The Daughter in Law

by Nina Manning

  I knew more than anyone that trying to paint on a smile everyday was a tiresome task and some days you just couldn’t succeed. Annie presented an air of glamour with her sleek brown bobbed hair with only a smattering of very light grey that resembled highlights from a distance. She was dressed younger than her sixty years in a perfectly pressed white shirt and blue jeans.

  But her smile was merely her face scrunched up so her eyes became little slits through which she could safely view me.

  We had driven for just over forty minutes from our flat in town to Annie’s beach house, almost entirely in silence. I had allowed Ben to drive my car, a silver Renault Clio. I loved my little car and when he moved in I was worried he might insist we switch it for something more manly, but he seemed content driving it. He was a careful driver, meticulous and completely focused, never wavering to look at anything other than what was in front of him.

  We were minutes away from arriving when Ben turned into a dusty track which would lead down to the house on the beach and quietly announced we would arrive in less than one mile. Panic pulsed through my body. For it was now, only five months since Ben and I had met, that we were on our way to meet the woman I would come to know as my mother-in-law. We had been so wrapped up in our bubble that it didn’t occur to me to wonder why Ben had waited so long to introduce us. It hadn’t fazed me, we didn’t need anyone else intruding into our perfect world; we were happy as just us. Families made everything complicated.

  Now as I stood here seeing her in the flesh I could tell there was a coarseness to Annie; her face was a myriad of untold stories and emotions, something which that momentary captured image neglected to show. I looked at Annie’s starched white shirt and then looked down at my faded grey T-shirt with The Rolling Stones ‘tongue and lip’ logo and the baggy green combat trousers with the top button that I could no longer do up. I took comfort in my sacred red heels I religiously wore, knowing I would only be able to wear them for a few more weeks before they became uncomfortable. Today, as I met my mother-in-law for the first time, I hoped they were the little sparkle of distraction I needed, for I was conscious that my bulging abdomen was an awkward representation of exactly how long Ben and I had been together; a life that was created the night we met almost five months ago.

  That extra hour I had convinced Ben to spend in bed with me had taken its toll. I looked down at my own unplanned outfit that I had grappled around for at the last minute. I hadn’t expected her to have this sort of impact on me. Was Annie looking past the veneer? If she was, then she didn’t need to look very hard. I could feel my guard had not only slipped but was disintegrating with every second that she looked at me. I had a feeling I was getting sussed out and I didn’t like the way I suddenly felt so exposed.

  I watched as Annie’s gaze was drawn down to my abdomen. The baby bump was apparent and taut skin was slightly exposed under my T-shirt that had edged its way upwards.

  I could feel her look of disdain but Annie didn’t say a word about the human life that was growing within me, her own flesh and blood.

  ’You’re late, son. That’s unusual of you.’ Annie flashed a look my way.

  ‘Sorry, Mum, traffic.’ Ben said.

  I watched Annie’s contorted smile as Ben hopped from one leg to another like a restless child.

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Ben, get through into that lounge.’ Annie gave an elaborate shooing motion with both hands before turning to me. Her fake smile faded and it seemed she could do nothing to stop it. I saw the realisation spread across her face, manifested as a sort of flickering of her head and then watched as she desperately tried to drag that smile back. There was a searching in her eyes, I could see her mind mulling something over very quickly, and then she looked at me with intent, as though she knew me. Panic surged through my veins. It wasn’t possible, I reassured myself.

  Annie spoke, but it was too loud for the situation.

  ‘Come, come on through then.’ She held one hand out to guide me into the house. I followed Ben as Annie closed the heavy wooden door behind me.

  I found myself in a large stark hallway on wooden floorboards with doors leading off in several directions. I stood looking along the walls for pictures or photographs, but there was nothing that stood out, no statement pieces that suggested a mother and her son had lived here all their lives. I usually relished arriving at a new house and looking around, trying to piece together a story about the person, but this house was not giving away any clues.

  ‘There’s no room to swing a cat in that porch. Come through, get settled and I’ll get you a cup of tea.’ Annie wittered away as she walked in behind us.

  Following Ben, I found myself in a large lounge with huge windows that showed a shingle beach just beyond a wall at the end of a garden. Ben took a seat on one of two small distressed sofas that were facing each other. Annie waited for us both to be seated and then walked out of another door opposite me into what I presumed was the kitchen. I busied myself getting comfy on the sofa opposite Ben. Neither of us removed our jackets, the chill from outside lingered in my bones. I looked at Ben, he gave a small wink and I smiled back. I found myself relaxing a little as I sat back and took in my surroundings. It was the epitome of a classic beach house. Spacious, brilliant views of the sea. The décor was a little dated; the faded floral design on the sofas was evidence that Annie had not updated her interiors for a good few years, if ever. The house seemed far too large for just one woman to live in all alone, but then of course, up until a few months ago, Ben had been here too.

  There was a fireplace to my left, central to the two sofas and above it a long wooden mantelpiece. On one of the large windowsills was a green vase with some fake flowers. Scattered around were plaques which read statements such as ‘Home is where the heart is’. My eyes were drawn to a smaller plaque perched upon the mantelpiece above the fireplace. I focused hard on the writing which was just within reading distance.

  The bond between mother and son is a special one

  It remains unchanged by time or distance

  It is the purest love – unconditional and true

  It is understanding of any situation

  And forgiving of any mistake.

  It was the sort of thing that would be a gift and I wondered if Ben had bought it for Annie.

  I sat back and took in more of the room. I looked out through the window, my eyes drawn to the sight of the ocean. I realised I didn’t take advantage of living so close to the sea, or perhaps I had never seen it looking so vivid and inviting as it did from Annie’s window.

  I noted there was no television in the lounge. No hi-fi system or radio either. Just an old solitary turn table in the corner of the room. It was deafeningly quiet.

  Annie arrived back into the room and punctuated the silence. She was struggling with a tray laden with tea, a selection of foil-wrapped biscuits, and a fresh-looking Victoria sponge cake. Annie placed the tray onto the coffee table in the middle of the two sofas and positioned herself carefully next to me. She let out a loud sigh accompanied by a small smile.

  I looked at the tray, keen to be of assistance and show willing, I leant in towards the teapot.

  ‘I’ll be mum then,’ I said jovially, but before I could reach the pot, Annie intercepted. Suddenly I found that my hand was pressed against the scalding pot. I immediately felt the searing heat penetrate through my fingers before I had time to retract. I sucked my breath in through my teeth as the sting from the heat resonated through my fingers. I looked anxiously at Annie who now had both hands on the pot, ready to pour, seemingly oblivious.

  ‘Don’t you worry yourself, dear. You just sit back and relax,’ Annie said softly without taking her eyes off the tea pot and cups. ‘This is some of my best crockery you know, Daisy.’ Annie poured out and handed me a small white china teacup and saucer. She turned back and poured another cup.

  I slowly sat back and cradled my tea, gently stroking my index and middle fingers where the fuzzy feeling still rem
ained. Something was preventing the words that were appropriate to the situation from forming in my mouth. I could feel agitation rising through my chest. I looked up at Ben who had his eyes firmly locked on the screen of his new Blackberry phone, a device he was clearly quite taken with. He had apparently missed the whole incident. Annie handed me a cup and saucer without looking at me.

  ‘Help yourself to milk and sugar, dear. Oh, and I made this cake. Ben’s favourite. Did you know?’ Annie’s eyes were wide open and reminded me of the saucer I held in my hand.

  ‘No, I didn’t.’ I looked into my teacup.

  ‘Oh yes, been making Victoria sponge cake for years, haven’t I, son? It is a special occasion after all, isn’t it?’ she said, her face remained fixed upon the coffee table.

  I took a sip of tea and found that my hand shook and caused a ripple of clinking china which attracted a brief look from Annie. I was now completely on edge and shot a glance over towards Ben, urging him to look up and rescue me but he was too absorbed in his phone. The new millennium had brought with it a necessity for technology. Somewhere tangible to store more things that people didn’t want others to see, a concept I wasn’t yet wholly comfortable with.

  ‘You’re starting to show, I see. Was it planned?’ Annie’s tone reeked of distaste.

  Annie’s facetious comment hung in the air. I hadn’t expected to get pregnant during the first week of knowing Ben. I don’t think Ben had quite realised the enormity of it yet. He was going through the motions, asking the right questions. At a time when I was struggling to feel anything for the baby, I was glad Ben had yet to make any emotional connection either.

  Annie continued, ‘I didn’t realise first-time mums showed so much at this stage. And you realise babies are expensive, don’t you Daisy? How are you going to manage on Ben’s wage as a musician? He only works the odd weekend.’ I could hear the authority in Annie’s tone, as though she was the only woman who had ever raised a child.

  I said nothing but flashed a small smile. What was there to say? We hadn’t really discussed the ins and outs. We just knew it felt right and it would all work itself out. If I ever raised money issues with Ben, I was pretty sure his response would be to tell me that love would find a way.

  But I didn’t care to say those words out loud to Annie.

  I sipped my tea and clinked the cup back into the saucer taking care to do so as quietly as I could. There was a small gold antique clock on the mantelpiece which seemed to tick louder than before. I could hear clicking as Ben pressed the buttons on his Blackberry. I blew a piece of hair away from my face as I felt a hot flush rising through my body. I brushed the thin fabric of the sofa with my hand.

  ‘Lovely sofas’ I lied, so I could break the silence.

  ‘Yes, these old things. Charity shop finds. I bought them when—’

  ‘Mum.’ Ben was up on his feet alarmingly fast, he shoved his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. ‘How about some of that cake?’ Ben rubbed his hands together.

  Annie regarded him for a second and I sensed his agitation. Annie picked up the knife and held it in front of her as she looked at Ben ‘Well, let’s just hope he’s grown up enough to be functioning out there alone without his mum!’ Annie hooted then she sliced through the cake ‘He needs looking after from time to time, don’t you Ben? But that’s what us women are good at. I suppose you may find that now, what with you being older?’

  I glanced up at Ben who rolled his eyes surreptitiously.

  The age gap had yet to make any impact on us. My twenty-eight years to his twenty-four years hadn’t created any problems. But apparently Annie was already searching for flaws in the relationship.

  Ben bent down, picked up a slice of Victoria sponge, and began chewing with intent, a frown firmly fixed on his face. I watched Annie frantically trying to cobble together a small white porcelain plate and tiny dessert fork.

  ‘I think what I want to know from you both is why you decided to do it all behind my back?’ Annie held out the plate and fork to Ben who had already finished his cake. She lay the redundant crockery back on the tray and patted her hair.

  ‘And so soon after meeting. What about your mother, Daisy? Have you told her you’re married?’

  Ben sat back down again and tried to flash me an encouraging smile but he seemed distracted.

  I paused and took a moment to breathe in so the rehearsed words would flow freely. ‘She and my dad are probably over it by now. They’re likely glad to have avoided the expense of a wedding.’ I laughed with too much enthusiasm and looked up at Annie’s expressionless face. ‘Plus they live in Australia.’

  Annie turned her body to face mine. ‘They went without you?’ She screwed her face up in disgust

  I cleared my throat and nodded. The faces of my parents flashed before my eyes then disintegrated as quickly. I knew I didn’t need or want to think about them, but I always did.

  She turned away from me, her attention on the tea tray again ‘Well, Ben is one of one. My only child. So being involved was important to me. Being told your son has got married three weeks after it happened is not what any mother wants to hear.’ Annie poured another cup of tea and held it out towards Ben. ‘Son, your tea,’ she said flatly.

  Ben leant forward and took the tea and placed it on front of him on the table. He ran his large soft hands through his thick dark hair. ‘Look Mum, we’ve been through this already. If you want to blame anyone, blame me. I’m sorry. We’re sorry. It was a mad…’ Ben paused. ‘A mad spur of the moment thing.’ The last few words fell out his mouth. He looked at me firmly and spoke with intent. ‘But we love each other and that’s that.’

  I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face and the tension was already leaving my body.

  Words of apology were just forming in my mouth when Annie said: ‘What’s done is done. I can’t do anything about it now, can I, son? I need to get the chicken in the oven.’ Ben raised his eyebrows at me and I stifled a laugh. It was brought on by a bout of nervousness – the nervousness that was now leaving my body as Annie stood and walked out of the room. The atmosphere physically lifted.

  I looked at Ben, blew out the breath I had been holding and raised my eyebrows in relief.

  At the kitchen table, Annie pushed the food around her plate and took tiny bites.

  ‘This is delicious, Annie. The chicken is so moist.’ I prodded a slab of meat and watched the juice ooze out ‘How do you cook it?’

  ‘I do it in a brick. Always have done since Ben was a little boy.’ Annie placed her knife and fork together on the plate indicating she had finished, yet her plate still remained full of chicken breast and vegetables.

  Then Annie was on her feet. I noted how sixty years had treated her well, she had a very youthful face with very few wrinkles, and that hair cut made her appear at least five years younger. It was only because she displayed some stiffness when she walked that you might think this woman was nearing retirement age.

  Annie retrieved something from the dresser then walked back over to the table and placed a small package in front of me. I glanced down and saw a delightful neat square box, wrapped in silver paper with a thin pink bow on the top. I looked at Ben. He shook his head, just as surprised.

  ‘What’s this?’ I placed my knife and fork together on my plate and gently dabbed my mouth with the paper napkin. My heart started to quicken. I hadn’t always feared present opening. I do remember a time as a little girl when tearing open the wrapping paper was done without inhibition. But then there was one time, when I was in a room, tentatively opening presents on a day that should have been filled with such happiness – yet I had never felt more alone. And I guess that memory stuck harder.

  ‘Well, open it and see, dear.’ Annie busied herself with clearing the plates.

  I carefully peeled away the paper as though there could be something inside that might bite me. I stole intermittent glances at Ben, who shrugged his shoulders, indicating his ignorance. Inside the paper
was a small grey box. I let out a small gasp. I imagined inside there’d be an antique ring or brooch handed down from generations and now it was being given to me. The thought of owning something so precious and possibly expensive suddenly filled me with excitement. Maybe this was why Annie was so put out at not being involved with the wedding, she obviously had kept this for Ben’s big day. The thought of receiving such a grand present when we had not involved Ben’s mother or anyone else in our wedding made me wonder if we did the right thing by marrying so quickly. It had never crossed my mind before. I hadn’t even invited my best friend, Eve, and Ben never mentioned any regret. But the feeling reared itself and so I prepared myself to shower Annie with gracious thank yous. I removed the lid and there before me were words, bold in black, surrounded by a trail of flowers, painted on a small ceramic plaque.

  Daughter-in-law

  A child that destiny forgot to give you.

  My first instinct was to stifle the involuntary laugh that nearly came out so when I did speak my voice was high and strained.

  ‘Oh, thank you, Annie. That’s so lovely. Thoughtful. Isn’t it? Look, Ben.’ I took the plaque out of its box and displayed it in front of Ben’s face, to take some of the pressure off my own poor performance of gratitude. Only then did I see the back and realise the plaque was a fridge magnet, and probably the sort of thing you would pick up from a pound shop.

  ‘Wow, that’s gorgeous Mum. So thoughtful. Well done,’ Ben looked at me and gave me a sympathetic smile. I realised it was not novel to him, this was possibly the sort of thing he received regularly.

  Annie eyed the pair of us up without smiling. She continued to remove the plates and walked away to the sink.

  ‘That’s okay, son. I just wanted to get something nice that Daisy could keep, a little welcome into the family.’ There was a vagueness to her voice as she walked away.

  ‘That was nice of your mum,’ I said quickly in a hushed tone but I knew my expression did not match my words. Ben didn’t have time to respond as Annie was back at the table. I forced my face into a smile.