Thirty years of poisonous put-downs, family humiliation and Christmas dinners from hell. Trudy Palmer has endured her mother-in-law, nicknamed Napalm, long enough. But this Christmas, an unexpected guest witnesses the carnage, and the festive celebrations take a spectacular turn.
By Chris Harris
Trudy Palmer had a nickname for her mother-in-law, Nana Palmer. Napalm. A word that fully encompassed her vile behaviour towards her daughter-in-law. Her precious son, Willis, had always married, as far as Napalm was concerned, well beneath her high and incredibly unreasonable expectations. Willis himself was a feckless character who had never held down a proper job for longer than a year, spending his life propping up the bar in the Red Lion in Denham and sleeping it off in his big shed, where he tended his model railway and associated ephemera.
The family had always been supported by Trudy’s job at the local council. It was a job she hated nearly as much as her mother-in-law. Napalm’s regular handouts had left Willis feeling a career was unnecessary, especially when he could spend his days idling. Life was simply too busy for Trudy to do what everyone suggested: get divorced. The kids all had jobs now and lived with their partners; nothing stopped her except taking the final step and the associated ‘complications’.
For thirty years, she’d endured her curt remarks, her put-downs, the tales of Willis’s previous partners and how wonderful they were, and how all the problems of the grandchildren, which were clearly caused by the poor role model of a father, were down to Trudy. Trudy smiled through. After all, it was only really birthdays and every other Christmas she had to endure her, taking turns with his brother, David, who, she was always made perfectly aware, had married a far more appropriate woman.
They would go to the George and Dragon in Denham. Always the second sitting. This was the one thing Trudy always insisted on, so that she could get herself half-cut beforehand, in preparation for the remorseless onslaught of snide remarks.
Her two grandchildren, Ross and Laura, like her son, could do no wrong. At best, you would describe their adult lives as average to flawed. But through the prism of Napalm’s skewed viewpoint, a blind eye was turned to these.
It came as no surprise when Willis declared to her at the end of the summer that, guess what? His brother and his wife, Tina, were going skiing over Christmas, so it would be Napalm for Christmas two years running. The first thing she thought was good on Tina. They would often dream together of going away for Christmas and not having to put up with the poisonous old cow. She bore her no malice for the subterfuge. This is what she’d have done if they could afford to.
The other thing that sprang to mind was how pissed off she was that he told her at the end of the summer, which meant she had four months to contemplate what was sure to be a completely miserable occasion. It was made even worse this year because her precious canine friend, Beano, had died recently. For six Christmases out of twelve, she would walk the dog Christmas morning to the top of the South Downs near her and let out the most extraordinary yell to let it all out and thus begin her preparations for dealing with and hearing about everything she did wrong.
She actually tried to get the first sitting at the George and Dragon, thinking she’d go out for a walk in the morning anyway and take a bottle of vodka, and then at least it would be over by two o’clock; the traditional later sitting could drag on until six. But it turned out the fancy man was coming, and he saw his children in the morning.
They’d never met the fancy man, although he’d been around for ten years. They lived separately and just seemed to go on cruises together. So, they imagined it was all just companionship. After all, what man in his right mind could put up with her permanently?
Like Lady Muck, she alighted from Horace’s brand-new Tesla, trying to look like the cat that got the cream. Trudy had compromised and already been on the sherry. She knew whisky or vodka would be more appropriate to knock her out, but the sherry would be enough to cushion the blows without making her look drunk.
What surprised her most was the warmth of Horace’s handshake and his sly little wink. Maybe Horace had the measure of her and had probably worked out that she wasn’t the evil person Napalm made her out to be. The sons’ and daughters’ partners had made their excuses. They’d been around long enough to have already been through one Christmas dinner with Napalm, and that was one Christmas dinner too many. So, they’d agreed to come over later and avoid the dragon.
But this was fine for Napalm because it meant she’d be more the centre of attention, and her put-downs of Trudy more focused and effective. They’d already pre-booked the food. Horace kindly ordered a bottle of champagne as the floor passed to Napalm. The first thing she commented on, loud enough for all the surrounding tables to hear, was that they had three cruises booked for next year. Not just cruises, but posh cruises. Trudy hoped the bragging would drag on for a while.
“Oh, isn’t it lovely? Your brother’s going on a skiing trip. He must be doing really well at work.”
Trudy never understood this line of attack on her, as she was the only one who worked. She’d have loved Willis to have a job so they could do nice things together, but she’d long ago accepted him for what he was.
“Oh, and have you seen the plans for his new conservatory? David’s always been so sensible with money. Willis, bless him, has never been terribly good with finances. Of course, I don’t suppose that’s entirely his fault.”
“Forgive me, but what does Willis actually do for a living?” Horace pointedly asked.
“He’s between things at the moment,” Napalm replied, clearly surprised at the intervention.
Silence swept over the table as the dynamics briefly shifted, with Napalm wrongfooted.
They began their starters. Napalm hadn’t ordered one, clearly thinking she’d have more time to denigrate Trudy if she wasn’t chewing on food.
But the bubbles continued to blend nicely with the sherry, Horace sensing Trudy’s discomfort and doing the only thing he could to ease Trudy’s ordeal, leaving her feeling a bit more cheerful about things. She’d been dreading it for four months, and in a few hours it would be over. She looked lovely in her new dress, which she’d paid a lot of money for at Marks and Spencer’s.
“Oh, is that another of your charity shop bargains? You look lovely in it, Trudy.”
“No, it’s from Marks and Spencer’s.”
“Oh, really? Oh, it doesn’t look it.”
Horace shifted uncomfortably.
“I see your brother’s twins are both going to try and get into Oxford. I hear they’ve got a really good chance.”
Horace interjected. “I understand both your children work in the health profession. Mine do too.” She’d previously bragged to them that his son worked in Harley Street and his daughter was a top-ranking civil servant in the Health Department, whereas Trudy’s children were both nurses, something she was very proud of. She smiled at Horace, acknowledging his slightly clumsy but kind attempt at equalising the professions.
“Well, never mind. Hopefully they’ll go to university one day. They’re still young enough to get proper jobs.”
This was always her biggest disappointment in Trudy: that she hadn’t made the children go into further education. She ignored the fact that Trudy had tried to talk them into it for years, and it was Willis who had always said, “Well, they’re happy. They should just do what they’re doing.” But this really got to Trudy because it was just the usual manipulation.
“Do you think they will?” Horace asked. She couldn’t rebuke Napalm, but Horace had worked this out, so he opened the floor for her.
“I’ve been hassling them since they were sixteen to go to university and will continue to do so.”
This left Napalm to momentarily retreat as she glared daggers at Horace.
They were getting to the end of the main course, and she could see the light at the end of the tunnel as she consumed more of the second bottle of champagne than she probably should have done. But it worked a treat. I’m not going to rise to her bait. She’d done that a few years ago and come off worse, with Willis and the children taking Napalm’s side for the sake of diplomacy.
They’d been waiting a while for their puddings when the waiter came over. “I’m afraid there’ll be about a further twenty-minute delay.” A smile broke over Napalm’s face. The next twenty minutes were hell for Trudy as she was picked to pieces.
“Goodness, Trudy, you have enjoyed that champagne, haven’t you? I’ve always admired people who can drink quite so much in the middle of the day.” Horace rolled his eyes and shifted uncomfortably.
She drew breath. Trudy wondered whether it was all ad-libbed or whether she had spent weeks planning each insult.
“I do sometimes wonder whether Willis might have achieved more if he’d had a little encouragement at home. He was such a clever boy at school. So much potential. But some men do need a wife who pushes them, don’t they?”
She always did this when the alcohol hit that biting point; she began to see the funny side and even started feeling sorry for Napalm and her pent-up bitterness. It was nearly over.
“I do admire your bravery in not dyeing your hair. The grey makes you look a lot older, but that suits you.”
As the puddings arrived, Horace got up to go to the toilet. Napalm continued her personality slaughter whilst they waited for him to return. “Can we start, Mum? Maybe he’s got bad guts or something.” She was a big pudding person and gave the go-ahead. Trudy wondered whether she needed the sugar to try to make her a bit sweeter.
But still Horace hadn’t returned. This didn’t seem to concern Napalm, whose priority appeared to be eating her pudding as quickly as she could to resume hostilities, pronto. Willis got up. “I’ll go and check, see if he’s okay. Must be in the toilet, or maybe he’s just getting some fresh air outside.” But he came back five minutes later, and there was no Horace. This was outstanding from Trudy’s point of view, sensing something was going awry, a distraction. Concern started to show on Napalm’s face. “Oh God, I hope he’s all right. He does have a few health problems. You obviously didn’t look properly, Willis. I’ll go and have a look.”
Her phone shuddered on the table, his picture appearing on the screen. Willis read the message, and his face turned to horror. “What is it?” Trudy said.
“Oh dear, dear, dear, a slight problem.”
“What does it say?”
Your behaviour towards that lovely lady is disgusting. You’ll not be seeing me again.
A Christmas like no other. A smile broke out on Trudy’s face, trying her hardest not to look too jubilant. Before anyone could gather their thoughts and a strategy to cushion the blow, Napalm returned, read the text and turned to Trudy.
“See what you’ve done now.”
Make both our days by buying a copy of my book!
Something About England: Amazon.co.uk: Harris, Mr Christopher, Turner, Louise: 9798181129351: Books
Welcome to Denham, a fictitious Sussex village where behind respectable doors, well-tended gardens and familiar faces, things have a habit of going badly wrong.
Obsession, ambition, deception, jealousy and petty rivalry run through this collection of tragi-comical and satirical short stories. From poltergeists and lottery winners to cricket club feuds and environmental disasters, ordinary people embark on discovering just how quickly an ordinary life can unravel into an extraordinary mess.
Darkly funny, occasionally poignant and populated by characters who are rarely quite what they seem, these stories explore the peculiarities of Middle England, and the uncomfortable territory between respectability and ruin.
