The family verdict comes from the eldest daughter, Mabel. Her sharp temperament and lofty expectations for a husband keep her single, and by thirty she has turned into a spiteful, manhating shrewa stomach ulcer of the household, a nightmare in human form.
Bridget, she snaps, as if stamping a seal. The younger sister, Ivy, a plump girl with a mischievous smile, laughs approvingly. Their mother, Vera, stays silent, but the sour line of her face makes it clear she dislikes the new daughterinlaw as much as anyone could. What could possibly please her? Their only son, Tom, the familys pillar and hope, has just returned from the army with a wife of his own. The woman, however, brings no dowry, no family connections, no money. Nothing at all. Whether she grew up in an orphanage or slipped in through distant relatives is unknown. Tom keeps quiet, joking that they will soon make their own fortune, but the gossip in the village already runs: What a rogue she is! Could be a thief, a swindlerwho knows how many such folk are floating around now?
Since Bridget arrived, Vera has not slept a full night. She drifts halfasleep, waiting for the new relative to start rummaging through cupboards. The sisters tease her, saying, Mother, youd better hide the valuable things in the family loftcoats, gold, anythinglest we wake up one bright morning to find the house empty!
Toms anger boils over each month: Who did you bring into our home? Where were you looking when you chose her? No skin, no face! Yet they have no choice but to go on living, and eventually they start to settle Bridget into her place.
The house sits on a thirtyacre farm in Yorkshire, with three piglets in the sty and a chorus of chickens that are hardly worth counting. The work never ends, no matter how many hours you put in. Bridget does not complain. She tends the garden, feeds the piglets, cooks, and cleans, trying hard to please her motherinlaw. But if Veras heart is not in it, no amount of gold lining the floors will make things right.
On her first day, the unwanted daughterinlaw, bruised by resentment, tells Vera sharply, Call me by my first and middle name. That will be better. I already have my own daughters; you will never be as close as they are. From then on Vera refers to her only as Bridget, never using a nickname. Vera herself never calls Bridget anything else. Something has to be done, she mutters, and thats all. She refuses to indulge anyone, yet she does not let any other relatives step over the line. Every petty argument is set straight. Occasionally Vera must hold back her own daughters, not out of pity for Bridget but to keep order in the house; scandals would tear the family apart, especially since the girl works hard, never shirks. Slowly, Veras icy stance thaws.
Life might settle, but Tom drifts off. No man can endure a wife who nags from dawn until dusk about who she married and why. Then Mabel introduces him to a new friend, and everything spirals. The sisters celebrate, thinking that the hated Bridget will finally be out of the picture. Vera stays quiet while Bridget pretends nothing has happened, her eyes hollow, her spirit wilted. Suddenly, two shocks strike like thunder: Bridget is pregnant, and Tom announces he is leaving her.
Never, Vera tells Tom. I never matched you with her.
But once the wedding is done, he must live with his choices. Youll be a father soon. If you break the family, Ill send you packing and I wont want to hear of you again. And Sherry will stay here.
For the first time Vera actually calls Bridget by her name. The sisters fall silent. Tom, bristling, shouts, Im a man, I decide! Vera plants her hands on her hips and laughs, What kind of man are you? Youre still in your trousers. When you bring a child into the world, raise him well, give him sense, and then you can call yourself a man!
Vera never backs down from a word. Tom, meanwhile, clings to his mother.
If anything is decided, its final. He leaves the house. Sherry remains. After the appropriate time, Bridget gives birth to a girl she names Vicky. Vera hears the news and says nothing, but her smile shows shes pleased.
The house looks the same outwardly; only Tom has lost his way home, feeling bitter. Vera worries silently, but she hides it. She dotes on her granddaughter, buying gifts and sweets. She never forgives Sherry for losing her son through her, yet she never blames her outright.
Ten years pass. The sisters marry, and the big farmhouse holds three: Vera, Sherry and Vicky. Tom enlists again and moves north with his new wife. An elderly retired soldier, a serious man a few years older than Sherry, moves in to help with the chores. Hes divorced, left his flat to her, and lives in a council house. He draws a pension, is steady, and Sherry likes him, though she knows he could never be taken to her motherinlaw.
She explains everything plainly, asks forgiveness, and he, not a fool, goes to see Vera. Mrs. Vera, I love Sherry; I cant live without her, he declares.
Veras face does not crack.
Love, eh? she says. Fine, you two can live together. She pauses. I wont let Vicky be moved around. She stays here, with me.
Thus they all live together. Neighbours gossip endlessly, saying the crazy Vera drove her own son out and took in the troublesome Bridget. No one mentions the lazy neighbour who never bothers to scrape the bones for Vera. Vera ignores the idle chatter, avoids small talk, says nothing about the young people, and keeps a proud, untouchable air. Sherry gives birth to a girl named Katie, and Vera cant help but smile at her precious granddaughters, though she knows Katie isnt truly hers.
Then disaster strikes unexpectedly. Sherry falls gravely ill. Her husband, broken, turns to drink. Vera, without a word, empties the familys savings and rushes Sherry to London for treatment, arranging every medicine, seeing every specialist. It doesnt help.
One morning Sherry feels a little better and asks Vera for chicken broth. Vera, delighted, slaughters a chicken, plucks it, and boils it. When she brings the steaming bowl, Sherry cant drink it and, for the first time, cries. Vera, the woman nobody ever sees weep, joins her tears.
What are you doing, child, leaving me now that Ive loved you? she sobs.
She then composes herself, wipes her eyes, and says, Dont worry about the children; they wont disappear. From then on she never sighs again, sitting beside Sherry, holding her hand, gently stroking it as if asking forgiveness for everything thats happened between them.
Another ten years glide by. Vicky is set to marry. Mabel and Ivy arrive, older, shrunk together, both childless. A modest family gathering forms. Tom returns, now separated from his wife, drinking heavily. Seeing how beautiful Vicky has become, he rejoices, saying he never imagined such a fine daughter. When he learns that Vicky calls the man who raised her father, his mood darkens, and he blames Vera, You brought a stranger into this house; he should clean up. He has no right to be here. Im the father.
Vera answers, No, son. Youre not a father. Youve never grown out of your boyish trousers. She repeats it as she did before. Tom cant bear the humiliation, packs his few belongings, and hits the road again. Vicky marries, has a son, and names him Alexander in honor of her stepfather. Last year Vickys mother, Mabel, is buried beside Sherry.
They now line up: daughterinlaw and motherinlaw, with a birch tree sprouting between them this spring. No one knows where it came from; it wasnt planted on purpose. Perhaps its a final farewell from Sherry, or a last apology from Vera.
