Hello, Margaret, said Poppy, her voice bright as a morning kettle. Its me, your future daughterinlaw. When would be a good time for us to meet and have a chat?
Margaret Thompson felt a twitch of anxiety the moment she heard future daughterinlaw. Her son David hadnt mentioned any plans to settle down, let alone with a woman whose name sounded like a spring flower.
Good afternoon, Poppy. Ill be home at six oclock. Come over, she replied, trying to sound welcoming while her mind ran a mental marathon.
*What could she possibly want to discuss?* she mused. *Is she pregnant? Or perhaps shes plotting to get David to finally buy that flat in Chelsea?* She imagined the whole thing as a grand scheme to push David into marriagesomething shed seen happen far too often.
Hes an architect with a promising future, a decent flat, a sensible car, good looks, sharp witan enviable catch. Margaret thought, halfadmiring, halfresentful. Any girl would be lucky, she muttered, but he chose this littlewell, lets just say petite one.
She tidied the living room, popped out to the corner shop for a few biscuits, and tried to shake off the unease. Shed only met Poppy a handful of times, and from the first encounter she hadnt taken a shine to her. David had introduced them, then invited Poppy over for tea and a catchup. After every visit, Margaret would relay all her opinions about the girl to David.
Son, cant you find any other girl? Why her? Shes nothing to look atskinny, small, hardly a head turner. Men these days fancy someone a bit more spectacular. Shes not right for you!
Mom, I love her. Shes amazing, and she cooks a divine shepherds pie! David would say, eyes bright.
That was the last straw. Margaret had always praised her own cooking, but now this newcomer was outshining her with a dish that made David swoon.
Poppy arrived right on the dot, bearing a basket of scones with clottedcream fillingMargarets favourite. Ah, clever, trying to butter me up, Margaret thought with a raised eyebrow.
Mrs. Thompson, I wont beat around the bush. David proposed, and I said yes. Hes waiting for the right moment to tell you. Hes nervous youll take the news badly.
Of course, dear. Why should I be upset? Margaret replied, trying to keep the sarcasm under control.
Id like to discuss a little arrangement, Poppy said, lowering her voice. You raised David on your own. He married because he thought a child was on the horizon, but the marriage didnt work out. Your husband left early, and I lost my dad when I was a teen. I know what a oneparent household feels like.
You poured your whole heart into your son. Thank you for that. Hes wellmannered, kind, and thoughtfulyour masterpiece, really.
Margaret gave a slow nod. Hes as he is. Thats on him, not on me.
Poppy pressed on. You dream of David marrying a beautiful, successful, wealthy woman. Then here I amsmall, ordinary, from a modest background, salary not in the stratosphere. A poor match in your eyes. Youre torn, dont know how to stop him marrying me, right?
Margaret shrugged. Exactly.
Picture this: David wont listen to you. Hes determined. Youll try to sway him, youll argue, and youll both end up at odds. Youll skip the wedding, Im sure of it. Hell ignore you. Ill have a child, David will tell you, but youll stubbornly refuse to see the grandchild. You wont acknowledge our marriage, nor our baby.
My mum will dote on the grandson, tell bedtime stories, spoil him rotten. Shell be the worlds favourite grandma. Poppy smiled. Meanwhile youll sit alone in your flat, watching telly, feeling like the universe has left you behind. Holidays will be especially bleakeveryone celebrating with families while youre left to sip tea for one. Your health will slip, youll be in hospital, and visitors will be limited to the neighbour and a chatty aunt. The son and his terrible wife wont bother you.
In the end youll live out your days alone, never knowing how your grandchild grew up, no one will call you Grandma, no one will wish you a happy birthday. And that, dear Margaret, would be your own choice.
Or it could go the other way. After I leave, youll think it over, and as a wise, loving mother youll accept Davids decision because if he loves me, there must be a reason.
She paused, a hint of a grin breaking through. Im not that terrible. At work people like me, my mother says I have a good heart, Im a decent person. Ill be a good wife and mum. Most importantly, I love your son, and he loves me.
When David tells you he intends to marry, praise him, say you support his choice. I know you might never feel affection for me, but a little courtesy and tact will go a long way.
I dont harbor any warm feelings for you either, but Im willing to change that.
At the wedding well give you a place of honour. Youll get to admire your son and, occasionally, me. When I have a child, youll be a welcome guest. Our child will have two loving grandmothershow lovely is that?
Ill never utter a harsh word about you, and you wont say one about me.
We share a common goal: making David happy. So lets work together. Think it over and give me a ring when youve decided. Thanks for the tea, Mrs. Thompson. All the best!
After Poppy left, Margaret sank into the armchair by the window, contemplating. She was convinced she was right. After all, it had always been this way, and it would stay that way.
What did she gain from disliking her future daughterinlaw? Watching David argue with her, try to convince himsure, hed be upset, but hed still marry. Hed sparkle when he looked at Poppy, even if mothers shepherds pie no longer tasted as divine to him
What would Margaret win? Nothing. Shed cling to her grudge while another grandma cooed over the grandchild. She wanted that too, but couldnt have it. Ifno, it wouldnt happen if
Hello, Poppy Im willing to go along with your arrangement. I dont want to sit around feeling sorry for myself. Ill be friendly with my son, which means Ill have to be friendly with you too. And youll bring the grandkid over on weekends, alright? Also, whats your secret ingredient that makes David love the shepherds pie so much?
Poppy laughed. Mrs. Thompson, your pie is not half bad, I assure you. The secret is a pinch of nutmeg. Im glad youve accepted the deal; itll be best for everyone. David was right when he said youre a smart, loving mum!
Three years later
David, love, look at little Andrew squintinghes a spitting image of you! What a splendid lad, Im over the moon to have a grandchild. And thank you, Poppy, for that little agreement we made.
What agreement? David asked, feigning innocence.
Oh, just a little family secret between us, Poppy winked.
Margaret and Poppy exchanged a conspiratorial glance and both winked back.
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