Mother-in-Law, Football, and a Little Miracle
All through Saturday lunch, Oliver couldn’t sit still—fidgeting in his chair, glancing nervously at the clock. Finally, he snapped.
“Darling, do you even realise what’s happening today?”
“What’s happening?” replied Charlotte, his wife, her voice indifferent.
“How can you ask? It’s Saturday! Have you forgotten?”
“Oliver, why are you so jumpy?” She smirked. “I haven’t forgotten anything. I just want a quiet day at home with you and the kids.”
“What about your mum?” he burst out. “She’s not ill, is she?”
“Mum? What’s brought this on? She’s fine.”
“I just…” Oliver sighed dramatically. “I reckon something’s wrong! 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 fine.”
“Right… So that’s why she hasn’t turned up today. Now I get it…”
“Oliver, stop it!” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re clearly up to something.”
“Fine, I’ll admit it,” he relented. “There’s a massive match today! Our lot against their toughest rivals. I promised the lads I’d be there!”
“Ohhh…” Charlotte drew the word out, smirking. “So that’s it. You’re sneaking off to watch football again?”
“This isn’t just any match! It’s practically life or death!”
“Right, right…” She chuckled. “Since you’re being honest, I’ll return the favour: I specifically asked Mum not to come today.”
“What?! You… you did it on purpose?!” Oliver shot up from his chair, eyes wide. “Why?”
“Why did you plan to sneak off to football without telling me?”
“Because I was sure your lovely mum would turn up, keep you chatting, and I’d be free to go!”
“Well, she’s not coming. No freedom for you.”
“But… I already told the lads I’d be there! This is betrayal!”
“Then un-tell them. Ring them up and say your wife won’t let you go.”
“That’s not even a word, ‘un-tell’!”
“But you know exactly what I mean,” Charlotte said calmly. “And one more thing—you’re not going without the kids.”
“What?! What kids?”
“*Your* kids, Oliver. Your very beloved, very expensive children. Take them with you.”
“But it’s rowdy there! The atmosphere’s electric! It’s no place for kids!”
“Why not?”
“Because our lot will probably lose *again*! The stands will be fuming!”
“There!” Charlotte nodded triumphantly. “Finally, you admit it—your team’s about to bottle it. So why bother watching?”
“Because… because I believe in miracles, Charlotte! Maybe today’s the day everything changes! I’m holding out hope—that any second, the phone will ring… and *she’ll* appear. My mother-in-law.”
At that very moment, the doorbell chimed through the flat.
Oliver leapt up as if struck by lightning and bolted for the hallway. A second later, his joyous shout echoed from the door:
“Margaret! I *knew* you wouldn’t let me down! You absolute legend!”
“Don’t flatter me, son-in-law,” came Margaret’s cheerful voice. “We both know you love football more than me!”
“Mum!” Charlotte called irritably from the kitchen. “What are you doing here? We agreed!”
“How could I stay away?” Margaret said, stepping into the living room and hugging her daughter. “It’s *the* match today!”
“Mum, don’t be daft! They’ll lose like always!”
“But what if there’s a miracle? Oliver and I believe til the last whistle!”
“Speaking of—where are my grandkids?” she added.
“Where d’you think?” Charlotte muttered. “Asleep till noon. They were up till all hours watching the last match with *him*.”
Margaret looked between her daughter and son-in-law, then declared firmly:
“High time they joined a proper football club. Let them see what real passion looks like.”
“You’re absolutely right, Margaret,” Oliver nodded. “I’ll sort it soon. But first…” He grinned. “I’ve got to dash. I’m already late.”
With that, he shot out of the kitchen like a bullet, cheering as if his team had already won the league.
