The Mother-in-Law, Football, and a Tiny Miracle
All through Saturday lunch, James couldn’t sit still—fidgeting in his chair, shooting nervous glances at the clock. Finally, he cracked.
“Darling, do you have any idea what’s happening today?”
“Hm? What’s happening?” replied Emily, his wife, with all the enthusiasm of a wet weekend in Manchester.
“How can you ask that? It’s Saturday! Have you completely forgotten?”
“James, why are you so jumpy?” She smirked. “I haven’t forgotten anything. I just fancied a quiet day at home—with you and the kids.”
“What about your mum?” he blurted. “She’s not ill, is she?”
“Mum? Where did that come from? She’s perfectly fine.”
“It’s just…” James sighed dramatically. “Something feels off! Maybe she’s poorly, and you’re not even planning to check on her?”
“Have you lost the plot? We spoke for ages yesterday! She’s absolutely grand.”
“Right… So that’s why she’s not here today. Now it all makes sense.”
“James, stop it! You’re clearly up to something.”
“Fine, I’ll admit it,” he conceded. “There’s a massive match today! Our lot against the toughest rivals. I promised the lads… I’ve got to be there!”
“Ohhh,” Emily drawled, her smile dripping with irony. “So, let me guess—you’re sneaking off to watch football again?”
“It’s not just football! It’s practically a historic battle!”
“Yes, yes, I get it,” she chuckled. “Speaking of honesty, I might as well confess: I specifically asked Mum not to come today.”
“What?! You did that on purpose?!” James shot up from his chair, eyes wide. “Why?!”
“And why were you planning to sneak off without telling me?”
“Because I was counting on your lovely mum turning up, chatting your ear off, and setting me free!”
“Well, she’s not coming. No freedom for you.”
“But… I already told the boys! This is betrayal!”
“That’s your problem, not mine. Ring them up and say your wife won’t let you go.”
“That’s not a thing!”
“It is now,” Emily said breezily. “And another thing—you’re not going without the kids.”
“What kids?!”
“OUR kids, James. The ones you allegedly adore. Take them with you.”
“But it’s rowdy! The atmosphere! It’s no place for children!”
“Why not?”
“Because our lot will probably lose again! The stands will be fuming!”
“There!” Emily smirked in triumph. “You admitted it yourself: your team’s rubbish. Why bother watching them fail?”
“Because… because I believe in miracles, Emily! Today could be the day everything changes! I’m holding out hope—maybe, just maybe, my saviour will ring the doorbell… and in she’ll waltz—my dear mother-in-law.”
At that very moment, the doorbell chimed through the flat.
James bolted upright like he’d been electrocuted and dashed to the hallway. A second later, a delighted shout echoed from the front door:
“Margaret! I knew you wouldn’t let me down! You absolute legend!”
“Save the flattery, son-in-law,” came the cheerful reply. “We both know you love football more than me.”
“Mum!” Emily groaned from the kitchen. “What are you doing here? We had a deal!”
“Oh, come now, love,” said Margaret, sweeping into the living room and hugging her daughter. “I couldn’t miss today—it’s a proper match!”
“Mum, don’t be daft! They’ll bottle it, like always!”
“But what if they don’t? James and I still have faith!”
“Speaking of which—where are my grandkids?” she added.
“Where do you think?” Emily muttered. “Still asleep. They were up half the night with their dad watching the last game.”
Margaret looked at her daughter, then at James, and declared with mock gravity:
“High time you signed them up for football lessons. Let ’em learn the joys of the beautiful game.”
“Brilliant idea, Margaret,” James nodded eagerly. “I’ll sort it soon. But right now… I’ve got to dash. Running late as it is.”
And with that, he shot out of the kitchen like a man whose team had just won the Premier League.
