You’re Not a Wife, You’re a Servant. You Don’t Have Children!

Youre not my wife, youre a servant. You have no children!
Mother, Poppy is staying here. The flat is being refurbished and cant be lived in. Theres a vacant room; why should she be left in the dust? said Jacks husband, the mans voice steady.

The notion seemed to amuse him, something his own wife and motherinlaw could never tolerate. The mother detested her daughterinlaw.

I must work; I cant remain here, Poppy whispered.

Her wife worked from home and needed quiet. Jack spent the whole day at the office, so sharing one roof with his mother proved difficult. Poppy was accustomed to being alone in the house, so no one disturbed her.

She stared at the motherinlaw, words failing her. The older woman did not wish to be in Poppys home, yet there seemed no alternative. They all took seats at the table and began supper.

Poppy, could you pass me your signature salad? Jack asked.
Jack, dont eat that chemistry. Ive made you another one; its healthier, the motherinlaw protested.

Poppys expression changed. Her husband was allergic to tomatoes how could the motherinlaw have forgotten? When Jack was a boy, she paid no heed to his reactions. She claimed there was no need for doctors, a tablet would sort it out.

Hes allergic. Why did you put tomatoes in the salad? Poppy demanded.
What are you on about? Its just one tomato; nothing terrible will happen, the motherinlaw replied.
Hell fall ill.
Poppy, calm yourself. He has no allergy. His own mother knows him better than you.
I am his wife. I look after my husband.
Youre not a wife, youre a servant. You have no children! When you do, well talk then.

Poppy leapt from her seat and rushed to the bedroom. The motherinlaw always struck at a sore spot. Jack hurried to comfort his wife.

Jack, Im sorry. Ill go back to my parents or to the office. I wont stay under your mothers roof.
Let me speak to her. Shell stop!
No, weve rehearsed this a thousand times. Well never get on living together.

For a while they had to rent a small cottage to avoid another family scandal. Mrs. Whitaker, of course, bore a grudge, but she had no other choice. And Poppy, though weary, could not help feeling grateful for a husband so kind and understanding.