Margaret thought that after the divorce, Id support her out of fear. But she had no idea what I really had planned.
Emily stared at the elderly woman standing on her doorstep with a suitcase in hand, barely believing her eyes. Margaret Thompson, her former mother-in-law, stood there as if shed just popped round for a casual visit with an old friend.
“Emily, love,” Margaret began in that slow, dramatic tone of hers, “Ive got nowhere else to go. Daniels moved that whats-her-name Olivia in with him. And I dont want to be a burden to young love, do I? Theyre building their future, and what am I supposed to do at my age? Youll let me stay for a bit, wont you?”
Emily silently stepped aside, letting her in. What could she say? Throw a sixty-year-old woman out onto the street? Sure, the divorce had been messy. Yes, Daniel had turned out to be *that* kind of manafter twelve years of marriage, suddenly “finding himself” in the arms of a twenty-five-year-old coworker. But what did any of that have to do with his mother?
“Margaret,” Emily said quietly, closing the door behind her, “I dont understand. You have your own flat. Why do you need to stay here?”
“Oh, Emily,” Margaret sighed, settling onto the sofa and untying her shoes, “you know how tiny my place is. Cramped. But hereso much space, fresh air. Daniel mentioned youre all alone in this two-bedder. Surely you can spare a room for an old woman?”
Emily clenched her fists. Of *course* Daniel had said that. How convenientmoving his new girlfriend in while palming his mother off on his ex-wife. And no one cared how *she* felt about it.
“Its just temporary,” Margaret repeated, already shrugging off her coat. “Just until I sort things out.”
For the first week, Emily tried to be understanding. She made breakfast for two, bought the medicines Margaret “urgently needed,” quietly tidied up after her. Margaret wasnt exactly the tidiest houseguestdirty dishes piled in the sink, clothes strewn about, telly blaring late into the night with her favourite soaps.
“Emily, darling,” Margaret said one morning, “my pensions so small. Could you spare a bit for groceries? And my blood pressure tabletsIm completely skint.”
Emily wordlessly opened her purse and handed over fifty quid. Then another thirty for “a new heart supplement.” Then twenty for “a little treat with tea.”
“Margaret,” Emily said carefully a month in, when another request left her nearly broke, “maybe we should stick to a budget? Im not exactly rolling in it either.”
Margaret whipped around, eyes flashingthat familiar spark before a full-blown scene. Emily knew that look well.
“What did you just say?” Margarets voice shot up an octave. “Stick to a *budget*? How *dare* you! I welcomed you into this family like my own! Twelve years, I treated you like a daughter! And now youre throwing pennies in my face?”
“Im not throwing anything, I just”
“You wouldnt understand, childless as you are!” Margaret shrieked, waving her arms. “I raised my son alone after his father passed! Worked three jobs! And now you grudge me money for heart pills? Ill tell the whole neighbourhood what youre really like! Ungrateful!”
Emily endured it in silence. And the next outburst. And the one after that, over some “unsuitable” dinner. Margaret was a master of dramaticshours of shouting, dragging neighbours into it, listing every sin under the sun.
After the latest performance, Emily called Daniel.
“Dan, come get your mother. Please.”
“Em, dont be like that. Im building a new life. Mums still upset about the divorce. And youve got the spacewhats the harm?”
“The harm is my money, my sanity, and my peace.”
“Dont be dramatic. Shes elderly, she needs support. You *can* helpso just do it.”
A dial tone. Hed hung up.
Sitting at the kitchen table, Emily realised shed had enough. Margaret acted like she owned the placescenes over nothing, constant demands for cash, zero doubt that she had every right to behave this way.
*Margaret thought after the divorce, Id support her out of fear. But she had no idea what I really had planned.*
The next morning, while Margaret was at the GPs, Emily called a locksmith. The locks were changed in an hour.
That evening, Margaret returned from her usual mooch around the shops, complaining to anyone whod listen. But her key didnt turn.
“Emily! Open this door!” She banged on it. “What sort of joke is this?”
Emily stepped onto the landing, calm as anything, watching the bewildered woman.
“No joke, Margaret. Pack your thingsIve called a taxi.”
“*What*? Have you lost your mind? Where are you sending me?”
“Home. To your son. Where you belong.”
“But I *cant*! Olivias there! Its not *proper*!”
“Was it proper for *me*?” Emily asked, watching Margarets face harden, ready for battle.
“How *dare* you!” Margaret screeched. “Im an old woman! Bad heart! Youve no right!”
“Ive every right. This is *my* flat.”
“Ill tell the neighbours! Everyone will know what you are!”
“Tell them. I dont care anymore.”
The suitcase packed quicklyMargaret didnt own much. Silent in the taxi, she just breathed heavily, occasionally clutching her chest for effect.
At Daniels building, Emily helped with the bags. Up to the third floor. Daniel answered the door in joggers, stunned.
“Emily? Mum? Whats going on?”
“Youre getting your mother back,” Emily said, shoving the suitcase inside. “Margaret no longer lives with me.”
Olivia appearedpretty, blonde, in a dressing gown. Her face fell at the sight of Margaret.
“But Mum cant stay *here*!” Daniel protested. “Weve only just”
“started your new life,” Emily finished. “Brilliant. Enjoy it. Without me.”
“Emily, you dont understand,” Daniel said, like he was explaining to a toddler. “Mum needs help. Shes elderly, unwell. Her pensions tiny.”
“She has a son. *He* can help.”
“But Ive got a new family now!”
“And Ive got a new life. One that doesnt include your problems.”
Margaret, silent till now, exploded.
“Daniel! Do you *see* how she treats me? Kicking out an old woman! Heartless! I *loved* her like a daughter!”
“Mum, come on,” Daniel muttered, flustered. But Emily saw the panic.
“If you want to abandon your mother, thats on *your* conscience,” Emily said, turning to leave. “But none of you will ever set foot in my flat again. I wont open the door.”
“Emily, wait!” Daniel called after her.
But she was already down the stairs, ignoring Margarets wails and Daniels stammering.
Back home, Emily fired up her laptop. The money shed saved for new furniture? Enough for two weeks in Spain. All-inclusiveexactly what she needed after a month with Margaret.
That night, Daniel called.
“Emily, how could you be so cruel? Mums in tears.”
“Let her cry in *your* flat.”
“But Olivia and Iweve barely started our life together! You get that, right?”
“I get that its *your* problem.”
“Em, be reasonable. Well sort something, but not yet. Give us time.”
“You had time. A whole month while I funded your mum. Times up.”
She hung up and switched off her phone.
Three days of non-stop calls followedDaniel, Margaret, even unknown numbers (probably Margarets mates). Emily ignored them all.
Thursday morning, coffee in hand, she watched kids playing outside. The silence in the flat was bliss after a month of shouting, demands, and mess.
The doorbell rang. Olivia stood there, tear-streaked.
“Emily, can we talk?”
“About?”
“Margaret. I know youve fallen out, but”
“We didnt *fall out*. I set boundaries.”
“Shes difficult,” Olivia whispered. “Acts like I ruined your marriage. Screams daily. Dans never home, and Im stuck with her. The things she says”
Emily almost smiled. A month ago, shed have pitied the girl, maybe even helped. Now?
“Your family, your problem.”
“But maybe we could take turns, or”
“No.”
“She cant live on the *street*!”
