The Daughter in Law

by Nina Manning

  ‘I dunno, I’m sure it’s to do with my dad. Like with him not being around and her never telling me anything about him.’

  I looked at Ben whilst he continued.

  ‘That night I found the silver container of trifle in the bin, uneaten, and I was never allowed to go to Joe’s house after that. In fact, I was never allowed to go to anyone’s house. And no one ever came to my house to play. That huge house by the sea. What a waste, hey?’

  I felt my heart ache a familiar ache.

  ‘So, you see, Daisy. You’re the first. You are the first person I have ever taken back to my house. Ever.’

  ‘Families…’ I paused. ‘Families are tricky. Why do you suppose your mum refuses to tell you who your dad is? I mean we have a right to know now we have a baby coming surely?’

  Ben stayed focused on the road. ‘Sometimes I don’t know if I want to know.’

  I left Ben’s words hanging and turned my thoughts to my own complex life. Was it my turn? Did I now need to offer a confession in return? Is that how a marriage worked? I figured it was about love. Trust. But everyone has a past, we all make mistakes, did things we cannot correct. But then we move on and beautiful new things happen. Like Ben.

  He had barely questioned my past, except for a few one-sided conversations about my parents and when would we get to meet them. I batted his queries away as quickly as I could, reminding him the cost of travelling to and from Australia was too great for either party. He seemed to accept this for now. What I didn’t reveal was that the relationship between me and my family was like an ancient lost relic, buried deep in in my subconscious, never to be unearthed again.

  Suddenly Ben was speaking again. ‘My relationship with my mother is and always will be a strange one. I mean, what kind of mother doesn’t let their kid play with another kid? I have vague memories of children. Children I played with whilst my mum was working maybe?’ Ben continued to monologue while he drove.

  ‘I remember their faces. They must have been the only children I played with as a kid. Apart from them, there was no one. We never had any parties, no after school play dates. Nothing.’

  Ben stopped the car as the traffic lights turned to red. He looked hard into the distance.

  ‘Except I do remember something. A vague memory, a cake… singing. Everyone clapping and smiling. Lots of people. Can’t think what that would have been. It could have been someone else’s party, I suppose, I’m sure Mum must have let me go to one of their parties. Do you think that’s odd, Daisy?’ He turned to face me and gave me one of his double blinks.

  My face was screwed up with sadness for him and also for me. ‘I think it’s incredibly sad Ben.’ The traffic lights changed and Ben’s forlorn expression turned back to face the road again.

  ‘And then there was Mrs Keeley when mum had to go back to work, I spent a lot of time with her. I can see her face still. She was such a beautiful woman, such a kind face. I think she had a couple of kids. It was such a long time ago. But I still remember that face. But when I met you I knew I wanted to be with you. It was a bit like sitting with Joe and his mum. It felt so right. I’ve met people along the way with my job and I’ve met girls obviously, but when I saw you that night in the club, dancing and laughing, it was… well, I was magnetised, I had to be with you.’

  I placed my hand on his leg and rubbed it.

  ‘You’re all I need,’ Ben said with laugh, but I could see the tears twinkling in his eyes. I leant over and planted a kiss on his cheek and pushed my hands through his long hair. Ben responded and relaxed his head against my touch.

  ‘And me too. You complete me. You’re all I need, Ben. Do you understand? Nothing else matters.’

  The radio was on and I could just about decipher the odd chord so I turned it up and was pleased to hear it was my favourite seasonal song by Chris Rea, ‘Driving Home for Christmas’. I turned to Ben and smiled, then sang along, accentuating words to make them count for his sake. Ben pulled his mouth into a semi-smile.

  Annie was standing at the door when we pulled up. She was wearing a tinsel crown, and a green knitted jumper with a Christmas pudding on it. She must have been looking out for us. I thought how cold she must be standing at the door without a coat on and for a moment I felt something, a sort of pity for her as she stood alone waiting for her son to arrive on Christmas morning.

  Ben helped me out of the car and went to the boot to collect our overnight bags and the presents we had brought for Annie.

  ‘Daisy, you look nice,’ Annie said absently, looking like she’d had a fit in a Christmas pound shop. I noticed her Christmas tree earrings that were flashing an offensive red light. ‘I always go a bit kitsch for Christmas, don’t I, Ben? As it’s always been just us two you see, I like to go a bit overboard. Had this jumper, what, five years now, Ben? You bought it for me, do you remember? Gosh, that was a lovely Christmas.’ Ben nodded and mumbled something I couldn’t quite catch. ‘Right who’s for a drink? I have eggnog.’ Annie attempted an American accent as we followed her into the house. Ben dumped the bags and closed the heavy front door. The sound loudly echoed through the bare hallway. I swung around, startled by the noise and noted how Ben had finally cracked a smile at his mother’s absurdity. I had to admit that Annie’s seasonal mood was quite infectious and the smell from the roasting turkey and the prospect of a Christmas alcoholic beverage, albeit a small one, made me feel cosy and warm inside.

  ‘Eggnog sounds fantastic, Annie,’ I said, realising I would need to show extra enthusiasm for both of us to get us through the day.

  ‘Should you be drinking in your condition, Daisy?’ Annie said and looked directly at me with those accusing eyes. I wondered when she might begin to think of the baby as her grandchild and not a condition.

  ‘Well, surely one drink can’t hurt anyone can it, Annie?’ I said. Her eyes remained fixed on me for a few seconds whilst Ben busied himself removing his boots. Both of us held the stare without wavering, then suddenly she spun around and headed for the lounge. She walked straight over to the tree and began fiddling with an ornament.

  I pulled Ben towards the lounge but stopped in the doorway and gasped, astounded by the décor.

  There was no suggestion from the outside of Annie’s beach house that it was Christmas. There were no lights or decorations anywhere outside the front door to hint that it was one of the most special times of the year, yet when we entered the lounge area it was like Annie was the Grinch and she had stolen Christmas and stuffed it in its entirety into her front room. My eyes prickled with tears. There was a huge, albeit fake, Christmas tree, decorated with gold and red bows and twinkling fairy lights and hand-painted ornaments. A gold star was planted on the top. All around the tree were presents wrapped in an array of seasonal coloured wrapping paper; golds, reds and silvers sprouted from beneath the branches. Next to the fireplace was an ornamental nativity scene and on the coffee table was a large bowl full of nuts and oranges with cloves in them. The smell hit my nostrils and I could feel my heart quicken. This was Christmas. I realised that what I was feeling was an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. Annie was by my side looking at me.

  ‘Do you like it, Daisy?’

  ‘This room… it’s… amazing.’ I gave my eyes a surreptitious wipe. Ben was smiling, but only at me. ‘I can’t believe my eyes!’ I looked at Annie who stood behind us looking like a pleased twit in all her Christmas getup.

  ‘Well, yes, I like to make an effort at Christmas.’ She walked over to the mantelpiece. ‘I have kept all the decorations from when Ben was a little boy and each year I buy a new ornament for the tree, don’t I, Ben? Except that year when I had to buy all new ornaments.’

  ‘Mum, please.’ Ben looked visibly stressed. He pulled his hand through his hair and squeezed it hard at the nape of his neck.

  ‘What’s all this about?’ I asked, looking back and forth between them both.

  ‘Well, it’s just Ben has a little fascination with Christmas trees, don’t you son? He al
most burnt the house down one year. Couldn’t have been more than six or seven…’

  ‘I was five, Mum,’ Ben said firmly.

  ‘Oh yes that’s right, you remember it better than me, my brain isn’t as young as yours. You’d better tell the rest.’

  I looked at Ben with a frown etched across my face. ‘Ben?’

  Ben let out a loud sigh and rubbed his forehead. ‘I have vague memories of sneaking down the stairs that Christmas and switching the lights back on. I was obsessed with them. Next thing, I remember hearing the alarms and seeing the smoke. It’s pretty hazy, I was very young, but I remember Mum was livid.’

  ‘Oh, son, I’m over it now, I’m just glad you were okay. We only lost a few things.’ Annie waved her hand as if to dismiss his dismay. But Ben looked sad. This was why he hated Christmas so much. The magic of this time of year was tainted by the irresponsible actions of a tiny boy. I found my way over to Ben and placed a hand on his arm and rubbed it. ‘You were just a kid, Ben,’ I said softly. Ben pulled his lips into a tight smile.

  I looked over at Annie who was watching us.

  ‘Well, that’s our little story anyway,’ she said as she finished rearranging the ornaments. Then she walked back over to me and escorted me to the sofa. I began to remove my coat. ‘Oh, very nice jacket, Daisy.’

  I smiled, glad I had pleased Annie. ‘Right, I’ll get that eggnog then.’ Annie marched from the room taking my new coat with her.

  ‘I love you,’ I whispered in Ben’s ear and pulled him onto the sofa. He nuzzled his face against mine and I breathed in his sweet citrus scent.

  ‘And I love you and the baby,’ he said as he rubbed the bump. I squirmed a little. ‘When do we get the first scan picture, shouldn’t it be about now? I wanted to show Mum.’

  ‘Yeah, we get it soon.’ I took his hand from the bump and squeezed it in mine. What I hadn’t told Ben was the appointment for the first scan photo had lapsed. It had even passed the time when we would be able to book in for the second scan photo, the time when we could find out the sex, something I was sure Ben would want to know in advance. But there was very little I wanted to know about this pregnancy, let alone if it was a girl or a boy.

  ‘Here we are!’ Annie made her announced entrance carrying a tray full of eggnog. ‘Come and get it whilst it’s… eggnoggy!’ I looked at Ben and we both smiled at Annie’s efforts.

  ‘Thanks Mum.’ Ben stood up and took the tray from Annie. I watched curiously as Ben, who towered over Annie, placed the tray down on a high side table next to the Christmas tree. Annie placed a hand on his arm and gave it a half pat, half rub.

  ‘You’re welcome, son. It’s good to have you here.’ Annie turned to face me; aware that their awkward intimate moment was being observed.

  ‘I wouldn’t be without him,’ Annie said with a matter-of-fact tone to her voice.

  ‘I know, I know,’ I said.

  Ben put an arm around his mum, but as I watched, I saw it was forced and uncomfortable; they didn’t seem to have an easy mother and son way about them. For two people who had spent their lives together, living in close proximity and with such intimacy, I couldn’t work out why they touched one another as though each of them were covered in prickles.

  That night, as Christmas Day edged its way into Boxing day, I struggled to sleep in the unfamiliar room that Ben had slept in all his life. I thought back over the day. Annie had made a real effort. The food was good, but I wished I was able to drink more, then maybe I wouldn’t have struggled when I had to open the presents she gave me. I had to force my face into a smile when I saw that she had given me floral embroidered handkerchiefs and a coarse-looking lavender soap. Annie accepted our Yankee Candle and chocolate fondue set with grace, but there was an edge to her smile as she placed them to the side of her having barely inspected them.

  I could feel an uncomfortable pulling sensation so I took one pillow from under my head and shoved it under my belly on the right side. I lay there and I listened to the old house moaning and groaning. The wind was whipping across the already battered exterior and the waves were thrashing against the low wall at the end of the garden. I felt as though I were waking every half an hour. Ben was muttering in his sleep.

  ‘Ben,’ I called out softly. He didn’t wake. His lips were still moving.

  ‘Emma,’ he mumbled.

  ‘Ben.’ I tried again, this time with a little more volume. Ben shot upright.

  ‘What, what?’ he said in a panicky voice. His breath was fast and he was grasping for something around him that wasn’t there. I leant over to the bedside table and picked up a glass of water. The bright moon brought a sliver of light into the room and illuminated the white clock face on the bedside table. I could just make out it was about 3 a.m.

  ‘Here, have a drink,’ I said too curtly; the name Emma rang in my ears.

  It had been the same every night since we had met. I had been convinced it was a one-off the first night we spent together but every night, with or without alcohol in his system, Ben would fall into a deep sleep and the mutterings would begin. They would never escalate to more than incomprehensible murmurs, but occasionally a name would escape through the strange sounds.

  ‘So what was is it this time?’ It was unlikely we would wake Annie all the way down the hall with our chatting, but I whispered as though the hour suggested I should.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Ben said groggily and lay back down facing the ceiling.

  ‘You’ve woken me again with your chattering.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he said flatly.

  ‘What was it about?’

  ‘It’s just a dream, Daisy,’ Ben said through a heavy yawn.

  ‘Well, what’s the dream about?’

  ‘Stuff. People.’

  ‘Hmm, yeah? And? Am I there?’

  ‘No. No. Definitely not.’

  ‘Oh.’ I tried to keep the offence from my voice whilst images of Ben with a faceless Emma flooded my mind.

  ‘It’s an old dream. A recurring thing. I think I’ve pretty much dreamt the same thing since I was a kid.’

  ‘What? Surely that’s not possible?’ Although I knew it was. His unconscious mutterings were on a loop every night.

  ‘Dunno.’ Ben sounded as though he was drifting off again.

  ‘So what’s the dream about?’ I persisted in a loud whisper, but he had fallen back into a slumber.

  I couldn’t get back to sleep after that so I flicked the duvet off me and padded out into the hallway. I headed for the bathroom, not bothering to shut the door; a habit from sharing a flat with Eve and continuing conversations whilst one of us peed. I sat down on the toilet and allowed my blurry eyes to focus on the items around me in the bathroom. Then I caught something out of the corner of my eye. I looked up.

  ‘Oh, for fucking hell’s sake!’ I grappled for my pyjama bottoms which were around my legs and tried to cover my modesty as I looked at the figure standing in the doorway. I focused my eyes and realised it was Annie. She looked strange, because she was wearing a thin dressing gown that was open at the front and beneath that she was totally naked. She wasn’t moving. Just standing. I finished up on the toilet and stood up. She was very still and looking straight through me. She must’ve been asleep. I remembered something I heard once about not waking sleepwalkers. Then, as quickly as she had arrived, she turned to go. I peered around the door into the hallway and watched her walk back to her room. Once I heard Annie’s bedroom door close, I let a long loud breath which felt as though I had been holding it in for some time. I walked back down to Ben’s bedroom and got back into bed beside him where he moaned something in his sleep. I lay down but couldn’t drift off, the image of Annie standing in front of me would not leave my mind for the rest of the night.

  The next morning, I woke suddenly as though someone had given the duvet a sharp yank. I opened my eyes, startled to see Annie standing at the foot of the bed looking down at me. It took a moment for me to come round and realise it was her who
had woken me. Had she pulled the duvet? Annie held a steaming mug and all around me was an aroma of fresh coffee which normally titillated my senses, but this morning made me want to retch. I took a few deep breaths trying to control the nausea which still caught me off guard every morning.

  ‘Good morning, Daisy.’

  I felt instantly wary of Annie’s tone. Did she remember last night? Had she indeed been awake? What was the appropriate protocol, mention it or ignore it? The light streamed through the curtains but I could tell it was barely eight or nine o’clock. The seagulls were wailing their raucous calls. I took Annie in for a moment and I was glad to see she had lost the Christmas outfit and was back to her uniform of crisp white shirt and trousers.

  I had hoped for a long lie in with Ben before we drove back to home. I felt for his side of the bed and found it empty.

  ‘Where’s Ben?’ I asked groggily.

  ‘He’s helping me with a small task I needed doing on the computer. This internet stuff, I’m still so new to it all. I know it’s the age of technology, but I’m an old soul. So is Ben really. Such a good boy he is. Always there to help his mama out,’ Annie said, apparently waiting for me to say something back.

  ‘Well, yes,’ was all I could manage. I started to sit up.

  ‘Ben said it was okay to come in.’ Annie was round by the side of the bed and was putting the coffee cup on the bedside table.

  ‘Er, did he?’

  ‘Yes he did, Daisy, are you calling me a liar?’ Annie said, laughing as she stood up.

  I suddenly remembered I was wearing a thin cami top, so I pulled the duvet high up to my chest. Annie stood very still. Then she turned and walked out of the door. I opened my mouth to speak but realised it was too late. Suddenly I felt angry and somewhat violated at Annie’s presumptuous behaviour. She had no right to wander in here and sneak up on me like that. I was about to holler after her but something stopped me. I took a long deep breath and exhaled slowly.