Either Mum or No One
Grace, well need to pick up one more theatre ticket.
Grace lifted her gaze from her plate. Dinner wasnt even cold yet, but Edward already sat hunched over his phone, poking at the screen with the grim seriousness of a man running the country.
Another ticket? Is someone joining us?
Edward didnt even look up.
Mums dying to go. I told her about it yesterday, and shes absolutely set her heart on it.
Grace gently placed her fork on the edge of the plate, got up, and turned to the countertop under the pretense of fetching a glass of water. Her face contorted on its own, beyond her control. She had neither the energy nor desire to explain especially not to Edward what was wrong. As ever, best that he didnt notice.
Of course. Mum wants to come. Evelyn always wants to come.
Standing at the sink, slowly filling her glass, memories of their wedding photographs flickered in front of her eyes. All two hundred and forty of them that the photographer had handed over on a USB stick with a smart ribbon. Grace spent three evenings flipping through them, searching for at least a single image of just her and Edward alone, without the crowd, without relatives swarming around. There wasn’t one.
Evelyn stood in every photo: adjusting her son’s tie, arms draped over his shoulders, beaming between the bride and groom, grinning at the camera as if it was her day, not theirs. At the time Grace thought it mere coincidence, the photographers quirky choices. These days, she no longer believed in such coincidences.
From the very beginning, Evelyn acted as though Grace were no wife, but a lodger one who, regrettably, had been assigned to share the room. And the flat, frankly, was Graces her London flat, the one shed bought herself, with her own hard-earned pounds. Still, Evelyn let herself in as she pleased, aired her opinions about everything: curtains wrong, pans all wrong, the roast over-salted, Edward looking thin or pale or peaky. Edward hardly eating enough.
Grace swallowed a mouthful of water and set down her glass.
Every outing turned out the same. The cinema last month? The three of them. Ice skating at Christmas? All three, bundled together. Even the little coffee shop in Soho, the one Grace had dreamed of visiting just for the two of them even there, Edward insisted on inviting his mum. Evelyn arrived, wedging herself between them at the tiny table, ordering tea with lemon, and spent forty minutes regaling them with stories about her blood pressure and the neighbour whose boiler had packed up again.
Theatre. This was a play theyd chosen on purpose. Grace had waited a month and a half, tracking down tickets for the perfect seats third row, centre stalls. Their evening. Just theirs.
Grace, why so quiet?
Finally, Edward looked up from his phone.
You understand, Mums lonely, he added, with a weary, familiar tone Grace realised he probably didn’t even notice repeating.
She turned and nodded.
Fine. Book it.
What else was there to say? Shed tried before. Each time, Edward would sulk off to the living room for a silent evening, then without fail Evelyn would ring up the next morning, righteously wounded, nosey as ever. Had a row, had they? Was everything alright? It was a cycle Grace had long since given up trying to break.
Edward grinned in gratitude, then buried himself back in his phone.
Third row stalls turned out just as good as Grace had hoped. You could see every detail the actors every expression, the beautiful set. Only, she sat admiring it alone, while Edward immediately turned to his mother and never so much as glanced her way again.
Evelyn sat at Edwards right soon they were immersed in the programme notes, then the foyer, then exchanging comments about some old family acquaintance Evelyn supposedly spotted by the cloakroom. Grace, left alone, gazed at the stage, even though the play hadnt begun. During the interval, Edward whisked his mother off to the bar, leaving Grace behind, since no one had invited her, nor did she wish to impose. They returned, and Evelyn filled Edward in, recounting the entirety of the first act as if hed sat in another building. Grace wordlessly leafed through her programme, wondering if these tickets had truly been worth the money.
The drive home was the same. Dropping Evelyn off first, Grace sat in the car for ten silent minutes as Edward walked his mother up, fiddled with her keys, listened to another endless doorstep tale. When at last he slid behind the wheel, he was all smiles and relaxation.
That went well, didnt it?
Grace nodded and turned to the window. She claimed to be tired, not wanting to talk not really wanting to sleep, either. It just felt futile, talking to Edward tonight, knowing every word would hang in the air and fall to the floor.
So it went, for the next two months, exactly as Grace expected. Evelyn appeared as regularly as the post. Edward spent more and more time with her, and Grace was left more and more alone in her own flat, listening from the sitting room as they chatted and laughed and discussed this and that in the kitchen. Private dinners became rare; weekends together vanished, replaced by routine visits to Evelyns or endless outings as a trio. At night, Grace slipped off to bed first, waking each morning with a familiar tightness below her ribs that, after two months, felt almost normal.
In the middle of March at work, Grace got a nice bonus a healthy sum in pounds. For three days, she toyed with her thoughts. Fifteen days in Greece, she decided at last. All-inclusive sea, sun, a proper hotel with glowing reviews. She spent a week comparing packages, reading forums, checking how far each was from the water. It was meant to be a reset for the two of them time alone where they could just be a couple once more.
Ed, I booked us a holiday, Grace said that evening over dinner, laying the booking printout in front of him. Greece, fifteen days in June. Sea, beach, the lot. Blew my bonus, but its worth it.
Edward took the printout, eyes flicking over it, a faint hint of excitement on his face.
Oh, nice. That sounds brilliant, Grace.
She exhaled. Maybe things werent lost after all. Maybe they just needed to get away, find one another again somewhere far from all this. For the first time in weeks, she slept soundly.
The next day Edward came home from work, sat down, waited for Grace to serve dinner, then between bites of cottage pie uttered, utterly matter-of-fact:
Grace, I told Mum about the holiday. She fancies coming too could you book another spot?
Graces fork hung suspended. She put it down slowly, looking at him, trying to decipher if he was joking or simply oblivious.
This time, she didnt stay silent.
No, Ed. Im not going on holiday with your mum.
He paused, staring at her as if shed uttered the most sacrilegious thing possible in a church.
Come on, shed be all by herself, Grace. She hasnt had a break by the sea in three years. Whats the harm?
Grace got up and went to the window, pressing her palms to the counter until her knuckles whitened. Inside her, something long smothered and smouldering was finally rising up.
She can go with her friends! Shes got five, Ed, five old dears who come round for tea every week! Let her trot off to Greece with them for all I care just let us have some peace!
Grace, shes my mother!
Oh, believe me, I know, Grace wheeled around, her months of silence finally snapping. Hard not to, given shes in our lives every hour of every day! Films with her, skating with her, theatre with her, dinners with her! Im sick of being the second wife in this marriage, Ed do you even notice?
Edward pushed back his chair, arms crossed.
Youre stone-hearted, Grace. Youve no idea what its like for her, being alone.
No, and I dont have to! Grace stepped close, eyes fierce. Youre my husband, Ed! My husband! All I want is a proper romantic holiday with you alone! Not sitting on a beach listening to you and your mother talk about her blood pressure while I tan in the corner, neither wanted nor needed!
Edward narrowed his eyes, stepping back.
Youre being cruel. Well, you know what? Either Mum comes, or I dont go.
Grace stopped, staring at him for a long, silent moment. Something clicked within her quietly, finally.
Fine then. Ill go without you.
She brushed past him to the bedroom, pulled her suitcase from beneath the bed and tossed it onto the quilt. Edward appeared in the doorway a second later.
Grace, what do you think youre doing? Lets talk about this properly.
We always talk properly, Ed, and every conversation ends with your mother. She took a summer dress from the hanger and folded it into her case. Im filing for divorce. I cant live in a marriage of three, where Im the one left out.
Edward fell silent, slumping against the doorframe, and for the first time something in his face showed that this time Grace wasnt arguing or fussing shed made up her mind.
Two months later, Grace was lying by the pool of that Greek hotel shed so carefully chosen from the reviews and photographs. Sun warmed her bare shoulders, the scent of the salt air drifted from the sea, and condensation slid down her cold drink. There was no one nearby complaining about draughts or pressure or repeating gossip from neighbours. No one at all just her, and the glorious quiet. Grace took a sip, closed her eyes, and thought that she ought to have sorted it all out much sooner, instead of enduring two years for someone whod never truly grown up.
