The Daughter in Law

by Nina Manning

  The day I got my hands on that dough and began kneading and winding it into different shapes was a good day indeed. I was able to completely forget about the troubles back home. The feelings about my husband, slowly moving away from the home we had bought together and planned to raise a family in together, were pushed into the kneading of that bread; you could almost taste the betrayal in the finished loaf.

  I liked the experience of proving the bread the most. Placing it somewhere warm and watching that little flat bit of dough treble in size, knowing that I had fed it and kept it warm enough to grow, was almost enough to replace the desperate maternal pangs for just a few hours at least.

  The only thing that cast a shadow over the bread day was Jenny. She didn’t seem her usual sprightly self and as I tended to my bread dough like it was a small child, I could see Jenny fluttering about out of the corner of my eye. I was worried about her; she wasn’t concentrating and was clearly taken with some other pressing matter. Once my dough was safely in the oven and I had cleared my surface down, I wandered over to Jenny’s station. The woman had barely even reached the proving stage. Her stomach was slightly protruding out of her tight pinafore dress. Flour and dough were scattered everywhere and she had her handbag on the work surface, a clear health hazard, anything could have been clinging to the bottom of it and infecting her work area.

  ‘Are you okay Jenny?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh, Grace, no I’m afraid I’m not today. I’m a little out of sorts.’ Jenny continued to rifle through her handbag.

  ‘Well, I can see that.’ I looked under the table. There was no sign of little Mikee. ‘Where’s your little one today?’

  ‘Oh, my mum has come to visit for a few days, so I left him at home with her today. I thought it would help. I’ve got so much on my mind. But I feel a little lost without him.’ Jenny stopped rifling and looked past me into thin air. ‘Truth is, Grace, they are like my limbs. I can’t function properly without them.’ Jenny waved away her last comment ‘Besides, I’m thinking about a million things. Got so much to sort out. I don’t know what I was thinking about coming here today.’

  I leant in a little closer and that was when I saw it. Jenny had done a good job of covering it up but I could see the rainbow of blues, reds and greens hiding beneath a sheen of concealer and pressed powder. Jenny’s hand was intermittently finding its way to her cheek.

  ‘Well. Is there anything I can help you with?’ I motioned to the cluttered workstation. The bruise was clear as day to me, but the mess on her counter was something I could fix right away.

  ‘Well. Yes. If you wouldn’t mind…’

  Thirty minutes later, I had prepped the dough and it was sat neatly in a bowl, proving. I cleared the work surface and left it as gleaming as if it were my own.

  ‘How do you do that?’ Jenny said from the chair she was now sitting in, relaxing with a cup of coffee.

  ‘Do what?’ I asked.

  ‘Make it look such a breeze. You come in here every week and look like you haven’t got a care in the world.’

  My laugh came out like a tremble. ‘Well, looks can be deceptive.’

  Sometimes I felt ready to spill everything about my fairy tale dream that was unravelling back home. Jenny frowned at me and cocked her head. ‘Surely not you, Grace. You have it all. A wonderful house and husband. No kids! God, all that time to yourself to think!’

  ‘Well, sometimes having too much time to think is not good.’ I wiped my hands on my apron and looked down at my feet.

  Jenny took a deep breath in ‘Well, yes. That’s true. I would go mad if I didn’t have my three to distract me.’

  ‘Yes, it’s a shame not to see little Mikee down there today.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry. He’ll back causing havoc next week!’

  ‘Ah, he’s no bother.’

  ‘No, you’re right. He’s a good boy. I couldn’t have asked for a better child.’

  ‘You’re very lucky, Jenny,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know, Grace.’ Jenny smoothed her hands over her tiny bump and we both fell silent for a few moments; each of us immersed in our own thoughts. ‘Can’t wait to see how my bread has turned out! Although you will have to take all the glory for nurturing it back to life for me. You are very kind, Grace.’ She leant forward and touched my arm. ‘You’ll make a wonderful mother one day.’ And as though Jenny had just cast a spell over me, I suddenly felt an overwhelming sensation – a fire was alight in my belly. I knew I would be a good mother. I would often imagine myself pattering down the hallway to tend to the baby at all hours of the night, whilst my happy husband slept contentedly in our bed. The next morning he would tweak the cheek of his son or daughter and kiss me on the head before heading blithely to work, content that everything was as it should be.

  Jenny was so good for me. She kept me going, she made me believe that one day I would become a mother I was destined to be. So I held on to that thought and never let it go.

  Daisy

  I left Patrick’s before 9 a.m., grabbing the radio and squeezing it into my handbag. The thought of having a little music, something familiar to listen to, was already bringing me a flicker of comfort. Patrick was sprawled on the couch when I left him, vowing to fulfil his promise to Eve and go to bed for a month. I hadn’t slept well at all and I had a longing to get back to Annie’s. I had thrown Patrick’s words around in my mind for too long in bed, preventing myself from sleeping. As I walked along I gave myself a talking to, stop overthinking everything, Daisy, you’re in shock and grieving.

  I breathed in the bracing fresh air and walked the short distance to the gym where a few weeks ago I was teaching classes, when the new year had just begun and I had felt a great sense of positivity for the future. It frightened me just how quickly everything had changed.

  Once inside the gym, I sought out the manager, Craig. He was sat at a table in the café, wearing a crisp white polo shirt with his tanned biceps exploding out of the bottom of the short sleeves. I approached him from behind and kept my eyes focused on his bald head, which he shaved regularly to make it appear as though his lack of hair was his own choice and not nature’s. I arrived next to him as he took a sip of his cappuccino from a cup that looked comically tiny next to his huge arms and hands. He looked me up and down. I knew I didn’t look my best although I had made an effort with my hair and I was wearing something fairly sporty.

  ‘I lost everything in the fire, Craig,’ I said, noting his look of disgust.

  Craig rested his gaze for too long on my protruding stomach.

  ‘Come on, Daisy, you know as well as I do that this is a prestigious gym. People want to see… well… not that.’ He motioned up and down to me with one hand whilst turning and sipping his coffee with the other. I narrowed my eyes at him and looked at how his comedy-sized muscles twitched and flexed even as he sat drinking coffee.

  ‘So can I get my classes back?’ I said in my best matter-of-fact tone. Craig had never got over my rejection after he brazenly tried it on with me at the staff party two years ago and it was apparent he was going to use his position of power to reap his revenge.

  He pulled his lips in and shook his head. ‘No can do, Daisy. It’s been weeks. I didn’t hear a word from you. Girls are falling over themselves to get work here.’ He motioned to the other side of the room where a buxom blonde girl was chatting animatedly to another member of staff. Her pink Lycra leotard and matching sweat band made her look like a Barbie doll.

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Oh, please.’ I looked at Craig as he sipped his coffee and eyed up Barbie. ‘And by the way, do you have any empathy?’

  Craig looked at me and then looked over at Barbie, keeping his creepy gaze firmly upon her rear end.

  ‘I guess not,’ I said, and turned and walked away.

  It was all I needed to hear to set me back again. I looked tatty, I was tired, my skin looked rough. At this stage of pregnancy I was supposed to blooming, preparing for a new life. A life that was relying on me t
o be strong. But I was a mess, I had already made so many mistakes and caused so much pain and now I was losing everything all over again. I felt hopeless and lost. My car was parked at Patrick’s flat where I had left it before the funeral. I thought about the tablets Annie gave me so freely and how they made me feel nothing. I wanted to feel nothing. I thought about where I needed to be. I hurried back to my car and drove towards the sanctuary of Annie’s beach house.

  Annie

  Knowing someone else was in the house was a comfort, especially now Ben was gone. I enjoyed the notion of cooking for someone other than myself. I didn’t want to become one of those women who lived off a single cod fillet in parsley sauce with a boil in the bag rice, it was too depressing to even contemplate. It had always been the same. I overcompensated every time, with the amount of food I bought and the amount I cooked. I threw masses away every day, I just couldn’t help myself. There was an innate need to cook for a family.

  The notion that Daisy was going to be staying around for longer than initially anticipated should have perturbed me. The girl had always been a threat in my eyes; the enemy. She was, after all, the reason Ben was no longer here. What I knew about her made my stomach turn and she was never going to win any moral awards in my books, yet somewhere within me the thought of having someone around the house bore a comforting feeling. And I had a job as a grandparent to make sure that baby was born safely. I had no interest in the girl. The way she carried herself, even in her grief-stricken state, she still had an air of superiority about her that resonated deeply with me. But I could overcome that, look beyond her slim tall frame that glided around with her golden hair cascading down her back behind her which emphasised her effortless beauty. The words made me want to spit, but I couldn’t stop them being true.

  I had missed Ben terribly after he left to be with her. So I couldn’t help myself if a smidgen of life about the house, however repulsed I was by it, was in some small way a comfort to me. Besides, now there was another reason I was needed. The baby Daisy was carrying was my grandchild. I had a purpose again. So however alarming and alien I had felt her presence initially it was better than being alone. I was never any good at being alone. It makes me slightly mad, I feel unhinged, and then who knows what I’m capable of?

  Grace

  I arrived at the cookery school that morning as though I was carrying a glow around me. Something had occurred overnight. Just when I thought it was all over, that I would never become a mother and my marriage was truly over, my husband was there beside me, He had been sleeping downstairs for some time, then just last night he came to me quietly. I had been asleep for over an hour when I heard the bedroom door open. At first I was alarmed. I sat up in bed holding the sheets to me for protection. Then he climbed in next to me. He embraced me gently and then with such vigour that I had never before experienced. He left as quietly as he had arrived. I thought he would stay and sleep next to me, but he picked up his pile of clothes from next to the bed and he was gone. The next morning as I tuned in occasionally to the pleasant ache between my legs, I couldn’t keep the smile from my face.

  At Emily’s house I kept thinking about my husband and I in bed. From time to time, I tried to push it aside, other times I played it out in my mind, toying with it like a cat with a mouse; attempting to hang on to every move and breath when he was next to me for those few brief minutes.

  Then there was Jenny. Sweet, beautiful Jenny. Pregnant with her fourth child. I looked on at her with such hope and inspiration. I clung to the notion that there was a possibility that my husband and I had created another life just a few hours previously as I watched her swelling belly make its way around the room, receiving a stroke here and pat here from her fellow cooks.

  I watched with hope and anticipation, that soon that was going to me. Maybe my husband coming to me was his attempt at a reconciliation. Maybe he hadn’t given up.

  That night as I lay in bed alone, I prayed.

  Daisy

  It seemed Annie was quite giddy to have me back. And it was a relief to be back amongst the few things I could call my own. I was a little confused as I’d presumed she would want me as far away as possible, especially with Ben not here. But I was starting to think that the baby had maybe had some effect on her, the idea of becoming a grandparent was becoming a reality and that maybe I could be someone that she could care for. Now I needed to make sure the idea of me becoming a parent became a reality. For so long now I knew I had been pushing the idea aside and not truly accepting that it was going to happen. But it was hard. Even though I knew what I needed to do I still couldn’t force the feelings to come. It was too reminiscent of my past. I was scared. And the one person I needed to be here, so I could off load all of my fears, was gone. Perhaps if I had been honest with Ben in the first place, then maybe he would have stayed, realised just how much he was needed.

  Ben still hadn’t answered any of my calls and I was at a loss to know what to do. When I hadn’t heard anything from him on the day of Eve’s funeral, well, I was trying not to think too hard about the words I wanted to use. I had already insulted him enough. Annie was right. I didn’t know him. A few months isn’t long enough to know someone you decide to spend the rest of your life with. I had been stupid and impulsive. But that didn’t take away the ache that I felt, I missed him so much it hurt in my gut. It seemed no painkiller or pill could stop that.

  I was still so unused to the whining and the creaking of the old house that I was really feeling the impact of the noise, far more than perhaps I would have done had I been living in the comfort of my own flat. I tried to focus on the other sounds the house offered but my mind always seemed to be drawn back to the high clanking sound. It was almost melodic, like a beat and, as a dancer, I automatically heard music wherever I went. Certain sounds like the creaking of a drawer opening, or the beeping sound of the telephone as it went back into the holster, always sounded like the beginning notes of a familiar song. It amused me and I would have the beginning of a song in my head for ages after hanging up after a call or shutting my old oak drawers. The thought of my drawers burnt to a cinder distressed me. Then I thought of Eve and hated myself for caring for an inanimate object.

  Annie had fussed around me when I returned from Patrick’s. She didn’t ask any specific questions about how the day had gone, but I was grateful she was there. But I soon tired of her fluttering about me and I went upstairs to be alone.

  I went to the plug socket in the corner of the room and took out of my handbag the small digital radio Patrick had kindly lent me. I tuned it into a local radio station and heard the beginning of a favourite R&B track. I nudged up the volume and began swaying gently to the music, allowing my hips to familiarise themselves with the beats I had so often become immersed in on a dance floor or during an aerobics class. I was instantly thrown back to my uni days with Eve and I closed my eyes as I remembered our many nights out drinking until dawn and stumbling home with the DJ’s classic tunes still ringing in our ears. It had only been a few weeks, a matter of days really, since Eve was snatched away but right then, with the heavy insistent beat folding itself around me and bringing with it the euphoria I always felt when dancing, she could have been with me in the room. I even allowed a smile to creep across my lips as I felt a few firm kicks from the baby as it showed its appreciation of the bass line.

  There was a loud bang and I turned around to see Annie making her way passed me. She had flung open the door, which slammed against the wall in her haste to get to the radio on the other side of the room. When she reached it, she snatched the plug out of the wall socket.

  I stood in the middle of the room, baffled by her raucous entrance.

  ‘Annie, what are you doing?’ I wailed – my body had been shocked out of sedation and I was bordering on fight or flight mode.

  ‘I will not have radios in this house, Daisy!’ Annie yelled as she stood in the middle of the room clutching the radio to her chest her eyes wide, her jaw tense. She was breathi
ng fast.

  ‘What? Why, Annie, I didn’t mean any harm with it. I missed hearing music and Patrick lent it to me.’ I took one step to approach her. ‘I’m sorry if it was a little loud. I can keep it down or find some headphones.’ I scanned the room.

  Annie took in a deep breath and put her hand over her mouth as she let it out slowly. Then she smoothed her hair down and brought the radio down away from her chest, the thin wire hung limply next to her.

  ‘I would appreciate it if you would not play it at all, Daisy.’ Annie’s voice was softer but wavering.

  I narrowed my eyes at her, unable to work out what the outburst was about. But I was tired. It had been a long few days and Eve’s funeral had taken it out of me.

  ‘Okay,’ I said bluntly. As I looked directly at Annie, I held out my hand for the radio. Annie locked eyes with me and then slowly handed the radio over.

  ‘I cannot hear it again, Daisy. I must insist.’

  I nodded and watched as Annie strode out of the room.

  I blew out a breath. The tune was still in my ears, the whole incident had happened in a matter of seconds. I reluctantly placed the radio on the floor in the corner all the while churning over thoughts of Annie’s agitation over it, and whether she hated electrical devices or was it just the music she couldn’t stand. I wasn’t about to ask her either. I checked my phone and saw two messages from Patrick telling me he would miss me and to call him soon. Then my mind was no longer on Annie and her rage over the music, instead I was thinking of Patrick and the last words he spoke to me last night.

  ‘I loved her furiously, with so much passion, sometimes I had to conceal it because I feared I may damage her.’