“This is my room now,” declared my sister-in-law as she hauled my belongings into the hallway.
“Emma, do you really think this soup is edible?” Laura wrinkled her nose, stirring the murky liquid in her bowl. “The potatoes are practically raw.”
“Eat what youre given,” Emma replied flatly, not looking up from her plate. “This isnt a restaurant.”
“Im not being difficult. I just want a decent meal after work. Mum always had hot stew ready when Dad got home.”
Emma pressed her lips together. Here we go again. Laura had been living with them for six months since her divorce, finding fault with everythingundercooked meals, dusty surfaces, the TV too loud.
“If you dont like it, cook for yourself,” Emma said, dropping her bowl in the sink. “No ones stopping you.”
“And when would I have time? I finish work at seven, then spend an hour and a half commuting.”
“So Im supposed to play housekeeper?”
Tom, Emmas husband, shuffled into the kitchen, hair rumpled from his nap, wearing a crumpled T-shirt.
“Ladies, at it again?” He stretched and yawned. “The whole flat can hear you.”
“Were not arguing,” Laura flashed her brother a sweet smile. “Just discussing dinner.”
Emma shot her a sideways glance. The way Laura switched tones the moment Tom appearedsuddenly all charm and grace.
“Tom, could you talk to the landlord about the heating?” Laura pressed on. “My rooms freezing. I cant even sleep at night.”
Tom scratched his head.
“Its the same for everyone. Winters come early.”
“But maybe the radiators need bleeding? There must be something we can do.”
Emma silently cleared the table. *My room.* How easily Laura claimed the spare room as hers. Theyd agreed shed stay for a monthjust until she found a place.
“Emma, wheres the blue throw? The one from the sofa?”
“In the wash,” Emma replied shortly.
“When will it be dry? Im cold.”
“Tomorrow.”
“What am I supposed to do tonight?”
Emma turned to face her. Laura wore that helpless look men fell forwide-eyed and pleading.
“There are spares in the cupboard.”
“But where? I dont know where you keep things.”
Emma fetched a thick blanket from the bedroom.
“Here.”
“Thanks. Could we keep this one out of the wash? Just in case I need it again.”
“Laura, we have a washing machine. We do laundry regularly.”
Laura hugged the blanket to her chest.
“Of course. Its justat home, we always had spares for everything.”
Emma felt her stomach tighten. Another dig about how their home wasnt up to Lauras standards.
“Tom, have you thought about asking for a raise?” Laura perched beside her brother on the sofa. “James at my office just got a fifteen-hundred-pound bump.”
Tom shifted awkwardly.
“Im not James. Different job, different pay.”
“But it doesnt hurt to ask. Have you seen prices lately? Were all cutting corners.”
Emma decided to leave before she said something shed regret. She retreated to the bathroom, running the tap to drown out Lauras honeyed persuasionhow she made every demand sound reasonable, every objection from Emma seem petty.
Half an hour later, Tom knocked.
“Emma, come out. We need to talk.”
She dried her hands and stepped into the living room. Laura sat smugly on the sofa while Tom stood guiltily between them.
“Whats going on?” Emma asked.
“Laura and I talked” Tom began. “Shes really struggling in that room. Ours is much warmer.”
Emmas blood ran cold.
“And?”
“Maybe we swap? Just temporarily. She takes our room, well manage in here.”
“Are you serious?”
“Think about it. Were young, healthy. Lauras still fragile after the divorce.”
Emma glanced at Laura, who sat with downcast eyesthough the hint of a smirk played on her lips.
“Thats *our* room, Tom. *Our* bed, *our* things.”
“Its temporary. Just till she finds a place.”
“Is she even looking?”
Laura looked up.
“Of course! But rents are insane right now. Its taking longer than I thought.”
“How much longer?”
“Maybe another month or two?”
Emma knew that meant six. Or more.
“Tom, lets talk privately.”
In the kitchen, she kept her voice low.
“Do you hear what youre asking? This is *our* home.”
“I know. But shes family. Shes in a bad place.”
“And what am I? A stranger?”
“Dont be daft. Shes depressed. She needs support.”
“And I dont? For six months, Ive lived like a guestno TV, no friends over, cooking and cleaning for three!”
“Emma, dont exaggerate.”
“Im not! And now you want to hand her our *bedroom*?”
Tom rubbed his forehead.
“Its temporary. A month or twowell manage.”
“And then what? Shell take the whole flat?”
“Dont be selfish.”
Emma choked on her anger.
“*Im* selfish? For wanting to keep my own bedroom?”
“Keep it downshell hear.”
“Let her! Its *my* flat, and Ill say what I like!”
A soft knock.
“Everything alright?” Lauras voice oozed concern.
Tom opened the door.
“I dont want to cause trouble,” Laura said, stepping in. “Maybe I should stay with a friend instead?”
“No,” Tom said quickly. “Weve sorted it.”
Emma watched, defeated. Laura played the pity card flawlessly, and Tom always folded.
“Fine,” Emma relented. “Take the bedroom.”
“Really? Thank you! Ill be so careful, I promise.”
By the next evening, Laura had moved in. Emma returned from work to find her belongings packed into bin bags in the living room.
“Laura, what is this?” Emma gestured at her dresses piled haphazardly.
“Oh, just your things,” Laura called from the bedroom*Emmas* bedroom. “I needed the wardrobe.”
“*Temporarily*, we agreed.”
“Well, yes, but I need storage too. Suitcases are so impractical.”
Emma pushed open the bedroom door. Lauras creams and perfumes covered the dresser. Her clothes filled the wardrobe. *Her* bedsheets were on the bed.
“Laura, wheres *my* bedding?”
“In the wash. It looked dirty.”
“It was clean!”
“Well, it didnt seem fresh. Im particular about cleanliness.”
Emmas hands clenched.
“And your new bedding?”
“Bought it today. Bamboo fibreso good for the skin.”
Laura fluffed a pillow, smiling.
“This is *my* room now.”
At dinner, Laura was sickeningly sweet.
“Emma, thank you *so* much,” she gushed, serving herself potatoes. “First proper sleep in months! The bedrooms *so* much cozier.”
Tom nodded.
“See? All that fuss for nothing.”
“Tom,” Emma cut in, “when does Laura plan to move out?”
Laura coughed.
“Emma, really!” Tom scolded. “Shes just settled.”
“Im not rushing her. Just asking.”
“I *am* looking,” Laura said tearfully. “But rents my salary barely covers it.”
“What about your ex? Alimony?”
“Were still finalising things. Courts take forever.”
“So the divorce isnt official?”
Laura hesitated.
“It is! Just assets arent settled.”
Emmas eyes narrowed. Something wasnt adding up.
Later, with Laura watching TV in *her* bedroom, Emma confronted Tom.
“Doesnt it seem odd Laura hasnt found a place in six months?”
“Why? The markets brutal.”
“Is she even trying?”
“Of course! Shes always checking listings.”
“Have you *seen* her do it?”
Tom frowned.
“Whatre you implying? That my sisters lying?”
“I just want to know when this ends.”
“When it needs to. Shes *family*.”
“And Im not?”
“Youre twisting things.”
Tom stood abruptly.
“Im done with this. Laura stays as long as she needs.”
“And my feelings dont matter?”
“Family comes first.”
“Am I not family?”
Tom walked out.
Alone in the kitchen, Emma listened to Lauras laughter through the wall. *Her* bedroom. *Her* TV.
By the weekend, things worsened. Laura, now self-proclaimed mistress of the main room, invited friends over.
“Emma, could you skip cooking tonight?” she asked airily. “The girls are comingwe
