Oxana and Her Mother Sat on the Old Bed, Bundled Up Against the Winter Chill as the Stove Barely Began to Warm the House.

Emma and her mother sat on the old bed, both wrapped in thick layers against the winter chill. The fire in the hearth had only just been lit, and the cottage was still cold.

“Dont fret, Mother,” Emma said softly. “Well manage. We wont come to harm. Here, let me fetch your medicine.”

She did her best to soothe the older woman, though this wasnt her mother by bloodbut her mother-in-law, or nearly so.

…It had come to pass that the three of them had lived together: the mother, her son, and his wife, Emma.

Emma had married late, at thirty. She was Deniss second wife, and their union had not broken any homehe had already been divorced when they met.

His mother, Margaret Archibald, had taken to Emma at once, and Emma to her. She was kind, warm, the sort to embrace and listen, to understand. Emma had lost her own parents young and been left quite alone. In Margaret, she found family.

“Thick as thieves,” Denis would say of them.

Five years of marriage passed in a blink. Then Denis grew harsh and quick-tempered, shouting at Emma, at his mother. The reason was another woman. He stayed out late, coming home deep in his cups.

One day, he declared he was leaving her. He gave her two days to gather her things. Before Emma could even depart, his mistress arrived with a suitcase in hand.

Perhaps shed timed it so, to gloat and spew venom at the woman shed replaced. But it came to nothing. She was a leggy blonde with painted lips and lashes so heavy she could barely blink.

Emma couldnt help but laugh.

“You traded me for this doll with cows lashes? Well, good luck to youI shant miss you a bit.”

“At least shes lively,” Denis sneered. “You and Mother are just a pair of old hens.”

“Insult me if you must, but why slight your own mother?”

“Darling, is his mother staying with us?” the woman trilled, batting those absurd lashes. “She ought to take her away. Why should we keep her? Darling”

“Thats right, Mother. Its time you left as well.”

“Where am I to go?” Margaret clutched her chest. “I gave you every penny from selling my flat to build this house!”

“Enough theatrics. You may stay, but keep to your room. Albina is mistress here now.”

“Kitty, let them both go.”

“Shes my mother!”

“Your mother? You expect me to live with such a mother-in-law? Oh, Kitty”

Emma had heard enough.

“Mother, will you come with me to the country?”

“Better the country than with a son like this and that creature.”

“Rest. Ill pack your things.”

“Dont forget my medicine. And my little box. And my handbag.”

Emma fetched another suitcase, hastily filling itmedicine, documents, linens, clothes.

“Take it all. Weve no need of anything else,” Albina piped up. “Isnt that right, darling?”

Denis stood silent. There was nothing more he could do. He knew his mother would never forgive himor perhaps she would, for mothers do.

Within half an hour, Emma stood by the car. Margaret Archibald sat in the backseat, quietly dabbing her tears. She didnt look back at her son, only sighed heavily.

It was hard to bearhaving given him everything, only to be cast aside.

“How will we manage now, girl?”

“Well be all right. Ive savings enough to last until I find work. Youve your pension. Well get by. Bread and butter, at least.”

They drove to the village where Emma had spent her childhood. It was just as well they arrived by daylight. The cottage was freezing. Emma lit the hearth at once, fetched water, set the kettle to boil.

“Youve a knack for this,” Margaret murmured. “As if youve lived here all your life.”

“Grandfather taught me. Thank heavens we brought provisions. No need for the village shop just yetIve no patience for gossip.”

Slowly, the cottage warmed.

“Ill give the place a proper scrubbing tomorrow.”

A knock came at the door.

“Neighbours back, are you? Been an age. Saw