Annie retrieved something from the dresser then walked back over to the table and placed a small package in front of me. I glanced down and saw a delightful neat square box, wrapped in silver paper with a thin pink bow on the top. I looked at Ben. He shook his head, just as surprised.

‘What’s this?’ I placed my knife and fork together on my plate and gently dabbed my mouth with the paper napkin. My heart started to quicken. I hadn’t always feared present opening. I do remember a time as a little girl when tearing open the wrapping paper was done without inhibition. But then there was one time, when I was in a room, tentatively opening presents on a day that should have been filled with such happiness – yet I had never felt more alone. And I guess that memory stuck harder.

‘Well, open it and see, dear.’ Annie busied herself with clearing the plates.

I carefully peeled away the paper as though there could be something inside that might bite me. I stole intermittent glances at Ben, who shrugged his shoulders, indicating his ignorance. Inside the paper was a small grey box. I let out a gasp. I imagined inside there’d be an antique ring or brooch handed down from generations and now it was being given to me. The thought of owning something so precious and possibly expensive suddenly filled me with excitement. Maybe this was why Annie was so put out at not being involved with the wedding, she obviously had kept this for Ben’s big day. The thought of receiving such a grand present when we had not involved Ben’s mother or anyone else in our wedding made me wonder if we did the right thing by marrying so quickly. It had never crossed my mind before. I hadn’t even invited my best friend, Eve, and Ben never mentioned any regret. But the feeling reared itself and so I prepared myself to shower Annie with gracious thank yous. I removed the lid and there before me were words, bold in black, surrounded by a trail of flowers, painted on a small ceramic plaque.

Daughter-in-law

A child that destiny forgot to give you.

My first instinct was to stifle the involuntary laugh that nearly came out so when I did speak my voice was high and strained.

‘Oh, thank you, Annie. That’s so lovely. Thoughtful. Isn’t it? Look, Ben.’ I took the plaque out of its box and displayed it in front of Ben’s face, to take some of the pressure off my own poor performance of gratitude. Only then did I see the back and realise the plaque was a fridge magnet, and probably the sort of thing you would pick up from a pound shop.

‘Wow, that’s gorgeous Mum. So thoughtful. Well done,’ Ben looked at me and gave me a sympathetic smile. I realised it was not novel to him, this was possibly the sort of thing he received regularly.