Dont you dare dress like that in my house, hissed the mother-in-law under her breath as guests milled about.
Margaret, have you seen my glasses? I think I left them on the side table, Edith Bennett peered into the kitchen, where her daughter-in-law was assembling a towering trifle for the gathering.
Check the case, Edith. I tidied the lounge and put them there, Margaret replied without looking up, carefully arranging layers of sponge and cream.
Edith pursed her lips but said nothing. In her mind, no one should meddle with anothers belongings, no matter how well-intentioned. Least of all hers. But with guests arriving soon, she swallowed her remarkstoday was important, and unnecessary quarrels wouldnt do.
Thirty years to the day since Edith had first stepped into this housea grand Victorian terrace with high ceilings, inherited furniture, and a lifetime of memories. Every corner bore her touch, every trinket had its place. Though the deed now belonged to her son, Edward, she still ruled it like a queen.
Margaret had lived with them barely a year. To Edith, the marriage had been an unpleasant surpriseEdward bringing home a woman hed known only three months. Clever, university-educated, and, in Ediths opinion, far too modern in her ways.
The trifles nearly done, Margaret said, dusting the top with shaved chocolate. Ill just slip upstairs to change before everyone arrives.
Youre not wearing that red dress, I hope? Edith remarked airily, smoothing her immaculate silver bob.
Margaret stilled, then slowly met her mother-in-laws gaze.
Actually, yes. Edward picked it out for our anniversary.
Its hardly suitable for a family dinner, Edith cut in. Far too revealing. That blue shift dress I gave you last Christmas would be perfect.
Margaret exhaled. That dressstiff, prim, something a schoolmistress might wearhad been worn exactly once, to appease Edith. It had hung untouched ever since.
Edith, I think at thirty-two, I can choose my own clothes, she said, voice steady.
Of course, Edith replied, lips tight. Just remember, my friends are coming. People of a certain age. With certain expectations.
Without waiting for a reply, she swept out, leaving Margaret simmering in silence.
Upstairs, Edward was buttoning a freshly pressed shirt. Seeing his wife, he grinned.
Ready to charm the upper crust?
Almost, Margaret said, pulling the red dress from the wardrobe. Your mothers at it againcritiquing my outfit.
Edward sighed.
Ignore her. Shes just worried about appearances.
Her appearances. Or mine? Margaret held up the dressslim-cut, a modest slit at the thigh, nothing scandalous. Yet Edith acted as though shed chosen scandal itself.
Not today, love, Edward said, wrapping his arms around her. This house means everything to her. Thirty yearsher whole life, really.
And I mean something to you, I hope, Margaret murmured. I wont be dressed like a child.
Edward hesitated, torn between wife and mother.
Wear what you like, he conceded. Youre stunning in anything.
Margaret kissed his cheek, irritation still simmering beneath her smile.
Guests arrived by six. First came Dorothy and her husband, Ediths oldest friends from her days at the council offices. Then Mrs. Whitby, sharp-eyed and sharper-tongued, followed by a steady stream of Ediths contemporaries.
Margaret and Edward played host, taking coats, exchanging pleasantries. Edith held court in the dining room, regaling guests with tales of her travels to the Lake District in her youth.
When the first course was cleared, Margaret slipped into the kitchenonly to find Edith retrieving a steaming pie from the oven.
Ill bring the roast in, Margaret said. Theyre raving about your Yorkshire puddings.
Edith nodded, but her eyes fixed on Margarets neckline. The dress was elegant, tastefulyet disapproval flashed in her gaze.
Must you wear something so attention-seeking? she muttered.
Weve been over this, Margaret said evenly. Its perfectly appropriate.
In my day, family dinners didnt call for such displays, Edith snapped, slamming the pie dish down.
Margarets cheeks burned. She bit back a retortnot now, not with guests nearby.
Lets return to the table, she said, lifting the roast.
The dining room buzzed with laughter. Edward was mid-anecdote, everyone grinning. Margaret moved to sit beside himuntil Edith cut in.
Margaret, be a dear and fetch more rolls? Weve run out.
A liethe basket was half-full. But Margaret nodded and turned toward the kitchen. Behind her, Ediths voice carried:
Honestly, teaching her manners is like training a cat. Young people todayno sense of decorum.
Margaret froze, fists clenched. Then she exhaled and strode back empty-handed.
There are plenty of rolls left, Edith.
Ediths glare could have curdled milk, but she stayed silent.
The evening wore ontales of holidays in Cornwall, debates over the latest telly dramas. Margaret smiled, laughed when expected, but the tension thickened like fog.
During dessert, Mrs. Whitby suddenly leaned forward.
Goodness, your daughter-in-laws a vision, Edith! That red numberstraight off a magazine cover!
Ediths smile was brittle.
Margaret does love her fashions. But modesty never goes out of style.
Mrs. Whitby waved a dismissive hand.
Modesty? Posh! If I had her figure at her age, Id flaunt it too. Wear what you like, dear!
Margaret smiled gratefully. Thenthe whistle of the kettle.
Ill make tea, she said, rising.
Edith followed.
In the kitchen, she shut the door and whirled on Margaret, face taut with rage.
How dare you humiliate me in front of my guests! she hissed. That dress is vulgar! An insult!
Margaret stepped back, stunned.
Edith, its just a dress
Dont play naïve! Ediths voice dropped to a venomous whisper. You wore it to spite me. To prove my rules mean nothing!
Thats not true, Margaret said firmly. Edward loves it. Your son, remember?
Edwards too soft! And you twist that to your advantage!
The door creaked openEdward stood there, face grim.
Whats going on? he asked, eyes flicking between them.
Nothing, Edith said, sweetness dripping back into her tone. Just discussing fashion.
I heard enough, Edward said quietly. Margarets my wife. And I wont let anyonenot even youspeak to her like that.
This is my house! Edith snapped.
No. Its ours. And we all belong here.
Silence. From the dining room, Mrs. Whitbys cackle rang out.
I never wanted a scene, Margaret said at last. If Id known this dress would upset you, Id have worn something else.
Edith stared at them, anger warring with something elsereluctant shame, perhaps.
Mum, Edward said gently. Margaret worked all day to make this perfect for you. She respects you. Cant you respect her choices too?
Edith looked away. Seconds stretched. Then
Perhaps I overreacted, she muttered. But in my day
Times change, Margaret said softly. Kindness doesnt.
The kettle screeched again, breaking the moment.
We should get back, Edward said.
But Edith stopped Margaret with a hand.
Wait. I owe you an apology, she forced out. You do look lovely. And Mrs. Whitbys rightyouths for wearing pretty things.
Margaret blinked. In a year of living together, Edith had never admitted fault.
Thank you, she said simply.
Back in the dining room, no one seemed to notice their absenceexcept Mrs. Whitby, who gave them a knowing look but held her tongue.
The night ended warmer than it began. Edith even asked where Margaret bought the dressfor my friend Mabel, shed adore something so chic.
As guests departed, Mrs. Whitby lingered in the foyer.
Fifty years Ive known you, Edith, she said lowly. Never heard you apologize. Till tonight.
Edith feigned confusion.
Oh, dont, Mrs. Whitby chuckled. Saw your faces when you came back. You admitted you were wrong. Good. Means theres hope for you yet.
Edith sighed. You always saw too much.
Not too much. Enough. That girls a gem. And your boys happy. Isnt that what matters?
A taxi honked outside. When Mrs. Whitby had gone, Edith returned to the dining room, where Margaret and Edward were clearing plates.
Leave it, she said. Well manage tomorrow. Tonight was nice. Lets not ruin it with chores.
They exchanged startled glances.
But you always say never leave dishes overnight, Edward said.
Rules are for bending, Edith said, smiling faintly. Isnt that right, Margaret?
Margaret smiled back, sensing something shift between themsomething fragile and new.
Especially when it makes us happier.
Edward hugged them both, and for a moment, they stood therethree generations, three worldviews, one family. With all its clashes, misunderstandings, and perhaps, a fresh start.
You know, Edith mused, I think I saw a dress like yours in Harrods. Navy, though. Do you think itd suit me?
And they laughedreally laughedtogether for the first time in ages.
