Youre not family, said the mother-in-law, plucking the meat from her daughter-in-laws plate and dropping it back into the pot.
Emily froze by the stove, still holding her plate. The gravy from the stew Margaret had just made clung to it in sad little streaks. Piece by piece, the meat vanished back into the pot, as if her mother-in-law were counting each morsel.
Im sorry? Emily blinked, certain shed misheard.
Whats not clear? Margaret wiped her hands on her apron and turned to face her. We never chose you. You pushed your way in.
The kitchen fell so quiet, the bubbling of soup on the hob was deafening. Emily set the plate down and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her hands were shaking.
Margaret, I dont understand. Victor and I have been married five years! We have a daughter
So what? Margaret cut in. Lilys our blood, yes. But you? Youll always be an outsider.
The kitchen door swung open, and Victor shuffled in, hair tousled, shirt half-buttonedclearly just woken from a post-work nap.
Whats going on? He glanced between his wife and mother. Why the shouting?
Were not shouting, Margaret said smoothly. Just talking. Explaining how things work in *this* house.
Victor frowned at Emily. She stood pale-lipped and rigid.
Mum, what did you say?
The truth. That meat isnt for everyone. Big family, small portions.
Emily felt a lump rise in her throat. That was it. Five years believing she belonged. Five years biting her tongue, enduring Margarets jabs, hoping things would soften with time.
Vic, Im going home, she murmured. To Mums.
What *home*? Margaret scoffed. Your homes here now. Think you can come and go as you please?
Mum, *enough*, Victor stepped toward Emily. What happened?
Emily stayed silent. How could she explain his mother had just made it clear she was nothing here? That even a plate of stew was too much to spare?
Ill get Lily, she said instead. Take her to Mums for the weekend.
What for? Margaret flapped a hand. Her grandmothers right here!
The grandmother who says her mother isnt family, Emily whispered. Maybe the granddaughter deserves better too.
She turned for the door. Victor caught her wrist.
Em, *stop*. Just tell me whats happened.
Emily turned back. He looked baffled. Margaret stirred the soup, pretending not to listen.
Ask your mother, Emily said. Shell explain it *perfectly*.
Upstairs, three-year-old Lily was feeding her dolls. She beamed when Emily walked in.
Mummy! Look, Im feeding Katie!
Clever girl, Emily knelt and hugged her. Hungry?
Yes! Grandma said were having stew!
We are, sweetheart. But were having it at Granny Susans.
Your mummys house? Lily lit up. Yay! Is Daddy coming?
No. Daddys staying.
Emily packed Lilys thingsdresses, tights, toyswhile Victor hovered in the doorway.
Em, this is ridiculous. Youre leaving over *nothing*.
*Nothing*? Emily straightened. Your mother told me Im not family! Took food off my plate! Thats *nothing*?
Shes just stressed! You know how she gets. Shell forget by tomorrow.
*I* wont, Vic! This isnt the first time.
Oh, come *on*! Mums tired. Works been mad.
Emily laughed bitterly.
Five years of being tired, then? And Im always the punching bag.
Just ignore her!
Ignore being called a stranger in my own home? Do you *hear* yourself?
Victor rubbed his neckhis tell when cornered.
Em, where will you go? Were *family*. Weve got Lily.
*Thats* why Im leaving. I wont have her hear her mum being treated like this.
Treated like *what*? Mum just spoke her mind.
Her *mind*? Emily stopped packing. Vic, she *took food from me*. Said I wasnt family! Thats *speaking her mind*?
Well maybe she was blunt. But she raised us alone after Dad died. Shes used to calling the shots.
So I just endure it forever?
Victor sat on the bed and took her hands.
Em, lets not fight. Ill talk to her.
And say *what*? That Im human? That I have *feelings*?
Yeah. Ill tell her to back off.
Emily shook her head.
Vic, its not about rudeness. Its that shes never accepted me. And youve *let* her.
She just needs time
*Five years* isnt enough?
From the kitchen, Margaret bellowed:
*Victor! Dinners ready!*
He stood.
Come on, lets eat. Well talk after.
No thanks. Ive lost my appetite.
He left. Emily heard murmurs from the kitchenvoices rising, falling.
She called her mother.
Mum? Its me. Can we come over for a few days?
Of course, love. Whats wrong?
Ill explain later. Were leaving now.
Alright. Ive made shepherds pieplenty to go round.
Emily smiled. Mum always said that. Never counted portions.
Lily chattered the whole bus ride about her dolls and tomorrows plans.
Mummy, why isnt Daddy coming? she asked as they reached the house.
Daddys working, sweetheart. Hell visit soon.
Susan met them at the door, beaming. Soft-spoken and warm, she was everything Margaret wasnt.
Ive missed you! She scooped Lily up. Look how big you are!
Granny, do you have new stories?
Loads! Well read after tea.
At the table, Susan served generous helpings, tutting:
Eat up, love. Youre too thin. They not feeding you?
They try, Emily said. Just no appetite lately.
Well, youre home now.
*Home.* Emily glanced aroundthe cheery kitchen, the china cabinet, photos on the walls. Here, no one called her an outsider.
After Lily was asleep, they sat with tea.
So, Susan said gently. What happened?
Emily told herthe stew, the words, the years of slights. Susan listened, stirring her tea.
And Victor?
Same as ever. Said she was stressed, to ignore it.
I see. And how do *you* feel?
Tired, Mum. So tired. Five years trying, and she still hates me.
Give me examples.
Emily sighed.
Cookings wrong. Cleanings wrong. The way I parents wrong. When Lily was ill last month, she said I was a *bad mother*.
And Victor?
Victor stays quiet. Or says shes just worried about Lily.
Susan set her cup down.
Love are you happy in this marriage?
The question stunned her. Emily stared out at the evening lights.
I dont know. I *was*. Now I feel like a guest in my own life.
Why didnt you tell me?
I thought itd pass. That shed soften.
Seems she hasnt.
Rain tapped the window.
Mum when you married Dad, how did Gran treat you?
Susan smiled.
Your Gran? Called me *daughter* from day one. Said, Now Ive got two girls. Loved me more than her own daughter, truth be told.
Why?
Because she saw I loved her son. And he loved me. Where theres love, theres room.
Emily wondered: Did Victor love her? *Really* love her?
His call came late.
Em, where are you?
At Mums. Like I said.
When are you coming back?
Dont know. Maybe Sunday.
*Sunday*? Youve got work!
Took sick leave.
A pause.
Em, stop sulking. Come home. Well talk.
Talk about *what*? Your mum treating me like dirt?
Oh, *grow up*! Shes just like that
