**A Flower in the Shadows**
Eleanor stood before the mirror in her bedroom, adjusting the soft curls framing her face and applying the final touches to her makeup. Her new blue dress flowed effortlessly over her slender frame, accentuating her delicate grace. She smiled at her reflection, her heart fluttering in anticipation of the evening ahead. Tonight, she and her husband, James, had been invited to dinner with friends in Manchester, and she wanted to look perfect.
“Alright, I’m ready!” she said, turning toward James as he buttoned his blazer.
“Ellie, you look stunning,” he murmured, his eyes warm with affection.
They stepped into the hallway, and James called out toward the kitchen, “Mum, we’re off! We’ll be back late!”
“Alright, love, I’ll wait up!” answered Margaret, stepping out to see them off. But at the sight of Eleanor, she froze—her gaze sharp and icy as a blade.
“My goodness, Margaret, you’re so lucky to have such wonderful children!” Eleanor’s mother-in-law, Elizabeth, had once smiled, embracing Margaret at a family gathering.
Eleanor’s father, standing nearby, had beamed with pride. “Our Ellie’s a gem—you’ll adore her, just wait.”
“Oh, but let’s not just talk about Ellie,” Elizabeth had quickly added. “Your James is such a fine young man! They make such a beautiful couple—like they were made for each other!”
*”Of course they’d sing James’s praises. A man like him, tangled up with plain little Eleanor. Even her name is dull—hardly worth a second glance. As if I’d ever show her off proudly.”* Margaret had seethed behind her tight-lipped smile.
James had married against his parents’ wishes. To them, Eleanor had never been good enough—too ordinary, too unassuming. And then he’d moved her in with them, claiming they were saving for a flat of their own. *How long will we endure this?*
*”Did I raise my son for this?”* Margaret had fumed.
“William and I are delighted too,” she’d replied flatly, her tone betraying every bitter thought she hid. But Eleanor’s parents, oblivious, had simply beamed.
That night, they’d brought a cake for tea, inspected the young couple’s living arrangements, and left soon after—Margaret had no interest in bonding.
She and William had even offered extra money for the down payment, desperate to hasten their departure. Deep down, Margaret hoped James would come to his senses before children complicated things.
But James and Eleanor carried on as though their love were unshakable. They never quarrelled; they exchanged tender glances that baffled Margaret. Her son—always so stubborn and argumentative—was softer with Eleanor. Before her, he’d never stayed with anyone long—always losing interest. But with Eleanor, he embraced even the smallest things she did.
Even William had warmed to her. Once, when Eleanor served homemade bread with lard—brought fresh from her parents’ countryside home—he’d devoured it with his soup, praising the meal.
Margaret had stormed into the kitchen. “Eleanor! William shouldn’t be eating this—he’s watching his weight!”
“William eats porridge in front of you, then sneaks sausages from the fridge at night,” Eleanor had replied calmly. “Starving won’t help—eating sensibly will. A little of everything is healthier.”
*”The audacity!”* Margaret had thought but held her tongue.
Eleanor’s parents, meanwhile, were thrilled.
“We saved her dowry, so we’ll help with the flat,” Elizabeth had gushed. “Thank you for taking them in!”
*”Our kin?”* Margaret had scoffed silently.
But Eleanor kept interfering. When William had once dressed for a meeting, she’d suggested, “Try a polo shirt, no tie. More relaxed.”
Margaret hadn’t intervened in time. He’d changed, visibly relieved—he’d always hated stiff formality. The meeting had been a success; the client had praised his straightforwardness.
Another day, Margaret had been dressing for her book club, reaching for her usual pearls and tailored dress. But Eleanor had chimed in unprompted: “Your figure’s incredible—try jeans and a belted jacket. You’ll look ten years younger!”
Margaret had rolled her eyes but glanced in the mirror—and gasped. She *did* look fresher, more vibrant. The compliments from her friends had been endless.
The house had grown lighter with Eleanor in it.
“Mum, I *told* you—Ellie just *knows* things,” James had said. “She’s brilliant. And beautiful.”
“Her instincts are uncanny,” Margaret had admitted. “But beautiful? Sorry, love, I’m blunt. Though they do say beauty’s in the eye of the beholder.”
James had only grinned. “You’ll see.”
Margaret had grown used to Eleanor bare-faced, in simple jumpers. But one evening, when they were invited to a party, Eleanor had transformed—her hair swept up, her makeup delicate, her best dress draped elegantly over her frame.
“Mum, we’re off!” James had called.
Margaret had stepped into the hall and stopped dead. Eleanor looked radiant.
“Good heavens, Ellie—you’re like a blooming rose!” She’d dashed for her jewellery box. “Take my pendant—it’s perfect. James, you’re right. She’s not just clever—she’s *glorious*.”
“Mum, she’s always been glorious to me,” James had said softly.
“Thank your father and me for raising you right,” Margaret had teased, pulling them both into a hug. “With her instincts, she’d never have settled for less!”
“Actually…” James had begun. “The flat’s taking time, but the baby—that’s happening sooner. We’ll rent somewhere.”
“*Absolutely not!*” Margaret had cut in. “We’ve plenty of room. And—how would we manage without Ellie? She’s brought nothing but joy!”
**P.S.** When the grandson arrived, Margaret had phoned all her friends.
“Ladies, *listen*—choose your daughters-in-law wisely! Our boy has James’s eyes, my chin, and William’s curls! They’ve named him Oliver—Ellie’s choice. And mark my words—he’ll grow up every bit as kind and clever as she is!”
