Poor Little Lamb “Hi, Mum, Dad!” Dasha burst into the house one weekend. “I’m getting married—Romka…

Poor Little Lamb

Mum, Dad, Im home! burst in Daisy one Saturday afternoon. Im getting married! Robbie proposed, and I said yes without a second thought!

Oh heavens, Daisy, youre all grown up now, exclaimed Lydia, flinging her hands up as she glanced at her husband. Peter sat there, looking rather stern and silent, clearly chewing over the news.

Of course I am. What did you expect? Ive finished college and have a job in the city. Robbies settled too, so we decided. Were tying the knot, thats that.

Daisys parents knew Robbie wella city lad, lived with his mother in Preston, always proper and polite. Theyd met him ages ago and were perfectly happy for him to be their son-in-law.

The wedding plans fell squarely on Lydia and Peter. Living out in an old Cotswolds village, harnessing their smallholding, this seemed only natural. Robbie had scraped together a bit of savings, but Peter told him,

Best hang onto those pounds, Robbie. You two will need a deposit for your own flat. Well sort the wedding, and maybe your mum might chip in a little.

Robbies mother, Mary, announced at once,

I havent got the funds, I raised him alone on my teachers salary. Maybe a little something for gifts, but thats all.

Daisys parents didnt judge, but Lydia immediately decided she didnt trust Mary one bit. They held a modest celebration at a café in the city; not posh, but it did the job.

Not long after, the newlyweds decided to get themselves a flat on a mortgage. The first payment came thanks to Daisy’s parentsagain, Mary blamed her credit card bills.

So Daisy and Robbie moved into their own place, and before long little Molly came along, their precious granddaughter. Every month, Lydia and Peter brought offerings from the countryside: fresh milk, cream, carrots, potatoes, and joints of pork, bought from local farmers.

Sometimes Lydia would ring Mary:

Mary, let’s club together and buy Molly something nice! Kids need so much these days.

Oh Lydia, I just havent got the money, Mary would say with a trembling voice, sometimes even dabbing her eyes. You know I live on my pension.

When Daisys birthday came around, Lydia and Peter arrived from the village with bags of vegetables and a pork roast. Mary pressed a tenner into Daisys hand, and Lydia didnt like it one bit. She and Peter gave fifty. Lydia never hesitated to bring food or spend cash on her daughters family, but Marys indifference gnawed at her.

Peter, why do we give so much for our children when Mary never helps at all? Shes always sniveling, gets on my nerves. Life isnt easy for anyone these days. You just have to work and not wallow. Imagine if your wife was like thatclinging to your neck, moaning. But no! I slog alongside you. Peter just listened: so many years married, he knew to let her talk.

Lydia had noticed, anyway, how Mary always seemed to have her hair freshly cut, nails gleaming, fashionable clothes. She wondered where the cash for all this came from, what with Marys constant complaining.

But Peters reaction startled her.

Its good a woman takes care of herself. Fair play to her, she looks years younger, Peter smiled.

Lydia was incensed.

Of course shes got time! She lives in a flat, no chickens, no veg patch, just the telly all day. Im always busy: animals, garden, housework, Lydia huffed. Maybe Ill look after myself, and you can milk the cows and pull up weeds every day. I notice you dont fancy swapping jobs!

Peter wasnt one to start rows; he usually just kept quiet, and if he did talk back, Lydia would have an earful for him anyway. Nothing changed much after that. Peter pitched in a little, but Lydia carried most of the work, and Peter drove the bus.

Molly turned three and started nursery, but she came down sick all the time. After some discussion, the family decided Mary would mind Molly at home while she got stronger.

Of course Ill mind her, not as if I have much else to do, Im a retiree now, agreed Mary.

Lydia was relieved.

Praise the Lord, shes finally pitching in.

Time passed. Lydia noticed Peter started popping down to Preston quite a lot.

Lydia, pack some cream, eggs and potatoes, Ill take them to Daisy. Ive got errands in the city anywayneed to fetch some bits for the van, and its good to see Molly.

Lydia bustled about, happy to help.

Foods so dear in town, but what weve got is as honest as you likenone of your chemicals.

But Peter was coming home later and later. Sure, he had gone to the city before for car repairs or shoppingcheaper and more choices than the village store. But now he started lingering at Daisy and Robbies with Molly and Mary.

At first, Lydia didnt think much of it, but as it happened more and more, the truth crept in like a fog.

Oh heavens, Peters got his eye on Mary… No doubt! Time to check up. Think he can just dally behind my back. Well!

Next time Peter planned a trip, loading up the bags, Lydia declared,

Pete, Im coming too. Ive missed Molly dreadfully, and I need a few things in the shops. She stared at him, and Peter looked thrown, only managing a nod.

She could see as they drove along, Peter was glum.

Whats wrong now? You look miserable.

Just a headache, nothing really… he mumbled.

They pressed the buzzer at Daisys flat; Mary opened the door, face carefully made up, dressing gown flapping, beaminguntil she saw Lydia behind Peter. The smile fell away.

Oh. I wasnt expecting anyone. Come in, she said, hurriedly belting her gown.

They played with Molly, handed over a doll, admired her toys. When Molly napped, Mary chirped,

Tea for everyone! Lydia and Peter had brought a cake and apples.

At the table, Lydia caught the sly glances between Mary and Peter, just as bold as brass. Petty, half-hidden, but obvious enough.

Honestly, fumed Lydia, no shame, making eyes at each other, right in front of me!

Ill nip out onto the balcony, have a smoke, Peter muttered.

village cousin-in-law quickly saw through the act
As soon as Peter left, Lydia didnt bother with small talk.

Spare me your poor-little-lamb act, Mary, I see straight through you. I know exactly why my Peter is always coming here. Not for Molly. So stop fluttering your lashes. If you want a man, get married and have one of your own. Keep your hands off my husband! Isnt it shamefulflirting with another womans man, your son-in-laws father, no less. If you dont stop, Ill come do the babysitting myself. Dont mess up your sons life with your games.

Mary went as red as a beetrootclearly hadnt expected the farmers wife to cotton on so quick. Shed taken Lydia for a thick country woman, too busy with chickens to notice. But here she wasclear as daylight.

On their way out, Lydia hissed as Peter went ahead,

Dont ever mistake me for a fool.

In the car home, she let Peter have it.

Youre not going alone again! Ive figured you out, and that innocent little lamb wont dare ogle you anymore. Ive told her straight.

Lydia, youre making it up! Theres nothing between us, honestly Peter protested.

Well see! Lydia replied. No more popping round the lonely ladys flat when the kids are at work. Otherwise, Ill pack my bags and mind Molly myselfyou can look after the farm. I dont repeat myself.

That evening, Daisy rang with complaints.

Mum, why were you so horrid to Mrs Mary? Shes helping us and Im grateful. Stop being jealous of Dad visiting! He only goes to see Molly.

Lydia bristled, realising Mary was trying to turn Daisy against her.

Sweetheart, youre young. But how would you like it if your husband was hanging around your best friends house for hours, behind your back? Mary knows bettershes no fool. Its not right to keep another womans husband hanging round your flat and batting your eyelashes. And remember, everything your father and I have done for you is because of me, not him. If your mother-in-law wont mind Molly, I will.

Sorry, Mum, I shouldnt have listened to her. She twisted it all and blamed you.

Of course she did! But Ive said my bit, right to her face. She thought I was thick as mud, but not at all! Lydia felt triumphant.

I get it now… She did make you look the villain, Daisy sighed.

Since then, Peter grew quiet. When he headed into Preston, he always checked with Lydia and often suggested she come too. Lydia agreed, happy to see Molly more often. Even Peter started helping in the veg patch, urging Lydia to rest morethey worked the plot together.

Men ought to keep busy, Lydia thought, smiling, keeps foolish ideas at bay and teaches them to value their wives. And now Ive got time for myself, even picked up a new hairdo. Why shouldnt I look after myself? Why should Mary have all the fun?