A Lesson for the Mother-in-law on Mothers Day.
“Listen, Laura, this isn’t right! Davids frustration seeped into every word as he paced the living room, eyes wide in disbelief. If your mums already stomping across our flat whenever she pleases, what on earth will it be like once we have children?! Shell never leave us alone! Shes going to smother us completely!
Laura fiddled with her necklace, nervously twisting it as she tried to reason with him, Mums not a stranger to me, David. Shes family. Sooner or later, shes bound to get hold of our spare keys what, youre going to change the locks every time? If she spots us changing them, shell be terribly hurt. Weve got to handle this gently, help her realise herself that shes crossing a line.
David huffed, staring out of the window at the gloomy London sky. Well, if your mum wont grasp either my words or my early-morning flailing arms, well have to go for something drastic!
What exactly are you suggesting? Lauras eyes widened, suspicion laced with curiosity.
Let me get this straight: your mother has a key to our flat, and youve got a key to theirs, right?
Sunday morning, Harold and Patricia Barnes, Lauras parents, set off bright and early for the local farmers market, held each year in Hyde Park for Mothers Day. There, pensioners scoured the stalls for deals; eggs for 10 pence below the Asda price, glistening beef from family farms, or fresh carp that flailed in their carrier bags.
Look at that, Harold, weve snagged a beautiful brisket. And these sprightly carps poor things are still kicking! Ill fry one up for us and take the other round to Laura’s, Patricia smirked, picturing Davids reaction: Just imagine, our Davids face when a live Carrie the Carp starts thrashing in his kitchen!
For goodness sake, Pat, why dont you just leave the kids alone? Theyre in their 30s, for heavens sake. You go marching in, poking about like Miss Marple, sniffing out where Davids flung his socks. Have you really got nothing better to do? Harold wagged his finger with an indulgent smile.
Before Patricia could retort, her brow furrowed. Wait did you leave the shower on? I can hear water running! She strode briskly into the bathroom only to shoot straight back out, clutching her heart.
Oh my God! Theres someone naked in our bathroom! Patricia shrieked, streaking about the flat like an outraged peacock.
Who on earth is naked in there? Explain yourself! Harold stalled at the doorway, half-amused and half-alarmed.
Its David our son-in-law! Whats he doing here?! Patricia wailed.
David, meanwhile, waltzed out of the bathroom in nothing but his dressing gown, brazen as they come. Whats the fuss? Our waters rusty back home and I was filthy after my night shift. Figured Id nip over for a decent shower!
He wandered into their kitchen, surveying the scene with the air of a lord inspecting his estate, and fired up Patricias prized coffee machine. Patricia, on the eve of Mothers Day, may I offer some advice? Its really improper, you know, to hang yourunderthings along the radiators and towel rails. Itd be different if you were a petite young woman with frilly bits, but, well, never mind Frankly, Harold, you have my sympathies!
How dare you? This is my house and Ill dry my pants wherever I please! Patricia spluttered, her cheeks aflame.
And this coffee machine Laura and I got it for you just six months ago! The state of it, honestly, even pigs on a farm have cleaner gear. You should give it a wash once a week, really.
Harold opened his mouth, All right, David, enough now, youve made your point
But David, undeterred, continued, Look at this clutter, Harold! How can you live like this? The kitchens a tip, the living rooms a jumble its like you both moved into an abandoned garage!
He prowled about, growing bolder. Take this I checked the fridge. Sour cream and mayonnaise, two weeks out of date! Cheese gone hard at the edges because it wasnt wrapped. Lets not even discuss this leftover porridge do you know how hard that is to scrub off? Or do you reckon, now youve got a dishwasher, house rules dont apply?
He made a move for the dishwasher, but Patricia threw herself before it, indignant and out of breath.
Thats it! Out of my house, now, or Im calling the police trespassing, if you please! I dont care if youre my son-in-law, David. Try me! This is my home! My kitchen, my bathroom, my underwear! You havent got any right to barge in and criticise!
Harold, catching on to Davids ploy, sat back with a faint smile hed sussed the lesson in play, but Patricia, still fuming, had yet to understand.
David stiffened, nodded, and grinned, Precisely, Patricia! All those words you just flung at me, you might reflect inward. Because for the last few months, thats what youve been doing to Laura and me barging in, inspecting, rearranging, pushing boundaries!
And as for the police your call, but just remember, it cuts both ways. Cross the line again, and I wont care that youre Lauras mum. Still, I trust you get my point and lets hope it doesnt come to that.
He disappeared into the hallway to dress. By the way, Happy Mothers Day, both of you Harold, youll find your favourite whisky in the kitchen, and for you, Patricia, a bottle of fine wine and the perfume Laura swears is your favourite. For the first time, Davids smile was warm and genuine as he slipped out, softly closing the door behind him.
Patricia, trembling in the aftermath, uncorked the whisky, poured herself a measure, and knocked it back, chasing the burn with a cup of strong coffee prepared, she noted, from a now spotlessly clean machine.
Truth told, Pat, that David of ours hes a diplomat! Played it brilliantly, really. Bit of a sting at the start, but effective and actually, leaves a rather pleasant aftertaste. Harold appraised the fine whisky, the wine, and the perfume. Come on, love, Happy Mothers Day! Our David was the first to congratulate you you got a front-row seat at your very own drama, sipped your spirits, got some perfume, and look at this He produced two theatre tickets from under the bread bin, a night out, courtesy of your beloved husband! I did my bit too.
After that, Patricia stopped popping round to Laura and Davids flat unannounced or without genuine reason. She didnt bear a grudge instead, she admired her son-in-laws ingenious way of drawing the line. Boundaries were clear and respected, David could enjoy his post-shift lie-in undisturbed, and nobody had to worry about anyone rifling through his sock drawer ever again.
