking up.
The corridor upstairs was long, with high ceilings and creaky floorboards. I found the right door and peeked inside.
“Mum, what are you doing here?” David asked, startled.
He sat across from a stern-looking woman in a suit, Emma beside him in a pretty blue dress. Their passports and papers lay on the desk.
“David, love!” I beamed, stepping in. “I couldnt miss such a big day, could I? Thought Id come to support you.”
Emma shot him a glance before turning a cool stare on me.
“Hello, Mrs. Thompson,” she said stiffly.
“Emma, darling, congratulations!” I moved to hug her, but she sidestepped.
“Excuse me,” the registrar cut in, “but were in the middle of processing. If youd like to stay, please take a seat.”
I sat by the wall and pulled out the small bouquet Id bought on the way.
“Emma, these are for you. I remember you like lilies.”
She took them without a smile.
“Thanks.”
“Right, lets continue,” said the registrar. “Preferred wedding date?”
“October fifteenth,” David said.
“Eleven a.m. is available. Does that suit?”
They nodded.
“David, wouldnt a Saturday be better?” I chimed in. “Some relatives might struggle with a weekday.”
“Mum, weve already decided,” he said tersely.
“Of course, of course. Youre adults, you know best.”
Emmas irritation was plain. I pretended not to noticeshe must just be nervous.
“Will you have witnesses?” asked the registrar.
“Yes, my brother and her friend,” said Emma.
“Maybe parents could sign too?” I suggested. “For traditions sake.”
“Mum, witnesses are only two people,” David explained patiently. “Its the law.”
“Oh, of course. Im just so excited.”
The paperwork took another half-hour. I watched them fondly, touched by their solemn expressions. When everything was signed, I stood first.
“Now, lets celebrate! Ive booked a table at that lovely café near Covent Gardentheir Victoria sponge is divine.”
David and Emma exchanged a look.
“Mum, we werent planning to invite anyone today,” he said carefully.
“But its such a special occasion! It should be marked properly.”
“Mrs. Thompson,” Emma cut in, her voice icy, “were just going for a walk. Alone.”
“Alright, alright. What about this evening? Ive already got grocerieswas going to make your favourite shepherds pie.”
“Mum, weve got other plans,” David said firmly.
Something tightened in my chest. Id prepared so much, dreamed of sharing their joy.
“But Im your mother,” I said, bewildered. “How can you do this without me?”
“Were grown-ups, Mum. Well manage.”
We stepped outside together. The sun was shining, couples strolling through the square, posing by the fountain. I walked beside them, feeling like an intruder.
“David, just one photo?” I pleaded. “Ive got my phone.”
“Mum, well take loads later.”
“Just one? For memories?”
He relented. I fumbled with the camera.
“Stand closer. Emma, smile!”
Her smile was forced. I snapped a few shots.
“Lovely! Ill print these for the mantelpiece.”
“Mum, we need to go,” David said, checking his watch.
“Where to? I could walk with you.”
“We want to be alone,” Emma said sharply.
Her tone stung, but I bit my tongue. I hugged David and tried to embrace Emma, but she backed away.
“Goodbye,” she said flatly.
“Mum, Ill call tomorrow,” David promised.
I watched them go, then trudged to the bus stop, my mood shattered. Id imagined us laughing over tea, planning the wedding, dreaming of the future. Instead, Id just been tolerated.
On the bus, I scrolled through the photos. David looked happy. Emma, even in pictures, seemed tense.
At home, I cooked shepherds pie anyway, knowing Id eat alone. My hands moved automaticallychopping onions, browning mince. But my mind kept replaying the registry office.
Why had Emma been so cold? Wed known each other six monthsshed always been polite before. Though shed never visited. Maybe she was shy.
The phone rang as I dished up.
“Margaret, hello!” It was Mrs. Jenkins. “Howd it go? All sorted?”
“Yes. Theyve filed the notice.”
“Brilliant! Didnt they invite you to celebrate?”
“No,” I murmured. “They wanted time alone.”
“Thats odd. In my day, parents were always included.”
“They said theyre adults now.”
“Adults or not, a mothers a mother. You raised that boy alone after your husband passed. Wheres the gratitude?”
I sighed. She wasnt wrong.
“Anyway, Mrs. Jenkins, suppers getting cold.”
I hung up and sat at the table. The pie was perfect, but I had no appetite. The flat was too quiet. I turned on the telly, but nothing held my attention.
That evening, my friend Susan called.
“Peggy, howd it go? Notice filed?”
“Yes.”
“Why so glum? You should be thrilled!”
“I am. Just tired.”
“Come off it, tell me everything.”
I recounted the day, my disappointment leaking through.
“That little madam!” Susan fumed. “Who does she think she is? A grooms mother is sacred!”
“Susan, dont be harsh. Maybe she was nervous.”
“Nervous? She was marking her territory! Showing you whos in charge now.”
“Dont say that…”
“Face ityour Davids soft. Shes got him wrapped around her finger. Probably plotting to cut you out already.”
I stayed quiet. A part of me feared the same.
“Listen,” Susan said, “dont fret. Once theyve lived together a bit, shell see a mother-in-laws worth. Especially with kids.”
“I dont know. She looks at me like Im the enemy.”
“Itll pass. Just keep your distancebut dont let her walk over you.”
After hanging up, I felt slightly better. Maybe Susan was rightjust give them time.
The next morning, David called.
“Hi, Mum. You alright?”
“Fine, love. How are you?”
“Good. Listen, I wanted to talk.”
His awkward tone put me on edge.
“Go on.”
“Emma was upset yesterday. Said you werent very warm.”
“Not warm? I brought flowers, tried to make it special!”
“Yeah, but… she felt uncomfortable. Said you looked at her like you disapproved.”
I was stunned.
“David, I just care about you!”
“I know. But Emma thinks youre overbearing.”
“Overbearing?” My voice cracked. “Im your mother!”
“Mum, were adults. We dont need hovering.”
“So Im surplus now? Raised you
