Emily could not simply walk away.
She and James had married despite the fierce objections of her mother, Margaret Whitfield.
Darling, you dont need a bloke like James, Margaret snapped, her voice sharp as a cold winter wind. Hes been raised by his granny, his parents died when he was a child. He works in a garagejust a greasemonkey, nothing more.
Mother, James isnt to blame for his past, Emily retorted, the frustration clear in her tone. He finished college, hes handy with his hands, he can fix anything.
Margaret scoffed. What can he really do? Tinker with bits of metal? How will you survive on his wages when youre only in your fourth year of university? You must finish your studies. Well have to help you both, otherwise youll be stranded.
Emily often listened to Margarets tirades, while James was away at work and could not hear. Margarets relentless meddling was meant to drive a wedge between the newlyweds. She could not stand James.
James was a serious fellow, a former soldier, and he adored Emily with a devotion that matched hers. Before the wedding he had urged her, Lets stay with my gran. Its a twobed flat, not the fourroom house your parents have, he said, knowing well that Margaret could never accept him, though she got along with Emilys father, Thomas. In the Whitfield household, Margaret ruled with an iron fist.
If Margaret set her mind on something, she would see it through by any means. Emily knew this and refused to be swayed, relying on herself. Margaret hated Emilys independence, yet she recognised the stubborn streak she herself possessed, a trait she had passed downthough not all of it.
Emily understood that Jamess motherinlaw irritated him, but she managed to persuade him to stay a while with her own parents.
James, Im still studying, youre the only earner. It will be hard on one salary, but Mum will always help, she begged.
Fine, well see how it goes, James sighed.
One payday, James stopped at a supermarket to pick up a few groceries before Emily returned from her lectures. Margaret, waiting at the door, saw his bags and exploded, Who asked you to buy that?
I decided myself, James replied calmly. Emily loves this cheese, I know it, and. Margaret cut him off.
What are you? Youre not welcome here. I tolerate you only for my daughter, who chose this, she snarled, her words cutting deep. James stood frozen.
Mrs. Whitfield, why are you insulting me? Im speaking to you respectfully, he pleaded.
She sneered, Look at him, think hell teach me anything. Listen carefully: every pound you earn from now on goes to me. Ill decide how to spend it, even on food. Got that?
Why should I give you my wages? Were a family, James protested.
No family here. Hand over the money, she demanded.
I earned it, Ill give it to my wife, he said, voice firm.
Then leave my flat, now. I dont want to see you again, Margaret spat, and James stalked out.
For three days James vanished, no word. Emily waited, too frightened to go after him, even though she knew his departure was not without cause. She was pregnant, after all.
He hasnt called, she thought, He must be at his grans, Anna.
Margaret gave Emily a brief version of events, painting James as the aggressor. She omitted her own demand for his pay and the eviction.
Mother, you told me everything, didnt you? James wouldnt just abandon me, Emily asked, suspicion in her voice.
Girl, why would I lie to you? Margaret replied, offended.
On the fourth day, Emily decided to visit Jamess grandmother, despite his silence on the phone.
Im going to Jamess place, she told her mother.
Where?
His grans house. He must be there.
If hes not there, youre not needed, Margaret retorted.
No, he couldnt just leave, Emily protested. Youre keeping something from me, Mom. I cant believe James would just walk away.
Margaret huffed, Your darling James is your world, while Im the one whos given you everything. You both are ungrateful.
Emily grabbed her bag and coat, fled the flat, replaying the words she would say to James. Dont act like a wounded child. No matter what Mum says, youre an adult. I must keep my composure, she thought, Its hard being caught between two fires Im exhausted from studying, but I must get to his house.
She convinced herself James had stormed off over another of Margarets cruel remarks and was now waiting for her return. She planned to speak her heart and then, perhaps, forgive him.
When Emily arrived, Mrs. ThompsonJamess grandmotheropened the door with a weary, apologetic smile, ushered her inside, and gestured toward the kitchen. James sat at the table, a halfempty bottle of whisky in front of him. Emilys shock was total. James, never a drinker nor a smoker, now stared at the bottle with a sigh.
He seemed almost unfazed by her entrance, merely nodding toward the chair opposite. She sat, eyes locked on his, her rehearsed words fleeing, her heart tightening with pity.
What could my mother have said that pushed him to this? Emily whispered, then softly, James, lets go home.
No, he answered loudly.
Why? Emily asked, bewildered.
I cant live with your mother. She controls everything I dowhat I eat, how I speak, even how I breathe. She wants all my money, and I wont give it. Were our own family.
Emilys voice fell to a whisper. So thats what she told you, she said, realizing the truth Margaret had hidden.
What now? James asked.
I dont know, he admitted. We could stay with my gran.
But we need money. Our baby is on the way, and a child needs a lot, Emily whispered. I work, I can pull extra shifts, even tenhour days. Still, with my studies and your work, we wont be able to raise a child properly. We need groceries, a proper home Maybe we should go back to my parents until the baby is born.
No, I wont go back to my motherinlaw, James declared firmly.
Then perhaps we should divorce, Emily blurted, her voice shaking.
If you cant live with me, if you wont give up your parents comfort and be independent, maybe divorce is the only answer, James shot back, his tone sharp.
Emily leapt up, ready to flee the hallway, when Mrs. Thompson intervened.
Sit down, love. Calm yourself. Ive been listening, and I know how this could end. Ill help you. You dont have to quit your studies. I dont have a fortunejust a modest pensionbut Ill share what I have. I can cook and look after my greatgrandson. Please, let go of the divorce. Move in with us, the old woman pleaded.
Emily hesitated, then accepted. The thought of comfort and parental support had always lingered, but love for James swayed her. Her own family, the unborn childthese mattered more now.
James watched his wife, tension evident in his jaw, feeling the pull of the grandmothers offer. At last, Emily smiled, Alright, Ill stay, James, she said, Where else would I be?
James leapt up, hugging her tightly, kissing her forehead. Mrs. Thompson beamed, whispering a quiet prayer.
Emily had to endure Margarets tirade as she packed her things to leave. Margarets voice boomed from the hallway, Youll starve with that boy, youll live in poverty, I dont want that grandson. Hell turn out as stubborn as his father! The words made Emilys hair stand on end.
She lugged a suitcase onto the landing, James hurried down to help, while harsh curses echoed behind them.
Lord, even my own mother, Emily muttered, horrified. Im glad I left; now I understand Jamess plight.
Life settled for James and Emily at Mrs. Thompsons home. The grandmother took charge of the household, and Emilys pregnancy proceeded smoothly. She gave birth to a healthy baby boy, Arthur. Mrs. Thompson, James, and Emily rejoiced, while Margaret cut all ties, refusing the grandchild. Their grandfather, however, called in secret, asking about Arthur; Emily sent photos, and his eyes lit up.
When Arthur turned three, he started nursery. Emily told Mrs. Thompson, Arthur needs to be with other children; the nursery will help him grow. You can pick him up, its just down the road. And you need rest tooyoure still needed. James and I are planning another child, a daughter perhaps. The laughter in the house echoed, sealing a new chapter for the young family.
