You’re Not Family,” Said the Mother-in-Law as She Scooped the Meat from Her Daughter-in-Law’s Plate Back into the Pot

**The Unwelcome Daughter-in-Law**

Edith stood frozen by the stove, clutching an empty plate. Only a trace of gravy remained from the beef stew Margaret had just prepared. One by one, the pieces of meat vanished back into the pot, as though her mother-in-law were counting each morsel.

“Pardon?” Edith whispered, unable to believe her ears.

“Whats unclear?” Margaret wiped her hands on her apron and turned. “We never welcomed you into this family. You forced your way in.”

The kitchen fell so silent, Edith could hear the soup bubbling on the hob. She set the plate down, brushing a loose strand of hair from her forehead. Her hands trembled.

“Margaret, I dont understand. Arthur and I have been married five years! We have a daughter”

“And what of it?” Margaret cut in. “Lucy is our bloodthat much is true. But you? Youll always be an outsider.”

The door creaked open, and Arthur shuffled in, his shirt rumpled, hair tousledevidently just roused from a nap.

“Whats all this?” He glanced between his wife and mother. “Why the shouting?”

“Were not shouting,” Margaret said smoothly. “Only having a chat. Explaining how things work in *this* house.”

Arthur frowned at Edith. She stood pale-lipped, silent.

“Mum, what did you say?”

“The truth. That the meat isnt for everyone. The familys large, the portions small.”

A lump rose in Ediths throat. So that was it. Five years shed believed herself part of this family. Five years enduring Margarets jabs, hoping time might soften her.

“Arthur, Im going home,” she murmured. “To Mothers.”

“*What* home?” Margaret scoffed. “Your place is here now. Or do you think you can come and go as you please?”

“Mum, enough.” Arthur stepped toward Edith. “What happened?”

Edith said nothing. How could she explain that his mother had just made it plainshe was nothing here? That even a plate of stew was too much to spare?

“Ill pack Lucys things,” she said instead. “Well stay the weekend with Mother.”

“And why on earth?” Margaret bristled. “Her grandmothers right here! Why drag the child about?”

“Her grandmother,” Edith said softly, “thinks her mother isnt family. Perhaps Lucy deserves better company.”

She turned to leave. Arthur caught her wrist.

“Edie, wait! Explain properlywhats happened?”

Edith looked at himbewildered, earnestthen at Margaret, now stirring the soup, pretending innocence.

“Ask your mother,” she said. “Shell tell it better.”

—

In the nursery, three-year-old Lucy chattered to her dolls. Spotting Edith, she bounded over.

“Mummy! LookIm feeding Betsy!”

“Clever girl.” Edith knelt to hug her. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes! Granny said were having stew!”

“We are, darling. Only well eat it at Grandma Roses.”

Lucy gasped. “*Your* mummy? Hurrah! Is Daddy coming?”

“No. Daddys staying home.”

As Edith folded clothes into a bag, Arthur appeared in the doorway.

“Edie, this is childish. Over a bit of nonsense?”

“Childish?” She straightened. “Your mother told me Im *not family*. Took food from my plate! Is that nonsense?”

“Mum says things! You know how she isshell forget by tomorrow.”

“*I* wont. This isnt the first time.”

“Oh, come off it! Shes tiredhad a row at work, took it out on you.”

Edith laughed bitterly.

“Tired? Five years of tiredness? All of it on *me*?”

“Just ignore her!”

“Ignore being called a stranger in my own home? Arthur, listen to yourself!”

He rubbed his necka habit when cornered.

“Edie, where will you go? Were family. Weve a child.”

“Which is why Im leaving. Lucy shouldnt hear her mother belittled!”

“Belittled? Mum just spoke her mind.”

“Her *mind*?” Edith stared. “She snatched food from me! Said Im *not one of you*! Thats a *mind*?”

“Wellperhaps it was harsh. But you know how she is. Raised us alone after Dad diedhad to control everything.”

“And now I must endure that control forever?”

Arthur sat on the bed, taking her hands.

“Edie, lets not quarrel. Ill talk to her.”

“What will you say? That Im human? That Ive feelings?”

“Yes! Ill tell her to mind her tongue.”

Edith shook her head.

“Its not about rudeness, Arthur. She *rejects* me. And youve always known.”

“She just needs time”

“*Five years* isnt enough?”

Margarets voice rang from the kitchen:

“Arthur! Dinners ready!”

He stood.

“Come, lets eat. Well talk later.”

“No, thank you. Ive lost my appetite.”

He hesitated, then left. Edith heard murmurshis voice low, Margarets rising and falling.

She dialled her mother.

“Mum? Its me. May we come for a few days?”

“Of course, love. Whats happened?”

“Later. Were leaving now.”

“Right. Ive made beef pieenough for everyone.”

Edith smiled faintly. Mum always said *enough for everyone*. Never counted slices, never measured portions.

Lucy babbled happily on the bus, recounting doll-adventures.

“Mummy, why isnt Daddy coming?” she asked as they neared the house.

“Daddys working, sweetheart. Hell visit soon.”

Rose met them at the door, beaming.

“My dears! How Ive missed you!” She swept Lucy into her arms. “Goodness, youve grown!”

“Grandma, do you have new stories?”

“Stacks! Well read after supper.”

At the table, Rose ladled pie onto generous plates.

“Eat up, love. Edith, youre skin and bone! Dont they feed you?”

“They do, Mum. Ive not been hungry.”

“You will be. Home comforts mend all.”

*Home.* Edith gazed aroundthe cozy kitchen with gingham curtains, the old dresser stacked with china, photos lining the walls. Here, no one called her *outsider*.

After supper, with Lucy asleep, they sipped tea by the hearth.

“Tell me,” Rose said gently.

Edith recounted the stew, Margarets words. Rose listened, stirring sugar into her cup.

“And Arthurs response?”

“As ever. Said she was tired, that I oughtnt mind.”

“I see.” Rose sighed. “How do *you* feel?”

“Exhausted. Five years trying, and still she wont accept me. Always fault-findingmy cooking, cleaning, how I raise Lucy. When Lucy was ill last month, she said I was a *poor mother*.”

“And Arthur?”

“Stays silent. Claims she *worries* for Lucy.”

Rose set her cup down.

“Are you happy in this marriage?”

Edith hesitated.

“I was. Now I feel a stranger in my own family.”

“Why didnt you tell me?”

“I thought itd pass. That shed grow used to me.”

“Seems not.”

Rain pattered against the window.

“Mum when you married Dad, how did Grandma take it?”

Rose smiled.

“Your Gran? Called me *daughter* from day one. Said, Now Ive two girls, and treated me kinder than her own Alice.”

“Why?”

“She saw I loved her son. And he loved me. Where theres love, theres room for all.”

Edith pondered. Did Arthur love her? Truly? Or was it just habit?

—

Arthur phoned at dawn.

“Edith, where are you?”

“At Mums. As I said.”

“When are you coming home?”

“I dont know. Sunday, perhaps.”

“What dyou mean? Youve work tomorrow!”

“I took leave. Said I was ill.”

A pause.

“Edith, enough sulking. Come home. Well talk.”

“Talk? About your mother deeming me *not family*?”

“Oh, stop! Shes justherself. Needs time.”

“*Five years*?”

“Edith, dont make this harder. Familys family.”

“*Yours* is. Mine? It seems Ive none.”

She hung up. Rose handed her a handkerchief.

“Cry, love. It helps.”

But no tears came. Only hollownessand odd