“This is my room now,” declared the sister-in-law, shoving my belongings into the hallway.
“Emma, do you seriously 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 own plate. “This isnt a restaurant.”
“Im not just being picky. I just want a decent meal after work. Back at Mums, Dad always had hot roast waiting when he got home.”
Emma pressed her lips together. Here we go again. Laura had been living with them for six months since her divorce, and every day brought a new complaintundercooked meals, dusty shelves, the telly being too loud.
“If you dont like it, cook for yourself,” Emma said, placing her bowl in the sink. “No ones stopping you.”
“When would I have time? Im at work till seven, then its an hour and a half commute.”
“So Im meant to be the housekeeper?”
James, Emmas husband, wandered into the kitchen, his hair rumpled from an afternoon nap, his T-shirt creased.
“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 sister-in-law a sidelong glance. How quickly her tone shifted the moment James walked in. Suddenly, she was all charm.
“James, could you talk to the landlord about the heating?” Laura went on. “My rooms freezing. I cant even sleep properly.”
James scratched his head.
“Its the same for everyone. Its winter.”
“But maybe the radiators need bleeding or something?”
Emma silently cleared the dishes. *My room*. How easily Laura called the guest room hers. Theyd agreed shed stay a monthjust until she found a place.
“Emma, wheres the blue throw? The one that was on the sofa?”
“In the wash,” Emma replied shortly.
“When will it be dry? Im freezing.”
“Tomorrow.”
“What am I supposed to do tonight?”
Emma turned to face her. Laura wore that helpless, doe-eyed look men always fell for.
“There are other blankets. In the cupboard.”
“But where exactly? I dont know where you keep things.”
Emma marched to the bedroom and pulled out a thick throw.
“Here. Take it.”
“Thanks. And maybe dont send this one to the cleaners? 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. I just like things tidy. At home, we always had spares of everything.”
Emma felt her stomach tighten. Another dig about how their flat didnt measure up to Lauras standards.
“James, have you thought about asking for a raise?” Laura perched beside her brother on the sofa. “Peter from my office just got a fifteen-thousand bump.”
James shifted awkwardly.
“Im not Peter. Different job.”
“But you could try. With prices these days, every bit helps.”
Emma decided to leave before she said something shed regret. She slipped into the bathroom, running the tap to mask the muffled voices outside.
Half an hour later, James 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 James wore a guilty expression.
“Whats going on?” Emma asked.
“Weve been talking,” James began. “Lauras really struggling with the cold in her room. Ours is much warmer.”
Emmas blood ran cold.
“And?”
“Maybe we switch temporarily? Laura takes our room, and well manage in here.”
“Are you serious?”
“Think about it. Were young, healthy. Lauras been through a lotthe divorce, her nerves”
Emma glanced at Laura, who sat with downcast eyes, a faint smirk playing on her lips.
“Thats *our* bedroom, James. *Our* bed, *our* things.”
“Its just for a little while. Until she finds a place.”
“*Is* she looking?”
Laura lifted her head.
“Of course! But rents are insane. Im trying.”
“How much longer?”
“Maybe a month or two. No more.”
Emma knew that meant six months at least.
“James, a word.” She pulled him into the kitchen.
“Do you even hear yourself?” she whispered. “This is *our* home.”
“I know. But shes my sister. Shes in a tough spot.”
“And what am I? A stranger?”
“Dont be daft. Shes depressed. She needs us.”
“And what do *I* need? For half a year, Ive lived like a guesttiptoeing around, cooking, cleaning for three. Now you want to hand her our *bedroom*?”
“Emma, dont exaggerate.”
“Exaggerate? Next, shell want the whole flat!”
James rubbed his forehead.
“Its temporary. A month or two.”
“And then what?”
“Stop being selfish.”
Emma choked on her fury.
“*Im* selfish? For not wanting to give up my own bedroom?”
“Keep your voice down.”
“Let her hear! This is *my* home, and Ill say what I think!”
A soft knock.
“Everything alright?” Lauras voice was saccharine.
James opened the door.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Laura murmured. “I dont want to cause trouble. Maybe I should stay with a friend?”
“No,” James said quickly. “Well sort it.”
Emma knew shed lost. Laura played the victim brilliantly, and James always caved.
“Fine,” she relented. “Take the bedroom.”
“Really?” Laura beamed. “Thank you! Ill be so careful, I promise.”
By the next evening, Laura had moved in. Emma returned from work to find her clothes dumped in black bags in the living room.
“Laura, what is this?”
“Oh, just your things.” Laura peeked out from *her* new room. “I needed the wardrobe.”
“*Temporarily*, we agreed.”
“Yes, but I still need somewhere to put my clothes. They cant live in a suitcase.”
Emma pushed open the bedroom door. Lauras perfumes lined the dresser. Her dresses filled the wardrobe. Her bedding was on the bed.
“Wheres *my* bedding?”
“In the wash. It looked dirty.”
“It was *clean*!”
“Well, it didnt seem it. I like things spotless.”
Emmas hands balled into fists.
“And *your* bedding?”
“Bought it today. Bamboo fibreso good for the skin.”
Laura fluffed a pillow. “This is *my* room now.”
At dinner, Laura was all gratitude.
“Emma, thank you *so* much,” she gushed, serving herself roast potatoes. “First proper sleep in months. So much warmer.”
James nodded. “See? No need for drama.”
“James, when *is* Laura moving out?”
Laura coughed.
“Emma, really?” James frowned. “She just got settled.”
“Im not rushing her. Just asking.”
“I *am* trying,” Laura sniffled. “But rents My salarys not huge.”
“What about your ex? Alimony?”
“We havent finalised it yet. Courts take ages.”
“So the divorce isnt even legal?”
Laura hesitated. “It is! We just havent split assets.”
Emmas suspicions grew.
Later, she confronted James.
“Doesnt it strike you as odd she hasnt found a place in six months?”
“Why? Its hard out there.”
“*Is* she even looking?”
“Of course! Always checking listings.”
“Have you seen her do it?”
James scowled. “What are you implying?”
“I just want to know how long this lasts.”
“As long as it takes. Shes *family*.”
“And Im not?”
James stood. “Im done with this. Laura stays as long as she needs.”
“And my feelings dont matter?”
“Family comes first.”
Emma sat alone at the kitchen table. Through the wall, Lauras laughter mingled with the telly. *Her* telly. In *her* bedroom.
By the weekend, it got worse. Laura decided the master bedroom entitled her to host.
“Emma, would you mind not cooking tonight?” she asked airily. “The girls from work are coming over. Well order in.”
“*What* girls?”
“Oh, just colleagues. Long overdue catch-up.”
“Laura, this is *our* flat.”
“Of course! Youre welcome to join.”
Emma stared. Laura was *permitting* her to stay in her own home
